Sunday, May 15, 2011

Frigidarium: A True Story (Of Sorts)

I was trying to compose in my head

A poem, on my way to the shed

(Or garage, but that's hard to rhythm)

And I was taking my precious time

Being optimistic poetic me,

Not knowing what was going to shortly be.



The male members of our home

Wanted cake, frozen and under a dome

Of the ice cream variety

So I'd gone with female piety

To fetch it from the freezer

(I've been told I'm a people pleaser)



My mother told me to surely go

Making sure not to stub a toe

Through the back door since it wasn't locked

As the normal way between the cars was blocked.



My new poem was meant to rhapsodize

On how the magnolia petals lie.

How they crunch beneath my feet

As I walk on their soft, unblemished sheet.

I wanted to rhyme how the night air

And the cricket's beat transports me somewhere.



While my mind was on that

I pulled the door close so it didn't bat

And bang in the wind annoyingly

And bother my mother worry-ingly



I picked my way over garage-y stuff

Which I can tell you, is tough

When one is in pitch darkness

With only a small light in the mess.

I opened the freezer to discover

There wasn't light there neither!



I exclaimed my displeasure

And then felt around for good measure.

But it was a bigger than normal ice box

And I felt out smarted by the fox



Of my own absentmindedness

It was silly of me, I must confess

Not to remember a flashlight

Yet on went I with all my might



And stuck in both my arms

Never thinking of the harms

But I lost my footing

Horizontally positioning was my ending

And then my wandering hands

Came up empty... oh my Lands!



I was stuck in the cooler

Could I be more of a fooler?

Stuck like Pooh, half in half out.

I was most definitely a lout

And believe me, it hurt

As cold began seeping through my night shirt.



I struggled for a moment

And only manged to get more bent

I stopped and started considering

If nosily yelling and bellowing

Was in any way dignified.

If I told myself it was, I would have lied.



In this moment of self reflection

To my amazement and fun

Found the cake that I'd been sent for

Only to end up stuck in the freezer door.

I pulled at it much too promptly

Considering my task fait accompli



Then the lid came off, and with it the cake

How much more of a mess could I make?

I somehow caught them both right side up

But felt most unhappy and cutup.

I was stuck, in the dark

Balancing ice cream cake, what a lark!



Then, Oh rapturous joy unbound!

The wondrous mother of mine had found

Her daughter gone quite long

And worried something might be wrong.

She called from the entry way

To hurry and not delay!



I begged her to turn on the light

And to aid me in my desperate plight.

But alas, my muffled voice

Did not transport, she had no choice

But misunderstand me

And although I could finally see

For, the light she switched on

But to my aid, came none.



I urged myself out with relief

Happy to get past it with my teeth

Deciding not to go the way I came

In truth, I felt rather lame.

I snaked my way between the cars,

Almost like prison bars.



It was not nice going, I admit.

I was near on at the end of my wit

When on the hitching post

My Pj's caught, (this is not a boast!)

I tugged them free at last

And made my way fast

To the door to get inside

And I do not think I cried.



But then, of course, it was locked,

And I sighed and (loudly) knocked.

Only to have it opened to hear

After everything "The cake is not needed, my dear.”




So instead I ate Greek yogurt

(Healthier by far) but I still wanted to blurt

Out my woes to you, my friends

To the trivial my life does tend.

Yet it has it's almost charming in the end,

A funny story, is how I defend.

Such horrid rhythms and no meter

I apologies most humbly dear reader.



At the last you must know

The moral to this unnecessary show

Is that poetry is dangerous

And always cause a ruckus.

Ignore poetic magnolias soft and sweet

If you want to keep your feet!



(*Disclaimer* I have never professed to be anything close to a poet. Mostly I just like thought in short verse and capitalizing words in the middle of sentences ;-P)



*Much thanks to Merrill for her awesome-ness!

Quotes

 

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