Wednesday, February 07, 2007

It's Poe-i-tree time!

I don't think I posted my mediocre Scarecrow poem on here, have I?

Well, either way, here it is, because I can't think of anything else to write about tonight :(


The scarecrow, he no longer wanted to do nothing
Standing in the farmer’s field, day after day
Barely scaring off the birds he was ‘sposed to
So, at the dawn of the day
The scarecrow got off his post in the field
And walked away, far away
From the field, from the farm, from the birds
From the farmer, from the the life he once had
Onto something more, more than before
The scarecrow walked away
For the life that is more than before

The scarecrow walked far down the road
Searching, looking, watching
For more, more than before
More than sitting in the field
Not scaring away the birds like he ‘sposed
The scarecrow looked for more
But more is an elusive beast
Who hides in the cover of promises
That never quite pan out
And a world that has only a place for few
And nothing for many
But the scarecrow refused to believe
That he was one of the many
He couldn’t let himself be drowned
In doubt, in dread, in hopelessness
For he knew that more was for him
And he would find it, eventually

For months and months and months
The scarecrow fought
Fought with luck
Fought with emotion
Fought with the world
The prize being something more
The scarecrow was undaunted
From the slings and the arrows
That existence shot at him
And the roads that lead nowhere
For he knew that in the end
It was all for something more
Something more was the key
Key to a life that would be filled
With fulfillment, with joy
And so he went on
Went on through the pain
That the world inflicted upon him
So that he can one day reap the rewards
Of the greater life

Time passed and passed
And the scarecrow persisted
But he was not at the best anymore
The tiniest of despair
Had now invaded his soul
‘What if I never find something more?
What if it was never there for me?
What if I wasted all this time
Looking for the better life
Traveling a thousand roads
When it was never there for me?
But even when he questioned his own attempts
To find something more
He continued
If only to try and prove himself wrong

But the line had ended
The scarecrow had nowhere else to go
Something more was either cloaked in eternal dark
that he could never see through
Or it was never there, never there for him
The scarecrow, exhausted and numb
Knew when he was finished
And so, he walked back
Back to the farm
Back to the farmer
Back to the field
Back to his post
Back to the birds he doesn’t scare like he’s ‘sposed
For it was quite apparent
That something more was not for him
And that the life he began with
Was the life he would keep

Truly uplifting material.



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