Response to Creative Project:
~ Oh, All the Places I’ll Go, to the Stage, to Rome ~
Ellen Marie Drummonds
The merriment of life I’ll discover while holding
My degree in my hands, my life for my molding;
The bend of the trees as they whisper my name
Is flattering, I’ll say, in my lifetime of fame.
Sure, to more college I’ll go with good intentions in mind,
And many hours I’ll study until my eyes turn blind--
My professors will love me, for how can they not;
My vocab so great—the students distraught.
Oh me, oh my word, then a love? Then a drive?
No, an audition for which I will strive--
American Idol , yes, that’s what I will do,
My singing voice sweet music for you and for you.
If I don’t make it far, no worries I’ll have,
‘Cause I will be writing novels—the fun and the sad--
So long you’ll pass out in mid-chapter three,
So big The Lord of the Rings will feel like a spree.
I will perform on the stage, no matter my age;
I will act, I will dance, I will sing every day--
My name up in lights, it will be such a sight,
And I won’t get it by sleeping with my manager each night.
I’ll move to Italy, oh, yes, I will indeed-y,
And I’ll find a boyfriend who’s in bed very needy . . . .
Ha-ha, just kidding! I fooled you, you know--
I’ll behold the history of Milan and ancient Rome.
Then I’ll settle down, a teaching job my own,
With a wedding then some kids, a Victorian home;
I’ll keep writing, of course, and perform on the side;
At Disneyland every year, I’ll ride every ride.
Much money I will make, for my momma to take--
For her house, her car, a great European break;
A bookstore I’ll open, with thousands of pages,
So fantastic it will stand throughout many ages.
Vows I will renew with my husband of love,
Blessed again in a church and God watching above;
My children will weep and get back to their lives,
With families of their own, peace and joy they will strive.
I’ll retire with ease, to a warm beach in Maui,
And sunburns I’ll get, so bad I’ll say “Owwy!”;
I’ll relax in my chair, with the wind in my hair--
The places I’ve gone—why, I’m already there.
` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `
Self-written Song: A Parody of "Love Story" by Young Country Singer Taylor Swift
We were both drunk when I first saw you--
I close my eyes and the dizziness starts--
I'm lying there,
On the sticky floor and no one cares.
See my puke, see the cougars, the bar stool,
See you trip your way through so cool
And say, "Uh-oh"--
I totally reeked, so . . .
And you were a gigolo, you were havin' some girls,
And my ferret said, "Stay away from my best friend!"
But you were doin' things to me, I was beggin' you, "Please don't come!"
And I said, "Gigolo, date me, I've been hangin' by the phone,
I've been waitin', remember we had so much fun--
I'll be the cop, and you'll be the robber."
It's a fun story, baby just say, "When?"
So I bring out my purse and provisions;
I call you up 'cause I'm so missin' you--
Don't be surprised, when I demand a ring from you.
'Cause you're a gigolo, but yes my clock has been tickin',
And my uterus says, "Hurry up, I want an egg!"
But I need a certain thing, and I'm swearin' you'll be a groom!
And then we go ourselves hitched up, it was just so great at once;
You quit the business--and then by oven had a bun--
I'll be the mom, and you'll be the papa--
It's a bun story, baby just say, "WAAAAHH!!"
Daddy-o, kiss me, you're makin' my dreams come true-ue;
This time just on the mouth, not in the moo-oo-ood.
Don't be so scared, I'll take care of the changin';
We've begun the story, baby just say, "Twins!"
But then the babies came out,
I'm wonderin' if you are home watchin' the game;
My love for you was in doubt,
When I heard a woman cry your name:
And she said, "Gigolo screwed me, knocked me up nine months ago.
I''ve been keepin' this baby but he doesn't know;
Are you his new prey?
There's a ring on your hand--
He knelt to the ground and pulled out that ring and lied,
'Marry me, So-and-So, you'll never have to be alone!
I love you, there won't be another one!'
He spat in your face, just look at my stomach,
It's a done story, baby just say, 'Duck!' "
Oh, oh, oh, . . . uh-oh, oh . . .
