Composed 4/18/14
Description: (Day 18 of NaPoWriMo) While I had a lovely day, I regret it being so busy, because here I am stuffing what I consider a very important poem into the last hour of the day. However, I think it turned out well regardless.
One of my biggest pet peeves is when people think you aren’t a (good) writer, because you are not a writing/English major. Have a grammar question? Oh! Consult the English major! Want someone to read your story? Ask the English major!
This is SERIOUSLY annoying to me, a non-English major writer. It’s just so shocking to me how differently people can perceive you simply because you chose to major in some other thing. People think of our (potential) occupations as such a huge part of our identity. I could have easily majored in English or writing; I just chose not to. However, if I did, people would look at me (and my writing) completely differently. They would see writing as such a larger part of my personality. But, since I don’t, people don’t think to include me in many writing-related activites or don’t respect my thoughts about it as much… and, thus, the poem.
I force my smile as
Your voice rises in passion!
And your lips gush
Well-crafted lines to my friends
And my strangers
About your poetic musings
Your inspirations
Your opinions on
Yes, this is poetry
And no, people don’t do this enough
But your silence
To me is louder
Because you speak so grandly
To the naïve
Those doe-eyed admirers who squeal
At your honey words
And bitter stop rhythm and rhymes
But not to me
You say no words to a fellow in arms
Indeed
I did not choose to
Major in my love
But alas
No one majors in breathing
In the beating of their heart
And education can breathe life
As well as it can destroy passion, ingenuity
And create routine
That does not mean I
Am not a part of you
That I am not worthy of conversation or praise
I bleed out on paper
Same as you
Executing my lines in different ways
And no
I do not advertise
The value of my black and white trade
But that doesn’t mean I don’t love
The words that fill my head each day
So don’t pretend I’m below you
That I have no interest in the depths of poetic
Structure and thought
That because I don’t shout it out to the heavens
Only to paper
That I don’t know how to write
That I can’t help you in your
Artistic endeavors
So here I am so you can’t deny
I told you of my love
Here is my one shout! My advertisement!
I write poetry
Isn’t that enough?
Scraps of Paper 