Universal

This is a poem I wrote for my creative poetry writing class. We had a writing exercise where we write about a childhood memory. I chose the first time I went to Universal Studios.

The corpse towered above  

us in the Pharaoh’s Tomb.  

Twinkles of gold cluttered the 

room, but our eyes were fixated on 

the creature who put a claim on  

our souls, but before he could take  

it, the ride sped up with great  

force like a silver-bullet.  

  

We made our grand escape, but the  

force became too strong that we  

fell backwards into the murky water.  

That is when the countdown began. 

  

Warm-blooded creatures hissed and  

screeched at us as they  

slithered through the trees  

while we made our way  

up the waterfall.  

 

As we inched closer to the edge 

the rock walls became dark and  

behind a curtain of water was  

a face. It was the face of  

the beast who emerged from  

the water with its jaws ready to bite! 

 

The countdown hit 0 and 

our ride escaped down the 

waterfall. 

 

We landed safety and made 

our way to the exit where  

we stumbled into the  

dark room.  

We were blind without a  

source of light until the  

fires of Hell were raised from 

beneath our feet. The flames 

surrounded us, but did not 

dare touch us.  

 

As the flames simmered  

down to a puff of smoke, we  

clapped like circus goers  

at a show.  

  

When we exited the dark  

room, we were met by  

the warm sunset. It was 

time to leave this place.  

  

The exit was right in sight when 

the face on the billboard caught  

my eye.  

  

It was a man’s face, 

a man with a sinister grin  

and mystery and mischief  

in his eyes. 

 

This man, I did not know, but 

it felt like he was 

speaking to me. Telling me 

secrets about the  

horrors of the night.  

 

I was terrified to look, but 

I was too intrigued to look 

away.  

 

He knew things about me, 

things I did not realize about 

myself until years to come.  

 

I have always been drawn to  

the darkness.  

Reviews

[JayG]

Okay. You took an essay and broke it into short lines. How does that magically make it become poem? The language is prosiac, there's no attention paid to prosody, and stanza length is all over the place.

Grab a copy of Mary Oliver's, A Poetry Handbook and read it. Guaranteed, it's better than whatever book they made you read for that class.

https://dokumen.pub/a-poetry-handbook-0156724006.html