Poems by Me

[lord_carbo]

I'll dump off poems I whip up in this thread. I'm not a fan of free verse or the sort so expect some playful poems for the most part, maybe a few depressing ones but for the most part these won't be a bit serious.



The Jogger

Jogging
Jogging
Jogging along
The lone jogger runs down the lane
Six in the morning
His sleep he's adjourning
Living by "no pain, no gain"

Running
Running
Running along
The lone jogger picks up his pace
Ignoring his health
He's all by himself
He's last yet he's winning the race

Resting
Resting
Resting he's not
He'll never get enough
Not planning on walking
Or idly talking
Running is serious stuff

Collapsing
Collapsing
Collapsing he is
The lone jogger erstwhile forgot
Though it may seem fine
When you're forty-nine
Jogging is definitely not

[SethSquall]

Hahahaha. I thought that was awesome dude.

[mead1]

Not heinous.

This thread needs more Sestina.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sestina

Do it, they're cool.

[Jamaican Jew]

Mead, stop trying to corrupt people with your Sestinas.
I'm serious.

Carbo: Better than most of the poetry posted here. Points for the usage of "erstwhile."

[UberMario]

Can I make this into a song, get a major label and then use you in the music video?

[mead1]

Mead, stop trying to corrupt people with your Sestinas.
I'm serious.

no u?

[torndreams]

i like it...

[lord_carbo]

Not heinous.

This thread needs more Sestina.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sestina

Do it, they're cool.
Maybe later.

I'll have something fresh tomorrow. For now, an older poem of mine because I feel lazy when I don't post a poem along with a reply so early into this thread:



Five Meals

Today I have suddenly
been in the mood
To eat a hill--no,
a mountain of food

A breakfast for four
Makes me want more

Lunch for a king
Is hardly a thing

An enormous snack
I gorge and attack

Dinner is big
I eat like a pig

Yet a small desert
Makes my tummy hurt





I'll make sure my next poem is an epic epic to make up for a lack of awesomeness in this poem.

[mead1]

=(

[lord_carbo]

http://www.flashflashrevolution.com/vbz/customavatars/avatar13146_7.gif

---

In other news, I'll be working for 5 hours straight today. "5 hours straight" as in "'5 hours' 'straight'," so I'll get plenty of time to work on my poem, which I have slightly outlined in my head, there.

[lord_carbo]

Holy **** that poem took a lot of time.

Expect to see the full revision tomorrow.

[lord_carbo]

Writer's Block

Seven thirty, late in the night
What's a poet to possibly write?

Perhaps a sonnet? A little rhyme?
A haiku for those who possibly care?
A dramatic poem to pass the time?
Oh, my pencil broke--this isn't fair!

I'm in denial but I know it to be so
I'm in a state of writer's block
Perhaps that explains why I have yet to go
My hand on my forehead, my eyes on the clock

A quarter past eight and still nothing down
Not even a word that seems fit
Of this desolation, I bear the crown
And all of the shame that comes with it

Oh, that's it! The perfect poem!
With a brave hero whom saves the day!
He slays a dragon far from his home
And... nevermind, that sounds too cliche.

I could do what the talentless poets write
Scrawl random words and call it art
And to all who deny it I'll put up a fight
But I'd soon be unsatisfied and tear it apart

Nearly ten 'o clock and--wait, just wait!
I swear that beauty flew into my pen
This time I mean it--it'll be great
I rushed to finish before the clock struck ten

I wrote a poem about my troubles tonight
And in satisfaction I read it aloud
"Wow," I said after, "this is utter trash
The last stanza doesn't even rhyme"
I give up





Yeah, I couldn't think of anything, so I wrote a poem about how I couldn't think of anything.

The poem was done in parts... the times listed are the actual times when I looked at the clock while writing it.

Surprisingly there was very little editing. Other than approximately two words, it's verbatim to the original, pencil and paper version.

[lord_carbo]

Hello Stranger

What made you talk to me today?
Frankly, I have so little to say
___"What's going on? How are you?"
___"Oh, I'm fine, nothing new"
When it comes to you, I don't know much
Since we never talk or keep in touch

Dont worry, I won't let it go to my head
Over the couple of things you said
___"So what are exactly are you doing?"
___"As of now, not really a thing"
We're not friends or anything like that
Nothing happened--you just stopped to chat


What made you decide to draw near?
Meeting someone new? Is there nothing to fear?
___"Well I'm going to be late, 'ya know"
___"Yeah, I guess we should start to go"
I'm making such a big deal out of this!
We just talked, that's it, is there something I missed?

The truth is, I'm lonely, with no one to see
What's nothing to you means so much to me
___"Bye"
___"Bye..."
Farewell, stranger, you are truly kind
We could talk again one day, that is, if you don't mind




I'll be submitting The Jogger, Writer's Block, and Hello Stranger to my school's literature magazine, whereas submissions are due this Friday. Given that most of the stuff they get probably sucks, this stuff should get in no problem.

PS super quadruple post

[FoJaR]

I'll dump off poems I whip up in this thread. I'm not a fan of free verse or the sort so expect some playful poems for the most part, maybe a few depressing ones but for the most part these won't be a bit serious.



The Jogger

Jogging
Jogging
Jogging along
The lone jogger runs down the lane
Six in the morning
His sleep he's adjourning
Living by "no pain, no gain"

Running
Running
Running along
The lone jogger picks up his pace
Ignoring his health
He's all by himself
He's last yet he's winning the race

Resting
Resting
Resting he's not
He'll never get enough
Not planning on walking
Or idly talking
Running is serious stuff

Collapsing
Collapsing
Collapsing he is
The lone jogger erstwhile forgot
Though it may seem fine
When you're forty-nine
Jogging is definitely not

made a few changes in the last stanza, fixed tense and meter.

decent poem though

[Wintergreen]

I wrote a poem about my troubles tonight
And in satisfaction I read it aloud
"Wow," I said after, "this is udder trash
The last stanza doesn't even rhyme"
I give up



Udders are for cows. The word you want is 'utter'.

[lord_carbo]

Thanks guys. =)

[lord_carbo]

I did not stop writing poetry.



The Greatest Day of My Life

I rose up from my lumpy bed
Which just barely beats sleeping on rocks
I combed my hair, brushed my teeth
And slipped on a shirt, pants, and socks

Time started early that hapless day
So I was nearly late for my bus
I left all of lunch money on the counter
But it was too late to make a fuss

A second after getting off the bus
My foot crashed into a pool of muck
I hobbled into school and opened my locker
Which took forever because it was stuck

My day was off to a loathsome start
And to my disbelief it got worse
My locker was breached and my books were all gone
Was there no end to this curse?

So I made my way to first period
Feeling quite tired and blue
I bumped into someone in the hallway
And when I looked up
I saw you

When fate intervenes on the worst of days
They can be good, even with a bad start
This day, the greatest of my entire life
Is one I will keep in my heart

The greatest day of my entire life
Was sensational, no doubt
Just a little message to whom I love
From a guy who you know little about