Poetry Challenge Day 24

Ahhh yes. Day twenty-four. At last, a day that gets me. Our instructions were to do something different in some way than anything we’d written before. In their exact words, “Be wild!” This, of course, comes naturally to me. I’m about as wild and crazy as you can get! Not crazy. Insane! Yes, yes! Of course! Entirely insane. Because for us eschoolers, “crazy” cannot even begin to describe the depth and range of our insanity. In fact, many may even throw multicolored mermole tacos at you while riding winged narwhals if you call them crazy, because you will have “insulted their level of utter insanity.”

But, as fun as this challenge sounds, it was hard for me to get started. I’ve done so many things for this challenge itself that were different from anything I’d written before that I just didn’t know how to start. It was as if somebody had brainwashed all of my fresh, new, exciting ideas from my mind, and left only the crusty old remnants of previous ink scribbles. That is, until I realized something. This challenge does not say what, specifically, must be different. It does not say it must be a different style, or voice, or subject. With this realization came an even greater one. What if, to make this poem different, I use a different source of inspiration than I ever have before? And so, you see, I realized I just had to write something for the Hunger Games trilogy, my most recent addiction. After all, while I’ve written poems for characters in my own books, which were actually used in these books as songs, or love letters, or things of the like, I’ve never done this for a work of someone else.

 

It once was so simple, this scarred, callused life,
Full of hardships, of course, and its own kind of strife,
But even my nightmares, filled with fear and great pain,
Could not have prepared me for the blood of Snow’s reign.
Back then, though so little, there was always some hope,
But now, I find myself falling down a slippery slope.
I see no sun, no more of hope’s glimmering rays,
All I can see is anguish, for the rest of my days.
I’ll lose all those closest and dearest to me,
Even if I my life forfeit, no difference I see.
It’s happened before, it will happen again,
To my Prim, my Gale, even Peeta, dear friend.
I wish I could go back, make it all just reverse,
Step off the metal plate early, thrown into a hearse.
I’ve cried all my tears, till my eyes remain dry,
And I think to myself “At least mockingjays fly.”
They call me the spark, and bear this, my symbol,
Cinna even gave me wings with his fingers, so nimble.
But I know, deep inside, if I really had wings,
I’d take to the sky, forget all of these things.
 

Now, this is what I write after finishing the second book. I have yet to finish the trilogy, though I am on my hands and knees begging for the third one, waiting on edge in agonizing suspense. I guess what I’m trying to say, in a calm, gentle way, is do not leave a comment that will ruin the end for me! Please and thank you!

-Rattler

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