My teacher who thought sun-bathing made her well-red,
graded me average, she was mean to the power hundred.
She was once a banker, but after some time lost interest,
wanted to be a pilot, so her career could take off for the best.
She thought to be able to fly high, could be truly uplifting,
instead she bought a boat, for in the sea it was for sail drifting.
She was an optimist, her blood type was B-positive, they stated,
but the doctor said it was Type-O, the mistake was corrected.
Her memory was photographic, but she couldn’t fully develop it,
she needed to alter a brain part, changed her mind the last minute.
When she stole neighbor’s lamps, he couldn’t be more de-lighted,
a picturesque girl, she landed in jail, “I was framed”, she asserted.
By moonlit nights, I prowl with grace,
No mirror shows my pale, sharp face.
Stake through heart? Please, not today—
I dodge those stakes and run away.
Garlic bread? You think I'll drool?
I've got a stash behind the stool.
Sunlight's foe? A mild complaint,
Sunscreen 50 is my saint.
I drink your blood, but don't take fright—
It's just a snack to get me right.
No veins harmed, I swear, no mess,
Just need my iron, I confess!
Yet deep inside this fangy guise,
Loneliness behind my eyes.
Immortal curse, eternal night,
A shadow lost without the light.
So laugh at myths of vampire dread,
But think of all the tears I've shed.
I'm just a feature of the night,
Trying to keep my teeth polite.
I tried to date on Tinder once,
But "Undead" marked me as a dunce.
They matched, then screamed, then blocked my chat,
Just 'cause I asked, "May I taste that?"
Type O
You're not a Type O.
Move forward.
New talent.
Use your gifts.
New chapter.
A believer.
You're not a mistake.
There's no one to blame.
No self doubt.
Rise up.
A new day.
A purpose.
A new season.
Get out of your comfort zone.
You're not a Type O.
Learn to grow.
Just be you.
We Are Writers
My teacher who thought sun-bathing made her well-red,
graded me average, she was mean to the power hundred.
She was once a banker, but after some time lost interest,
wanted to be a pilot, her career could take off for the best.
She thought to be able to fly high, could be very uplifting,
instead she bought a boat, for it was for sail and tempting.
She an optimist, her blood type was B-positive, they stated,
but the doctor told it was Type-O, the mistake was corrected.
Her memory was photographic, but she couldn’t develop it,
she was to alter a brain part, changed her mind last minute.
When she stole neighbor’s lamps, he couldn’t be more de-lighted,
a picturesque girl, she landed in jail, “I was framed”, she asserted.
_______________
March, 5, 2023
Contest : Pun Fun
Sponsored by : Margarita Lillico
I am my Facebook page
A list of lists
I am a picture with a filter
A tag in someone else's post
I am my SAT score
An expensive page with bullet points
I am my resume
A copy/paste letter of intent
I am my gym membership
A stack of metal I pick up to feel powerful
I am the downward dog
A first place medal in a race against no one
I am my credit score
A bank account that will never be full
I am a debt report
A numerical risk and reward
I am my insurance plan
A walking blood bag: Type O -
I am homeostatic, for now
Organ donor printed on plastic
I am a *****sapien
An old primate chasing insects
I am evolution
The self-proclaimed best of the hominids
Just skip to the scary part ...
Tricka coniculus
is arriving October soon
Lepus all be aware;
gotta treat the leper fearful ...
whose spotty, fretful poor hearts
can’t stand
to hear more gloom and doom
Triage placebo coping band-aids
are in short supply
Looks like the blood covering the moon
be a mote overshadowing a beam
Nothing is ever,
universally,
type O positive plain as it seems
So don’t ask
the assisting nurse, Igor why
You shrink doktor Victor
know in your parental counseling heart,
without so much as even a sigh ...
it’s gonna be another Frankie boy
signature ritual killing drive-by
Only question is, when: it’s just a matter of time
That Bonnie bad boy
is gonna take his pearl handle
Jekyll-and-Clyde girl
on a Rocky Horror Creepshow death honeymoon
Two cursed lovers riding a witch’s broom
He’s got his ugly bride by his side —
Tricka coniculus
gon trigger a crimson hate blaze
Treat the shock casualties
with a hard-shell sympathetic gaze
Good news seen on a low-tide hide
Bad lepus October moon
rising,
somebody real soon is about to die
Your life is still on my mind
The way you laugh
And the way you unwind
My eyes can see nothing but you
In my deepest dreams of hope to come true
Your photo is all i have left for a memory
I can still see your heart beating
And I can still hear your life breathing
The photo is just a reminder for me
How much one can lose when they can no longer see
My heart felt as though it was sewn to yours
Now all I see you sitting on the cupboard doors
The peaceful smile still smell your perfume
My heart is fading like a flower unable type o bloom
The sun is causing my world to tilt
Breaking my soul with permanent wilt
Every time I think of you
I smile faintly but forever gloom
As the candles burn
our desires are set free
physically your body whispers delight
enticing the beast that slumbers within
My will I give to you
your love I now serve
as your seductive actions speak louder
enraging the beast locked within
praying I can worship you till the end
just open your mind and I will love you to death
each day I will prove my love and gratitude
by restraining the raging beast within
hoping you feel I am good enough
loving you to death is what I desire
I beg you to let me love you to death
for it's you that can relinquish the beast within
7/9/2017
Inspired by:
Type-O-Negative "Love You To Death"
It's 4 a.m.--
A hotel
bible is spreading
the good
news to a local wino,
as dirty children
of intimate strangers
are playing X Box
with addicts.
A young girl
is learning
to inhale up
on the
gravel rooftop,
scribing poetry
on her arm
in the minute
moonlight.
Razor writing
is such
a waste of type O.
Nothing compares to your hands
I bathe in your warmth
the hollow of your armpit
is my shelter...
It cannot be helped
we can't be anywhere
except together...
I'd like to paint you
I choose crimson
my fingers touch your blood
life springs from your flower-fountain
folded lips caress the seams of my eyelids...
You injected yourself into my life
entering my blue and red streams
I cannot filter you out
you have bitten me firmly
the paths of my nerves are yours...
It seems you are so much me
my type O lover
I cannot tell anymore
the what is you and what is me
there is love in cellular arrangement...
Your dark angel eyes
cut like swords inside my flesh
waves rush between our bodies
my blood cells which are my stars
flows to yours which are my lights...
We share the warm blood of lovers
I once read where
the Angler fish attaches himself
to the female with his razor sharp teeth
and in time they share a common bloodstream...
Somebody somewhere said I think therefore I am
Although, they never seen the mind inside this man
How do I know it's even me in fact
Merely, because I bleed when I'm stabbed
I touch red hot, but prove type O, I can't
Is faith the answer to everything I ask
Or an imaginary concept like the brain I know I have
I think therefore I am, hmmm... I Am
Here’s a little something you might like to know.
You're a universal donor if your blood is type “O”.
You may have type “A”, or perhaps type “B”,
You may even possess the type known as “AB”.
“AB” is the blood that is found less frequently.
That type is considered a universal recipient fortunately.
For the D antigen, most people are Rhesus factor positive.
Less common are those who are Rh negative.
So there is just a little medical information.
The American Red Cross seeks donors throughout the nation.
Information obtained from pamphlets distributed by the American Red Cross.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.