| » Poem: My Blennophobia |
My Blennophobia
written by Orelinde02:18 AM 1/26/05He seemed confident as he passed
walking the gum dappled concrete.
Shivering rumors whisk about
that he sought me to be his match,
and without thought to my recent
curse, which a doctor named Blennophobia,
I took a chance and gave him a second glance.
He did so possess:
A crown filled with naught
but a substance lesser than
crushed fish-bone dessert.
A-topped by slicked back, jet black
feather threads covered and hardened
by a bottle of no-flake gel.
His maw is in a chronic state
of a color more pallid than pink,
(in contrast to white, mind you).
Between those lips he holds
a serpentine tongue which burns.
His 32 nearly square blocks of marble
shine with a astonishing buoyant whiteness;
two are sharpened, to extract blood.
His body was fired in a kiln,
so aptly given the clichéd name
"Hell's Fire." There is no molding to be done
muscles are kept in perfect stipulation.
A body that shows no weakness; no emotion.
But oh! Those ever contemplating
orbs of a tempestuous grey.
They do entice...
I feel inclined to say,
"Yes, yes! I will be yours!"
Those hurricanes flashed
and arched my way.
A prickle on my nape,
goose-bump covered flesh;
His immaculate smirk is received.
Fighting back a cringe my
skin bUrNs and screams,
longing to hide beneath a rock.
Heart tumbles up my throat,
and out sick lips.
A visible shudder,
racks my less than
Appreciated frame.
He spies, and turns
feet falling down; iced,
but it is a CLAMOR to my ears.
Slack jawed; left in awe
HIS Entireness out shines
the Sun which has potential
abilities to obliterate my life.
My breath is turned to lead.
A name is blurted;
(mine I think)
ears ringing; eyes
glued to one spot.
Crushed lungs.
Useless tongue.
"You ought to not frown
it doesn't look good,
on such a pretty face."
Nodding, "I am not
Unblemished." He has a
simple request, "Go out with me."
My gut shrivels up
like a raisin in the
Oh so PERFECT rays
of this boys eminence.
The heavens do vex me.
Cravenly, "No I do not date
lime green gelatin desserts."
He stares, dumbfounded, "What...?"
"I will not date," I say in
sing-song tone "J-E-L-L-O."
My feet execute
fleeing the scene;
leaving the dunderhead
to think things through.
Oxygen is once more my associate. |
All (c)Copyrights reserved by the Original Author.
Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
Ah you lucky people. There is one more stanza but I took it off, I had this on another site but people didn't seem to like the last stanza so I just chopped it off. :D
Oh and Blennophobia = the fear of slime
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