Writing Stupid poems

[Claire]

[SIZE="1"]I have to write four poems for my creative writing class: one free-verse on some major event in my life, one expressing love without cliche, a sonnet, and a ballad. I have no idea what major events my life has experienced that would be sufficient poetry, but I'm slowly making progress on them.

the life poem:

[I]Semiautobiography[/I]
Somber sighs sully saccharine seconds
Slowly separating sense and speculation.
Your star-staring silhouette is spry but silent,
Sweetly stroking soft suffused skin.
You stretch, stop, study the sure subsequent scene.
You suppress your sensual scheme.
Suppose I’d shun your sentiment?
Sweetheart, scarce seconds shouldn’t be squandered
Over such silly scares.
So you shed your sad skepticism and
Swiftly stitch your smile to mine,
Strong savory salve sticking and stinging.
Spirit songs swell, surprised but superfluously satisfied.
So simple a spell, so severe a swoon.
Should our stories stop in this secret selfish stupor,
I’d certainly surcease secure in serenity.

---

the love poem:

[I]Finally, It Rains[/I]
I’m staring at a distant lock.
I’m wondering how to make it talk to me.
It seems as if the key got lost,
Or swallowed by some void.
I’ve got a better store of love than brain,
And I don’t feel like waiting is a game.
Even the worst of words look prettier in print.
But you’re so far away, and I can’t chase you.
I always have so much to say,
But when I put it on display, I see
It would have been much better to
Just clench my teeth and sleep.
Sometimes I have to tell myself to breathe,
Sometimes I cannot face what won’t relieve.
But more than anything,
I wish you had some faith in me.
But you’re so far away, and I can’t chase you.
I wish I wasn’t so absurd,
But I keep finding magic words around.
I cling to them because there’s
Nothing else for me to hold.
I’ve got a better store of love than brain,
Though who can say for sure if I’ll remain?
Nothing will stay unless you believe.
But you’re so far away, and I can’t chase you.

---

I personally like Semiautobiography a lot more than Finally, It Rains. The latter is actually a slightly edited version of the lyrics to one of my songs, because I honestly don't want to write a new love poem right now. I find that song lyrics very rarely turn out to be decent poems without the music, and this isn't much of an exception.[/SIZE]