EDDA Art & Literary Magazine

Homewood-Flossmoor High School

EDDA Art & Literary Magazine

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This Is Not Poetry

Isabella Thurman, ’26
Cross Gordon, ’24

I am not a poet.

These words I scribble come in jumbles of chicken-scratch and mixed-matched lines

Bound and strung to the mound of the seething foreseen

Scraped together in hurried forms of dust and grime…



This is NOT poetry, but as waves of woe and worry wave, I can’t help but see seas of sorrow and grave.

And as swallows swallow seeds of time, all is always under awe and away from mind.

And this cannot be poetry, however, the mere mirror of my message reflects in reasons, not rhymes.

But this “not poetry” is the red flags as read with rats are friends to foe of mine. 



this is not poetry, but, heed and hear of what I speak,

for flasks of facts lay underneath

this is not poetry, but I’d justly join the juggling circus,

Then wonder what will of words were worth it.



This. Is. Not. Poetry.

But they say I am off and over the train of thought led by society

But with truths entangled in trustworthy tangents,

A calling to chivalry and charisma in changement

In association to the words ill whisper to willows in woe

Never to see the light of day to those, friend or foe

And while these words I speak are soundly made to rattle the brain…

And while the stanza I commend may be rushing in like a train,

Thiswill never be poetry.


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