strange poem

for my creative writing class, we were told to write a poem of nonsense, using so many words from a list... rather an odd way to be inspired, but it worked. quite unexpectedly. i'm still not certain how i came up with this, but somehow, strange as it sounds, it's ok. at least, i think so. The meter and form also were dictated, and punctuation and rhyme restricted.

To say the mud is wavering
Requires a certain solitude,
For never in a crowd of rocks
Can reason free itself from you,
Nor drop and stop to swing around
And blow belief up to the roof.

The frogs, all blue, are cutting quick
Through folds and rolls of leather -
Using waves of frost as slaves,
Bruising sound and letters.
They hop then chop then turn to sing
Of snow that covers treasure.

My eye is throbbing sharp and cold
As waters come to bite my feet,
To fly through skies painted in red
Then fall, by call, down to the deep
Deep chasms neath the leather pile
And there rest, waiting, for my sleep.

I pitch my tent to bruise the ground
And tell important tales of woe -
All ears should hear my throat's lament
Although they all have thoughts their own -
For underneath my broken feet
It waits to take us all to ruin.

in other news, yesterday was bitter cold. cold, and windy. the atmosphere felt sheer, as if all space could blow its way past the surface of my skin. my nose felt as if it would crack, and pieces fall to the ground and shatter. i stayed inside as much as i could. and reminded myself never to go to antarctica.

i begin to feel twitchy. this makes me want to eat. peanut butter and crackers before bed? then some poetry - shelley or keats, perhaps. or elizabeth barrett browning, since that's homework. ah, what shall i ever do with myself once i leave academia?