It has my city's name in the first verse, so the beginning is doctored and thus slightly worse.
Swine Flu
There is a town, a merry old town
By the name of [my hometown]
And there the children laugh and play
And spend their cash on French berets
[And sunny summer gowns]
But wait! On the Channel 11 News
Tidings of plague doth fly
From Mexico the illness creeps
And ere the mean old sickness leaps
We close our eyes and cry
The health office is first to act:
It is on Red Alert
The doctors barricade the town
They turn the world upside down
In search of Sunshine Bert
This dapper chap is Mexican
A very smashing guy
But oh, the experts must know best!
He’s been down south; he’s filled with pests!
And so we wave goodbye
The schools are closed, the downtown locked
We go online and chat
“You heartless boy, how can you play?
Two children have the flu today!”
And that’s the end of that.
We’re all shut up inside our homes
The sick toll climbs to five
And though nobody passes on
And all symptoms quickly are gone
We’re glad to be alive
Years later, we look back and say
“Just a conspiracy!”
But now we cannot know the truth:
Just watch the headlines blare, and poof!
We all are doomed, you see
There is a town, a merry old town
By the name of [my hometown]
And there the children laugh and play
And spend their cash on French berets
[And sunny summer gowns]
But wait! On the Channel 11 News
Tidings of plague doth fly
From Mexico the illness creeps
And ere the mean old sickness leaps
We close our eyes and cry
The health office is first to act:
It is on Red Alert
The doctors barricade the town
They turn the world upside down
In search of Sunshine Bert
This dapper chap is Mexican
A very smashing guy
But oh, the experts must know best!
He’s been down south; he’s filled with pests!
And so we wave goodbye
The schools are closed, the downtown locked
We go online and chat
“You heartless boy, how can you play?
Two children have the flu today!”
And that’s the end of that.
We’re all shut up inside our homes
The sick toll climbs to five
And though nobody passes on
And all symptoms quickly are gone
We’re glad to be alive
Years later, we look back and say
“Just a conspiracy!”
But now we cannot know the truth:
Just watch the headlines blare, and poof!
We all are doomed, you see
A pity it won't age well... That is, if SF doesn't mutate in the fall like the 1918 flu.
The other poem I wrote that I thought was good enough to post here is something I wrote about a month ago for my Creative Writing class. It got great comments on Facebook, so I figure it's good enough for you guys to read without the eyes dropping out of your heads.
Incidentally, the theme was not picked by me, but by my teacher. And curiously enough, I'm not sure I agree with the message, but I find that the things I get farthest into writing tend to run away with me.
Love is Not
Love is not a rainbow,
Filling up the sky;
Nor is it a telephone,
Linking you and I.
Love is not a kitchen sponge,
Cleaning ancient wrongs,
And love is not an iPod Touch,
Singing stolen songs.
We all may wonder of our love -
How does it come to be?
Where does it spring from, hang from, cling from,
Snaring you and me?
We each produce our own ideas -
Are any of them right?
I know that mine are incomplete,
But truthful? They just might.
Love is not a speeding truck,
Rushing down a lane;
Love is not a feather bed,
Soothing all our pain.
We all know love can be a boon
To lean on when we tire,
But with great joy comes great sorrow,
If our hopes end in fire.
Still, barring a senseless wish
For perfect, flawless life,
We are still blessed with love at all,
Devoid or not of strife.
The search for Truth goes on and on,
From Chem labs to the skies,
But while we're searching for the Truth
It's right before our eyes.
Love is not a rainbow,
Filling up the sky;
Nor is it a telephone,
Linking you and I.
Love is not a kitchen sponge,
Cleaning ancient wrongs,
And love is not an iPod Touch,
Singing stolen songs.
We all may wonder of our love -
How does it come to be?
Where does it spring from, hang from, cling from,
Snaring you and me?
We each produce our own ideas -
Are any of them right?
I know that mine are incomplete,
But truthful? They just might.
Love is not a speeding truck,
Rushing down a lane;
Love is not a feather bed,
Soothing all our pain.
We all know love can be a boon
To lean on when we tire,
But with great joy comes great sorrow,
If our hopes end in fire.
Still, barring a senseless wish
For perfect, flawless life,
We are still blessed with love at all,
Devoid or not of strife.
The search for Truth goes on and on,
From Chem labs to the skies,
But while we're searching for the Truth
It's right before our eyes.
This is my third poem, and definitely my newest. Hope you like it!
Rejection
Rejection
Whistling through the trees in the darkness
Rejection
Thrumming like the sound of a lonely guitar
Rejection
Far away, the cars on the highway rumble on and on
What is the meaning of love?
I cannot ask that question.
What is its point?
I already know the answer.
Why even love at all?
Only fools spurn their knowledge
When it proves a two-edged harp,
Sweet yet soundless.
When the knowledge is hard,
And the ignorance, bitter,
Where do you hide? Where do you go?
Hiding is the first mistake;
Ignorance, the second.
It’s good to know your enemies, but better to know your friends.
Rejection
A fruit of life, and by no means the worst.
Rejection
Without the midnight, there could be no dawn.
Rejection, a bitter pill
But you will merely tear down the past,
Destroying all you have grown to know,
If you reject it back.
Out past the darkness, guitars are still strumming
Out past the highway, her voice is still singing
Better by far to live, and love,
Than never to love at all.
Rejection
Whistling through the trees in the darkness
Rejection
Thrumming like the sound of a lonely guitar
Rejection
Far away, the cars on the highway rumble on and on
What is the meaning of love?
I cannot ask that question.
What is its point?
I already know the answer.
Why even love at all?
Only fools spurn their knowledge
When it proves a two-edged harp,
Sweet yet soundless.
When the knowledge is hard,
And the ignorance, bitter,
Where do you hide? Where do you go?
Hiding is the first mistake;
Ignorance, the second.
It’s good to know your enemies, but better to know your friends.
Rejection
A fruit of life, and by no means the worst.
Rejection
Without the midnight, there could be no dawn.
Rejection, a bitter pill
But you will merely tear down the past,
Destroying all you have grown to know,
If you reject it back.
Out past the darkness, guitars are still strumming
Out past the highway, her voice is still singing
Better by far to live, and love,
Than never to love at all.
