Eat a crocodile? I'll do 't.

I found another poem I wrote quite a while ago. When I was a sophomore in high school, my friend, Tyler Panian, needed a poem to critique for his English class, so I made this one up on the spot. so really, he wrote it; I merely dictated.

Watery Grave

by: Alexander Johnston Hale

A crocodile lives in my pool.
Some people think he's really cool.
But don't be fooled,
'Cause he's not nice;
He will bite your face off...
Twice!

These are some Valentine's Day Haiku's I wrote this year for a Family Home Evening activity, and they are called The Happy Valentine's D's:

Delusion

So full of passion,
But I have no one to love,
So, what do you say?

Dejection
I think of your eyes:
They are blue like the river
rushing right past me.

Disquiet
My heart beats for you
Like an army of drummers
Just as annoying.

Didn't even knoet

I typed my full name (Alexander Johnston Hale) into Google to see if anything would come up, and to my great amazement and amusement, a link to poetry.com showed up with a poem that I had written more than 10 years ago!

While on an LDS mission in Nebraska, my brother, Ryan, told me about how obsessed everyone there was about Cornhusker football. I guess it was so silly to my 12- or 13-year-old mind that I wrote a poem about it.

without further ado, my poem:

Football in Nebraska

by: Alexander Johnston Hale

Once, while sitting on my bed,
A clock fell down and struck my head
As consciousness left me I fell to the ground
And laid there, no motion, not even a sound.

When I awoke I looked at the clock
It must have been broken, no more tick, no more tock.
Without any knowledge of how long I'd been out,
I left my room to go walk about.

I went to the window. something was wrong;
Not a child at play, and no birds singing songs
The sky looked so gloomy, the streets looked so bare,
I ventured to think that no one was there.

Was I the last person? was I the last soul?
Was it just in my neighborhood? or the world as a whole?
What would I do? how would I survive
If I was the last person, the last thing still alive?

Then it struck me, like lightning, like the clock to the head
I realized how long I had been in bed
I ran back to my room. how could I be so retarded?!
The Cornhuskers were playing and the game already started!

I have no idea how it got onto poetry.com, but I gave it a 10.

My own wake

While trying to make the most moral decision, selfish farsightedness led to probably the biggest mistake I've ever made with a relationship. I lost what was more than a chance. Now in the emotional scramble of a second attempt, nearly hopeless for what could have been, a spiritual insight has made all my moral efforts free of regret: The victory is not in winning love, but in loving. I loved, and will continue to love.