• Our software update is now concluded. You will need to reset your password to log in. In order to do this, you will have to click "Log in" in the top right corner and then "Forgot your password?".
  • Welcome to PokéCommunity! Register now and join one of the best fan communities on the 'net to talk Pokémon and more! We are not affiliated with The Pokémon Company or Nintendo.

PC Coffee House

^^NICK^^ v.2.0

Mister Revolution Man
  • 779
    Posts
    21
    Years
    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
     
    **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?
     
    it is a william blake poem... ill post more
    this is written by robert frost
    [font=Verdana,Arial,Helvetica][size=+2]Fire and Ice [/size][/font]
    by [size=+1]Robert Lee Frost[/size]

    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.
     
    here is the raven

    [font=Verdana,Arial,Helvetica][size=+2]The Raven [/size][/font]
    by [size=+1]Edgar Allan Poe[/size]

    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!
     
    ahhh! 35 mins!
    kool **orders coke cola**
    ahhh cold shoulda stuck with coffee
    one by me
    what is the night but days other
     
    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!
     
    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!
     
    Back
    Top