Here are the last two poems for the section on poetry for my English 302 class. The first was called ego-tripping. We were suppose to pull from our real lives but also pull from a life that you don't have:

I was born in Norway

I was recruited for ballet before I could walk

I quit for crew, almost quit that too

I know that any pain is temporary

I know I can replace it with fear

I can do what I want, not what you think I can do

I eat all my wishes and luck for strength and happiness

I’ve already seen more death than you and you combined

I’ve already said goodbye but you’re still here.

The second was to be an ode. I did mine in tribute to crew. So here is my ode to my blister:

She sits on my hand, pink and peeling.

She winces in pain when I

stretch my hand out wide

like a child making an angel in the snow.

Raw, baby skin peeks out of the corners

of my ripped skin, searching for fresh air.

She is my prize, my gantlet, for the day.

She is proof of my work and she is stunning.

She is the tear that clings to my patchwork skin,

waiting to be tested again tomorrow;

waiting to prove her tenacity.

We are finished with this poetry unit and I'm a little sad to see it go. However, we are still working on poetry in my English 251 class.

Love from Pullman,

The Blonde and the Bullshit