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| i wanna be a paperback writer... |
Aha! This time 'round the project was about bones and muscles! We had to use ten bones and muscles and write a poem. Well, I combined the guitar-playing of Lennon, McCartney, and Harrison and "Bloody Fingers" was born...
For my fifteenth birthday
My father bought me a trumpet to play,
But the gorgeous gleaming brass damaged my orbicularis oculi
When I shoved it in my mouth for a try.
Something didn't fit, it wasn't quite right,
So I asked my dad if I could trade it in after the night.
"Why, what for? What good would it bring?"
"Dad, it strains my radius and ulna, and I want to sing!"
The very next day I bought a guitar,
And some brand new records that would help make me a star.
My phalanges were flexed, I was ready to learn,
But when I began to play my ears started to burn!
The screeching sound was horrible,
What was wrong?
I got nowhere until
I stared into the mirror at my reflection.
I was a "lefty" with a "righty" guitar-
Ugh! This was a disaster stickier than tar!
My cranium was churning,
And finally the tables were turning!
I simply restrung the strings
And then what a beautiful sound my carpals did bring!
My guitar went everywhere with me,
And my family would shout at me in fury,
But I ignored them and paid them no heed-
I would practice until my fingers would bleed!
But it didn't matter
I loved this guitar with the hear in my sternum,
It was more than just lust,
This was the best guitar in the world-
Guaranteed not to bust!
Every day I practiced from nine to five
And my playing made my whole skeleton come alive!
Only for a moment would I sit to rest my pelvis,
But then I would quickly jump up again and rock and roll better than Elvis!
Finally, I joined a band,
We were the youngest and greatest in all of the land,
Until one day our leader broke his clavicle right before the gig,
And if we didn't find a replacement we were in trouble-BIG!
Before I went on that night to play my first solo
Every bone above and below my patella began to jiggle,
I started to play, messed up bad, and all the children began to giggle.
Once I reached home no one could comfort my sorrow,
But it's all right now-I'll practice until my fingers bleed all day tomorrow!
Do not reproduce this in any form or way without the author's permission. This is my original work, and may not be taken in any way from me. Thank you.