Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. For his delight is in the law of the LORD, and in his law doth he meditate day and night. -Psalm 1:1,2
3.26.2008
8:40 pm
Here is my feeble attempt at writing a poem for Lit. If you've read To Kill A Mockingbird, you'll probably understand this better. Comment if you read it!
Flick.
Jem once told me
Of a guy named Boo
Who lived next door
And was a horrible brute
He described him as someone
Six-and-a-half feet tall,
Who dined on creatures
Furry and small
His hands were blood-stained
And a long jagged scar
Ran across his face,
Like lightning from afar
What teeth he had
Were yellow and rotten
He was locked up
And thoroughly forgotten
And Dill my friend said
“Let’s make him come out –
His countenance alone
Is a downright insult!”
Jem, after much chiding
Accepted Dill’s dare
To touch the Radley’s wall
Then get out of there
He gave it a shot,
Pride taking hold
But inside he knew
He wasn’t that bold
His eyes darted about
In fear and apprehension
Tension built up,
So did beads of perspiration.
He went for the plunge,
Running with all his might,
His arms wildly flailing,
Oh! What a sight!
Unsure of the consequence
Hoping God would intervene
He returned to the gate,
Anything but serene
He headed back home
To the porch familiar,
Dill and I right behind him,
Feeling quite queer
Panting and out of breath
We turned back to look
The droopy, sick house
Looking as it should
But as we stared down the street
We saw a shutter move,
Flick.
And the house was still.
