Monday, March 24, 2008

Remake of a classic poem

Here I am a winter time dull drums which frame
The air is undeniably chilling
On the way to summertime streetscape
I drink some African Poison which solidifies to have character
and to triumph.
The streets look for warmth or me. Wintertime dull drums keep it bitter and cold.
It’s a shame summer couldn’t come sooner its starting to chill on me.
I freeze through it, them as
the bitter snow falls sipping on my skin now
100 years almost ago, and the man kind
would never have had such a fate as global warming.
And telling who would have thought that id be here.
Nothing so incredible frigid.
Everything so undeniable cold sweeps through my body now paralyzing my blood flow, encrypting my heart sending chills through through my spine.
Up in the air the sky’s freezing in ultimate winter frustration now
more than ever before?
Now that the children automatically freeze in their hat and coat
eyes penetrating the sky for a glimpse of warmth and satisfaction
in ultimate relaxation. Beyond teen.
Who was going to have to go. Careening into emergency vehicles so.
To live and to live life to the fullest imagine
so to go. Not that cold who from very first meeting
I would never and never imagine such pain,
numbness and heartache from the amputation
into the nerve and bone of old pinky toe and so demanded
to stay and who will never leave me. Not for sex. Nor money,
nor even for an artificial limb which is
Only our human lot and means nothing. No not you.
There’s a song. “Get me bodied” But no I wont do that.
I am cold. When will I die? I will never die. I will live
To be 145 and I will never go away and you will never escape from me
who am always and only a memory. Despite this body spirit
Who lives only to chill.
I am only 25 years old and I am dead. And I didn’t mean to kill you to.
I came into your life to keep you warm, loved, and protected but
Now I’ve suffered and been killed. Its self-righteous fate. Nevertheless
I am gone you are still here so make me proud.
The world song lives within you forever its your turn to carry that burden onto others now Farwell.

1 comment:

Danielle S. 5 said...

I choose this poem as my creative piece of writting because in this poem I was able to use an old poem and make it into my own. The most creative piece all year.