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A poem that poured out my brain when my creative writing professor was reading to us earlier today.
A Short Poem of When I Was Younger
When I was in forth
grade I stood up in front
of the class and explained a story
trapped inside my head--it's still
stuck there, not ready to come
out of me.
Would I teach them games--
there was a card game called
speed I had learned at my
last school that everyone liked--
but no one liked me.
There was a book series that I told
my techer about, and she read
it aloud to the class
(which was unusual because it
was a fantasy series) and there
were computer games for it, and
everyone would play it, once they
saw me. But once someone tackled
me when we were playing tag.
I would read during recess after that.
A Short Poem of When I Was Younger
When I was in forth
grade I stood up in front
of the class and explained a story
trapped inside my head--it's still
stuck there, not ready to come
out of me.
Would I teach them games--
there was a card game called
speed I had learned at my
last school that everyone liked--
but no one liked me.
There was a book series that I told
my techer about, and she read
it aloud to the class
(which was unusual because it
was a fantasy series) and there
were computer games for it, and
everyone would play it, once they
saw me. But once someone tackled
me when we were playing tag.
I would read during recess after that.
