A Poem About How I Stalk Your Blogs and How You're All Incredible and A Shout Out to Eddie Mullins and if you still don't want to read it, I attached a picture of Obama riding a rainbow unicorn as an extra incentive. K Bye!

A Poem About How Much I'm Gonna Miss You Guys

By Becky Smiley

Everyone is all like,

"Omg it's my very last blog and I'm 

never going to write a blog

ever again".

It's sad. Because here's a secret:

I'm that creepy kid who ends up reading everyone else's blogs

allllll the time, just for fun. 

All year

I've been getting sidetracked and reading these things.

Mostly because on Thursday nights

at 11:15, I want to do everything EXCEPT for write

a stupid blog. So ya know what?

I just read yours. Why?

Because you guys are really interesting.

And like, I always want to comment

and just be like, "hey dude that was 

the funniest, most hilarious, most epic

open letter

that I have ever read",

or "wow. I like your opinions on stuff.

You've got yourself some great opinions".

Because you do. 

And you should all keep having

your interesting opinions

and complex thoughts 

and funny jokes

just like I keep having crappy poems that are

distinguished only as poetry

because of my indenting skills.

You know, half the time, 

I only indent because I think the poem will have 

a weird shape

if I don't. And sometimes even if I do.

The other half of the time, I think I'm going

for some kind of BS sound device or something.

Anyways, like I was saying earlier,

keep doing what you're doing

Because you're freaking awesome.

Even though it's Wednesday or Thursday and you have

seven thousand infinity other homework assignments

and you're not trying anymore

and you just want to get the fricken' blog post over with,

I'm still light-weight mind blown sometimes

at the stuff that you kiddos come up with.

Even the really boring ones of you who only blog

about literature and stuff,

I admire that. 

It takes a really good brain

and lots of self discipline

and maybe even an adequate love for learning

to sit there, on a Thursday night,

when you could be doing anything else in the world

to tell us your intricate thoughts

about literature. 

Like that's just freaking awesome,

 I bet you're going to succeed in life.

So keep on doing what you're doing, guys.

And we're all going to graduate pretty soon.

There's a good chance that

you wont even remember the creepy kid

that you just found out stalks your blogs

five, maybe ten years from now.

But you should remember this terrible poem

about how incredibly awesome I think you are.

And about how incredibly stupid

I think the art of poetry is these days.

And you can just sit there 

whenever you feel sad

and just be like

"One time, this kid in my English class

thought that the stuff that comes out of my brain

is really, really cool

or smart, or funny".

I can't quite generalize a characteristic

because you guys are all different...

you've done got your own styles.

So that's why I had to put all of the "or's"

in the above few lines.

I know it makes the poem sound less personal

but it's not. 

This is very personal. 

It's as personal as if I was sitting across from you

staring into your soul

right now.

You know what? Just picture that.

Or don't. Idk I was just

trying to make this feel 

as genuine as possible.

You don't have to picture that 

if you don't want to.

But yeah,

that's why I'm gonna miss all of you kiddos

and your really cool thoughts.

And mostly

Good luck at college. 

You're all gonna knock it right out of the ball park!

I think that's an actual saying

but I'm not sure.

But either way, you know it was meant to be encouraging.

Eddie Mullins, I know you're not going to college

So I can't really commence the poem

with a "Good luck at college" for you.

But hey, this poem is just as much for you too,

because I'm pretty sure you have to read these sometimes,

and I think your thoughts are cool and awesome as well.

They might even be better than Nicholas Spark's thoughts.

Idk what goes on inside of his head though,

so I can't quite say for sure. 

And in case you actually are reading this, 

and just got all salty because I used your first name,

Just know that I basically call all of my teachers

by their first name

behind their backs.

 It makes me only half as intimidated as I would be

if I had to address them by a last name

like I do to their face.

So that's a little bit of what goes on inside of my head

in case you were wondering, ever.

Which you might have been.

I don't think it will be a jeopardy question, though.

But yeah, thanks for resisting the urge

to rip my terrible essays to shreds all year.

Also, thanks for accepting my horrible poetry

as an art form.

Because I really feel like I'm getting some pretty sweet

self-expression done right here.

It's like I'm the Picasso of indenting lines.

So yeah, thanks for helping me find myself.

Also, thank you in advance for giving me

a solid 9 on that poetry essay that we wrote today.

