So I wrote this poem for a scholarship (open topic)…and I had this brilliant idea for it before I actually wrote it. But then it turned out being this short. And I didn’t actualize my thoughts. But it feels complete. And I like it.
…
I don’t normally write poems
Because it’s not my thing;
I write stories, in traditional prose,
Jagged, invisible outlines on
Bright, ruled sheets.
Thousands of blue pages
Hide in my binder, in my folder.
They seem to say:
“Laura, give us a home.
Tell us where we belong.
Give us our space.”
And so I follow their pleas,
With my trusty pen, or pencil, or marker:
Whatever is available to me,
I use to fulfill their needs.