I think poems are not unlike a penis in that if some one loves you
very much they will pretend that yours is awesome and that they like
it very much but most everyone else would prefer you kept it to yourself. To extend the metaphor, there are poems that are so
magnificent that they can make a living for the author in the public
sphere but those are few and far between. With that in mind I had a
delusion of grandeur surrounding my poetical skills, I started
writing some pseudo-deep surly and self-righteous offerings when I
was a junior. Sometimes I would rattle off several poems and format
them and print them out to put in a binder. I would bring my binder
around with me and to extend the metaphor even further, show it to
girls to try and impress them. Almost to a woman they feigned
interest and would leaf through the binder and make the appropriate
interested hums and make the necessary head nods. With the benefit of
hind sight my confidence in their quality and profundity has faded in
re-reading them as a new, older and more mature person. To answer the
begged question – no, I don't think that my current writing is sad
and pretentious. I will know that in ten years. I rode into Freedom
Academy riding some unreasonable confidence in my literary prowess
and signed up for the talent show. When the night came for the
recital I found out that friends and family as well as local
celebrities would be in attendance and my confidence was shaken a
little. To top it off I was short of clothes and only had a tee shirt
and cut-off shorts left to wear. When I saw the other kids ready to
go up on stage dressed like it was time for church I was a little
more embarrassed. Right before my turn I looked out in the audience
and noticed that my new girlfriend was in the audience as well. I was
cold and shaking with a sick stomach but I went onto the stage and
read my heavy-hand and preachy poem that chided the listener for
being a bigot. I got some polite clapping when I was done but
something in my mind connected and I realized that what I had written
was not that good and I knew I was not going to be in the running for
an award. After the last performance and the awards I got to go talk
to my girlfriend and she was very sweet about my writing and I was
circumspect in my personal distance with her as she was there sitting
with her dad. I never recited poetry again.
