My roommate is a university student. She’s an English Major with a Creative Writing Minor. One of her classes this quarter was Poetry, and a recent assignment was to write ten titles that you couldn’t imagine could be turned into a poem. On the day of class, the students had to pass their list to the left and use the list from the person on their right. From that list, the students had to choose one title and write a poem.
She told me that the person to her left was a college male (and the professor told him specifically that he couldn’t write about boobs) so three of his titles, instead, revolved around bathroom functions. I don’t think she shared with me the title she chose but I challenged myself. I mean… what the heck, right?
Now, I don’t know why I’m even bothering to mention that I’m not a poet. I believe you have to be really smart to be a poet. And, to quote Dirty Harry, A man’s got to know his limitations… I did write a limerick back when I was in college but it’s better to not share that here. Still, I wondered if I could write a poem; especially one with a title created specifically as one not conducive to a poem.
So I chose the title Dog Shit and made an attempt.
Here it is. Let me know if I you think I should pursue a future as a poet.
Dog Shit
It’s fear.
It’s always fear.
So often
More often than I like to admit
It’s fear that keeps me from moving forward.
Paralyzed,
Frozen with fear.
Fear of the unknown.
Fear of the possible consequences.
Fear of making a wrong decision.
Still
At times I’ve come close
To taking the leap,
Believing in myself and taking
That first step in a new direction.
It always works out
Doesn’t it?
I mean I’m still here, right?
Nothing has killed me.
Yet.
Hell.
Why not take the plunge?
I’ll be all right!
Right?
Right!
What’s the worst that can happen?
Then here goes.
There!
The first step towards a new—
Wait.
Is that?
On my shoe?!
