Ode to a Worm on a Sidewalk

Oh! How I pity your tender rosy body;
Laid to rest on harsh ground by careless waters.
Those giant beasts who pass you by
Pay no respect to your lifeless form.

Forced unto your Maker by harsh sun rays,
You writhe in pain until darkness comes-
Reminding you of your home,
Your birth.

The place you were ripped from
Before your time
Like a premature infant,
With little chance at survival.

That is the place you shall return to,
Soon, but not soon enough.
Not even I, who pities you stops to return you to your home.
No, it does no good.

Your home washed away-
Leaving you to an unfamiliar grave.

I apologize, and am a little embarrassed, but this idea sticks to me every time it rains. I feel horrible for these little critters. They are small, extremely sensitive, and I feel a tiny sense of guilt every time I step on one of them. Also, any suggestions on how to improve this piece? And I apologize if this topic has already "been done" so to speak.

Dictionary

Very often I ponder how it would feel to read and retain all the information in the dictionary. Although it sounds strange, I cannot imagine what one would do with that type of knowledge. But it still skimps across my mind. Being the showoff I am, I'd probably go around using large unfamiliar words correctly and within complicated sentences. At one point in my life I knew a girl who did this. She stayed much more modest with her skill than I ever could. Now a new question emerges. The only dictionary in my parents' house released from publication in 1975 or 1977. Do you have any idea how language transformed in the last thirty years? If you've survived this planet for more than fifteen years, I possess no doubt you noticed the change in the appropriate context for many words. When my parents reached the age I currently reside, "ain't" could not be found within the dictionary. However, it is still considered an informal word of certain dialects. As I check the word count using the Microsoft program, I realize "ain't" ain't even considered correct there, at least not yet. Regardless, it made its way into the dictionary. Things of this nature make me wonder what it would be like to have all those words at my disposal. At the rate language evolves this could turn into a particularly expensive hobby. I may need to purchase a new dictionary twice a year. And here comes another thought: How many words have been discarded? And what did they mean?

Poetry to Me

Horseback riding, in America, developed into two major disciplines, English and Western. Within each of these categories lays numerous, more specific categories. English, to name a few, hosts: hunter/jumper, dressage, park, saddle seat, etc. The same concept applies to Western which hosts: roping, reining, pleasure, trail, stock seat, barrel racing, pole bending, etc. I find this concept applies to poetry. To accomplish a certain effect, one uses a couplet, tercet, or even a combination of stanzas. Even within the Sonnet, there are two main types. A solid foundation remains the leading cause of success. As aspiring writers, it is essential that we learn and practice the rules before trying to manipulate or disregard them. No one gets on a horse for the first time and jumps six feet in good form just like no one writes a perfect pantoum their first time. On that same note, once the rules and foundations are established, a certain amount of liberty may be extracted. I've run barrels in a hunt seat saddle, and I've jumped in a trail saddle. I recommend neither. In both arts, a very select few people are blessed with a shred of natural talent. It happens, it's rare, it's nothing to fret over. People who spend thirty years in the saddle have accidents the same way authors who write their whole lives still find themselves overwhelmed with writers' block. At the end of the day we're looking at two beautiful, remarkable arts. This is how I make poetry make sense to me.

Were the Poems Lost?

It seems very nearly inappropriate to label found poems as "found." Since poetry revolves around the proper placement of words, I find this a legitimate concern. Do these poems know that they were lost in the first place? Maybe they are not "found" poems, but "hiding" poems. How do we know we're not upsetting these poems by finding them? Actually, it seems that naming this style hiding poetry is more appropriate and particularly to the serious observer and/or writer of the poetry. I am convinced of this fact because when we look seriously, when we want to see nuggets of inspiration, we see it hiding among the ordinary. It's hiding in the clouds, in the rhythm of a knife on a cutting board, in a recipe, and sometimes in a magazine article. The fun fact is that they are there all the time! It is not as if these poems slink around the house, avoiding our minds and pens, trying to keep us from "finding" them. All the same, it remains quite a wonder to me how someone can see anything, and use it to create another piece of something, very nearly on command. I get a bigger "kick" out of watching someone writing than I do out of watching a series of magic tricks. This probably stems from me knowing that anyone can hide a deck of cards in their blouse. Not everyone can learn how to raise awareness with a few well placed phrases.

