Since I’m in a weird mood and I’m too loopy to write something in here, I wanted to post this old poem I wrote to enter a scholarship contest a few months ago. Needless to say, I didn’t win, but I’m rather fond of this strange little thread. It’s a rewrite of Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘The Raven’ (and if I remember correctly, it’s accurate, syllable for syllable). I rather like it, and I hope you will to. I think it should make perfect insomnia reading.
Oh, and you might need to know that the poem was written as an assignment – I had to talk about my least favorite vegetable, what I considered to be a “vegetable menace.” We were going to be judged on creativity and descriptive language. Not sure what they were really looking for. Maybe I was disqualified for some of the words I used, tee hee. (And sorry, some of the formatting will get lost because of HTML.)
“Moldy Carrots”
By Heather Lawver
Steal it and die
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a pot of steamed carrots, once forgotten, what a bore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a sapping,
As of some bacterial mapping, molding behind my cupboard door.
“‘Tis moldy veg,” I muttered, “tapping at my cupboard door-
Only this, and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
The pungent stench of decaying plant flesh, something to abhor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
The neighbor’s trash compactor, the man living at number four-
That beastly machine surely could destroy that vegetable whore-
Down the drain for evermore.
That ebon, blistered, repugnant, loathsome veg, I was certain
Could threaten the ecosystem like never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
“‘Tis some infectious monster beckoning at my cupboard door-
Some mephitic substance, threatening behind my cupboard door;-
This is it, and nothing more.”
Presently my lungs did seize; hesitating then and longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, a noxious villain grew strapping,
And so faintly it came tapping, tapping at my cupboard door,
Then I saw the miasmic killer”- here I opened wide the door;-
Infections there, and nothing more.
Deep in me the infection creeping, long I stood there wondering,
fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams of cleaner kitchens than ever before;
But the toxins were unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the moral of this story; clean those veggies to the core!
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back, “Not a single spore!”
Merely this, and nothing more.
Violent, isn’t it? Who knew carrots were such a menace. Hopefully I’ll feel better tomorrow and I’ll actually be able to write something worth reading. 🙂