my spontaneous free verse

A Child

I am a child of your average suburbs,
A product of lush lawns and fair picket fences,
A dreamer of distant shores and faces, fated to live and die here, despite my longing.

I am the scorn of all society,
The same materialistic worshiper I have condemned.
I simply consume what I am fed. I’m hungry for something new.
I stare at where the rooftops touch the sky with unyielding zeal
With a passion so intense, a torture of my mind.

I am not a city boy. I can’t traverse the street without a hand in my own.
I am not a farmer’s son. I can’t live off the land or find my way through the fields.
I am not a rich man. I can’t buy an elevator to the moon or the stars.

I am in the middle, more blessed than most. I have food and drink and clothes,
Yet something’s missing; I don’t feel at home.
Education roots me to this place.
My job will bind me here, because only money will free my life,
And I still will not leave.

I am only a gutless idealist,
With a childhood of shoddy television and heartless machines.
I detest this place, but I’m even more afraid of the unknown.
If I ever journey the oceans, I’ll write you a pessimistic letter,
Describing how it’s just the same as here.

I think I’m different. I think it’s all amiss, but now I know.
If I’m going to live and die here,
I have work to do.



--We had to write a free verse for English class, and this is what I wrote. There's no fancy rhyme scheme or meter. It's just sort of spontaneous. It doesn't hold much to some of the amazingness I've read here, but whatever. It got recognized by the teacher, but I didn't share my name to the class because, well, it's a bit embarrassing. Criticism, anyone?

Edit: It's amazing, that, the more times I reread it, the more uncreative and boring it seems.

So is it really bad, or are you just telling yourself that and believing it? Funny, ain't it? How we can express an idea in a way no one else can, because we're all unique, and then take that expression and completely trash it. I remember throwing away a bunch of stuff I had written because I felt the same way. I wonder if Michaelangelo, after painting the Sistine Chapel, was like, "**** this ceiling sucks! What was I thinking?!" And what if Led Zeppelin said, "You know, Stairway to Heaven sounds too abstract. Let's write Stairway to 3rd Floor instead!" I mean, if every artist criticized his own work badly enough, we wouldn't have music or paintings or art to begin with! So don't be too hard on yourself, even though I know all too well that it does lead to really great works of art. And just because it doesn't fit any certain scheme doesn't make it bad. I've written both ways, and I tend to just go with what I feel. I read some rhymes, and can't stand it because I know that sometimes the author couldn't come up with a natural flow, so he decided to force a rhyme. I abhor it. There are definitely times when forcing something to fit in really wrecks the whole thing, you know? Keep writing. I really enjoying reading what comes from inside. Pieces like this refresh me when I get tired of the outside world. It reminds me I'm not alone. Not emotionally, at least.