I raided my seventh grade poetry folder for this gem of a flashback. And I'm just going to go ahead and say that my poetry skills (as well as my cursive!) haven't changed at all since I was thirteen.
(poem typed-out below)
Winning The Hand of Miss Tilly Anneby Marisa Myers (age 13)
The humid air was damp and musty
The firey sun shone bright and fusty
A faraway figure caused eyebrows to frown
as the mysterious stranger rode into town.
His monstrous steed was black and silky
His loose clothes clung on, his figure was bulky
His gun was ready and in his hand
For he came for a duel to win Miss Tilly Anne
He rode to the bar that was filled with onlookers
Bartenders, cowboys, cowgirls and dancers
He tied up his steed as he kept a blank face
And walked up to no one but Tux Laverlace.
Tux Laverlace glared like a fool
His beady black pupils swam in a pool
His red puckered lips stuck out like a cows
His nervous sweat formed glops on his brow
"Okay, I'm ready," he muttered in terror
He ran to his stand as quick as a hare
He cocked his rifle with a struggled frown
But the other gunman shot him down
"Hooray!" cried Tilly Anne with a sigh
The mysterious stranger lifted her high
As they climbed on the steed, he started to run
And away they rode into the sun.
The end.
(I did not make this shrine of a YouTube video, but it cracks me up.
And makes me want to light candles
in front of pictures of my favorite '80's bands)
Happy weekend, folks!
xoxo,
The humid air was damp and musty
The firey sun shone bright and fusty
A faraway figure caused eyebrows to frown
as the mysterious stranger rode into town.
His monstrous steed was black and silky
His loose clothes clung on, his figure was bulky
His gun was ready and in his hand
For he came for a duel to win Miss Tilly Anne
He rode to the bar that was filled with onlookers
Bartenders, cowboys, cowgirls and dancers
He tied up his steed as he kept a blank face
And walked up to no one but Tux Laverlace.
Tux Laverlace glared like a fool
His beady black pupils swam in a pool
His red puckered lips stuck out like a cows
His nervous sweat formed glops on his brow
"Okay, I'm ready," he muttered in terror
He ran to his stand as quick as a hare
He cocked his rifle with a struggled frown
But the other gunman shot him down
"Hooray!" cried Tilly Anne with a sigh
The mysterious stranger lifted her high
As they climbed on the steed, he started to run
And away they rode into the sun.
The end.
Yeahhh. Fantastic, wasn't it?
Funny enough, I remember my inspiration for this poem - this song by the Australian '80's band Icehouse. I stole the tape from my mom and listened to it over and over and over again.
Funny enough, I remember my inspiration for this poem - this song by the Australian '80's band Icehouse. I stole the tape from my mom and listened to it over and over and over again.
(I did not make this shrine of a YouTube video, but it cracks me up.
And makes me want to light candles
in front of pictures of my favorite '80's bands)
And I thought it was funny seeing my brainstorm cloud - the root of my current outlining obsession, perhaps?
Happy weekend, folks!
xoxo,
9 comments:
OK Marisa, you know I love you to death, but OMG, I lost it at "His red puckered lips stuck out like a cows". I'm glad you stuck to prose :) For what it's worth, I think the 7th grade was about the point where I figured out I couldn't rhyme for sh...well you know. I stuck to free verse and all that ever came of that was teenaged pseudo angst poetry! Yeeeahhh.
I am so jealous you held on to all your stuff. At some point, I was so embarassed of most of the stuff I had in my "little black journal" that I destroyed it. It's gone forever. It would have been at least good for a laugh. SIGH
:D Alyssa, the sad thing was that this was the best of the poems. I have a lot of embarrassing crap in my poetry folder!
That is so awesome that you have this. Your illustration is phenomenal.
I have a question: Did you originally have the word hookers (instead of dancers) to rhyme with onlookers in the third paragraph but was told it was inappropriate? :)
Kelly, I WISH!! I would have loved to have seen my teachers face if I had. But alas, I didn't.
(although remembering back to the kind of pain-in-the-butt 7th grader I was, I wouldn't be surprised if I *had* written hookers!)
You crack me up! I heart you.
Miss Tilly Anne is HOT! She could ride my steed any time!;)
Thank you, Wilvis. Your appreciation of my drawing is lovely.
I love your Friday flashbacks. I'm going to have to start playing along! I just to write poetry in my younger days. It was probably embarrassingly bad teen love angst stuff! Who knows what happened to those journals...scary thought! :-)
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