Listing Poem

This poem is inspired by an article published in the magazine Family Circle. The intent of the article is to relay twelve ways to be happier every day. Two of the twelve are left out. I whipped out my creative license, and...

Domestic Bliss

Being positive takes effort.
1. Count your blessings-make a list
2. Look again-you needed stitches, but at least the doctor was attractive!
3. Don't stew-you're perfect the way you are! No need to compare!
4. Tell someone they look great-lying makes everyone feel better.
5. Nurture Relationships-anything can be salvaged with enough paste.
6. Get lost-until it's time to pick up the kids, clean the house, make dinner, do laundry, and feed the pets!
7. Remember when...-nothing takes you back like thinking about life before marriage.
8. Pursue a long neglected goal-how about hunting down a reliable sitter so you can get your hair trimmed?
9. Cope calmly-it's in bad form to upset your family with talk about bankruptcy, bills, and Daddy's affair!
10. Forgive-if you want to be happy, you must let go of your anger. Even towards the college roommate who slept with your fiance.

Sexism

In my practical criticism class, sexism and the perception of women in "our" culture is the topic of debate as of recently. This image, which I found on the internet via google image search sexism, sums up my feelings towards the subject perfectly. If a woman is constantly aware of how she is being perceived and how she perceives herself, then why is there a problem? And yes, men and women are being treated differently. Should they be allowed the same opportunities at the same rate of pay and completion time? Absolutely! However, there are some things one sex does better than the other. It's not sexism, it's evolution. If women and men were identical in problem solving, stature, over all intellect really (NOT to say one is better, just different), than the human race would die off. Men and women wouldn't need each other. I, as a woman, personally feel that the only problem with "sexism," is that sometimes women still don't realize they are being objectified. An even bigger problem arises when they do not wish to be viewed in that fashion, but they allow others to gaze regardless. To conclude, I wish to state another problem I feel gaining momentum. Society tells women (girls too, but until one reaches a certain level of maturity, I'm not sure one should make this particular decision) that if you don't want to be seen as "this," you need to dress like "that." Pardon me, but I feel as though that intrudes on personal freedom. Why not tell women, "demand to be treated with respect regardless of what you're wearing, and regardless of you're body type. Don't ever do, or say, or wear anything that makes you feel uncomfortable"?

Opinion on "Drinking Song"

The first line of the first stanza initially put me off to this poem because it feels so cliche. For some readers, the line "I want to die in the saddle" creates a point of familiarity because it is a common theme for songs and movies. When I read it, I heard someone who gave up on his existence because of the poor personal choices he made. Of course he wants to die...nothing is more painful than navigating a horse while nursing a nasty hangover. The next stanza, "I'm going to be a child about it and I can't help it, I was/born this way" frustrates me because, again, he's making excuses for his circumstances. I wasn't born to do math, but I found a tutor and pulled through, so don't give me that crap. And, if he's going to act like a child, then it may be in his best interest to stop drinking and get a job instead of fishing. Oh...but he had a job. However, he quit because his wife left. Well, let's see here, losing a spouse probably means you're losing half your income, so it might not be a good time to quit. Besides that, she left because he's a childish alcoholic. Maybe he should be evaluating his actions. "whiskey is good for the brain." If you're trying to pickle it! "What else am I supposed to do in these last days but fish and drink?" How about apologize to your boss, find a job, and beg your wife for forgiveness?
I am fully aware that this poem is a token to creative license, and it captures images and utilizes the words perfectly. Also, this is the best example of the form I have been exposed to, but with my inexperience, I need to explain why I respond negatively to certain pieces.