12th Grade Creative Writing
While I was choosing classes to take for my senior year in high school I chose a creative writing class. The next semester when I went to class I ended up sitting next to a friend of mine, Brian Grubbs. He and I talked a lot and always shared our writing with each other. He was a good writer. In fact He ended up getting his bachelor’s degree in English. I’ve lost touch with him now. Brian was a good influence on me especially in this writing class.
When I saw that I had a friend that was just as interested in writing as I was I felt at ease, I wasn’t the only one that loved to write. The teacher wanted us to choose something to write about other than ourselves or our own feelings. We had to think outside the cozy box we were used to living in. I chose to write about the columbine shooting. This was the year that columbine happened or maybe the year after. This was the year that columbine happened or maybe the year after. The feelings and memories I had of this incident were still fresh in my mind.
When I wrote this poem I tried to see the situation from the gunman’s point of view. I tried to see what he may have seen or have been thinking. I may have been way off in fact I probably was. But I used my imagination and what I had seen on the news to create this poem. The teacher wanted us to try not to use our own emotion but in this poem in a way I couldn’t help but to use my emotion. The poem represented my view of what I felt the gunman was like during his shooting. This of course was just one way the teacher had us conjure up poetry.
Another activity she had us do was create a poem using certain words. We all had to use the same words. She wrote them on the board and then when we were done she had us each read our poem out loud to the class. The words were: Porch, Fly, obese, mini mouse and grey. This was a challenge because those words don’t seem to have anything to do with the other.
Part of this activity was to read our poems out loud to the class. I didn’t like to read my poems or my writing out loud because I was always afraid it wasn’t going to be as good as everyone else’s writing. As I would listen to other poems from my peers I would begin to realize that some were very well written and others were not as good and most of the time my poems would fit right in between the other students writings. This class gave me more confidence and technique for my writing career.
When I saw that I had a friend that was just as interested in writing as I was I felt at ease, I wasn’t the only one that loved to write. The teacher wanted us to choose something to write about other than ourselves or our own feelings. We had to think outside the cozy box we were used to living in. I chose to write about the columbine shooting. This was the year that columbine happened or maybe the year after. This was the year that columbine happened or maybe the year after. The feelings and memories I had of this incident were still fresh in my mind.
When I wrote this poem I tried to see the situation from the gunman’s point of view. I tried to see what he may have seen or have been thinking. I may have been way off in fact I probably was. But I used my imagination and what I had seen on the news to create this poem. The teacher wanted us to try not to use our own emotion but in this poem in a way I couldn’t help but to use my emotion. The poem represented my view of what I felt the gunman was like during his shooting. This of course was just one way the teacher had us conjure up poetry.
Another activity she had us do was create a poem using certain words. We all had to use the same words. She wrote them on the board and then when we were done she had us each read our poem out loud to the class. The words were: Porch, Fly, obese, mini mouse and grey. This was a challenge because those words don’t seem to have anything to do with the other.
Part of this activity was to read our poems out loud to the class. I didn’t like to read my poems or my writing out loud because I was always afraid it wasn’t going to be as good as everyone else’s writing. As I would listen to other poems from my peers I would begin to realize that some were very well written and others were not as good and most of the time my poems would fit right in between the other students writings. This class gave me more confidence and technique for my writing career.
“Do you wanna Die?”
All the trembling fingers
The spots of blood touching my naked skin.
I can’t help but to smile grimly.
The world being fearful,
Of what?
My intelligent mind….
Listen to them beg for their living bodies.
The screams of their gunshot wound,
It tickles my ears…..
All their pale breathless bodies around my feet.
The terrified still eyes staring into mine.
My last happiness….
Suicide
Slowly floating towards the door,
Stepping off the porch
Reaching to the sky
I began to fly;
Alcohol bleeds out my ears
My toes fell off one by one
My eyes became black and my nails blue
Looking down from my floating corpse,
Mini mouse
Drinking
Grey clouds six feet below
Stood with a boney stench ten miles
High and obese white fingers quickly waving Goodbye.
All the trembling fingers
The spots of blood touching my naked skin.
I can’t help but to smile grimly.
The world being fearful,
Of what?
My intelligent mind….
Listen to them beg for their living bodies.
The screams of their gunshot wound,
It tickles my ears…..
All their pale breathless bodies around my feet.
The terrified still eyes staring into mine.
My last happiness….
Suicide
Slowly floating towards the door,
Stepping off the porch
Reaching to the sky
I began to fly;
Alcohol bleeds out my ears
My toes fell off one by one
My eyes became black and my nails blue
Looking down from my floating corpse,
Mini mouse
Drinking
Grey clouds six feet below
Stood with a boney stench ten miles
High and obese white fingers quickly waving Goodbye.
