Poetry King

Alexandria Kayce

I need to get this written. It’s for an assignment. Why do I have to be so bad at poetry?! I need to get this done.

“Whatcha doing?” I look up at my friend and he smiles down at me.

“Trying to write a zappai.” I tell him, going back to counting the syllables. Why is this hard?

“Ooo fun! I love zappais!” He exclaims, sitting down across from me and picking up a pen. He starts writing… and he has five zappais in no time. “This is so much fun!”

I am not good at poetry. I glare at him, and go back to writing my ONE zappai. He peers over at it.

“That’s wrong. You have one too many syllables on the top line.” He points out. I grit my teeth. Why am I so bad?! I go back and fix it.

“That’s still wrong.” He tells me, going back over and writing the top line how he would write it. He had the right amount of syllables. I huff.

“Let me try again.” I try over and over again, and I’m always one syllable off. My friend has started to talk to me in zappais. He can count the syllables without even thinking.

“Leave me be, Poetry King!” I shout, storming out of the library. He is the poetry king and I am not good at poetry.