Rumple…

15th October, 2015. 5:00pm

Writing 201: Poetry, Day 9: Cold, Concrete Poetry, Epistrophe/Anaphora

As temperatures begin to drop in the Northern Hemisphere, let’s focus our attention today on “cold,” and whatever that word evokes in you. From wintry weather to emotional aloofness to the fun you had during your heyday as a teen figure skating champion, write a poem that will send chills down our spines (literally or not).
Today’s form: concrete poetry
Today’s device: anaphora/epistrophe

I really wanted to try doing the concrete poetry. I even had a plan: I will write it out on a paper and scan it or take a picture of it and upload it here on my blog. But then, after having lunch, wasting my time watching senseless videos on Youtube, and reading a chapter or two of the book currently reading (Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn), I realized how hard it actually is. I didn’t bother using the last poetry generator I used the first time I did Concrete Poetry, because I don’t think it’s reliable, but I Googled how to do it using Paint and/or Microsoft Word. Doing it in Paint is actually easy, but I suck at drawing so I gave up. Instead, I designed my poem in a simple way. I know it’s not much of a concrete poetry, but come on! I have a million jobs to do in 12 hours. Give me a break!

RumpleFor those who can’t understand and/or read the font, here is what I wrote:

You said, “don’t fall”
But I still give my all,
You said, “You deserved more,
I will just leave you sore.”
I said “No, please, I love thee.”
I keep telling you this, why can’t you see?

So I left to save face,
hoping to escape without a trace.
You chased after me, holding me under wraps
like a dog, in front of his master, begging for scraps.

You said, “I miss you, come back to me”
I said, “No, please, just leave me be.”
I was stupid to think that life wouldn’t kick me in the teeth,
And that you were actually a better man underneath.
I keep telling you this, why can’t you see?

I loved you, honored you, but you played me,
I went away, but you’re dragging me like that of a pulley.
I keep telling you this, why can’t you see?
You were supposed to be the sunshine of my life
But being with you feels like the afterlife.

About the concept:

When I first thought about starting my poem, I was thinking about how someone made me feel. But then, as I write the first line, I realized, it was far more than that. A few weeks ago, I watched a local movie about a girl and a boy who were classmates and the two checked in a motel because they got caught in the rain. They had sex, and the boy asked the girl if she wants to be with him, but the girl declined. Some years later, the girl became a lawyer, now ready to be with the guy, but it was too late. The guy is getting married. But since fate is a bitch, it decided to play tricks on them and the boy’s feelings came back all of a sudden. He left his wife, then chased the girl. However, it was the girl who wasn’t available this time. She’s already happy. Are you getting the picture? It was that feeling of pining for someone that kept pushing you against the wall, and when you finally learned your lesson, they drag you back so they can do it all over again, but you’re smarter this time. I don’t know if it made sense, or if it  even answered the prompt, but I hope it did.

PS: As for the title, I used it as a title because I am actually dedicating this to someone. I’m not bitter. I’ve finally woken up from a coma, and I think it’s time to make some changes. So bye. I liked you, but I’m not your toy soldier.

PPS: If you watch Once Upon a Time, you probably have an idea why I’m using this title. Rumplestiltskin is an evil, manipulative son of a bitch who likes to toy with words. He reminds me of him. Although he’s not all evil like Rumple—he’s actually a great friend—but I won’t always be around so he can use me as a tool to cope up.

KTHXBYE.

Jhack

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