fandomsecrets | [ SECRET POST #3338 ]

[ SECRET POST #3338 ]

⌈ Secret Post #3338 ⌋

Warning: Some secrets are NOT worksafe and may contain SPOILERS.

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Notes:

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Write a poem off the top of your head. Or copy paste one you've written. Or link your favorite poem. Or one you read or heard that you liked recently. Or talk about poets and poetry.

Bonus points for people who do the first one.

Ode To My Burning Butthole

I've got the runs
And it's no fun
My booty's all aflame
I've Vaseline
And baby wipes
But I am still in pain
What ere this is
That's got me sitting
On the toilet, ever shitting
I curse it bitterly
And wipe most gingerly
And hope it goes away
Of relief I am in desperate need
Burning ring of fire, indeed

This is an extremely shitty poem.

I lol'd.

That...is actually really well-done.

And I lol'd.

Good job anon. (Never change, F!S.)

Pitter-patter rain
Falling into sleep and dreams
Mom calls, "Dinner time!"

A+

http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/frd/1761263/1

I wrote the poem in the first post in about half an hour on Saturday night. It probably won't make any sense if you don't play FR, but I was pleased with it.

Only one more term
Finally, graduation!
I can do it, right?

As for favorite poems, give me a sec, and I'll post the list. :D

Porphyria's Lover

Invictus

Sea Fever

The Sea Bell

Happy Ending?

The Mermaid

The Fairy Ring

Goblin Market

O Captain! My Captain!

The Destruction of Sennacherib (especially the imagery in the first two stanzas)

Horatius (specifically stanza XXVII)

There Will Come Soft Rains

Sand and Foam

Edited 2016-02-24 01:06 (UTC)

My favorite poem: High Flight

*scours my "stuff I write" archives*...

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more searing, rife to burn my skin.
Each morn, my body cries out with dismay,
And every nightly war, mosquitoes win.
My eyes the sun does scorch with every beam,
And adds to all the pain that summer brings;
Through sun-glass, I still suffer from the gleam
Found still, but less, in winters, falls, and springs.
And freedom from the rough restraints of school?
My parents grant me none of it, alas.
I’ve not a breath to idle; I must work,
Or else I am compelled to take a class.
Yes, though a summer’s day you might recall,
That isn’t such a compliment at all.

Yes, the rhyme scheme lapses slightly. School does not rhyme with work. I'm sorry. :(

I’ve not a breath to idle; I must work,
Or else I am compelled to take a class.

You might alter the second line to

Or compelled to take a class I cannot shirk.

It's 11 syllables but I think it would do.

There once was a guy named Bob,
And gardening was his job.
He stuck his hands in the dirt,
It got all over his shirt,
And now he kinda looks like a slob.

There once was a thoughtful thinking thing,
that thought a thoughtless thing,
about a thoughtless thinking thing,
thinking a thoughtful thing.

While the thoughtless thinking thing,
thought a thoughtful thing,
about a thoughtful thinking thing,
that thought a thoughtless thing.

(That is a reconstruction of a poem I made up when I was 12.)

this is a translated poem (a haiku by bashô) with which I took a little (modern) interpretative liberty, I hope it counts.

Morning wood again,
After all I find I am
just another man.

This is the original:

朝顔に我は飯食う男哉

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[ SECRET POST #3338 ]

Poetry thread

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"Wanna hear a dirty limerick?"

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