Monday, May 05, 2008

• Next semester I"m taking a metrical poetry workshop. Meter is the bane of my life, my metrical poems tend to be saccharine and cliche, or pathetically angsty..(I hate it when i read it in other people's poetry, and i hate it even more when it appears in mine).
  
  So for now, here's the last of the free verse (other than what i randomly come up with to post on here):
  
  

  The Shack 
  

  There it sits on the edge of town
  It used to be a meeting place
  Where the faithful went to worship
  Now, Holes in the roof leak water on to beams
  Where it slides until it drops down.
  Dripping onto that old organ’s yellowed ivory keys.
  Purple velvet bleached to lilac, covers pews
  Set into straight rows
  where the ghosts of parishioners still sit
  looking for absolution and redemption
  somewhere out of sight
  a shutter flaps and bangs in the wind
  weakly mourning its decay.
  Scraps of paper and fallen plaster
  scatter in the breeze.
  I sit here, on this lilac bench
  Praying for deliverance or salvation or whatever may be
  Just for something to happen,
  and for the shutter to finally stop flapping in the wind.

  
  

  • 4:34 PM
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