"Look, let's just get one thing straight: I don't do poems.". Those were the first words I thought when I first met the woman who set all this in motion, not even a year ago. Miss Rachel, her name was. Rachel Something-Italian. Two last names. She was a poet. Not famous, but she had a few dismal-sellers of her poetry out there in the bookiverse, a place I was very familiar with. I'd gained a lot of my snark from book characters. In reality, I'm pretty quiet.
Either way, this Miss Rachel lady had been coming to this English class for a week each year for the past seven years. And she was a bitch. Condescending, rude, full of herself, basically saying that if you didn't write poetry, you had nothing to say.
I didn't write poetry (then). And I had a hell of a lot to say to her.
I didn't. I was good. I ground out the few required mediocre verses and grit my teeth as she picked them apart. I was TOLD it would be anonymous. But noooo. It wouldn't have been so bad if the poems weren't so terrible... My heart wasn't in it. I was a storyteller, not a cow. Which Miss Rachel seemed to think all of us NON-POETS were.
There was going to be a reading at the end of the week during lunch, in the library. I didn't like writing poetry, but I liked hearing it. Plus, anything to get out of the cafeteria. The only problem was, you had to bring something to read if you went. Now, by then, I was incredibly pissed-off at her. I decided to write a retaliatory poem, directly addressing her, to call her out on the condesencion. That was supposed to be it. One and done, I told myself. No more poetry, if THIS is what poets are like. Of course, I can never stick with anything I decide to do... And my first REAL poem turned into a string of 'em. And I'm still writing them. You win this round, Poetry. Damn you!
So here ya go. My first "real poem". I rather like this one.
I don't do poems
I'm a storyteller, you see
I mask my emotions in a make-believe face
Poets are too vulnerable for me
Don't act like I'm not creative
Don't pretend you know me
Don't you dare think I have nothing to say
Just because I don't do poetry
Maybe YOU don't get it
A deeper meaning YOU don't see
Even if the world's pretend
The words are really me
But enough about me
I said I don't do poems