(Look, I gave you this huge, entire

infinity line stanza of this poem and 

everybody else has stopped reading by now, probably

but I'm still going strong with this puppy

so I can just imagine how guilty you would feel

if you didn't give me a 9. 

The shame).

But really, you've been freaking awesome

and I sure hope I succeed on the AP Exam 

so that everybody can know 

how much of an awesome teacher you are

and how much homework you gave us

and graded and how hard you worked all year

so that we had a good chance at success. 

So yeah

Peace Out everybody.

And enjoy the picture of the unicorn.

See how beautiful and majestic it is?

It reminds me of you.

Make Up Blog #15: A Poem About Things I Am Good At

Things I Am Good At

By Becky Smiley

I'm bad at writing poetry.

I'm really bad at writing poetry.

But that hasn't stopped me from writing 

like, seven thousand infinity poems 

and putting them on the internet. 

This means that I am good at trying.

Or we could go even deeper

and say that I'm good at 

overcoming adversity.

I'm good at shapes.

If you notice above, I pretty much

made that stanza

look like a stop sign.

Almost.

Just picture it if the third line was shorter

and the fifth line was longer.

I always forget the name of the actual shape

that stop signs are.

In geometry, I used to LITERALLY

just call them "stop signs"

in my proofs.

"All angles are equal and add up to 360.

This means that Figure A

is a stop sign".

The teacher questioned me sometimes

but that's okay because

she liked how quiet I was and how

I didn't try to spell dirty words on my calculator

and how my handwriting was nice.

I can also draw a great free hand circle.

Everyone was always like "I hate geometry"

but you know,

I never really minded stop signs.

I minded triangles.

I minded the crap out of triangles.

But stop signs?

Nahhh.

I wanted to end my poem

with that last line.

But here's another thing:

I'm really REALLY good at having OCD.

I could never end something with an even amount.

Endings are for odd amounts.

I only named two things I'm good at.

But two is an even number.

I have to name three.

You know, sonnets bug the CRAP out of me

Because there's an even amount of lines.

Especially the Italian ones. It's really noticeable

Because there's only two stanzas.

And what more?

couplets.

Heroic couplets end a poem and they're only

two

lines.

I can't deal with that.

I sit there in AP Lit, and

I want to rip these poems to shreds.

Why? OCD.

You probably think that I'm overreacting.

But I'm not.

I'm just as salty about even numbers ending poems

as I am about the intercom lady when

she reads us The Grapes of Wrath and

sometimes even the Odyssey

at 3:10. 

Not 3:15, 3:10.

Well, that's all I have to say about that.

Have a nice day, don't do drugs, and mostly

don't drop out of school and become a hippie

even if you really want to.

Because I want to, but my parents just 

gave me a very stern talking to

about how being a hippie

is probably a bad decision in the long run.

Peace Out.

Make Up Blog #14: A Poem About Things I Am Bad At

Things That I Am Bad At

By Becky Smiley

Firstly I'm bad at rhyming.

I don't even know why I'm writing a poem

because I can't fricken rhyme.

Like honestly I try to rhyme but it just doesn't happen.

It's probably going to ruin my dreams of being a rap star.

Justin Bieber is all like,

"Never say never".

But too bad because I just said never

about my rap career.

Oops.

Secondly, I'm bad at writing poetry.

The thing about poetry

is that you don't even have to do anything except for

randomly

indent your lines.

See what I'm writing here? You probably don't

because nobody reads these blogs.

Except for you, Mr. Mullins! 

(Thanks, Eddie)

Anyways, it's just normal crappy speech

but somehow it's meaningful

and artistic

because I'm

indenting my lines randomly.

How do you like that? 

Are you catching the symbolism? There's lots of it.

Not really. But I'm sure you could find some

if you wanted to.

Or not.

Idk what you do in your spare time.

Once, I won a poetry contest

In 8th grade.

Basically, it was this stupid poem

about me breaking up with a cookie

and somehow the teachers thought it was comedy

so I was all like...

okay. 

And so they put it in a contest and 

BAM!

I won. 

But it was the biggest load of crap in the world

because basically i was just doing this.

Nothing rhymed, there was no symbolism or sound devices 

or anything redeeming at all.

In fact, I wrote it as a joke.

But then I won.

I won a freaking poetry contest.

So I guess you could call me a prodigy,

idk.

More likely,

you could just call people who fall for this kind of art

hipppies.

Peace Out.