I was very dumb when I first saw you.
I close my eyes and the dizziness starts--
I'm lying there,
On the sticky floor and no one cares.
See my puke, see the cougars, the bar stool,
See you trip your way through so cool
And say, "Uh-oh"--
I totally reeked, so . . .
And you were a gigolo, you were havin' some girls,
And my ferret said, "Stay away from my best friend!"
But you were doin' things to me, I was beggin' you, "Please don't come!"
And I said, "Gigolo, date me, I've been hangin' by the phone,
I've been waitin', remember we had so much fun--
I'll be the cop, and you'll be the robber."
It's a fun story, baby just say, "When?"
So I bring out my purse and provisions;
I call you up 'cause I'm so missin' you--
Don't be surprised, when I demand a ring from you.
'Cause you're a gigolo, but yes my clock has been tickin',
And my uterus says, "Hurry up, I want an egg!"
But I need a certain thing, and I'm swearin' you'll be a groom!
And then we go ourselves hitched up, it was just so great at once;
You quit the business--and then by oven had a bun--
I'll be the mom, and you'll be the papa--
It's a bun story, baby just say, "WAAAAHH!!"
Daddy-o, kiss me, you're makin' my dreams come true-ue;
This time just on the mouth, not in the moo-oo-ood.
Don't be so scared, I'll take care of the changin';
We've begun the story, baby just say, "Twins!"
But then the babies came out,
I'm wonderin' if you are home watchin' the game;
My love for you was in doubt,
When I heard a woman cry your name:
And she said, "Gigolo screwed me, knocked me up nine months ago.
I''ve been keepin' this baby but he doesn't know;
Are you his new prey?
There's a ring on your hand--
He knelt to the ground and pulled out that ring and lied,
'Marry me, So-and-So, you'll never have to be alone!
I love you, there won't be another one!'
He spat in your face, just look at my stomach,
It's a done story, baby just say, 'Duck!' "
Oh, oh, oh, . . . uh-oh, oh . . .
I was very dumb when I first saw you.
Self-composed Poem: ~ In the Sin of Sunday ~
Steel bars rage in their gray
With malfunctioning arms toward dark they crane--
The gleaming whip forming that streak of light
While sirens in the shadows scream their secrets into sight;
The things people know come few and few,
Hidden in closets of dust I once knew
The dirt in the corner, clumped and nice,
The remnants of quiet deemed pitiful thrice;
My little pillow of hair,
Lying forgotten there,
As I whisper my wants into stale, rhythmic air,
The beauty of "please" I do not dare
Doggy, doggy, in that corner of mine,
Beyond the floor on which I dine,
Wherever did you get those spots?
And why do you seem to know my thoughts?
You little mutt of a thing--
Why must you be so green?
Tsk, tsk, you little liar--
You drag your feet through the muck and mire,
While claiming to be white and clean and neat--
With a gleam in your eye
And a pistol nearby--
The bullets in the toes of your feet
Oh, don’t cry, Silly Billy--
Your time will come someday;
The rain will pass,
This journey will last
In the sin of Sunday.
With malfunctioning arms toward dark they crane--
The gleaming whip forming that streak of light
While sirens in the shadows scream their secrets into sight;
The things people know come few and few,
Hidden in closets of dust I once knew
The dirt in the corner, clumped and nice,
The remnants of quiet deemed pitiful thrice;
My little pillow of hair,
Lying forgotten there,
As I whisper my wants into stale, rhythmic air,
The beauty of "please" I do not dare
Doggy, doggy, in that corner of mine,
Beyond the floor on which I dine,
Wherever did you get those spots?
And why do you seem to know my thoughts?
You little mutt of a thing--
Why must you be so green?
Tsk, tsk, you little liar--
You drag your feet through the muck and mire,
While claiming to be white and clean and neat--
With a gleam in your eye
And a pistol nearby--
The bullets in the toes of your feet
Oh, don’t cry, Silly Billy--
Your time will come someday;
The rain will pass,
This journey will last
In the sin of Sunday.