Roses are red…

The other day, I was looking through old junk in my room. It still looks like a bad episode of Hoarders in there. But at least I tried. I also found some really old journals. I haven’t kept a diary since high school. So naturally I began to read through some of them. There’s a lot of dumb shit in there, as I’m sure you can imagine. Was I really as stupid as those pages would indicate? Apparently so.

I also used to write poems. I thought of myself as somewhat of a poet. But I guess lost that at some point along the way. What a tragedy to the world. I could have been as epic as Keats or Wordsworth or Shelley or Browning. Or Shakespeare or Byron or Burns or Tennyson. And yes, I’m totally just naming poets whose names I remember from my English Literature 12 class. And you know what, some of them wrote random odes to things too. Robert Burns wrote “To a Louse“. I kind of think my odes to my umbrella and my phone are more meaningful that that.

But the poems that caught my eye in this old journal were the simple ones. I had a few pages where I had come up with my own versions of the “Roses are red” poem. Because why wouldn’t I? I think at some point everyone has come up with their own versions of this poem, whether they be good or bad. Side note, did no one ever realize that violets are actually violet, and not in fact blue? I mean it’s right there in the name of the flower. I’ve always had a problem with that. But anyway, I won’t share all of the versions that I came up with. They weren’t all that great. But I will share with you the one that I’ve now deemed as my favourite:

Roses are red.
Water is clear.
You’re still ugly.
I need some more beer.

Yeah. I should really get a job writing for Hallmark.

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Fall weather

It’s nice outside

But the air is chilly

Why must the sun torment me so?

With its rays beating down,

Fabricating warmth

That quickly fades and turns into a chill.

In other words, what the hell am I supposed to wear?

Ode to the 98 B-Line

This is a poem that I wrote 3 years ago when they discontinued the 98 B-Line which was my main method of transportation at the time.  I thought I would share it with you now since I miss it today more than ever.

ode to the 98 b-line

i hate you
you are frequently noisy and crowded
leaving me standing many times
when i long for a seat
a few times i have fallen
that was your doing
jerking without warning
sometimes you even pass me by
claiming there is no room left
none at all
for me
you are never around
when i need you most
leaving me waiting
always waiting
you have wasted my time
provoked anger
and misery
and spite

and yet
when i take a different route
through no choice of my own
when i am forced to walk further
to take stairs
to board a mode of transportation
when i am forced to stand again
when there is no driver
when i have to transfer multiple times
to get to my destination
when i am lost somewhere on cambie
not knowing how to get where i need to be
when i finally figure out how to get there
only to realize i have missed the bus
when i walk all the way to granville
frustrated
because i should already be there
when i miss appointments
am late for important events
because you can no longer take me there
when the skytrain breaks down
leaving me stranded
unable to leave
when i look up at the sign
and 98 b-line is no longer listed
when i search for you
and they tell me you do not exist
when you are gone from my life forever
i will miss you

98 B-Line, the best bus a girl could ask for