I have been writing (mostly bad) poetry since I was 21. This is very odd considering I absolutely hate poetry. Poetry drives me up a wall. As a form of writing, it tends to be overly impressed with itself. If someone wishes to say something, it's best just to come out and say it instead of tying it up in uselessly colorful words that confuse the entire situation.
So . . . now that I've gone on a rant about how much I dislike poetry . . . Let's get back to the fact that I write it. *sigh* The fact of the matter is, poetry is a very useful tool for writers. It's a way to get concepts, images and ideas onto paper and experiment with words. It's also awesome for saying lovey-dovey-gushy stuff.
Please understand that this was written before I was writing consistently. The technical merits of the writing are . . . non-existent. It could be written much better, but I'm not going to edit it. I figure this will keep me from becoming too impressed with myself if I hit it big. ;)
Explanation of this poem
This is the first poem I wrote. I decided to give writing a shot and based upon what I did here, I thought I was pretty good. In spite of that delusion, I continued to write and now almost have delusions of success.
I was raised in the Mojave Desert. It truly is a beautiful place when one spends some time and accepts it. I found myself just sitting and staring for hours. The desert revealed itself to me. One of these days I'm going to have to try writing a poem about it that's actually decent, so that perhaps you will be able to see what I once did.
The poem (cue coffee shop atmosphere where everyone wears black turtlenecks and snaps their fingers when it's done)
The Aesthetic Desert
Looking out over the desert
I can see for miles and miles
I'm standing on top of a butte
The desert surrounds me
In the day, the sky is so clear and clean
Wonderful blue, streaked with thin cream
At night, there are trillions upon trillions of star
Darkest black, sparked with brilliant white
I am in love with the desert
It is one of the most beautiful works of art
My words can't come close enough
The desert lives in me
So much life, animals that call it home
Alive and moving, creatures that know no fear
Extraordinary life, brush and cactus making it home
Strong plants, providing shelter for the animals
This aesthetic desert is harsh
Gusty winds that attempt to blow away life
Freezing nights stopping all movement
The glaring sun ruthlessly ruling the sky and land
Survival, this is the test
The hardiest, only they may survive it
The losers, they leave it as lesser beings
The survivors, they know true strength and beauty
I walk at one with the desert
I am at peace with myself and the desert
I revel in the life and in the survival
The aesthetic desert surrounds me
Copyright 8 August 1991 John H. Carroll
