You've all heard of the classic starving artist, right? You know the guy I mean- the man at the end of your city block who sits all day, staring intently at a canvas. You pass him every morning on your way to work (or school, it really doesn't matter). You see him every day, and yet his canvas always looks the same. It's blank. Let's face it people- this is why that guy is starving! But really, I'm in no position to criticize. I can draw three things reasonably well: vines, hibiscus flowers, and poinsettias. My artistic talents are purely agricultural. But I digress! To continue, I'm sure you've all heard about said starving artist. But as you now know, I am no artist. So instead I have become a starving poet. This is partly true, seeing as I do love to write poetry, and partly untrue. I am not, as you may have guessed, starving. If I were in fact wasting away to nothing, I would most certainly not be sitting here typing this right now. Instead I would be out scavenging for food in some local dumpster, or at a line in front of a soup kitchen, or preparing to die dramatically in my true love's arms, with the secret to eternal happiness on my dying lips. Yeah, like that'll ever happen.
I feel somehow obligated to share a poem with you, oh miraculous surfers of the internet. This is a poem I wrote about a month ago when I got a beautiful pair of Converse shoes for my birthday:
Oh Converse, you're the coolest
thing around.
I love you very much,
'cause you bring me up when I am down.
Some People claim you're nerdy,
but that's so not true.
Dearest Converse,
I'm in love with you!
Black and white
never matched so well.
Oh Converse,
I think you're swell!
copyright MPK 2010, all rights reserved, unauthorized use is prohibited
This was really just written for fun, but I don't think it's too bad, all things considered.
Thanks for listening!
-Maggs
