Friday, February 24, 2012

Poor Snow White

Poor Snow White lying dead in the dust,
A young prince tried to kiss her,
But her lips were like iron sealed shut.

Rusting and rotting inside of her hell,
Snow White has gone crazy,
From the inside she's trying to yell!

Her eyes closed tight and the Darkness consuming,
All she had wanted
Was a kiss of her choosing.

A little red apple was all that was to blame,
She choked on the pieces,
Poison inflamed.

Blood pooling, but pulsing,
her back should be covered in bruising,
Locked in her silence forever more,
Poor Snow White is thought to be dead on the floor.

I wrote this one a looooooong time ago in a flash of inspiration. I thought I heard one of my favorite teachers say, in comment to a fairytale inspired poem, that they weren't meant to be creepy and this came pouring out of my head. It was definitely a Rachmaninoff moment for me (don't know what I mean? I'll post about it). When I finished, I volunteered next and read it to the class. I have never done anything like that before but I was compelled to express that fairy tales were meant to be a little frightening and meant as a learning tool in particular. (I heard wrong by the way, not what he said at all!)

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