National Poetry Month Day 23

Today’s been pretty difficult. There’s only a couple weeks left before finals, and those weeks are filled with papers and portfolios and studying. On top of all this, my friends have been bitching at me for no reason and then completely ignoring the fact that there was a fight at all. As if my feelings were a meaningless casualty. And the one thing I thought I had as a definite has been pulled out from under me. I’m on the verge of a serious emotional break and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m a pretty firm believer in karma (not in the hippie and drugs sense, just getting what you deserve), but I’ve been looking at my past. I don’t know what I did to so suddenly deserve this. It’s just stress after stress, building up. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to finish my book this week. I’m not even sure I’m going to be capable of finishing my assignments. I don’t know.

Poetry. Right, that’s what you’re here for.

If you checked out the Insatiable Booksluts link I provided yesterday (was it yesterday…?) then this poem might sound familiar. I really just fell in love with the poems Amy chose.

Not Waving But Drowning, by Stevie Smith

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

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