𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 ━ shawn hunter¹

9│POETIC LICENSE : AN ODE TO HOLDEN CAULFIELD

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❛ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴇʏᴇꜱ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴘᴏᴇᴛɪᴄ ʟɪᴄᴇɴsᴇ : ᴀɴ
ᴏᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ᴄᴀᴜʟғɪᴇʟᴅ ꒱


❝ FOR MINE IS A LOVE
NO EXPERIENCE, NO
MEASURE, NO WORDS,

COULD EVER DEGRADE

INTO REALITY BY
VIRTUE OF DEGREE ❞

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"Now, this next poem is quite special," Mr. Feeny told the class. "The manner in which the poet expresses emotions is truly eloquent. The piece is entitled 'An Unpublished Manuscript for J.D. Salinger.'"

"Nappy time," Cory murmured to Shawn as he slid down in his chair.

"'It is possible to assassinate my heroes with the scope of my individualism. However, by their own persistence to themselves, I believe that they have chosen me to pursue a self. What is literature but the illumination of that which I should write? Salinger speaks through me, to me. Whispers 'where to, little boy?' My answer is the dogged pen to page which lights consistently the pathway home. It is on that road that I alone can trip my way back to myself,'" their teacher read aloud.

"Aw, come on!"

He looked up at the interruption. "Would you care to analyze this poem, Mr. Matthews?"

"Yeah, I'll take a stab," Cory declared as he stood.

"Stab away."

Juliet covered her face with her hand from the second-hand embarrassment she felt as Cory went on a rant about the poem. Couldn't he (just once) not make a big deal about things? He didn't even understand what the poem was about and he immediately felt the need to say his own opinion. It wasn't that she didn't love him (because of course she did), but she was just sometimes blown away by his callousness.

When he finished, Mr. Feeny sighed. "Well, on that note, we will have to pick this up at our next session."

As the class filed out of the room, the redhead gave him the stink eye. "Cory, you're nuts."

"That poem was so incredible," Angela agreed. "It was beautiful."

"I can't believe someone our own age wrote that," Topanga said.

"Someone like Mr. Hunter?" their teacher asked as he handed the paper to Shawn.

"What?"

"Yeah, I wrote that poem," Shawn admitted.

"I knew it," Angela and Juliet spoke at the same time. They exchanged a wary look.

"I liked it," the curly-haired boy immediately backtracked.

"Do you have any more poems?" Mr. Feeny questioned him.

"I wouldn't really call them poems," Shawn responded hesitantly. "I just write stuff down. Er— Julie's dad suggested it, actually."

"I can't believe you never told me," the redhead exclaimed, surprised.

"I can't believe you never told me," Cory added.

"I never told anyone, okay? I just do it for myself to get my feelings out." The dark-haired boy stood and made his way to the door only to be stopped by the older man.

"Shawn, I host poetry readings at the Student Union Friday evenings. If you would feel comfortable sharing some of your. . ."

"I don't know, Mr. Feeny. It's. . ."