LUKE GOSS and the HIGH SCHOOL POET

I met some really terrific poets on Facebook recently. Then I remembered...I used to be a poet. Like nearly every single adolescent on the planet, I wrote poetry to express myself when yelling, kicking, screaming and punching were not socially acceptable outlets for hormonal tragedies.

I wrote about puppies, kitties, foals and butterflies.

I wrote about football games, parties, boyfriends, and my face.

And I wrote about vampires...

Wanna see the one I wrote about my face? (humor me, and nod your head) Thanks.

Here it is. Sixteen-year-old Ellen C McCraney writes:

MY FACE Look at my face. It's my acne that scars My pimples that mars That don't leave a trace Of a clean, clear face.

Pretty awesome, eh? I guess if your definition of awesome is really really generous...

Try this one (I'm going to get to the vampire one in a second...)

A CAT A cat is strange in many odd ways. He seems very bossy whenever he plays. He sits very tall and shaped like a pear You'd think he could scare off any old bear. But if danger comes near, he jumps up a tree And won't be seen by the likes of me.

Now you're getting the picture. Ellen C McCraney was a pretty pathetic poet. But sure I thought I was great! I am looking at a stack of poems from 10th grade that I saved. They are typed and put into a homemade booklet that I illustrated and everything!

Okay, you've waited long enough. Here is my vampire poem... enjoy... (or not) Oh, and by the way, this poem is in the same booklet as the Cat and the Face one. Go figure...

A VAMPIRE'S POEM You're bleeding my son, come close to me That life-giving red is all that I see. The devil's in me and I'm so unclean. I'm on the vampire's side, get what I mean? They came last night and emptied my veins. It's your blood I need, that's why I came. Don't look at me with puzzled eyes. Don't torment me with terrible cries. Soon you'll prowl in the night with me And son, that life-giving red is all you'll see.

So you can all go your merry way now. You've seen the poems of one 16yr old Ellen. Have I always been so inclined to write about the struggle of the vampire in all of us? I think I have. And it all started with DRACULA, the novel by Bram Stoker.

You gotta start somewhere.

Good night and cover your neck.

PS. Why is Luke Goss headlining my Blog tonight? No reason. He just looks nice. :)