"Unconcious" (Third Draft)

This poem I made during a creative writing class in college. I really enjoy hating on California.

One fine day on the California coast,

I wrote a poem about my boats,

The foam and the sea struck my curiosity,

As I held up my looking-glass,

I admired my floating treasure,

(I think $50,000 at last measure,)

Then, came up my bonnie lass,

“Delilah” was this dame of mine,

Her dreadful tale I will tell in time,

I sat on the beach thinking,

“How am I going to get this thing to rhyme?”

“Sea rhymes with Bee which rhymes with C,”

Then, I saw my inspiration sinking,

My boat so dear going to the sea floor,

Taking my Mountain Dew and more,

Franticly, I jumped up and down,

Like those quacks at the prison camp near town,

But then my face did frown,

Because my dame came near,

My heart became filled with fear,

I wanted to drown.

She did not care for my love of ships,

(Even though she eats fish and chips,)

What she wanted was someone to dig her couple of moats,

A castle she wished warm and beautiful,

But this work and more I thought pitiful,

 

I knew I was toast,

She tells me she wants nothing to do with me anymore,

Because I messed up her beach house Redwood floor,

I glossed and paved and pounded that wood,

So that she could have something nice as any girl could,

She tells me the color is more than she’d dare,

Because it didn’t match with the color of her hair,

I responded with guttural sounds in vain,

Since she yelled at me before I could call her name,

Barking my ear off in the same,

I found her yelps quite lame.

 

A storm brewed during her tirade,

My mouth became dry,

So, I grabbed some Gatorade,

But soon I did cry,

And my countenance began to fry,

I wanted to write my genius in peace,

Inspiration came to me piece by painful piece.

As my Gatorade did bend,

Delilah’s nagging had no end,

And as my crying could not cease,

My storm came and washed away my piece.

 

So hard I did work on that genius lore,

That my face got red at her door,

I followed “Delilah” in anger to her floor,

To make her see the craftsmanship was bright, glorious, and more,

He conceit made her head foggy,

She treated me like a little froggy,

She got out her Babe Ruth signed bat,

And hit me in the head and called me “Fat.”

I dropped unconscious on her Redwood floor,

Never would I let her play house with me anymore.

As soon as I awoke on the California shore

I saw something I could adore,

My poem, in beauty bright,

I thought I was in Heaven, oh delight!

“No!” said a voice in my head,

“You are not dead,

Your poetry is not lost,

It is merely tossed,”

Delilah saved my piece!

I jumped and rejoiced,

Maybe, tough-loved rounded Delilah’s voice.

Then, the voice told me she wrote a note for sure,

Grief, I had to endure,

She said, “I think you’re dumb and incompetent,

I’m leaving to go find employment,”

No more would she tread at her door,

She is gone evermore,

Her story spoken no more.

 

Her note I read, then ran,

Into the ocean because I can,

Insane I became with a glorious rage,

So much so the coppers and observed and said,

“You’re going to the cage,”

To the prison I went,

With guards full of dissent,

Their dear nurse Delilah was gone,

(I laughed at their sadness and pity!)

An’ their rivalry with me was on!

 

The guards threw me down in the quarry,

Firmly planting my face in the ground making merry,

While swinging at the rocks, I saw the hobo from town,

Because Delilah made him come down,

Sampson was his name,

In hippie-voice he told me his story,

“Dude, I did the same.

My existence is so lame,

I now swing at rocks all day,

While I’d rather go jog by the bay,

I thought I impressed Delilah with hard labor,

But instead, I got her irritation and disfavor,

Now my head is shaved and I’m a freak,

To L.A. and Comic-Con I go ‘cause I’m a geek.”

He said this saying and more,

(I knew I picked the wrong chick,)

But then, I dropped dead at the swing of his fist,

Because Sampson missed his freedom and bucket list,

An’ took me out right quick,

Then, I saw a Sunbeam light hit my face,

Reality, I finally came to embrace,

Suddenly, at Subway, I awake!

Carved sandwiches I do make,

My boss Delilah was her name,

And her rage I did enflame,

I repeat this same story from ages past,

Because I do not think I am going to last,

My employment and mind are gone,

Tomorrow, I will be eating grass at dawn,

Or mashed meat by-product on a bun,

Boy, I really hate the California sun!

Author's Note

Please tell me if the flow is either good or bad and how the poem's flow can be improved!

Reviews

[OfDeathandLove]

The rhyme scheme was really confusing, and not very consistent. K.I.S.S. - Keep It Simple, Smarty (or Stupid, or whatever you prefer for the last S). It's best to keep rhyming lines either "ABAB" or "AABB'. Otherwise it could confuse the reader.

Second, the flow wasn't that good. Read it aloud, and try to find a natural rhythm and flow.

I didn't quite understand what it was about. Maybe I read it too fast, and need to read it slower, but it would really help if you kept on one subject or theme throughout the poem.

Lastly, despite the confusion, if you could work it out, this poem would turn out to be really good. C: