I'm not a poet and I know it
- Thread starter Fenner
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I
Laffin..you slay me Fenner...well ya'll wanna see my "bad" poems I have most posted on the creative writers thing lol,yeah I don't even remember what it's called anymore...or ummm I have posted a lot of it in the poetry section of the forums. I mostly write whatever nonsense my fat brain is thinking...it's never planned. I think the longest I ever spent "crafting" a poem was 15 minutes,and that had more to do with checking for spelling errors that was it cool enough to show anyone. lol Is there anything that can constitute a "bad" poem? I think it might be subjective...anyhoooo if I get inspired I'll spill some drivel on this fine thread of yours.
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Oh Fenner..thou hast a kitten whom has mites...such as the tick...or is it mightily ferocious?
As the tick tock tickity tock might drive a mite crazy
perhaps all he wants is the soft touch of a kittens whiskers..
to hold
to touch
to pick his little mite teeth.
Life is good when yer' a mighty mite.
Kittens be damned!
As the tick tock tickity tock might drive a mite crazy
perhaps all he wants is the soft touch of a kittens whiskers..
to hold
to touch
to pick his little mite teeth.
Life is good when yer' a mighty mite.
Kittens be damned!
Okay, so, that's not one of mine, obviously.
there's one that I made up in 6th (Or was it 5th) grade, not towards any particular person. For any particular reason. But it was super mean. It went, "Roses are red, violets are blue, you stink, and I hate you." aaaaah, childhood...wonderful ain't it?
I love it!
I
Oh laundry basket how you doth silently mock me from the dark corner of my room.
I feel your hatred towards me.
I smell you filled with ripe decay spilling over onto the floor.
a sock...
then a shirt...
Fruit of the Loom
crumpled into a ball of doom.
So where is this ripe cornucopia,this dream of cleanliness you promised me 2 weeks ago?
Aren't you out of pants yet?
I know my little laundry basket,these questions you ask so valid...
Yet I would rather avoid your judgmental eyes just one more day.
One more day and I shall be naked!
I feel your hatred towards me.
I smell you filled with ripe decay spilling over onto the floor.
a sock...
then a shirt...
Fruit of the Loom
crumpled into a ball of doom.
So where is this ripe cornucopia,this dream of cleanliness you promised me 2 weeks ago?
Aren't you out of pants yet?
I know my little laundry basket,these questions you ask so valid...
Yet I would rather avoid your judgmental eyes just one more day.
One more day and I shall be naked!
S
Hickory dickory dock
Two mice ran up the clock
The clock struck one
The other escaped with minor injuries
Mary had a little lamb
It bounced with little hops
It jumped into the street one day
And ended up as chops
Mary had a little lamb
It had a touch of colic
So she gave it brandy twice a day
Now it's an alcoholic
July the Fourth has come and gone
But the memories still linger
I got drunk and ate ten brats!
Has anybody seen my finger?
Two mice ran up the clock
The clock struck one
The other escaped with minor injuries
Mary had a little lamb
It bounced with little hops
It jumped into the street one day
And ended up as chops
Mary had a little lamb
It had a touch of colic
So she gave it brandy twice a day
Now it's an alcoholic
July the Fourth has come and gone
But the memories still linger
I got drunk and ate ten brats!
Has anybody seen my finger?