Proshlog leta uzela sam kao jedan od mojih electives Creative Writing. S
obzirom da je poetry most definitely the greatest passion of my life, class mi
je je leg'o k'o utikach u shteker. Profesor nam je bio pesnik Steven Haslam,
atmosfera sjajna, debatovalo se i recitovalo do kasno u noc. Ova pesmica je iz
jedne igre slichne Dejanovoj i zgodno zabavlja i po kucama, prirodno, ako se
za tako neshto nadje drushtvo (uvek ima neko ko se na neshto zali). Elem,
uputstvo.
Uzme se papir i ispresavija kao lepeza na delove od oko 2cm shirine. Prvi
uchesnik napishe prvi stih i daje ga drugom koji dodaje svoj. Papir se
presavija tako da treci vidi sam ono shto je pisao drugi, chetvrti vidi samo
ono shto je pisao treci itd. Na kraju smo se u vishe navrata smejali do suza.
Evo jednog od tih koje smo bili kreirali na chasu. "Moj" stih sam minut pre
toga prochitala in the restroom.
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I planted my poem in the field next to the carrots.
The carrots ripped the poem to shreds.
To use for his baby rabbits bed.
Where the bear wave
Hidden in the cave.
My horror lurks outside
It is me.
The frustrated cow that can milk no longer
Has been sent far, far away - I sure do miss her.
It is hard to forget.
So much pain can be felt, but press on with no regret.
For I ask myself just who am I?
What purpose am I serving?
Please, pull towels with both hands. Thank you.
Your recognition is appreciated.
Thankfulness is a wonderful thing.
Everyone has something to be thankful for.
Thankful for a centre table changed.
I need some change.
After shopping all day my hushpuppies are dropping close to dead.
To feel better they get extra fish 'n' chips!
So, Deajne, ja sam za,
dusha mi se vrti kao chigra
kad je u pitanju dechja igra,
javi kad pochne.
Beba