Poetry Thread

[Suppa Hobbit Mage]

I present to you, an original.

Never much got poetry,
though its written globally,

I prefer fart jokes and limericks.
I had to use spell check and google a rhyme for poetry to write this.
The end.

[Methais]

[Avaia]

Like you I
love love, life, the sweet smell
of things, the sky-blue
landscape of January days.

And my blood boils up
and I laugh through eyes
that have known the buds of tears.

I believe the world is beautiful
and that poetry, like bread, is for everyone.

And that my veins don’t end in me
but in the unanimous blood
of those who struggle for life,
love,
little things,
landscape and bread,
the poetry of everyone.

- Like You
- Roque Dalton, 1935 - 1975
- translated by Jack Hirschman

[Methais]

Like you I
shart sharts, farts, the foul smell
of logs, the mud-brown
landscape of Taco Bell days.

And my crack boils up
and I laugh through eyes
that have known the burn of sriracha

I believe the world is beautiful
and that sharts, like bread, are for everyone.

And that my intestines don’t end in me
but in the unanimous bowl
of those who struggle to flush,
heave,
little things,
landscape and logs,
the dumps of everyone.

- Number Two
- Wrath Bringer, 1935 - 1975
- translated by Anticor Rifling

That was deep. I didn't know WB was a poet.

[Avaia]

That was deep. I didn't know WB was a poet.

...or that he died in 1975 and has been posting from beyond the grave all this time!

[Methais]

...or that he died in 1975 and has been posting from beyond the grave all this time!

[Stumplicker]

I'm not saying I'm a poem genius or anything, but I am saying that I know who Charles Bukowski is, and not only because I googled him after watching Sideways. Just mostly because I googled him after watching Sideways.

Also, here's a poem I recognize:

Tell me not (Sweet) I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind
To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee (Dear) so much,
Lov’d I not Honour more.

- Lovelace

[Avaia]

I'm not saying I'm a poem genius or anything, but I am saying that I know who Charles Bukowski is, and not only because I googled him after watching Sideways. Just mostly because I googled him after watching Sideways.

[Gelston]

Mother, will my stones drop
Ere I turn twenty-nine?
I tire of this empty sack
Against my hairless thigh.

And when will I awaken,
To find my mattress wet?
It's happened to the other boys,
But I've not known it yet.

And will my wanker bolden?
And shed its pinkish skin?
And will it grow a hairy nest
To spend its evenings in?

And, Mother, what's a clitoris?
And is it hard to find?
My cousin said she'd show me hers,
If I would show her mine.

[Avaia]

Half a league half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred:
'Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns' he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

'Forward, the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd ?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Some one had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do & die,
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd & thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack & Russian
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke,
Shatter'd & sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse & hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!

- The Charge Of The Light Brigade
- Alfred, Lord Tennyson