Suess's Pieces

(Originally published February 15, 2007)

I never intended to turn this into a poetry blog, but poems are the only thing readable that I’ve been writing lately–and I desperately want to post something. The only other option was a book review from my History of Western Civilization class, The Last Days of Socrates. I figure the poem was least likely to encourage the throwing of rotten fruit in cyberspace. I’m turning this one in today. And maybe soon I’ll write about me again.

(Originally published February 1, 2007)

A couple of points before you read the poem:

1. This poem is not about my own father.
2. Men aren’t born inherently worthless, it’s just that a few work their whole lives to see how close they can come.

Now on with the poem I turned in today…

(Originally published January 16, 2007)

As many of you know, I’m taking a poetry class this semester. It was largely a matter of finding a creative writing course that fit my schedule. But I cannot deny my own masochistic tendencies. What’s the fun in taking a 100-level class, if you don’t writhe and squirm three hours a week?

My first poem being due today, last night was a struggle. I attempted to shirk seriousness by starting off like this:

Carbunkle, Margunkle,
Simon and Garfunkle…

Or this:

Pull up your damn pants.
You ain’t no piggy bank.
Cover up that rhinestone thong.
Give them low-rise jeans a yank.

But I’m not confident enough to finish either of those yet, let alone turn them in for a grade and peer review. Here’s what I settled on for my first poem, first draft:

As you can imagine, that’s a pretty personal stab at poetry. I’m not sure I care to know what anyone thinks of it yet. But feel free to talk amongst yourselves in the comments.