Creative Writing Class – Only 2 More Left!

I’m a little sad that the writing class I’ve been taking with Yuliya is almost at an end. After yesterday’s class, there are only two more.

The assignment for yesterday’s class was to write a poem. That was it. No other guidelines. Because being forced into rhyming or a specific meter or theme is really difficult when it comes to writing poetry.

So I wrote a poem that I thought was fairly decent, and then promptly left it at home. So I spent the hour between work and class trying to come up with another one. It was tough. Minutes before class started, I scribbled out a poem and called it good.

And so did the class.

I’m not saying they went nuts over it, but they did seem to like it.

But now that I’ve been home and picked up the first poem, I’m going to share them both here. The first one is the one I shared in class, and the second is the one I didn’t (obviously).

——————————————-

Reflections on An Autumn Birthday

The leaves are starting to change
   green to yellow to fallen
The days get shorter
   he gets taller
He measures time in months, weeks,
   then days until: HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Make a wish.
For another hundred chances
   to see the seasons change
   to see him outgrow a thousand outfits
   to watch him navigate 17 years of school hallways
   to laugh, with him, as his voice deepens
   to be amazed when he no longer sounds like my little boy.

Blow out the candles
For this moment, the room is dark
   but in the shadows I see
   the man he will become.

————————————————

Poetry

I lost my voice.
I know it’s here somewhere.
Words, strung together
   as if from a song,
   weaving a fabric of
Events in my life, tied up in meter and rhythm
Emotions displayed, or sometimes only nuanced.

I lost my voice.
I’ve been searching everywhere.
Good times, and painful ones,
   even under the couch cushions
   as if it could be misplaced as easily as pennies
The words have escaped me,
I fear they will never return.

I lost my voice.
Days and weeks and months and years
Life – a constantly changing pattern
And me – also changing
but I’ve lost the only way I had of remembering.

I lost my voice.

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