When I was in college, brief stint thought it may have been, I was feeling about as cereabral as you can get. Consider here that among my college courses were basic math and English refreshers, as I did not go to college until I was 29, but never the less I felt cerebowl and sometimes secretly wished that I wore glasses so that the world might now the extent of my cereebral powers. Exponentially smart was I, and hopped up on high brow, long haired, egg headed ideals.
So, I began to write poetry.
I would include some of my poetry here, but when I read it now I feel like a big fat fakey glasses wearing wannabe cerebrawl antagonist. I might do it anyway because deep down I love me, which illustrates my point…. I am just too happy to write good poetry. Not that I haven't had some bad times, (I could tell you some stories), but one day, with any luck, Queen Latifah will get her first Oscar for her funny yet heart wrenching portrayal of me, a girl who just never gave in. I just can’t give up, I love my husband, I love life, and if I let myself think about the other stuff for too long I would go coocoo for cocoa puffs bat shit crazy and I don’t think you could ever get me back. But I know that won’t happen. (Nervous giggle, creepy smile.)
Good poetry requires angst.
And now for your consideration…..A Poem by Wendy.
Oh, my little water can,
nothing more than a sculpted pan.
You feel so perfect in my hand,
giving moisture to the land.
Your spout turned up shows your pride,
in the painted tulips on your side.
Lots of blossoms is my plan,
with help from my little watering can.
(I also love gardening….is that so wrong?)
You get my point! Sans angst equals sucky poetry!
PS. Highlights for Children rejected this poem but the letter came from Honesdale PA, so YAWN. (see yesterday)
So I’m too happy to write good poetry…. don’t hate because I’m beautiful. I hear the song of the maybe pearl, (if only I had written that line) and I make no apologies. I’d rather make you laugh than cry anyway.