My Poetry Rhymes

Age 20. When I was a freshman in college an English professor was really impressed by how well I could write. She liked essays and short stories I wrote. In a religion class a professor asked us to write a poem that was a prophecy. He rejected everyone’s poem but mine. He shared the poem with the English professor so she asked me if I wrote poetry at all. I told I had been writing over half my life. Impressed by the samples I showed her she asked me to take a senior level poetry class she taught. I said sure even though I didn’t think I was ready for such a high level. We went through all the proper channels to get me into such a very advanced class. Well everyone in the class was astounded at my work. They really liked it. They liked my topics. They liked my flow. These were English seniors praising a lowly freshman. Some even wanted to hangout with me and learn more about my process (I don’t have one) and they wanted to teach me their ways. There was one woman in the class though that went out of her way to degrade me and put me down every chance she got – she even wrote a poem about me (weekly we had to share our recent works). Everyone else came to my defense each time so I never took it too harsh. It was clear she was jealous and resented that I was in the class, period. One day I forgot to write a poem for the class so I wrote one on the spot (Dying Buffalo). It was so well written that I wasn’t caught by the professor for slacking. However I told my friend next to me what I had done (he had seen me busily writing) and the woman overheard. So she said to me “You’re just a rapper. Your poems are just raps. All you good at is rhyming. You’re not a true writer.” So this is my sorta snarky response to her that yes the following week I did share with the class (I felt since she went so much outta her way to write a poem about me that I would give 5 minutes of my time back to her. It really didn’t even take me that much time to write this).  

Expression – 

My poetry rhymes 

and now I’ve learned it’s a poetic crime

I could try

to watch these lines 

Make sure my pen doesn’t repeat vowels 

but it wouldn’t be me now. 

I refuse to pin my pen down. 

It’s not a rap that comes out 

But expression – 

Rap’s an expression, no doubt 

but however you want to approach this question

you label me rap like it’s a bad direction. 

But this is what I know 

These are my poems 

that have an impeccable flow. 

It’s how my thoughts form. 

It’s how my pen stays course. 

I’m not going to write words with force

If I did so

I might as well put them on a schedule 

but I’ll never resort to a desperate level. 

So I’ll just rhyme like:

Once upon a time

I wrote between the lines 

and got told it was a crime   

Then my pen started to cry 

I refused to let it die

of a heartbreak 

I held it close and told it that it’ll be okay – 

We got some raps to create. 

They think rap is cake

Then let’s kick it!

Handle our business 

and this ink can bare witness

Yo, yo, yo I kick raps 

Hand your salty ass

a Tic Tac

Now rip that

then sit back 

The Nomad

is coming onto your land. 

Now if you don’t understand 

maybe your pen can

because poetry is where our pens meet

to cringe your teeth

and enjoy these R-A-Ps

for you see, 

I drive my pen crazy

until my hand gets lazy

and words illegible

No schedule 

not on your level 

These are Rapoems

Rap and poems 

Rhythm and poems

Rap on the lines 

because my poetry must always rhyme.    


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