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-   -   12 Days of Poetry (https://www.pokecommunity.com/showthread.php?t=269011)

Misheard Whisper December 15th, 2011 11:13 PM

These things are so damn hard to write. (aka I really suck at them. Apologies for the poor quality of this.)

Limerick


There once was a small Christmas tree
Who wanted to visit the sea.
So he got in a boat,
But it just wouldn't float.
Now he's swimming with the fish, you see.

Palladium December 16th, 2011 3:23 AM

I already suck with poetry,and you come with this to me ... Can't guarantee quality. Oh, yeah, I didn't count syllables, so, might not be the right size.

~~ Regret (Limerick) ~~

For those worthless things we got mad,
For that one big gift we fought dad,
Growing apart our hearts we let,
Now we’re filled with regret,
Your face that once smiled, is now very ,very sad

Kayges December 16th, 2011 10:08 AM

I'm totally weaving my own story instead of going with Christmas themes.
Swimming against the current...oh yeah. :cool:

Limerick ~ Ouch

I tripped you for fun on the path,
But I was doomed to face your wrath,
After all of that pain,
I now think you're insane,
I demand that you draw me a bath

Astinus December 16th, 2011 11:51 AM

Don't worry at all about the quality of your poems. This is just for fun, and everyone who completes the challenge gets the prize. It's not just for those who write the "best" poems.

So just have fun! And I'm enjoying everyone's poems.

Freddy Fazbear December 16th, 2011 1:39 PM

Hmm, a limerick. Well, here goes...

Why I Never Go Ice Skating

The teacher was skating on ice
And all the students thought it quite nice
That the same figure eight
That teacher thought was so great
Cut a hole in the very fine ice

Astinus December 16th, 2011 9:40 PM

And now it's time for one of my favorite kinds of poems.

On the fifth day of the holidays, the Poetry forum gave to me...five enjambments!

Enjambment poems have sentences that continue on to the next line. Like Joyce Kilmer's poem, "Trees":
Quote:

I don't think I will ever see
A poem as lovely as a tree
No syllable-counting today.

Misheard Whisper December 16th, 2011 10:17 PM

. . . seriously? XD

Enjambments

I took a Christmas holiday
One year; I travelled away
From home, far from home
And ended up in Rome
Somehow. I don't know what
Happened, but it was hot
In the city, even though
The seasons are reversed . . . oh.
I didn't think this poem through,
So let's just end it here.

Palladium December 17th, 2011 3:44 AM

I might have had to be a little more subtler

~~ Enjabment ~~

That last challenge given to me
Was a blessing in disguise. To give me
A break from all of that, boring
Syllable counting; Not that those
Weren’t funny, but syllable counting
Is kinda annoying.


I might have had to be a little more subtler

~~ Enjabment ~~

That last challenge given to me
Was a blessing in disguise. To give me
A break from all of that, boring
Syllable counting; Not that those
Weren’t funny, but syllable counting
Is kinda annoying.

Kayges December 17th, 2011 1:07 PM

Enjambment ~ Dream

As I lay by the fire
I succumb to soul's desire,
I could not fight back, you see,
because sleep grasped me so quickly
Now I dream of a place
where all move with such grace
and everything that I see
comes and goes so fluidly
I slowly wake, just to see
that this was certainly just a dream

Astinus December 17th, 2011 9:14 PM

ಠ_ಠ

On the sixth day of the holidays, the Poetry forum gave to me...six acrostic poems!

Quote:

An acrostic is a poem or other form of writing in which the first letter, syllable or word of each line, paragraph or other recurring feature in the text spells out a word or a message.
from here

Oryx December 17th, 2011 9:26 PM

Blahh I was on the road all day so I missed enjambment :(

Snowflakes gather in the strands
of her chestnut hair,
on her flushed cheeks
and reddened nose.
She collects them in her hand
and melts them
as well as his heart.

Okayyy, now acrostic:

Santa, I want a pony
And a sleigh and a DS!
Nearing time, rushing parents
Taking children to their friends
Acting on behalf of the "big man"

Christmas morning
Lights and gifts from "Santa"
Aaah, thank you Santa!
Until they age, never knowing
Santa's true identity.

Misheard Whisper December 17th, 2011 9:36 PM

Oh, look, I get to use clumsy enjambment again to make this thing fit. Acrostic poems always feel awkward as hell to me . . .

