While in college I fell in love with a classy, beautiful, and intelligent young lady. Unfortunately, she was not fooled by me or my poetry.
Poetry is not my strong suit, but I managed to cobble together enough words in a poetry sort of way to get an A in poetry class at the local University. That’s further proof that miracles happen.
One poem in particular received a laudatory response from my instructor. She “responded very deeply” to what I wrote and said “it seems like pure gift.” My “gift” was inspired by my wonderful young lady friend, who proved to be far wiser than her years. My poem:
If to God a thousand years is as a day,
Then I have been lost forever;
Abandoned on this aching raft,
Pounded by a sea of fear.
Oh damn that I could touch but once
A mountainside so high and firm,
Or hold the earth below my feet
And separate the sky.
Winds of anger forced this raft to sea
And turned to prey upon its soul.
This wilderness water offers no escape
Save the call of darkness from below.
Did you respond deeply to my example of a pure gift? I told my young lady friend that she was the inspiration for my poetry. She responded with, “What am I to make of its meaning?”
Meaning? It’s poetry. There’s no meaning. It’s just supposed to sound like poetry, right? I received an A from my instructor for the poetic effort, but received a failing grade from my obviously more intellectual and insightful lady friend, who proceeded to move on to greener pastures with more depth (to mix a couple of metaphors).