At the end of this year in my English class we studied poems, specifically Pablo Neruda's Odes to Common Things. I loved them. On actually writing them myself, I found I had a bit of trouble starting, but once I got going it was really amazing. I also noticed while I was writing mine that, I tended to make them rhyme, even though odes do not need to. I guess I just like how they sound when they rhyme. I think Robert Frost once said that he would rather plat tennis without a net than write poetry without rhyme. I suppose Robert Frost and I share a similar mind. To all you poetry experts out there, I call my poem an 'ode' even though it is probably not because of fancy official rules and I am aware of this. I am not a poet; I simply jotted down some rhymes about butter, far from poetry. The first one I wrote was an Ode to Butter, I actually made this one up in my head during recess with my friends (they happened to be buttering their bagels at the moment) and then further edited it in homeroom later that day. I had one of my homeroom teachers look over it (she taught English) and apparently I committed stylistic plagiarism without even knowing it. The first lines, 'Butter, butter everywhere / Butter, butter in our hair / Butter, butter in the sea / Butter, butter come to me!' evidently matched that of the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, 'Water, water everywhere' (written in about 1834!), as she so smugly informed me. I was not familiar with this poem so I looked it up and it is super long and I have no idea where I could have possibly heard it before to commit my stylistic plagiarism. So, I took my poem back and rewrote parts so as not to match the Rime of the Ancient Mariner. I submitted it to my school's literary review and it sadly did not get published, I guess they don't want a poem about butter to represent the school. Anyway, here is my finalized Ode to Butter:
Ode to Butter
Butter, you are everywhere,
We find you in our hair.
Butter, you could float, melt in the sea,
Butter, dear butter, come back to me!
But wait, pause, let’s take a breath,
Has my sweet butter met its death?
Butter, loved butter, where are you my friend?
Butter, oh butter, have you come to your end?
Salty, yet sweet,
Daisy colored beauty in a soft foil tin,
Can be spread thick on your bagel, or maybe spread thin.
So many uses, so many ways,
Butter we’ll have you ‘til the end of our days!