In honor of Throwback Thursday (or #TBT, for you young hip folks out there), I decided to dig into the wasteland that is my “Archived Projects” folder. I unearthed this gem, dating back to a period in my life when I believed that all serious writers should write poetry. Erm, yeah. I don’t even like reading poetry! And “serious writer”—ha, that’s a label I don’t even want anymore (I’ve heard it comes with mandatory elbow patches and a penchant for cigarillos).
In any case, at least it’s good for a chuckle. I present to you the poetry stylings of HighSchool!Nora (not entirely sure, but I think I was 16):
Insomnia
Monotonous tick,
Somniferous tock.
I lay awake listening
To the click of the clock.
Hum of the crickets,
Chirp of the birds.
I lay awake listening
To a song without words.
Creak of the mattress,
Squeak of the sheets.
I lay awake listening
To the night’s restless beats.
And just to ensure the humiliation is total, an accompanying picture of the poet:
Okay, this is probably the least embarrassing photo of me at 16 in existence. I’m easing myself in to this…
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