Wednesday, February 27, 2013

The Walk of Shame


This morning at ten I woke with a fright

Shocked and confused at what I did last night

It started out great I felt more than coherent

And now I’m faced with calling my parents

I hopelessly grope around the dark room

Trying to find my socks and left shoe

Not bothering to change from last night’s clothes

In too much of a rush to walk on tip toes.

But I guess that’s the price of not being cool

Staying up late to study made me late for school.



            In my poem, “The Walk of Shame”, I include many details which strengthen the uncomfortable tone throughout. Firstly, the title of my poem indicates awkwardness as many people in today’s society associate that phrase with something many people feel hesitant to discuss. The morals of today have trained people to think of the walk of shame as something to regret which I use in the obvious diction of “shame” to further my poem’s discomfort. In addition, my phrasing of “I woke with a fright”, laced with a shocked tone, implies regret for the consequences of the previous night, leaving the audience to imagine the different scenarios (1). This vagueness of this phrase in addition to others such as “Not bothering to change” creates a sense of suspense as I leave the interpretation solely up to the reader’s imagination (7). I believe that my stylistic technique to leave out punctuation until the final two lines puts the reader into the poem as they feel the frantic tone and continue reading without a pause, similarly to how the speaker feels in the poem. Finally, I think that the ending of the poem spares the reader from complete discomfort as I ease their imaginations with the true actions of the night and the purpose of the frazzled feeling the next morning. No one can relate to the walk of shame coming into school late quite like I can.

 

1 comment:

  1. I can recount many a night in which my nerdy mentality pushed me to stay up late to study. However, more often than not, even though I had the intent to hit the books, my face would actually fall into the book pages. After the ordeal of devoting energy to keep awake, and after a long period of procrastination, I would eventually pass out from exhaustion after five minutes of real studying time. Blythe, your poem perfectly encompasses that uncomfortable feeling of waking up in the morning and feeling confusion and self-loathing.

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