Poetry

I am writing this blog entry to avoid writing a poem. The poem was assigned during Humanities today. It is supposed to be 20 lines long and in iambic pentameter. It also needs to be "romantic". Not "sappy" romantic, but "about nature" romantic. I am expressing my displeasure in this assignment. Not only am I a bad poetry writer, but aren't poems supposed to be filled with emotion and deep? If I can't write a poem about something I'm passionate about to begin with, how in God's name am I supposed to write a poem about something I could care less? I've got every deterrent there is going at me right now. So, that's why I'm writing this blog. . .I don't want to have to start writing this stupid poem. I'll tell you what though, I'll copy and paste it into this blog for you guys to read, meaning I'll publish this blog, write the poem, and come back and insert the poem. The poem is below:


<><><><><><><><><>26 minutes later<><><><><><><><><>

LAKE

The wind blows through your hair, and through

The trees, making them shake and fill the air

With rustling. The red winged black bird screams

His call in short small bursts that pierce the air.

His home, a lake, lie sprawling down beneath

His nest. Its water laps upon the shore

And then slides back towards its home.

The blackbirds, beavers, trout, and deer all call

The same place home. They drink their fill and sleep

By trees that sway by wind on dark cold nights.

Lake nights, though cold, are calm, serene, but for

The small and loud green frogs that call their own

To gather, meet, and cover all with frequent croaks.

These calls, so loud and oft, keep all aware

Of danger wait. The owls do stalk, the frogs

Call warn, and morning come, the owls return.

The day breaks new with life and song, the song

From blackbirds,taking flight, who soar above

The lake, and watch its waters lap upon

The shore for all to drink, behold, the lake.

<><><><><><><><><>Poem Complete<><><><><><><><><>