Rain makes me write poetry. Well, more specifically my professor makes me write poetry, but rain definitely helps me get into the mood. On a semi-related note, I already misplaced my brand new copy of The Complete Works of Sylvia Plath. Way to go, Caps. Clean your room.
Anyway, we were given an assignment in class to write a poem with a bunch of requirements (I’ll spare you, but I’ll post the poem below. It’s a rough draft so don’t you dare get sassy).
This week has been good because poetry.
This body, free and cold
has the arms of a goddess
who softly abducts shells, kidnaps crabs and
molds motes around castles in the sand.
Quietly sloshing at the surface, licking toes,
she seduces young couples
who sneak to the cliffs and kiss from here to eternity.
Diving, bubbling, shimmering,
a siren stealing treasure chests from sunken ships.
like tiny tentacles
graze a sailor’s chest
and pull him
her song fading to silence as water replaces air.
She looks like peace.
Yawning, she captures, entrances, drawing all to her feet
promising darkness and serenity, yet
forgetting to mention the loneliness of her depth.
So we bob along, and some disappear,
tiny toys in her vastness.