Awful Poetry

I am not a poet. Let me state this one more time for clarification: I AM NOT A POET.

However, my student teachers taught a lesson on “occasion poems” (the kind of poems you find inside a greeting card), and during the class brainstorm one brilliant child suggested Christmas the Zombie Apocalypse. I don’t know about you, but if somebody suggests writing a greeting card for a zombie apocalypse, I kind of can’t let it go.

So, for your viewing pleasure (or not), here is my Zombie Apocalypse “occasion poem.”

 

Moving, fleeing, stumbling,

Running all the time.

When you think you’ve finally lost them,

They reach into your mind.

Their blackened nails and rotted teeth

Rip into your warm flesh.

You writhe and scream and beg for help,

And soon you wish for death.

Scraping, digging, gouging,

Eating all the time.

When the horde is done with you,

They leave your bones behind.

Your sun-bleached carcass rests in dirt;

Not e’en food for crows.

The pack moves on to richer climes,

Their next victim… who knows?

It’s over now,

You’re dead and gone.

But remember when I say,

You really are the lucky one.

For those who are bitten and survive,

A much worse fate awaits.

So if you feel they’ve done you wrong,

Remember… you could be one of them!

Happy Zombie Apocalypse Day!

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