Bad Poetry, Good Poetry
Bad Poetry, Good Poetry
Today, I wrote poetry.⠀
Sloppy poetry. Crappy poetry.⠀
All mush and no literary sense.⠀
After writing it, I leaned over the balcony rail and shouted out that I had written bad poetry. ⠀
Cute guy next door had his headphones on, his head bobbing to heavy metal or hard rock, I wouldn't know. He never cared.⠀
Opposite door orthodox aunty ⠀
muttered profanities under her breathe, ⠀
as she tried to scan my tank top ⠀
and torn jeans with her roving eyes. ⠀
She never cared.⠀
Third floor little girl rode ⠀
on her Hello Kitty bicycle, ⠀
waving to her girl friends enthusiastically. ⠀
She, they, never cared.⠀
Mum, dad and brother came running ⠀
to the balcony, thinking that I had fallen off. Looking at my Moleskine notebook ⠀
and my spidery penmanship, they sniggered and asked me to join for dinner ⠀
without wasting my time in writing crap. ⠀
They, obviously, never ever cared.⠀
I finally realized that not a single soul cared about something that could find a place⠀
in literary magazines, though it was bad. ⠀
>
That which could lead to my fame or infamy, ⠀
I wouldn't know. ⠀
I skipped the dreaded dinner consisting of bland pancakes with spiced vegetable filling. ⠀
I was so full of words that my ⠀
hunger pangs went unnoticed.⠀
Later, I sat down again to write ⠀
some real poetry. Or so I thought.⠀
Nicking all the cottage cheese cubes ⠀
from yesterday's leftover sandwich, ⠀
I scribbled something literary on a fresh sheet, chewing on the cubes ⠀
to make my mind churn words.⠀
After writing, I leaned over the balcony rail ⠀
and shouted out that I had ⠀
written good poetry.⠀
Alas! The entire apartment complex ⠀
had gone to sleep. Silence. ⠀
Shattered only by my unasked bawl. ⠀
Yes, they never cared about poetry, ⠀
be it bad or good.⠀
But something glinted, ⠀
illuminating my forlorn cheeks. ⠀
I looked up and saw the moon. ⠀
I think she smiled.⠀
I popped a champagne, took a few swigs ⠀
and read out both my sappy ⠀
and sterling poetry to my lone listener.⠀
She always cared. 🌙⠀