No announcement yet.

My honest poem

  • Filter
  • Time
  • Show
Clear All
new posts

  • My honest poem

    Hey guys, my writing teacher is having me write an honest poem. Could you help me fix it or switch stanzas around? Thanks so much!
    I was born on October 24, 1998.
    I missed the cutoff to be one grade higher by a few weeks.
    But I'm thankful I was born a little late.
    Ive been 5'9 since eight grade and my weight has fluctuated by more numbers than my fathers age.
    I tell myself it's better than how I used to be. Skinny and hungry and sad every second, but sometimes it's hard to stay this away. With school and stress and people who are rude. I tell myself it's normal to still feel the way I do.

    I don't know how to make everyone happy, though trying to has been all that I fill up my mind.
    I am so invested in others that I forget to remember to have a good time.
    Most of my days are spent watching kids who don't appreciate me, though I wouldn't have it any other way because seeing the smiles on their face is part of what makes me wake up each day.

    I'm still learning how to be honest.
    Some people would call me fake,
    but I call it trying to boost confidence of others and make them feel okay even if in my mind I hate talking to them.
    Fake or not I want them to be happy and feel great.

    I am sucker for romance movies and kettle corn and the actor Natt Wolf and the belief that in the future, there is something better for me. I am stuck on the hope that I'll have six kids and that my significant other will always support me. I would give my last penny to have rain every day and for the beach and the sun to just go away though I know if I did, most people would hate me for taking their happiness away.

    I throw myself in the middle of situations I never should have bothered with and try to mend relationships that never should have started.
    Sometimes my own.

    I've been told that I look like a bitch.
    People who've never talked to me sometimes feel like they should stay at least ten feet away.
    I've been told after meeting, I am the nicest person.
    I don't know if this is true, but I know this.
    I am always the one to build others up.
    I'll take the pieces that I've broken down from myself to fix anyone who will let me help.

    I have four people who openly hate me.
    On social media I mean.
    Every reason they have had has been wrong.
    Wrong as in, not true.
    Wrong as in, I've never said it or done it but I have no proof.
    So I remain the person who is hated by rumors.
    That makes me forever queasy.

    I've never played an instrument,
    But I am obsessed with music.
    My mother carries the videotaped proof that I've never been able to carry a tune.
    But singing along to my favorite songs is probably my favorite thing to do.

    I've always wondered what people say about me when I'm not in the room. I know if I heard it, I wouldn't be able to stay who I am. I would try to change everything to fit this perfect idea of what people want me to turn into.
    My past is filled with ghosts of the people who used to care about me and memories of the boys who pretended to. I've only made up one big lie in my life, but he deserved it. My nights are filled with the never ending fear that I'll run into the man who created my nightmares. Sometimes I hear him downstairs and i pray that's where he'll stay if he stays here.

    Hi. My name is Kayce Lazott.
    People used to tease me and call me Kayce Lasagna.
    And I don't know why it ever bothered me.
    My purpose on this earth was to create a family and sometimes I wish God made me differently.
    I believe in mermaids though my boyfriend thinks it's crazy and I'm allergic to cats but it's okay because they hate me.
    I've never been that happy.
    I love road trips and I've never been in the snow, and I'm secretly afraid to get my license because I know if it's something I have, i might drive away and never come back.

  • #2
    Why do you want to make it a poem? It works way better as prose. I mean, it's excellent prose, like the start of an autobiography.

    There are potentially numerous poems that could be spun from this material. Maybe you could pick out just one aspect it of it, like, say, the second last paragraph about the nightmare man, or the part about being obsessed with music but not playing it yourself, or about believing in mermaids. You've been honest; now intensify your focus and try and express what you see in a way that's unexpected.


    • #3
      I agree with Mr Hayes .

      You have written honestly about your thoughts about yourself. Condense into feeling.

      For instance

      I kneel before the looking glass ,
      Gaze upon this sad reflection.
      The mirror sheds our lonely tears.
      Tears of our rejection.

      Hey that's just me.
      The honesty does not come from the story, it comes from your response to the story
      Last edited by rhymetime; 09-07-2016, 02:23 PM.


      • #4
        Kayce, To hell with Poetry, This is lovely Prose! Grant and RhymeTime are right.

        Happiness is not all that it's cracked up to be;
        Let yourself run free under a canopy of stars.
        Inhabit each day as if it's your last day on earth.
        Life's a road trip - a mysterious journey. Enjoy!


        • #5
          I concur with all above Kayce - your honesty here exceeds any 'poetic' device I know (although to be fair, I'm still learning forms). If it needs to be/sound poetic - I find Grant's suggestion excellent - focus on just a section which appeals most to you. Good luck!