It’s fascinating how certain things in life grow out of nothing. A discarded seed, long forgotten, blooms something so beautiful that you can’t help but appreciate it. What once seemed like a trivial way to pass the time grows into a productive hobby. For me this is poetry. I grew up a fan of rap music, more specifically a fan of rappers who could tell stories through rhyming. Regardless of your view on the content of Eminem’s lyrics, one must admit he is ridiculously talented. When I was younger my friends and I would be sitting around and everyone would try to freestyle a couple stanzas off the top of their head. Fast forward to freshman year at Scranton where this skill was noticed by a couple teammates of mine. Before I know it, I’m a freshman writing and performing raps to hype the team up before games. I always enjoyed the challenge of articulating my message into organized, rhyming phrases. Slowly, rapping was phased out of my life. Every once in a while, with the help of several adult beverages, it will come back for a limited time. But I always kept writing. What started as a notepad of random, unrelated lines, slowly transformed to a collection of poems. Now keep in mind most of them were terrible. They lacked structure and value. The majority were an expression of frustration towards people or things. Every so often I would find the inspiration necessary to create something special, most often from a female acquaintance. Lately I have really been honing my craft, and I feel that I am finally ready to share with you readers. I figured I at least owed you all some background before posting… enjoy!
I will travel, and trek, and traverse all new places,
Find fresh, friendly faces and seek sizeable spaces.
This trip one might banter, what bears the basis,
To orbit the globe for an opportune oasis.
For a foreign dish, that is delicately delish,
Comprised of crusty cooked chicken or fresh filleted fish.
A sanctuary for elephants, where these giants graze gently,
Or a place where an instructor invites listening intently.
On buses and planes, the task of tricky transporting,
And relaying the ridiculous reels I’m recording.
The pursuit of populations I’ve previously pondered,
To the warm, wet, wild world upon which I have wandered.
For a break from devices, that are deviously detaching,
To a bulging bag’s straps, which lead to laborious latching.
My fun these sneer saboteurs shant be snatching,
And the measure of my meandering is not one for the matching.
MBT
Backpack Matt 