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.
