Poets, Poetry, and Bob.

Howdy Gang,

I've been thinking today about Poetry, which I absolutely love, but everytime I mention to somebody, they seen to file me away as some kind of "weirdo"

So here's my challenge, anybody got another word for "poem" ...and I've already tried "verse," nobody knows what I'm talking about.

So here's my annoyance written in the cause of my annoyance for those with as warped a sense of humor:

-
Bob


"Poem" is an ugly word,
though not its meaning by any accord,

It tumbles so clumsily from the tongue,
too corny, too crude to adore.

And "poet," corrupted by stereotype,
has me loath to share my craft,

"Why, look at that weird "poet" kid,"
the fear that my peers will laugh.

I strive to find another word,
to descibe a paragraph in verse,

But not a single syllable I've heard,
that can prove my search of worth.

I can't say I don't like "poems,"
i've written my share, 'tis true

But I'm no "poet" clad in black,
no stereotype, thankyou.

How is it such freedom named ugly?
this plight how its made my head throb,

That's it! I'm sick of this stupid quest!
i'll name my poems Bob!



© Leah Petts. 9th August ‘08
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Okay, so not that funny.
But I'm bored of Poems, so my question is,
does anybody like my Bob?

Cheers,
Leah Mae.

Tanith's Escapades- War on Tofu.

Last week a stranger with unruly orange curls and a surprised expression wandered into Tanith's Classroom during form assembly.
Shannon giggled and elbowed Tanith in the ribs. Yup, no doubt about it now, Thought Tanith grimly, New Guy.
The New Guy's name was Tomas. Tomas Cooper.

He had a locker above Tanith's, and was forever standing on her stuff.
Not that he meant to of course, but the fact still remained that Tanith was eating a slightly flatter lunch than ususal. (with the exception, perhaps, of last Thusrday)

Under the trees behind the Music Rooms, Tanith and Erin (who'd declared war on her mother's tofu) were relishing the last of the accidently-molested stras-and-sauce sandwich, and mulling over one of their old arguments about the school's mobile-phone policy; when the hairs on the back of Tanith's neck prickled.

She turned around to find herself nose-to-nose with none other than the sandwich-molester himself, Tomas Cooper.
Damn, thought Tanith immediatley.
Erin feined interest in some recent tree graffiti, and Tanith forced a smile,
"Hi, Tom what brings you here?" and how the hell did you find out where I hang? her brain hummed with impatience;

Tomas shifted his weight uncomfortably, and dropped a crumpled peice of paper into Tanith's open lunchbox.
"This got mixed up in my stuff"

Tanith unfolded the paper, it'd been torn out of an exercise book, and was the note Shannon had passed to Tanith in math today, the one about Shannon's crush.
Uh oh. Had he read it?

"You Didn't read this did you?"
"Huh?" -mental headslap! was this guy dumb? best talk slowly...
"I said, Tomas, Did. You. Read This. Note?"

the sandwich-squasher shook his fuzzy neon head vigorously
"Well... only to find out whose it was, I didn't know if it was important"

Tanith's brain twanged angrily, Nagh! wrong answer!
Tanith opened her mouth to say something indelicate, and Erin, having recognized the alarm bells, interjected quickly,

"Thanks for finding it Tomas, We'll make sure it gets back to Shannon safely"
"No big" came the distracted reply, "later Erin, see ya, Tanith"
Go away
Erin made one of those descreet "WELL?" motions at Tanith, and a grudging "see ya" grated out, as the note-reading-sandwich-squisher rounded the corner with a vague wave, and dissapeared out of sight.

Erin regarded Tanith curiously,
"he's really not that bad you know"
"humph. . ."

"he did mean well you know, bringing back the note"
"humph. . ."

"you're sulking again, aren't you?" Erin seemed genuinley concerned,
Hmmmmm. "Yup. . ."

"did you want me to leave you alone for a while?"
You guessed 'er Chester, Tanith thought loudly.

Erin made a face, "who you callin' Chester?"
Oops
"Uh Huh, and?"
Friends, eugh! . . .Double Oops.

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© Leah Petts. 3rd May ‘08