Thursday, January 31, 2013

Where, Oh Where, Can That Zombie Be?


Back in September 2011, I began a poem inspired by the song Last Kiss by Pearl Jam (go here to see lyrics and to hear the song). I wrote about half the poem and then put it down to rest. Every once and a while I'd pick it back up with a fresh mind, but here we are, almost a year and a half later, and I've finally finished the poem.

In no way am I making fun of the song Last Kiss. My poem basically goes along with the music/rhythm of the song.


Where, Oh Where, Can That Zombie Be?
By Candace Shultz


Where, oh where, can that zombie be?
I know he’s looking out for me.
He’ll eat my brains until his stomach’s fed
And then I’ll be one of the walking dead.


I was sitting in a bar drinking a beer
When a man nearby moaned in my ear.
I turned around to tell him off,
But his rancid smell made me cough.


I couldn’t believe my own drunken eyes.
His rotting skin was crawling with flies.
His mouth was dripping with blood and gore.
When I saw his guts, I ran out the door.


Where, oh where, can that zombie be?
I know he’s looking out for me.
He’ll eat my brains until his stomach’s fed
And then I’ll be one of the walking dead.


I ran down two blocks before I slowed down.
I took a few breaths and looked around.
The creepy man was nowhere in sight,
But I heard a noise, so I looked to my right.


Across the street a woman screamed at a man.
He moved in closer and pushed her up against a van.
He leaned down and when they pulled apart,
She fell down and he was eating her heart.


Then the woman stood, and when she looked my way
I ran and hid, which saved my life that day.


Where, oh where, can that zombie be?
I know he’s looking out for me.
He’ll eat my brains until his stomach’s fed
And then I’ll be one of the walking dead.


Thursday, January 17, 2013

Stir Crazy

Well, Christmas has come and gone. It didn't inspire me to write. However, today I went stir crazy. And guess what? I wrote a poem.


Stir Crazy

By Candace Shultz

Pressure builds in my chest.
Anger burns in my veins.
Tears threaten to spill down my cheeks.

I can’t sit still,
So I pace the floors
As screams echo in my head.

Day in, day out, it’s all the same.
The walls are my prison bars,
The windows pictures of a faraway land.

And I’ve lost the key to the door.


I feel a little bit better now.