May 3, 2014, by Eve
Write Two Poems
Today I thought it might be nice to share my attempts at poetry for my third year module Creative Writing in a Contemporary Context. The module was offered to English undergraduates, giving us a chance to try a new medium in our final year, and was divided into poetry and proses.
In our first seminar the tutor said, smiling: ‘so, why the hell are you doing this module? You’re doing something you’ve never been graded on before in your final year. You’ve got guts, that’s why I love this module!’ I think he meant to calm us down – highlight that everyone was on an even footing – but it bloomin’ terrified me! He was right – this was a gamble and I had no idea how it was going to turn out in the end.
So after 5 seminars we were told to buzz off and write two poems to be marked by a professional poet.
Blindly, I cobbled together some colourful words and some rather dull words and sent in my two poems. And, oddly enough, I did alright – but I can’t help thinking that, if someone else had marked them, the result may have been different – I’m not complaining, simply musing over the subjectivity involved in marking poems. I don’t know if I would like my poems if I read them in a book! Well, here they are – the results of a very inexpert novice-poet (please do not judge me too harshly):
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Splitting buds with drooping
Mouths pinched shut spread into
Green outskirts, cut at this
Greenness of placid space.
Thread of morning spawns bright
And plunges, subtle red.
The sun is held up like
A rotten globe. Something
Festers in plastic ivy.
Sprawling weeds tangle and
Unravel patterns against
Thick sky, woven with birds;
Ducking dot to dot across
The plain wind, mauve with heat.
Mud and shattered leaves knit
Into the earthy folds
Mending a tattered trail
Of tulip bulbs, white with
Lemon trimming. Something
Frolics in painted ivy.
Stumble
In that moment when sense
And sound are magnified.
Trodden boots off again,
Toe to toe with stale tights
Like sagging skin. Slanted
Morning saps in through that
Lined and blinded window.
Stagnant ash and well-stubbed
Cigarettes rubbed into
The table top. A sock
Stripped off just one bare foot
Lies single. Only a
Shirt, deflated, armless
And outstretched remains a
Mislaid sign from midnight.
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