New Project

So I'm a terrible creative writer. Technical writing? High marks. I can analyze the heck out of a Shakespearean sonnet and there is no one better at New Historical Criticism, but creative writing? Yikes. I have never in my life written anything that even approaches being a good story. The best I can muster is parodies or satires, and then only under great duress. Poetry, however, is right up my alley. It's short, to the point, focuses on vocabulary and form, and relies on past experiences to make a point, rather than on inventing a new story line.
I've been thinking for some time that I'd like to write a book of poems based on the women in the scriptures, but told from a modern perspective- from the standpoint of my family and friends. I started on it a few years back and then got side tracked, but I've been feeling really creative lately and I think I may get back to work on it. Here's what I have so far, and remember that these are only rough drafts. I will most likely tinker around with these for a while to come.

RUTH
Green signs and guns- the frontera marks
the end of me and start of you-
¡Bienvenidos a Júarez!
The aguila flies overhead.
Wither thou goest I shall go.

It's all so foriegn- bodies crammed-
the smell of soap, of gas, of meat.
¡Tacos, Menudo, Tortas!
It's clashing sirens and corridos.
Thy people shall be my people.

A lonesome child begs for help
And you give him a piece of cake...
?Un peso que me regalen pa’ comer?
Some change... Your coat... We turn to leave.
Thy god shall be my god.

Notes: The aguila is the bird on the Mexican flag. It's their national symbol.
The "Frontera" is the border between Mexico and the U.S.
Tacos, Menudo and Tortas are all VERY Mexican foods. They are often sold from carts along the roadside especially in Juarez near the border. Corridos are a genre of Mexican music that glorify the life of gangsters and Drug Traffickers.
The sentence here is literally "Will you please give me a peso for food?" Pesos are worth about 10 cents American.

SARAH part I
How could I love this boy,
This firstborn son that should be mine?
This souvenir of regrets-
Who calls me “mom”- who gives me flowers,
each year on Mother’s Day,
who lets me sing him bedtime songs,
and shares with me his dreams,
Despite the fact he knows I’m not
His “real” mamá.
How could I not love him
desperately?

(in case you didn't catch it, this is Sarah's poem for Ishmael)

Coming next will most likely be Esther or Delilah, just because I think it would be fun to delve into those two characters a little more deeply.