Apparently, I wasn't accurate in my first poetry night post as I said that was the oldest poem I had written but I was wrong. I don't know why I said that because I had the following one then. This one dates a full year earlier than the first, all the way to 9th grade English class. (I know I have two older poems somewhere-- one titled "Unlucky Day" from that same year and one from 6th grade when I wrote a poem about the Norman Invasion of England... yes, I was a weird kid).
This one is untitled.
He looked for a place to escape or somewhere to run
But, alas, to his dismay he found there was none
Even so, he waited for a chance to flee
for if he did not escape, he knew he would be
dead in a moment, killed by the madman's knife
Although the outcome looked bleak, he prayed for his life
The guards pushed him forward into a small cramped room
the approaching footsteps sounded impending doom
his future killer stood near him with a dagger at the ready
he tried to fight or to struggle but the guards held him steady
The assassin grinned evilly as the knife began to rise
he could do nothing but stand there with tears in his eyes
the dagger flashed down and cracked into his spine...
The next day there was a special, fresh hamburger meat $2.29
A scathing look at the meat industry, isn't it? It was written from a cow's point of view going to the slaughter. Now I am not a vegetarian but one of my friends at the time was. I remember have a discussion about eating meat and other related things and it inspired me to write the preceding poem (that and the assignment that was given in class-- inspiration combined with a deadline is the situation under which I can create the most).
Mr. S, my English teacher that year, was a bit of a douche. First of all, when reading this poem to the class he totally blew the last line. Obviously, the poem is written in rhyming couplets, and as such the end of last line should be read as "fresh hamburger meat two twenty nine". He instead read it as "fresh hamburger meat two dollars and twenty nine cents". Any English teacher worth his salt should have realized that reading the line like that would kill both the rhyme scheme and the meter (as loose as the meter was... his version still just sounds stupid).
Of course, that just goes to show he was an idiot, not a douche. But he also was a douche-- he would insert smug statements in the middle of class for no reason (e.g. "Oh, I live in a much richer neighborhood than any of you" which even if true, and that is debatable, is still a pathetic thing to claim over the students in your class). He also would make fun of the students, and as usual I was one of the few who would stand up to him. I told him to shut up once while he was insulting me-- apparently, he thought it was OK to make fun of his students and not for them to fight back in any way.
You may just say that I was a stupid kid and he probably wasn't that bad. But even the other teachers agreed. My friend (the one who inspired the poem) and I were in the teacher's office area talking to our senior year teacher when Mr. S came over and said something stupid that I don't remember. As soon as he walked away our much cooler teacher said, "He is such a prick."
OK, so I wrote more about my 9th grade English teacher than the poem, but I think that was much more interesting anyway (plus, I pretty much said everything there is about the poem....).
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