October 20, 2005


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<><><><><><><><><>

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<><><><><><><><><>