April 14, 2008

J is for Jim who had too many cuts

J is for Jim who had too many cuts
04/14/2008 - National Poetry Month post #15, part of The Unlucky Twenty-Six

Jimmy McKimmy was orphaned at five
when his dad, fighting fires, just didn't survive
and Mom got so sad
while missing his dad
she simply gave up on being alive.

So Jim went to live in the Orphanage Marrow
and five years he grew under Mistress von Sparrow
who loved him and raised him
and frequently praised him
and kept him on track, as straight as an arrow.

Jim watched the little ones just like a brother
and kept them from fighting and hurting each other.
Though he was just ten,
he was "mother hen,"
for he knew their deep sadness in having no mother.

Then one day a six-year-old, Kevin McSnatch,
snuck into the kitchen and stole just one match.
He wouldn't admit it
but secretly lit it
alone on his bed, which proceeded to catch.

The fire turned into a raging hot blaze
and Jim jumped to action through smoke-blackened haze
and just like his father
the flames didn't bother
young Jim as he ran through the infernal maze.

He ushered the little ones out of the place
as all through the glass and stone building he'd race.
They were all out but two
when he went for them, too,
and he never quailed feeling the heat on his face.

As the two babies screamed, nestled tight in his arm
and he rushed out of there in the blaring alarm,
from behind came a boom
throwing them from the room
and Jim's only thought was, keep them both safe from harm.

The explosion had blasted a huge windowpane
and sent the shards flying like fire-glass rain
which shredded Jim's back,
but he never looked back--
he just kept running on, ignoring the pain.

When he got to the exit, the cheering was brief
for he fell to the ground like a dead autumn leaf.
He had bled far to much
and was hot to the touch,
and Mistress von Sparrow cried out in her grief.

One of my writing goals for 2008 is to write at least one light verse or poem every week in addition to my haiku wednesday and fiction friday posts. I will try to do this on Mondays.

8 comments:

Ch@ndy said...

Poor Jim.

I was trying not to get attached to him because I knew what was coming.

pjd - you written yet another well done poem!

pjd said...

another well done poem

ba-dum-bum!

blogless_troll said...

Jimmy McKimmy. Kevin McSnatch. Another Seussian work of genius.

I was confused while reading this one because I read "Jim who had too many cats," and I kept waiting for cats. So at the end I was like WTF? Did Pete drop the ball on this one? But no. He kicked it through the uprights.

pjd said...

I do like the idea of someone dying from having too many cats, though. Seems inevitable.

Maybe I should do one final one using they symbol of the artist formerly known as Prince, or perhaps move into other alphabets.

Um... nah.

JaneyV said...

This one was really sad! Now I have to grieve for Charlie and Jim. I kept hoping he'd just need a band-aid!
I know what you mean about the cats thing ... I was in the supermarket and the lady behind me was buying a dozen bottles of vodka and 3 big bags of cat litter. I know I shouldn't jump to conclusions..........

lissa said...

This one's particularly sad to me, yet even when I knew it would end in tragedy, I still think it wasn't fair to him

WriterKat said...

The cats thing could really work.

Jim was a likeable guy. Probably of all the ones I've read so far this guy didn't deserve the end. But you told it well. I like the line "fell like a dead autumn leaf." Says a lot.

pjd said...

Jane--a dozen bottles of vodka and three big bags of cat litter? Exactly what conclusions did you jump to?!?

Lissa, I agree it wasn't fair to Jim, but somehow it still suits him in a cosmic sort of sense.

Kat, I liked that line, too. Despite all the recent online advice to eliminate similes!