I was waiting
for your eight-o-clock
hands; on my thigh,
khaki leg, the flowers
in their paper left
in humid print its mirror,
where, you, no doubt,
watched not time
Printable View
I was waiting
for your eight-o-clock
hands; on my thigh,
khaki leg, the flowers
in their paper left
in humid print its mirror,
where, you, no doubt,
watched not time
Something indeed something
returned me here or
hereabouts to where
a thunder slept in a ratty shawl
dreaming of a time after its passing
where it would find
the secret of being less than it was
the secret of not being it.
This is what I want for you too.
These strings I play I harp upon,
these harps that play, they string me on
that finely touched-up face.
You glance to check that it's still there
in a shining gleam of glass,
or in the glance of others, as you pass.
Or, take photos of it with your cellphone.
Here's one of mine,but i'm only eleven I don't much emotion or enternal power.
I sit alone in the cold,
Feeling sorry for what’d done.
But pity for oneself doesn’t matter,
But pity for everyone.
We all need to be pitied,
Because we all live in fear.
Not everyone’s perfect,
After thinking this one night,
I shed one single tear.
I give up baby was
that many years fly
on the wall-phone
bell tone crank it crank
Lladro figurines mama
made a shelf just a
piece of pine a plank
found almost thrown
out years ago and by
the way just because
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
Oh wait. Hamlet wrote that one. ;)
Let me try again.
i am not a poet,
but i am made of poetry.
my bones are ancient verses
my hairs are lyric strands
my footsteps are rhymes,
and my heart beats
to the changeful meter of a catholic ballad.
but i see nothing but words.
my eyes are weary.
i see nothing but words
and my eyes are weary.
Sadly enough, this is probably the best poem I have ever written.
Who Are You?
He comes in the night...
He whispers.....in my ear....
He breathes down the back of my neck.....
And, all I can do, is shiver in fear.....
I am full of goosebumps...
From head to toe.......
All I want to do is shout 'OH NO!'....
But I can't.....
I'm frozen......
I'm asleep....
But I feel wide awake....
He only comes when I'm asleep....
When I'm at my most WEAK.......
Who are you?
I ask myself....
The faceless person...
Who bothers me....
Time and time again....
I want to wake up....
So I can see.....
Who is this person....
Constantly BOTHERING ME?
He says.....
But I'm only your Self conscience.....
There's no need to be scared of me.....
I'm the one who guides you....
Without me, there'd be NO YOU!
OMG.....how bad was that? I just made that up....as I was tapping away on this worn out keyboard....
Yeah, great, really bad. Modigliani's too.Quote:
Originally Posted by Farah786
snape's is rather touching though.
Argued in signs with holes hoed into
in the argued end of the lended bends
there there is there but a hair of wear
it is so said that it gets bleated and torn
to a touching hand, lair, rail, bandage
and badinage, therefore for your snore
you say something and it goes before.
There is no lend for forfend.
It is mumping.
He called me mean names
And then he gained fame,
That just makes me feel
:rage: -eel
I ate a tasty orange
And sucked upon a lozenge,
Then took the golden syringe
And dreamed of Stonehenge.
- Mungo
Blankly surveying sandydale with opera glasses
I began to believe in the lapidary theory of crassness
Wherein the chins of Finns with full bins
Are cracked into ham sandwiches with sinful brims
on hats had apparently apt likenesses to librarians
I am always bumping into these librarians.
How they bore me.
The way they adore me.
It's boring.
This might just be my favorite bad poem ever. Ever.Quote:
Originally Posted by MacMungo
Truck your ruck you've
run out of luck but
your hair and your
eventuality in general
were seen at the fun
eral of a
two-seater sofa
clever ever in clover
oven proof natural
moleskin mittens
be careful the face
you sit on
may be your own
or may be a kitten.
Be'eth your smile good or bad,
You need not know why.
Just smile and don't ask questions,
And don't be ashamed to cry.
Try to hold your sorrow in and laugh instead of cry,
For crying is no fun at all.
But with crying, you need know why.
