Sunday, November 4, 2012

Some Poetry

I had to write poetry for my Creative writing class, these were the result.  Keep in mind poetry is not really my genre.


NARCOLEPSY

I sat myself down today,

And gave myself the news

“We have narcolepsy, friend.”

“Narcolepsy?  What’s that?”

“A disease where we cannot keep,

Ourselves from falling asleep.”

“Wake up!” “Huh? What?”

“We’ve just done it again!”

“What happened? I’m confused.”

“We fell asleep again.”

“The Narcolepsy?” 

“Yes, that’s it.”

“Wow, how long have we

Been sleeping these sleeps?”

“Forever I think, not really sure.

It’s been a common occurrence,

That much I know.

Just look at our home.

Air conditioner busted

It’s getting so hot

Looks like several storms

Have come through as well

And maybe a fire or hundred.”

“I see it quite clearly now

Our home is falling apart.

All because we can’t stay awake?”

“Yes, exactly so.  Narcolepsy, see?”

“Wait, where are our people?”

“Well, They got in quite a row.

Several of them got killed.”

“What? Where the hell were we?

Oh, wait.  Asleep, huh?”

“Yes, it’s the curse of narcolepsy

We sawed logs, while Rome burned.”

“This cannot keep happening,

We must keep our senses. 

No longer can we indifferently sleep.

But, How do we stay awake?”

“We must fight, struggle

Strive to remain conscious.

We must realize the danger.

One, two Freddy’s coming for you.

Wake up, my friend, wake up!”

 

STOLEN

He was quite young when it happened.

So young he didn’t even know,

It was ripped from his hands.

Had he only been older, he would’ve known.

Would’ve fought, screamed, kicked, bit.

Instead he let it happen, not knowing

The consequences. The pain. The loss.

The child felt shame and guilt.

The adult feels anger, bitterness, longing.

Longing for what could’ve been

But will never ever be.  Too late.

Some things, once stolen

Will never, can never, be replaced.

 

HERALDED

I’m not asking for much

But to simply be touched.

And perhaps to be heralded too.

Like Jordan, have my name on a shoe.

Being quite rich would be nice

To have a billion bucks twice.

A yacht, a car, a nanny, giant house,

A maid, Paulette, and a butler named Klause.

 

I’m not asking for much

But to simply be touched

And perhaps to be heralded too.

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