Being friends with poetry

Poetry and I have not been friends since I was 9 years old. When I was very young, I fancied myself an accomplished writer as was evident in the silly rhyming poems I created. No, I don't know what happened to my poetry. Somewhere along the way I lost all of my understanding for poetry. Most of it is so metaphorical and, well, weird that I just don't get it.

Until I transferred to CSU Fullerton and took a Literary Analysis class.

My professor was very patient while he answered all of my "I don't get it" questions. I was introduced to Andrew Marvel and William Blake and, of course, William Shakespeare. Gorgeous poetry. Poetry and I are slowly becoming friends.

Until this semester.

I am taking a writing for teachers class and last week's assignment was to write a poem. "You have got to be kidding!" Yep, that's what I said to the professor, who has also been very patient and helpful. I wrote a poem. I decided to write about my concern about my new job. No one, except the professor, has seen it. 

Until now:

As I walk through the Gate…

Dare I go to my happy place

Is the magic still there?

Streams of shooting beams at night

Notable memories and magic

Ever still the black ears promise

Your dreams will come true

Like magic I am transformed 

And I am a little girl again

Now, though, is the magic still there?

Dare I go, all grown up

Just as I was, is it still the same?

Overjoyed with opportunity

Believing in magic is still possible

Says the black ears.

Go ahead and tell me what you think-I can take it. I don't think I'll make a career out of being a poet, but I am learning to be friends with poetry.