Which type are you ?

Es facil

mi pelo
tiene puntas rotas
voy a cortarlo,
un dia
serA arreglado
y mAs vivo

mi vida
tan insoportable
voy a cortarla,
un dia
serA una persona contenta
mAs muerta que viva

Yummy!

An incredible thing happened to me (mind you, recently the word "incredible" hasn't functioned the way it used to), that is I ran into a poem, probably the origin of the one I put on my blog in May 2009 (see The Sweetest Poem Ever). Overexcited, I decided to:

• share the poem with you (whoever is reading this, very probably not many, but those who do, feel like prize-winners)
• try writing my own short poems (perhaps not extremely challenging, but doing well in the time of The Great Autumn Depression, I guess)

I'm going to start with a poem I admire every time I read it, the poem written by Matthew Sweeney and titled "Poem Spoken by a Cat to Its Owner's Friends Who are Flat-sitting":
I have eaten
the chicken
you had on the sideboard
defrosting

and which you were hoping
to roast
and serve with wine
to your friends

forgive me
I'm a cat
we have no manners
we're always like that

It's not that I'm ever going to like cats, even after such a simple statement and honest confession of one of them. However, as it turns out, they may be quite good material for a poem. Perhaps I should have thought about it before writing my own tiny piece of writing. And here it is:

I have eaten
almost nothing
and for a couple of months
with the same manner

and which you were hoping
I would change soon
and stop being
skinny and vicious

forgive me
seems I've lost
what made me fat and happy
now I'll die of hunger

You have the right not to like it, 'cause it's pessimistic. The next one will not mention the word 'dying,' I promise.

I have made
another face
one of those
you definitely dislike

and which you were asking me
not to repeat
in the nearest
future

forgive me
it was so tempting
your sweet fury
my repeated pleasure

I think now it's better although I disturbed the pattern this time (I changed eating into making). I'll try to work on that as well.

I have eaten
the remains of my brain
since I had to choose
between the brain and the heart

and which now seems to be
the easy way out
to be embraced
with no pricks of conscience

forgive me
looks like I've seen
too many soaps
they're no good for a woman

Am I melodramatic? I promise I will work on my sense of humour. Below you will find the last try. Enjoy.

I have eaten
humble pie
and you made me
eat my words too

and which was difficult
to swallow
I think I'll need
much more cola

forgive me
I've spoken too much again
next time
I will let you sink

That's it. Thank you for your patience.