I remember the day I gave up on me and Poetry:

Grade 10 English, my poem somehow labeled an average ‘C’.

My best friend said: Poetry is crazy; this is total bull!

I got an ‘A’ – from writing five minutes about an apple!

 

It made no sense, it was just all so…

Backwards.

 

I put my heart and soul into that - we couldn’t find just cause;

But we failed to see his brilliance, how mediocre I was.

So, full of self-righteousness, I said: I’ve had enough of this.

I am done with Poetry – to me, she no longer exists.

 

I was wronged, I was right, I was such…

A nerd.

 

I would see her in the halls but I pretended I didn’t;

Friends would ask about me and Poetry – I kept my heart hidden.

I told terrible lies: She cheated on me with other guys;

Poetry? She was no prize, I said with tears in my eyes.

 

But we still shared a locker, which was…

Awkward.

 

I’ll be honest – it took me ten years to get over that day.

Sure, I wrote some sappy, crappy love poems along the way:

To my first girlfriend, in university…

Yes, I didn’t have a girlfriend until university.

I was shy, you got a problem with that?

Yes, it was another seven years before I met Kat,

But I’ve been dating her for three years now so you can kiss my fat…

But I digress.

 

But now I know, it wasn’t my teacher I was writing for;

So dear Mr. Brown, or White, or whatever color you were,

Fourteen years later? Sorry, this poem is not for you either.

And you know what? This right here is not for my best friend neither.

 

This is for Poetry and our love…

Of words.

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Seed of a tree you speak of many possibilities how tall will you grow? how long before I will stand under the comforting shade of your boughs? the fruit you bear will feed my ravenous soul your clothed branches will soothe me with rustlings of remembrance and my eyes will feast on ever-changing...

excerpt from flower my garden   by caterpillar