Zygote
wigwag
smithereens
poppycock
logorrhea
Zygote
wigwag
smithereens
poppycock
smorgasbord
Zygote
wigwag
smithereens
poppycock
monkeyshines
Zygote
wigwag
smithereens
poppycock
The hamburglar
Zygote
wigwag
smithereens
poppycock
Anal fissures
Zygote
wigwag
smithereens
poppycock
vommitorium
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Carpe diem
Seated in the classroom
row by row
Waiting there patiently
anxious to know
why their teacher whas whistling so strangely.
He walked right on by
and into the hall
then turned around sharply
to let out a call
to tell them to follow.
He made them all examine
the ancient photographs
of teenage boys
much like themselves
sitting on the racks.
Mr. keating said "they're dead now"
"fertilizing daisies too"
That's why he said to sieze the day
Before your life is through.
row by row
Waiting there patiently
anxious to know
why their teacher whas whistling so strangely.
He walked right on by
and into the hall
then turned around sharply
to let out a call
to tell them to follow.
He made them all examine
the ancient photographs
of teenage boys
much like themselves
sitting on the racks.
Mr. keating said "they're dead now"
"fertilizing daisies too"
That's why he said to sieze the day
Before your life is through.
Forests
The forest was laying quiet
Like a dormant grizzly bear
And Quiet were the creatures
That made their homesteads there.
They stood like wooden giants,
in their thick, hard maple gown
and as the warm fall brezze
blew throguh the trees
They watched the sun go down.
And as the sun went down
the glowing moon
came rising from the red
he stood up high and waited there
and put them all to bed.
Like a dormant grizzly bear
And Quiet were the creatures
That made their homesteads there.
They stood like wooden giants,
in their thick, hard maple gown
and as the warm fall brezze
blew throguh the trees
They watched the sun go down.
And as the sun went down
the glowing moon
came rising from the red
he stood up high and waited there
and put them all to bed.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
My verse
When the young man at school
was ordered to read
the preface of the book
called "understanding poetry"
He did not realise
what was about to happen.
Soon, suddenly,
without any notice,
was ordered to tear the page,
cleanly and orderly,
out of the book,
and onto the floor.
For, you see,
Mr keating, their teacher,
advisor and preacher,
did not aprove
of the methods taught
by the infernal book.
He helped them to realise
that poetry is key
for sustaining beauty
in everyday life.
For you see,
life is only one great play,
and you shall contribute a verse.
What shall that verse be?
no body knows.
maybe a writer
a doctor, a fighter
nobody knows what you'll do with your life
just remember to contribute.
was ordered to read
the preface of the book
called "understanding poetry"
He did not realise
what was about to happen.
Soon, suddenly,
without any notice,
was ordered to tear the page,
cleanly and orderly,
out of the book,
and onto the floor.
For, you see,
Mr keating, their teacher,
advisor and preacher,
did not aprove
of the methods taught
by the infernal book.
He helped them to realise
that poetry is key
for sustaining beauty
in everyday life.
For you see,
life is only one great play,
and you shall contribute a verse.
What shall that verse be?
no body knows.
maybe a writer
a doctor, a fighter
nobody knows what you'll do with your life
just remember to contribute.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
"the dead"
The dead are always looking down on us, they say,
While we are putting on our shoes,
or making a sandwich,
They are looking down,
through the glass-bottom boats of heaven,
as they row themselves slowly through eternity.
They watch the tops of our heads, moving below, on earth,
And when we lie down, in a field, or on a couch,
drugged, perhaps, by the hum of a warm afternoon.
They think we are looking back at them,
which makes them lift their oars,
And follow, and wait, like parents,
for us to close our eyes.
The dead are always looking down on us, they say,
While we are putting on our shoes,
or making a sandwich,
They are looking down,
through the glass-bottom boats of heaven,
as they row themselves slowly through eternity.
They watch the tops of our heads, moving below, on earth,
And when we lie down, in a field, or on a couch,
drugged, perhaps, by the hum of a warm afternoon.
They think we are looking back at them,
which makes them lift their oars,
And follow, and wait, like parents,
for us to close our eyes.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, with a dash of the dictionary. - Kahlil Girban
This quote makes me feel like there is a lot of places you cna go with poetry, and that seems interesting. It's also sort of humorous in a way, with the Dictionary part. I think this is a quote that really reflects how I feel about poetry.
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