As a thesis writer myself, I wanted to share this poem with the Wesleying readership because it describes pretty excellently what I and many others went through today. I’m specifically directing this toward everyone who turned in a thesis, but it also applies to anyone who’s ever worked really hard on a paper or problem set or some other undertaking, stayed up way too late, and then experienced the rush of turning it in. Which is… pretty much everyone who reads this blog.
Trying To Write
by Elizabeth Smart
That day i finished
A small piece
For an obscure magazine
I popped it in the box
And such a starry elation
Came over me
That I got whistled at in the street
For the first time in a long time.
I was dirty and roughly dressed
And had circles under my eyes
And far far from flirtation
But so full of completion
Of a deed duly done
An act of consummation
That the freedom and force it engendered
Shone and spun
Out of my old raincoat.
It must have looked like love
Or a fabulous free holiday
To the young men sauntering
Down Berwick Street.
I still think this is most mysterious
For while I was writing it
It was gritty it felt like self-abuse
Constipation, desperately unsocial.
But done done done
Everything in the world
Flowed back
Like a huge bonus.
Yeah, that was my first reaction, too. I think it’s just a writer/poet of the same name.
Yeah, that was my first reaction, too. I think it’s just a writer/poet of the same name.
Is that the girl who got kidnapped?
Is that the girl who got kidnapped?