Poetry Class with Weeping Angels

So I just got back from my poetry class. It was super fun. We workshopped my poem and I think people liked it. I had a few iffy things that I am going to fix, but the rough draft that I read to the and they looked at is this one:

The Beginning of All Art

The painter licks his lips and dips

into a brimming pit of thought.

The brush whips over the canvas creating,

Marking out a new form. Will it be

A person, dog, or tree?

Options are open.

Maybe just a pile of purple puzzle pieces

Stacked in such a specific way.

An author primes her pen,

Swirling it over an abyss of idea.

What shall she scribe?

Opportunities are endless.

Construct courtyards

of crying cherubs, tears unexisting

on their rough unmoving cheeks,

Or take a boy on an unexpected adventure.

Now you sit down at a table

venturing into the unknown

Jumping into the pit.

Swimming down into the abyss.

Measuring out thought

adding a pinch of it.

It, that fuels your mind on your wondrous journey.

It, that powers the writer while she furiously clicks away at the keys.

It, that sustains the painter’s muscles when his hand grows heavy.

The father of rhyme and alliteration.

Imagination.

I think it is pretty fun and I know that at least some of them liked it. They thought that it was very original except for the "venturing into the unknown" which is kind of cliche and I think I may take it out. Other than that though my professor quite liked it. Especially the sound devices which I had tons of fun playing with.

Don't Blink

Love,

Alora