Acrostic

Christmas is representative of
Happiness, joy and general
Rejoicing.
It's also a time for people to come together,
Spending time with family
They haven't seen all year.
Maybe there'll be a party.
Alternatively, just a quiet celebration.
Something special happens either way.

Palladium December 18th, 2011 3:51 AM

Let’s take a different approach, shall we?


Candles lit
Humming happy songs
And reuniting the family
Not everyone share this happiness
Near this time of the year
Under our happy homes we sing
Key to happiness is this
Amour, how the French say, and
Happiness too

And since I’m bored




Claus is coming
Here, tonight
Right to our poor little home
I cry with joy,
Smiling today
This is a day of celebration
More and more joy to come
And let’s not forget to
Sing some happy songs

Kayges December 18th, 2011 8:31 AM

Acrostic ~ Heart and Mind

Everything has a purpose
Never have I thought of this before
Living in luxury for far too long
Ignorant to the outside and the inside
Grand has my journey been, though
Heavy were the tasks at hand
Through our travels, land and sea
Endings never before so bittersweet
Now we've come to see the signs
Everything has a purpose
Divine are our hearts and minds

Astinus December 18th, 2011 9:13 PM

On the seventh day of the holidays, the Poetry forum gave to me...seven doggerels.

Quote:

A Doggerel is a light verse which is humorous and comic by nature - often viewed with disdain as containing little literary value.
from here

Oryx December 18th, 2011 10:03 PM

Landed on the roof last night, Santa Claus sure did,
Grabbed his great big sack and down the chimney boldly slid.
That's why there's so much soot on the floor of our big den,
But now that he's been in here once, he won't be here again.

He searched it in confusion for the missing Christmas tree,
Found no stockings hanging where they should be hung with glee.
He saw no flashy garlands, no lights upon the rail,
And the cookies sitting out were old, dry, and stale.

Then he saw one thing that made him cry out in surprise,
And shimmy on back up the chimney just to get outside.
He didn't check his list with care that night, it seemed to me,
'Cause then he saw the menorah on top of the TV.

Misheard Whisper December 18th, 2011 10:31 PM

what the **** is this

Doggerel

Santa lost his sack one day
It seemed that it had run away.
He searched for it high, he searched for it low,
But nowhere at the North Pole did it show.

"Oh no, what shall I do?" he cried
"It's like a part of me has died.
Without my sack I'm half a man.
Anyone, help me if you can!"

But just then, Mrs Claus stepped up
And said, "Honestly, give it up!
You old damn fool, stop talking tosh.
I just put the darn thing out to the wash."

Zeffy December 19th, 2011 6:36 AM

Phoo-ey! Now that I've gone and finished stuff, I can finally catch up on this! :3

Rhyming

Today's evening is tomorrow's morning
Yet I cannot say what I truly feel
Although I try to say what is inside
I have wounds that have yet to heal

For it was an afternoon of sorrow
And a morning filled with joy
Today's evening meant a fruitful morning
But my days were nothing but a toy

I cannot see but I can feel
Your words may seem strong and bold
As my days are counted from every hour
But yours are still waiting to be unfold

Haiku

It was still evening
12 o'clock midnight has struck
It is now morning

Limerick

(oh god I knew this was going to pop up ;_;)

Let us all remember this day
When we shared what we have to say
When we leave we say goodbye
When we meet we all say hi
I cannot wish, but I can pray

Enjambments

(this is really not something I like doing...)

I hid behind the chimney
While waiting for you
In my hands are milk and cookies
Waiting to be eaten by you

I have never seen you
But I know you exist
And if ever I don't see you coming
I still have your milk and cookies

So hey Santa Claus
I saw you kissed my mummy
So you have to take my cookies
Or else, I'll have to drink your milk

Acrostic poem

People everywhere are rushing
On every store they run
Kept on running before midnight rests
Everywhere was very crowded
Mothers push their carts
On crowded counter tables
Not a sight of joy was found in their faces

Doggerel

(and I was like wuuuut xD)

And Santa came rushing down the vent
A very unusual place for him to go
Although I know he can make it through
He didn't seem to fit through it

So I went and rescued him with my stick
I poked and poked the big fat man
But to my surprise it wasn't a man
A donkey jumped up, to my surprise!