Today is going to be a day for
failing to require what is for the day for
the day you for days said for days for
This will be it and you will have to have it
Or you will be put into rice and gravy and that'll be it
And you'll wonder how your pens and pincers winced
When it was all owls and cats in the parlour and your guesses
Were all of spinach and vampires.
Why was that? Why did you guess those things?
I think this thread illustrates that it can actually be difficult to write a bad poem on purpose as I actually like some of these! But I'm also a fan of surrealism, so randomness can be appealing. I think in order to be really bad you just have to be really cliched and take yourself seriously. Like:
With this heart of steel
I'll shower you with kisses
I'll bear my soul for you
So you'll become my missus
Your glances make me reel
Just tell me what to do
I'll do it just for you
Oh, be still my heart!
Our love is like a rose
It grows and it grows
Nobody knows
Where it goes, where it goes
Rain will feed it
It will need it
To drink its water like I drink your looks
Our love's the stuff of epic books
Sunny with a slice of carrot cake
is where my mind went blank
between the torn pages of a croissant
no, wait, a crescent
moon
Not mine, but one of my favorite bad poems.
Eddie Murphy (reading as the inmate/poet Tyrone Green) on Saturday Night Live
Images
Dark and lonely on a Summer's night.
Kill my landlord. Kill my landlord.
The watchdog barking, do he bite?
Kill my landlord. Kill my landlord.
Slip in his window, break his neck!
Then his house I start to wreck!
Got no reason--What the heck!
Kill my landlord. Kill my landlord.
C-I-L-L my landlord.
the other day in another city
a guy passed me, blondish and tall,
radiating vague recognition,
protective and detachedly amused;
by his pants I knew he was American
although you are not.
I remembered your instant chilly devotion,
your distanced patience and I thought:
now that angels have had a go at my soul,
it痴 time for a different kind of power;
but maybe he痴 just some archetype
and you are him but I
am not me
Thanks! Plus, I rhymed "orange" :goof:Quote:
Originally Posted by a_little_wisp
I remember watching when he did that one. I was totally rofl. :lol:Quote:
Originally Posted by billl
loving christmas
Christmas is a lovely time of those you love not fear,
The many carols in the streets that you like to hear.
Christmas is a gathering of those you find most dear,
That makes christmas my favourite celebration of the year.
Recieving gifts is good, giving gifts is great,
Shopping for the christmas gifts always being late.
You like recieving something even if that you hate,
But quality dosen't matter it's the thought that they create.
Dad's outside working mums inside for the same,
but for the little kiddies it's all just one fun game.
although it can be hard work you're glad that everyone came,
you put in lots of effort but the teens just think it lame.
S.A.W.S
Summer is nice and hot and sunny
Just the right time to have fun that is funny.
The sun is shinning very bright
Bringing beauty in the sunset at night.
Autumn is a grand old time
with leafless trees and vineless vines.
It is the time to jump and play
In dirty piles of leaves all day.
Winter is the coldest season
For being cold it has no reason.
We're freezing from head to toe
Soon the terrible cold will go.
Spring has come with flowers to
With lots of garedning jobs to do.
Spring is a fun time
But unlike winter no vineless vines.
Woah! This will become a favorite thread of mine. Good one, Snape. And a very happy b'day to you, young lad.
Together
You're but an imagination
or a burning dream of mine;
or I am the nightmare
you wish you never had.
And now that you have
turned me into you;
I'm glad you and I,
we're together in loneliness.
Forever ...
Oh my Darling,
come with me and you'll be starring,
in a motion picture extravaganza,
a veritable bonanza,
a treat for the feet,
a feast for the beast,
a tale that has two endings,
(something)
the other mind-bending,
As far as I got. ^ ^ I fail at poems.
I still keep these 'gems' on my web page; most likely to let my better 'poems' shine brighter in contrast:
Vacuous... but not Confused
Confused...
Walking purposely
he figured
the lady,
her eyes designed
without wit
and impossibly
hardly a mind,
... wasn't
6-3-2004
Sea ?
Seascape scenery
Scenario seems seemly
Seeing siege selah
6-3-2004
Don't Feed the Birds
Tempt not the fowl beast
That wing-ed adversary
Doth one's repast plagues
5-26-2004
I've written so many poor poems; perhaps I'll plague this thread with more later.
tailor STATELY
Lemme see,
your a nacho.
