I was enormously elated by the positive feedback from my readers for my previous poem. Thank you so much everyone! This really encourages me to keep writing more verses and stanzas and nurture my poetry-writing skill. I believe poetry is an art more challenging to write than writing prose, because you aim to paint an image with a very limited amount of words. Nevertheless, I find a lot of freedom in poetry because I am not bound by the conventions of grammar and punctuation as much as in essay or story-writing.
Let’s get into today’s theme: gift. After reading the new assignment email, I directly scrolled under to derive inspiration from poems submitted by fellow participants. So far, all the poems I’ve read have a positive mood to it, and as I read on, I felt that it became somewhat of a cliché. I thought: why not be more unique and spin the given subject into something dark, sinister and relatable? And so here is the end product: an acrostic poem with a garnish of German wordplay. I couldn’t resist adding a few subtle references to Germany in this poem, but see if you can find out yourself! For those non-German learners out there, “ein ehrfreuliches MitGift” means “a happy poison”. Yes, in German, a Gift is poison. That’s why I saw the theme with doom and death in mind.
Other than a simile, I also used many other poetical devices I learnt in my literature class, like enjambment, oxymoron and alliteration. I think a variety is necessary to bring life into any poem I write. If you’re a bit confused by the meaning, worry not. I’ll be glad to interpret the poem for you. If you can come up with your own, please share it with me in the comments below!
Ein Ehrfreuliches MitGift
By A. A. Kamalov
Anniversaries are joyfully frightful.
How did it even manage to last?
A gift-wrap and ribbons for the occasion
Patiently wait like an orphaned Alsatian
Puppy, teary-eyed, pleading for attention;
Yet I have nothing to put inside.
Put yourself in my shoes.
Oh? Your ugly feet fit inside? Maybe
I have just found the perfect thing.
Seventeen summers I had suffered –
Oh my enemy, accept this gaseous toxicity.
Not a present, but sweet, sweet revenge.