When the Aliens Came
Dum-dee-dum, here we come
with roses on our sleeves.
We hold our hands above
our heads & wave them in
the wind to mimic leaves.
Dum-dee-dum, here they come
descending from the sky.
We understand the lights,
the sounds, the story's clear,
but wonder if we'll die.
2 Comments:
That is some serious enjambment at the end of the first stanza. 'wave them in' really wants to be a phrase... and 'in the wind' doesn't take well to the line break. I think this approaches too much distraction for me.
But, that said, this is a good poem. Striking for its unexpected starting place. Where did it come from, if I can ask?
Nothing escapes your keen eye, Alan. The line break is horrible and the stanza doesn't really survive it.
I tried to preserve the meter, the rythmn, the idea somehow without it when it was written, but I couldn't do it. (Nothing is coming now, either.)
I have told you before that I enjoy slipping aliens into my poetry. It seems so funny to me. (I realize this is a personal joke.) But I think aliens are a subsitute for the holy cow of religion.
I have this dream of writing an alien scripture someday, wrapping up all these alien experiences into everyday experiences. This poem is a little too formal for that, but I had fun writing it.
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