Life is a burrow of spit,
lava is in my hair.
I think the trees are green,
I like hotdogs.
The picture didn't come out,
I need a better camera.
There once was an old woman,
She died.
And the lightning,
never happened.
My fingers are nice,
I don't like noses.
Stupid histograms,
gotta do a maths test.
______________________
That was awful.
Open up your eyes,
nope, open them.
There's a horrible view.
Haha, you saw it.
What am I doing?
Should get some milk.
I like milk,
we have Banana Nesquick.
I was reading a book,
and I got to the end.
Then I read the blurb,
what a load of trash.
Should go to the shops.
Need lemonade and deoderant.
Can't drink Coke,
hurts my heart.
Doesn't make sense,
such is life.
Gotta get it.
My arm is itchy.
:banana::conehead:smelling flowers,
and someone put the lemon in the meat mixer
i like sniffing things
i used to pick my nose
and i ate one brussel sprout
i also like sitting
but standings good fun to
my pinky smells like vomit
even after it's been washed
ants are small and gorillas smell bad
Quote:
Originally Posted by snape
Snape, this is incomparably bad :)
Old Merci!!
I hate
wine
gambling
womanizing
pig.
I hate
wine
gambling
womanizing
pig
dead meat
blood
sodomy
favors from in_laws
show off
arrogance
hypocrisy
suicide
and above all
Old Merci!!
Maz
Read more: http://authspot.com/poetry/old-merci/#ixzz0oVVpytJQ
http://authspot.com/poetry/old-merci/
This is my land, not for you
I am selfish, you are too
Draw a line or build a fence
Then cross it at your own expense
I hate you since your house is green
And just for that I will be mean
I値l say this once, I値l say it twice
Cross my path and you値l get lice
Take my stuff and we値l have wars
I値l beat you with my dresser drawers
If I have to, I値l use my shoes
Doesn稚 matter since you will lose
:frown2:
roses are red
violets are blue
sugar is sweet
and so are you
sunshine is warm
like your loving smile
and just seeing you
makes it all worthwhile
**This was a real love poem that was given to me. Join me in gagging! :puke:
I'm afraid I can't join you in the gagging, I think it's awfuly sweet, in a cheesy kind of way, but I'm a cheesy guy and a sucker for cheesy cute stuff like that lol.Quote:
Originally Posted by moonbird
ok lets see what kind of crap I can spew out.
Water bottle cap,
is not really a water bottle cap
in fact
it's a soda bottle cap
only the bottle itself is for water
so does that mean
after all
it is a water bottle cap?
Quote:
Originally Posted by Caderyn
Uh... perhaps my taste resides only in my mouth, but I like this poem. I think it's really clever.
Needless to Say
Needless to say.
by milktea
Brilliant.Quote:
Needless to Say
Needless to say.
by milktea
Domestic Violins
But another
other than the other mother
bruised my brother
brother the bother
of a bruised battered brother
The coppers came over
we all ran for cover
some made it
not mother nor brother
I'm left here alone
to make bail
what a mother
I think I may have failed at writing a bad poem...it's bad though, I guess...my judgement is impaired because I am tired. Here we go...
Undercover Detective's View of Suspect Eating
I watched her red lips
move like caterpillars
her cheeks bulging
a piece of meat slipped
out and fell to her
plate
she wiped her juicy mouth
with a soiled napkin
her throat bobbed
My radio buzzed in my ear
"do you have the suspect
in view?"
'Yes. She's eating a steak.'
"you're watching the wrong
lady."
'Blond? 6 foot 3? I think not.'
"Vegetarian."
silence,
I watch the right girls lips
move like caterpillars
a fork of greens lifted to
her mouth...
Oh, it's bad.Quote:
Originally Posted by AdoreroDio
You found the
right thread,
my poetically
challenged friend.
If I get funded,
I should like to
study your tics
and assorted
neuroses, if you
are not averse.
If you are a verse,
I suggest that you
write yourself down
quickly, before you
are gone.