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"Jim"

In a lonely corner of a distinctly lonely room,
Sat a boy who did little but anticipate his doom,
A reclusive and an outcast, no comfort for this child,
But there he sat and dreamed, and let his thoughts run wild,
Disaster and tradegy it seemed were always brought on him,
This poor and lonely boy, who's only name was Jim.

From corners Jim would watch in school, seated neat against the wall,
His skin would crawl and itch from children's laughter in the hall,
And every boy but he it seemed would sit with girl in hand,
Their prized posession all of them, their gold they made from sand,
Jim would sneer and ignore all these fair children and their smiles,
But wondered what it would be like, to have someone, all the while.

Jim knew quite clearly that to date would be of pure disaster,
For girls from him had never ran as terrified or faster,
For him to wear his sunday best to court a girl felt cheap,
And Jim realised that his beauty fell further than skin deep,
So Jim devised a foolproof plan for his love to be gave of birth,
From a beauty sewn together from the dead that lay in earth!

For fourteen nights and days Jim dug up his fairest maid,
From the face and arms of women that had been rest to laid,
Stitching up his lover on his mother's giant loom,
He built an operating theatre in the roof above his room,
And when the night arrived, with his fully sewn up wife,
Lightning struck the theatre, and gave the monster life!

At first it went so well, they both had fell in love,
Though romance was quite unsturdy as Jim was forced to wear a glove,
For touching and carressing her, a horrendous task to take,
Because for every slightest movement would make her dead skin flake,
But Jim was even undismayed by the very tiny hitch-ing,
Of waking in the morning with his hair stuck to her stiching.

But time went on and love grew old and want for more did Jim,
Not even love of his undead bride could keep them from feeling grim,
When Jim returned from school at eve' and simply wished to talk,
His bride it seemed had other plans, eyes on him like a hawk,
She held a hair into his face and asked from whence it came,
For blond hairs in his clothes had come from not her matted mane.

Wakings in the night began to trouble poor young Jim,
As his bride had laid awake at night with wish to talk to him,
When Jim would turn his head to her and ask her what about,
The bride would screw her face up and begin to yell and shout,
'YOU DON'T LOVE ME ANYMORE' The girl screamed out at night,
Then she'd settle back to bed and turn off the bedside light.

Her paranoia began at once to drive young Jim insane,
He sat in corners once again and huddled into pain,
'This woman birth of I' said he 'This beast has me now paid'
'For I will take what I create and force it now unmade!'
A plan again into his mind had come to be thought out,
And Jim waited in the shadows for his bride to come about.

The monster girl crept up at night to get food from the kitchen,
When Jim leapt on her from behind and began to tear her stitching,
'Midnight snacking at this hour! And now what of your diet?'
And as Jim pulled her limb from limb, the house soon became dead quiet,
No noise to hear from the bride again, no whine or pine or groan,
And at once Jim realised, he was again, alone.

So let this be a lesson to all the single girls and boys,
That love will follow after you have outgrown all your toys,
And if you're tempted to dream up the love you wish you truly had,
Then realise now that the temptation can only lead to bad,
For the perfect love I think you'll find is not one you can create,
So if you find yourself alone, then I'll guess you'll have to wait.

Very good.

"It's pronounced Fraankenstein!"

Ahem.

That was excellent. I love poetry...but I love poetry that tells a story even greater.

Be proud griz because other than a few glitches here and there where it just dis joints the rhyming pattern a little that was truly excellent.

T'was a dark and enjoyable romp.
You should rename it "The Lay of Jim" - as in Jim got himself a lay, and lay as in ballad/narritive poem.

For the most part, brilliant. I think some lines don't scan that well, eg you could drop the word "soon" from the fourth line of the penultimate stanza, but apart from those small alterations it's absolutely top notch stuff.

that was indeed an excellent, deep poem. seems that it's not right to open a poetry book today and read something that just seems amateur. You should launch your own book.

That genuinely was brilliant!

I can almoset see the satisfied glow :D

Oh, and thanks guys. :D

Vincent and Frankenweenie did inspire this, I'd have to say. :) Tim Burton is pretty much one of my Top Gods... what's more is I'd really, really love to animate this... I want to animate some short films, to get a portfolio together. And considering how much I love this poem, I think I'd really enjoy doing it.

heh heh.

Very dark. Reminded me of Tim Burton.