This donkey had stockings where it shouldn't be
Had socks where his mouth should have been
But alas, it was again an illusion
A cruel, fat Santa came into my sight

So I let go of the man the red suit
And down the vent he came falling
I cannot stop myself laughing
For he is stuck in there again

tente2 December 19th, 2011 8:31 AM

I might as well. I'm horrible with this daily kind of thing (does anybody remember the 30 days where you had to post a video?) but it seems really fun (I said that about the last thing I joined something @[email protected])

They are going to compose a story, told from various different people or sometimes narrated 3rd person. I think it's going to be more fun, artistic and enjoyable, not to mention intriguing. I am totally not campaigning for User of the Year

1. (Freeverse) The Girl Who Knew No Christmas

Once there was a girl,
A girl who visited these lands when she was young.
She left out of spite and misery
Pretended she was
Travelling, Journeying
Searching for peace and love
But in reality, she only searched
For what she never had.

The guilty pleasures she kept in her heart
Drove her to envy and malice
Flame-headed and innocent
She started, naivety impeding her path
Anger dwelling
In the dark lair she calls her mind

Never had she any love
Save for her apathetic mother and forgetful father
Who, in retrospect
Were little to combat
Such jeers, such negative thoughts.

Never knew any Christmas,
Thoumaeus, girl of red hair.

2. (Rhyming) That Poor Little Girl

I knew when she was a lass
At dawn she would catch bass
At the little pathetic lake
She called her only break.

When she made cookies with me
I could not help but cry,
Could not help but sleep with the sheep
That night everything felt right.

Thoumaeus, sweet girl of rowan
What happened, what happened to my rowanberry?
I knew I treated you with neglection
I knew I was little of a mother for my little rowanberry.

Your father and I, although we got by
We missed you without comparison
There's still some cranberry pie
Waiting on the counter, topped with rosemary.

(I apologize for a) switching rhyming format after the first stanza and b) the last stanza not rhyming in the least, the only other thing I could think of was "marijuana" XD)

3. (Haiku) Desire

What she wants from here
Nobody knows, Intrigue floods
These streets filled with jolly.

4. (Limerick) Doubt

(I'm going to *try* to make this Anapaestic, based on the not-very-reliable information Wikipedia offers <__<)

Sensed something bad about her
It feels wrong to have her learn
What has changed with this town
When I saw her on the mound
To have her near, she isn't dear
To these streets she shouldn't be

5. (Enjabments) Knowlegde is Volatile

(I'm syllable-free! YAY!!!!)

I know
What happened the night
She appeared, as if out of
Thin air that was so sweet
But has turned so bitter
With rumors and malicious comments.

I know
Why she decides
To face this town that hates
Her, only her,
That wishes her gone
Wishes her suffering
Which is crueler?

I know
Why she braves her fears
Why she seeks this path
Of inevitable doom
She seeks to redeem
She's tired of hiding
She wants freedom,
Chains of guilt unravelling.

I know
They say I'm weak,
I'm a fool
But I could care less
I have this knowledge
I will confront her
Help her
For a know the feeling of being lonely

So,
I, Coyle, puny weakling of this town
Will stop thinking
And start acting.

6. (Acrositic) They Turn Blind Eyes

Stop pretending you don't see
You know it's happening
Don't deny it
I know you're hiding it
A poor girl is trying to feel content
Nevermind another's intent

I will not tolerate this.
Maybe you don't see

Baker I may be
Easy to say I'm useless
Trouble to convince the masses
That I can make a difference
Eavesdropping say I'm not popular
Regardless...I won't stand for this

Trouble to comprehend this
Hard to say I'll be heard
And I understand your defendance of your town but
Negligence won't improve it

You may be right
Of course it would cause a riot
Understand this poor girl's suffering.

(I couldn't resist. It was the first thing that popped into my head when I realized my first stanza said "SYDI")

7. (Doggerel) What is She Doing Here

I was at this pastry shop
Which sells these small
Really, really, REALLY
Tiny bagels
That taste like blue cheese
When I peek out the window
And through the falling snowflakes and cover of white (which, I should add, is similar to my cat's fur, except white because my cat's fur is black)
I see against the white, a flame-headed girl stands out
(Because we all know that red and white don't mix. Except for that one time when I saw this fat chick at the mall, who was wearing a really hot red & white coat that reminds me of my cat's fur, except red & white)
I said, "Oh crap, what is she doing here?"
I remembered what I said to her the last time
And I ducked behind the clerks cashier counter

He shrieked
And had a heart attack
I was stuck in a dilemna: Let the guy die, or bring him to the hospital at the risk of being spotted?

