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PC Coffee House
Welcome to the PokeCommunity Coffee House. This is a place to hang out and recite poems, original or poems you have heard somewhere else (just post the person who recited it, and where it came from.)
Here's Mine: Poor Thing-Melissa McIntyre (degrassi) It happens to other people. You say "How sad.", You say "Poor thing.". But when it's you it's something else, It's everything. It started from something minor, then from there to something worse. The friends you loved, and thought you knew just disappeared. It felt so weird, half blessing, half curse. It happens to other people. You say "How sad.", You say "Poor thing."... **Applause** |
GROWTH:
I feel like an outcast in my school. I feel like I should be singing Hey Ya, with a pop music tune. If they were really my friends, they would not care, talk about me behind my back, laugh, make jokes about my hair. I need to grow. I feel like I am a mouse, in a box full of cats, Trapped! Waiting to be preyed upon. If they were really my friends they would not leave, blow me off, walk away, treat me like a plague. I need to grow. I feel like I'm being used, Being drained of my life, and strength by greedy leeches. If they were really my friends they would not use me, take me for granted, treat me like dirt, walk all over me. I need to grow I feel like getting coffee after school. I feel like letting go. If they were really my friends they wouldn't let me drink coffee, it stunts my growth. And I need to grow That's my original poem. |
a girl in my classes sister wrote this
Stop Look Listen See Do you see her or do you see me... i forgot the rest... very dark |
What's a classes sister?
Well, that poem was short. Sounded good so far. Try to remember the rest. |
a girl in my class has a sis is what i ment... **sips coffee*
ah poetry a window to the soul |
Come on guys. POST SOME POETRY!
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**sips coffee**
um... Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forest of the night What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And What shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? and what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears, And watered heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the lamb make thee? Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? |
**snaps finger**
**sips coffee** what did that poem mean? lol. |
it is a william blake poem... ill post more
this is written by robert frost Fire and Ice by Robert Lee Frost Some say the world will end in fire; Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To know that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice. |
OOO. That had a nice ring to it. Fire red and Ice...blue...
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here is the raven
The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door- Only this, and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore- For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore- Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door- Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;- This it is, and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;- Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"- Merely this, and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice: Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore- Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;- 'Tis the wind and nothing more." Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door- Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door- Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore. "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore- Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door- Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore." But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered- Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before- On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before." Then the bird said, "Nevermore." Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore- Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of 'Never- nevermore'." But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore- What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore." This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he hath sent thee Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird or devil!- Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted- On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore- Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore- Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore- Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." "Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting- "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted- nevermore! |
My literature teacher read that to me. It's long, and we didn't get to finish since the class is only 35 minutes.
I just ordered hot chocolate. |
ahhh! 35 mins!
kool **orders coke cola** ahhh cold shoulda stuck with coffee one by me what is the night but days other |
What's night...days num- HUH?
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Raven, by far my favorite work from Poe...
This piece is philosophical so it involves some thought Autobiography in 5 chapters...I forgot who wrote it but I didn't make it up Ch.1 I walk down a street and I see a hole I fall in the hole, it's not my fault, someone causes me to fall in It's dark in this hole, I am frightened It takes me a very long time to get out Ch.2 I walk down the same street and I see the same hole I fall in again, I can't help it It's dark in this hole It takes me a little less time to get out Ch.3 I walk down the same street and see the same hole I fall in again, it's my fault I fall in It takes me a little time to get out Ch.4 I walk down the same street and I see the same hole I walk around the hole Ch.5 I walk down a different street think about it...har har hardy har har BOO ya! |
LOL. looks like that person learned. I wouldn't be caught dead walking down a dark street alone..
**snaps fingers like a beatnik, and waits for cookies.** |
**sits listening to 'lucky lucky'**
**chugs coffee** |
This girl chugged almost a gallon of iced tea and threw up in the trash can. That's why i drink HOT tea. Waiter, waiter!
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ha ha **laughs**
i got some sorta poetry from a song What's done is done I know, you just leave it alone And don't regret it But sometimes some things turn into dumb things And that's when you put your foot down... -Limp Bizkit Waiter Coke Please! |
if you keep drinking you are going to [number 1] on your self!
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This is turning kind of spammy you guys...careful now...you wouldn't want a perfectly good thread like this one closed...
and a BOO ya! |
un... **runs to toilet** ah thats better
A Mountain Revelry by Li Po To wash and rinse our souls of their age-old sorrows, We drained a hundred jugs of wine. A splendid night it was . . . . In the clear moonlight we were loath to go to bed, But at last drunkenness overtook us; And we laid ourselves down on the empty mountain, The earth for pillow, and the great heaven for coverlet. |
un... **runs to toilet** ah thats better
more Abort, Retry, Ingore? by Anonymous Works Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary, System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor, Longing for the warmth of bed sheets, still I sat there doing spreadsheets. Having reached the bottom line I took a floppy from the drawer, I then invoked the SAVE command and waited for the disk to store, Only this and nothing more. Deep into the monitor peering, long I sat there wond'ring, fearing, Doubting, while the disk kept churning, turning yet to churn some more. But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token. "Save!" I said, "You cursed mother! Save my data from before!" One thing did the phosphors answer, only this and nothing more, Just, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?" Was this some occult illusion, some maniacal intrusion? These were choices undesired, ones I'd never faced before. Carefully I weighed the choices as the disk made impish noises. The cursor flashed, insistent, waiting, baiting me to type some more. Clearly I must press a key, choosing one and nothing more, From "Abort, Retry, Ignore?" With fingers pale and trembling, slowly toward the keyboard bending, Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored, Praying for some guarantee, timidly, I pressed a key. But on the screen there still persisted words appearing as before. Ghastly grim they blinked and taunted, haunted, as my patience wore, Saying "Abort, Retry, Ignore?" I tried to catch the chips off guard, and pressed again, but twice as hard. I pleaded with the cursed machine: I begged and cried and then I swore. Now in mighty desperation, trying random combinations, Still there came the incantation, just as senseless as before. Cursor blinking, angrily winking, blinking nonsense as before. Reading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?" There I sat, distraught, exhausted, by my own machine accosted. Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor. And then I saw a dreadful sight: a lightning bolt cut through the night. A gasp of horror overtook me, shook me to my very core. The lightning zapped my previous data, lost and gone forevermore. Not even, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?" To this day I do not know the place to which lost data go. What demonic nether world us wrought where lost data will be stored, Beyond the reach of mortal souls, beyond the ether, into black holes? But sure as there's C, Pascal, Lotus, Ashton-Tate and more, You will be one day be left to wander, lost on some Plutonian shore, Pleading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?" |
Ok, here's Poor thing the rape version-Lauren Collins [degrassi]:
It happens to other people, you say "how sad" you say "poor thing" But when it's you, it's everything. You'll never believe the nightmares. You'll never know the pain you caused. You'll never see the scars you left. The things you stole, and everything os lost. You took my body. Tore it in half. you took my childhood my heart and my laugh. You took everything I kept for my self. And then you're gone. I'm not your poor thing... |
**sips coffee **
**thinks** ah waiter more coffee heres one by me: Coffee By Imakuni More coffee I love toffee |
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