![]() |
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. |
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 |
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 |
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. |
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 |
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:
|
. . . 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. |
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. |
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 |
ಠ_ಠ
On the sixth day of the holidays, the Poetry forum gave to me...six acrostic poems! Quote:
|
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. |
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. |
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 |
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 |
On the seventh day of the holidays, the Poetry forum gave to me...seven doggerels.
Quote:
|
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. |
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." |
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 |
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 |
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. |
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 |
On the eighth day of the holidays, the Poetry forum gave to me...eight Imagery poems
Quote:
|
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 |
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. |
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. |
| All times are GMT -8. The time now is 2:13 AM. |
![]()
© 2002 - 2018 The PokéCommunity™, pokecommunity.com.
Pokémon characters and images belong to The Pokémon Company International and Nintendo. This website is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Nintendo, Creatures, GAMEFREAK, The Pokémon Company or The Pokémon Company International. We just love Pokémon.
All forum styles, their images (unless noted otherwise) and site designs are © 2002 - 2016 The PokéCommunity / PokéCommunity.com.
PokéCommunity™ is a trademark of The PokéCommunity. All rights reserved. Sponsor advertisements do not imply our endorsement of that product or service. User generated content remains the property of its creator.
Acknowledgements
Use of PokéCommunity Assets
vB Optimise by DragonByte Technologies Ltd © 2023.