I decided what I said last time
Was far too frank
So I let the poor guy's little heart beat out
It's last little beats while I hid behind his counter
(Which is like my cat's fur, except harder, smoother and made out of granite and wood)

So then suddenly this prostitute
Comes in, snuffs her cigarette
I was incredibly surprised
I thought our town didn't have any prostitutes.

But then I realized
In a shocking revelation
That she had no cigarette, she was no prostitute
I was just my imagination.
She only seeked a Christmas gift
For tommorow's Christmas celebration.

Then I suddenly pondered
As the false-prostitute chick let out a shriek of her own
Whether Thoumaeus would show up at the party
It would be incredibly awkward if she came and we met faces.

Yet, I wished not to miss such fest
So, buttoning my vest,
I brought both to the hospital,
One I found on Craig's List.



That's it! Writing it was surprisingly fun, too. (Except for that stupid limerick--that was just boring and stupid and a nightmare to write. It isn't even real literature as far as I'm concerned.) Well, I'll subscribe to this thread *just* make sure I don't forget.

And remember kids, now you know who to vote for User of the Year

Kayges December 19th, 2011 10:25 AM

Doggerel ~ Anger Games

Your wrath was comming again, I knew too well
Your staff at an intimidating angle once I fell
I cried for help, but those two didn't come
They knew better for they would feel it too
I couldn't blame them,I don't think
But how could they sit there and watch me sink?

It's a silly game we like to play
Who can anger him the most and get away?
Clearly not me, as you can see
He was going to swing and I could see it now
A big bruise, the size of a stone right on the crown!
So, those other two had better run away
For I most definitely will make them pay

Definitely not my style of poetry, hahah.

Palladium December 19th, 2011 2:34 PM

Sorry,but I don't have a sense of humor
So you'll have to get this crappy poem

There was once a kid
That liked the space
Every day, he looked up in daze
Wondering when
He’d finally go there
In one of these
A star fell
His wish, you ask?
Well,
The boy was smart,
And wished not to go to space
Rather he wish to see that star up close
To keep as a souvenir
He wished and wished and kept waiting
The star suddenly changed its course
And reached the boy
Shame the poor boy
Hadn’t realized
That falling stars,
Are just large rocks
And that that wish
Was now wasted

Astinus December 19th, 2011 10:26 PM

On the eighth day of the holidays, the Poetry forum gave to me...eight Imagery poems

Quote:

Imagery Poems draw the reader into poetic experiences by touching on the images and senses which the reader already knows. The use of images in this type of poetry serves to intensify the impact of the work.
More http://www.types-of-poetry.org.uk/27-imagery-poems.htm]here

Palladium December 20th, 2011 5:13 AM

I'm not sure of what this kind of poem is, exactly, but will give it a shot


After that long trek,
I have finally reached my destiny,
A few feet will not stop me,
Just a cave between me and victory
Inside, it’s dark and cold
Filled with rocks,
Each one representing,
Lost dreams,
That takes me back
To before I travelled
And settled my destiny
It may sound condescending
To think I am destined to be big
But it’s a hope of mine
And as they say
Hope is the last to die

Hope this work, cuz I'm not doing that again

Oryx December 20th, 2011 7:53 AM

Plum

The cold, sweet piercing
droplets gathering around the broken skin
pinkish red, the color of sweet sin
It bursts into radiance
inside the mouth of a child
dark purple shining in the sun.

tente2 December 20th, 2011 2:29 PM

This is nothing compared to that retarded limerick I had to write...*shudders*

8. (Imagery) Doorway

Crimson lines
Golden trimming
A button so innocent
That could cause so much misery
It's only purpose
Make a noise
Yet somehow, so chaotic
Would be the result of such a noise.

Finger against doorbell
That wretched sound again
The girl hadn't heard it
Since she fled these streets she loathed.

Then, that gateway,
Into a world now unknown
Some would call a encounter
Some would call a greeting
Some would call a reunion
She would only say she's
Met this woman before.

The door, the door
With it's wreath of golden red leaves
Knob of delicate designs
Holly trees on either side
Guards, to this meeting on what
One would call a doorstep.

It was with a tender hug
That now meant nothing to her
That Thoumaeus, fiery red hair
Auburn like the leaves of said wreath
Adorning such gateway to possibility
Adorned itself with rowan.



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