I Have a Poet's Feet!

Greetings, earthlings!

My grandmother is a wonderful lady. She used to come to visit when I was little, and she would always ask for hugs. She let me sit on her lap and stroke her cheek over and over again because I liked the peachy softness. There was this watch she had, that only had the numerals 3, 6, 9, and 12 on it. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, and asked if I could wear it for a little bit.

"Of course," said Grandma. "Just be careful with it."

I wasn't. I don't remember the details... did I lose it? Get it wet? Drop it? At any rate, I was nervous about telling Grandma I had failed her, but not that nervous, because of her kind and forgiving nature. Sure enough, she told me, "I never liked that watch anyway."

The only reason I bring this up is a poem she shared with me: "I'm a poet, and I know it, and my feet show it. They're long fellows." I thought of her talking about that as I got ready to post my latest poetic masterpiece, and thought I'd take the opportunity to tell you what an extraordinary lady my grandma is.
And now you might be getting bored, so here is my poem:

we must not run with matches

nor ever play with knives

the demons this net catches

will surely claim our lives

we must be still and hold our peace

we mustn’t fall in love

or the otherworldly beasts

will steal and carry us above

we must not speak with strangers

and seldom walk alone

if unaware of present dangers

they’ll find us in the morningtime;

hands as cold and gray as stone

we must refrain from thirsting

lest we succumb to sin

we are so very near to bursting

to take a drink would do us in

we must cling to the sanity

that’s never let us down

in this sea of calamity

if we lose our minds we’ll drown

O tragedy! O misery! O foolish, foolish heart

the bright young thing which dared to dream

must now awaken with a start

alas! alas! they’ve poisoned my glass

from which we should not have been drinking

O vile, crass, foolhardy lass!

you silly girl! what were you thinking?

we must not thrash about and scream

we must stay civilized and couth

we think it must be but a dream

the waking mind will see the truth

we must stand firm and choke our fears

and do not shout aloud

swallow our laughter, choke our tears

we’ve got to do our demons proud

we ought not stay awake at night

but rather sleep and steal away

shut the doors and lock them tight

oblivious to the light of day

O tragedy! O misery! O rotted, wicked heart!

the foolish thing which dared to dream

must now awaken with a start

alas! alas! they’ve burnt the grass

upon which we ought not be walking

O vile, crass, foolhardy lass!

shut up and let me do the talking


And now, ladies and gents, because I've already used up all the rhymey words by myself, and this post didn't really have much of a topic anyway, here's some lyric-free music for you to rock out to.