My Creative Writing class had once again began a poetry unit. To start off this segment of the semester, my teacher had us all go to the website called Poetry 180 which was founded by one of the previous Poet Laureates so people would bring poetry back into their lives.

I’ve gotta say, after hearing my classmates’ chosen poems I couldn’t help but be impressed by their taste in poetry, and so I thought to share my one of my favorites with all of you.

Tuesday 9:00 AM

Denver Butson

A man standing at the bus stop
reading the newspaper is on fire
Flames are peeking out
from beneath his collar and cuffs
His shoes have begun to melt

The woman next to him
wants to mention it to him
that he is burning
but she is drowning
Water is everywhere
in her mouth and ears
in her eyes
A stream of water runs
steadily from her blouse

Another woman stands at the bus stop
freezing to death
She tries to stand near the man
who is on fire
to try to melt the icicles
that have formed on her eyelashes
and on her nostrils
to stop her teeth long enough
from chattering to say something
to the woman who is drowning
but the woman who is freezing to death
has trouble moving
with blocks of ice on her feet

It takes the three some time
to board the bus
what with the flames
and water and ice
But when they finally climb the stairs
and take their seats
the driver doesn’t even notice
that none of them has paid
because he is tortured
by visions and is wondering
if the man who got off at the last stop
was really being mauled to death
by wild dogs.

Why do I like this poem? For one, the imagery is incredibly powerful and is relatable to the populace even though I’m sure very few of us have ever experienced drowning, burning alive, or being frozen to death. It also gives an interesting perspective on the everyday pains of life that are so normal to all of us that we can’t seem to think beyond them. Food for thought! (Sherlock Holmes I will admit must take the credit for the last line as I cannot).

“Yes, I can see her almost perfectly in this cracked darkness.” —Paper Towns by John Green