My "Poems" (For You to Make Fun... HAVE FUN!)

-deep breath-

Okay.

So, I mentioned something on Twitter about getting back "poems" for my Creative Writing class today, and, though I don't understand why, some of you seemed interested in reading them?

I went back and forth between whether or not I should share them, but, in the end, I figured it would help my grade. "How could it help your grade to embarrass the hell out of yourself, Chelsea?" Well, Imaginary Person in my Head, I could just ask everyone who reads these sorry excuses for poetry to completely tear them apart. I'm not talking, "Ohhhh, this is great, but you should do this..." I'm talking about, "Wow. Okay. First thing you need to do... Get rid of this shit."

Yes. Just like that.

So, if you're reading this, don't hesitate to take me down. Both of these are, pretty much, my first drafts. Very little, if any, revision went into either one. Also... I NEED the harsh, bringing-me-down criticism. I want (and need) to do well in the class, and I feel like I'm not learning anything from the teacher, so I need YOU to help me figure out what is "good" and what is "bad."

By the way, my teacher doesn't seem to like poems with rhyming throughout the whole thing, so don't worry about that. Haha. She basically told me to scrap my one rhyming poem (which I'm not showing, because I have another plan for it since she wanted me to try something else with it...), but the other pieces were okay-ish (if some revisions were in the future).

Okay. Now, go crazy with your imaginary red pens of death and kill these pieces of shit so they may rise from the dead and become something like a weird-looking-smelling-tasting flower.

Much love and many thanks,
Chelsea

Crocodile

Crocodile
Laying in a murky stream.
Eyes propped out.
Smiling. Waiting.
“Don’t be afraid.
Take a chance,”
He growls,
Sweetly. Smoothly.
“If it hurts,
The leap and pain were worth it,”
He encourages,
Kindly. Hopefully.
I take a leap
Into the murky stream,
Where Crocodile waits,
Patiently. Hungrily.
The next thing I know,
I am being pulled under,
Smiling. Grinning.
Then
Gasping. Crying.

Little One

Forever submerged
In your transparent coffin of life
Where breaths of life are dissolved,
You move around restless,
In amazement of everything,
Whether they be grand or dull.

The sounds of music
And the motion of my fingers
Always get your heart throbbing,
One means entertainment,
The other, food,
But both mean company.

I know it gets lonely for you,
Our competing languages forming mountains
Of misunderstanding;
And I know you long for a presence
When everyone leaves,
But, I promise, it’s always only temporary.

Like everything else, though, Little One,
I know our Time Together Clock
Will eventually be shattered and broken.
So, please, excuse the camera in your tiny face,
I wish only to remember you well
When a wind like Winter’s blows out your tiny flame.