Just last week, I returned to my poetic life and wrote this poem titled "What I'm Trying to Say." This poem gives voice to the bizarre and erratic thoughts of a nervous lovestruck teenage who is so desperately trying to ask one single question but is having a horrendous time accomplishing such a simple task. Just a few days ago, I submitted this poem to a literary magazine called "Teen Ink" and the great news is that my poem was awarded Editor's Choice Award! I'm still in the editing process, so feedback is welcome. Here's my poem "What I'm Trying to Say." Enjoy!
What I’m Trying to Say Many people enjoy playing the awkward question game. They want to hear the weird, unsettling, and sometimes humorous answers that come from it. Personally, I’d just like answers to my questions. Serious answers. Be honest and be serious Because I’m being 110 % serious. I’ve always had this question festering on the tip of my tongue. I’ve always wanted to ask you, But I can’t seem to get the right words to come out of my mouth! What’s wrong with me that I can’t ask such an innocent question?! But finally, I think I’ve plucked up enough courage to finally ask the question that has been bugging the snot out of me. I’m going to say it! Maybe… So…my question: If I was hit by a bus on prom night, would you come visit me in the hospital? No—scratch that—that’s not my real question. If I asked you to write me a poem, would you? Wait a second, I’ve already written a poem about that. Let me try changing my question to something better, Perhaps something less childlike and silly. Maybe I should ask you what you’d say at my funeral if I died today. I’d hope you’d say the kindest, sweetest things about me that would make me mad that I wasn’t alive to witness the ceremony. Perhaps that’s too dismal of a subject to bring up now while we’re young and invincible. Let’s say that we lived in the time when chivalry was still alive And let’s also say that some man challenged you to a duel, Would you fight for me? Maybe I’m skirting the real question that’s on my mind… Which is more valuable to you, your violin or our friendship? Argh! You know what? I suck at this whole question-asking business! I mean…well, you know what I mean, right? Have you ever had that feeling when you want to ask that question, but you’re afraid of what that person will assume when you ask that question and if you asked that question you’d ruin everything that you’ve built up with friendship and small talk, and so therefore, you don’t even decide to risk it by asking the question in the first place, so you decide to ask a series of minor unimportant and downright ridiculous questions to see if all the answers sum up to the larger more important one which I’m terribly afraid to ask… ...you know? Why am I so afraid to ask you one simple question??? Am I afraid your wit daggers will pin me down with one swift motion? Am I a coward because I’m afraid of the life or death consequences of one single question? Ok, maybe it’s not life or death, But if only you could answer my question without me having to ask it-- But patience is absolutely nauseating! I’m going to ask it if it kills me! If I was performing a concerto with the symphony orchestra, would you surprise me with flowers? If I tumbled headfirst down a flight of stairs with my violin case, would you check me or the violin for damage? If love existed in the time of cholera, does it still exist in the twenty-first century? Would you touch me with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole if I was miserably sick with the flu? Would you dry my tears if I was crying my eyes out? Would you listen if I said something? You know what? I love you! There, I said it. Maybe that’s what I’ve been trying to say all along. Now, my question to you is Do you love me?
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AuthorKendall Driscoll is an accomplished writer/ musician/ artist/ academic scholar. Archives
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