I don't write poetry very often, but when I do, I try not to take it too seriously. This poem, which I wrote over a year ago, was intended to be silly--in contrast to quite a bit of deep and depressing poetry I heard in a creative writing class at the time. Nonetheless, even a poem as silly as this can be thoroughly analyzed. Whether you read it for fun or take an hour to examine each word, I hope you enjoy the break from the lengthy prose I have posted over the weeks. Of course, I hope you also enjoy the poem itself.
I chucked a trash bag into the
trash can,
And found myself
Ashamed,
As though I had shattered a moral
code.
The trash bag,
For whom my heart now pouts,
Had procured such an unpromising
tear
As to place himself on a podium
of uselessness.
Down he went, into the dark,
Mocked—
Surrounded by a new bag
That had pilfered his desired
station.
I turned away, showering
congratulations on
Myself
For eyeing the sharp tear that
had
Misshapen the trash bag.
But then “Shoot!” I shouted.
For I realized,
Had I shown mercy and love,
I’d have mended the tear and
given the trash bag a chance.
He, repaired and perfected,
Would have pranced to his
station,
And with newfound inspiration,
Thrived for his predetermined
purpose.
Instead I left the shamed trash
bag
In the dank dark of the smelly
trash can,
Shut off forever from bearing
trash,
And shunned by an imperfect
purchaser.
So I returned to my room, for I
thought,
“It's just a trash bag;”
But in this I erred, for a trash bag
without trash
Is just a bag.
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