So I’ve been looking for something to do during the Skins meme (it’s a lot of work doing the Skins thing!) So I figured I would post some of my own writing. This poem was from my creative writing class last year. Maybe one of my favorites I’ve written. 
Creative Writing Class
The words on the paper begin to blur,
swimming silently between the blue
lines in the icy water, slowly drowning
the meaning, purpose and reason for writing.
Commas become life jackets, saving the
helpless dependent clauses. Periods
rush through the torrential waves,
blocking the run-on sharks from
devouring the complete thoughts.
Apostrophes, capitol letters, punctuation -
all at the mercy of the God of Literature.
The small and weak attempt to survive
while the strong and wordy persevere
through the rain and storms of revisions.
Hazardous winds of erasers sweep away
the useless words, killing them instantly.
Dead words float near the story’s
wreckage, clutching remnants of
forgotten syntax. The icy waters take
no prisoners, freezing the final
meaning of the story, the creation.
Fighting through the water and cold,
surviving the storm and rain,
the final story is complete, full of words
and phrases complementing my
life. The Titanic of literature -
my masterpiece surviving the
toughest of criticism and death.
Struggle is where the stories are, in the places that hurt the most. Stressing a bit sucks, but at the same time, it is fashioning a better writer.
Nice work…
nelle