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Didn't really see anywhere else to put this. Just a few bits and pieces I've done in my spare time, most of them only take five minutes or so but I'd eventually like to publish an ebook of them when I have sufficient quantity I try to give them all the style of being jaunty and whimsical but with a darker undertone. Anyway, any feedback would be appreciated as I've not really let them loose 'in the wild' yet. Just have them lying around. Cheers |
A few poems I've written.... (not about love)!
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INSOMANiAC 4,732 posts
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INSOMANiAC 4,732 posts
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Registered 13 years agoThe hoard
John Doran was a hoarder, it was all he'd ever known,
He'd keep the things that no one wants, that even tramps had thrown.
When Jean had died two years ago that's when the trouble started,
John kept his house of precious things, collecting was cathartic.
Each day his pile of trophies grew, so stubborn to the last,
Too scared to toss away his life, his memories of the past.
But things soon got quite out of hand, for Johns obsession grew,
Each cardboard box, each old tin can, was added to his slew.
Within a year his house was full, from top to toe with tat,
No nook or cranny left unfilled, no room to swing a cat.
You may predict what happened next, the massive pile collapsed,
And John, of course was underneath and wheezed a final gasp.
As workers dug to find the man who'd thrown away his life,
They found John in his junk filled room, still clinging to his wife. -
INSOMANiAC 4,732 posts
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Registered 13 years agoThe Strange Routine Of Albert Jones
The structured life of Albert Jones was tough to understand,
Each day he woke and made his bed, his day already planned.
He'd brush his teeth and comb his hair and make a pot of tea,
Then pop his spots and wash his face, and have a little wee.
So far, so good I hear you cry, theres nothing strange thus far,
But what came next is not the norm if normals what we are.
He'd sit himself on his settee and take a razors edge,
Then run the blade along his arms until they bled and bled.
He'd do this for an hour or so, each day was just the same,
He'd pull his sleeves down afterwards to cover up the pain.
Then off to work once more he strolled, his heart now full of glee,
'Cos pain and hurt were Alberts thing, unlike for you and me.
But one day Albert went too far, his cutting went too deep,
He slit his veins, and through the gash, his life began to seep.
He didnt try to stem the flow, he didnt shed a tear,
He lay right back and watched it drip, for him it held no fear.
A week went by without a sound, his workmates worry grew,
A policeman called to Alberts flat and through the door he flew.
What greeted him inside said flat was stench and blood and death,
The signs of Alberts mad routine, the signs of his last breath.
The policeman took his notepad out and jotted for a while,
He scanned the body up and down then noticed Alberts smile....
Was young Albert happy? Only Albert knows for sure,
But Alberts life was Alberts choice and who can ask for more?
Edited by INSOMANiAC at 02:41:18 25-07-2012 -
mal 29,326 posts
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JBlokeUK 2,316 posts
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Registered 11 years agoThere was a young lady from Ealing.
Who had a peculiar feeling.
She lied on her back, and opened her crack.
And pissed all over the ceiling. -
@INSOMANiAC love the alliteration of "from top to toe with tat". -
TechnoHippy 19,245 posts
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Registered 18 years agoWhile morbid the The Strange Routine Of Albert Jones of a nice rhythm to it as you read through. -
INSOMANiAC wrote:
And I think you succeed! I rather enjoyed reading both of those, for precisely those reasons. Congrats!
I try to give them all the style of being jaunty and whimsical but with a darker undertone.
If I may offer one word of advice? Apostrophes! Sorry!.gif)
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neilka 24,021 posts
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Registered 16 years agoBest ratio of poem quality to number of capital letters in username so far on this forum. -
MrWorf 64,187 posts
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Registered 20 years agoI came to this thread to take the piss but I am geniunely impresed with your work, well done. -
Ziz0u 11,006 posts
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Registered 12 years agoAs a Hoarding: Buried Alive fan, I enjoyed your first poem. -
Our soul lives on and on it is said,
In a place called heaven when we are dead.
But what of the pets that we hold so dear,
The dogs and the cats that we love to have near.
We knew time was short when he turned eleven,
Do doggies go to doggy heaven? -
Metalfish 9,191 posts
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Registered 16 years agoThe writer's group generally doesn't take the piss out of this sort of thing (much) if any of you lot are interested*
*We are all massively self-obsessed though. -
craigy wrote:
Loved that
@INSOMANiAC love the alliteration of "from top to toe with tat". -
INSOMANiAC 4,732 posts
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Registered 13 years agoThanks for the input all, apostrophes are a mystery to me I'm afraid. I did try to find the writers group but I was unsuccessful. I've got a few more I may put on later.
@ZizouFC yes, I have a bit of a fascination with hoarders myself, such tragic figures. -
INSOMANiAC 4,732 posts
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Registered 13 years agoFatty
Rachel was a chubby girl she'd always been that way,
She liked to eat and eat and eat to wash her woes away
A sneaky snack at bedtime or a mars bar with her tea,
The eating soon got out hand, the comfort set her free
Some other girls at school would laugh, and point, and call her names,
Poor Rachel was the butt of jokes, the object of cruel games
One night, so hurt, the fat girl wept, and locked herself away,
She didn't want to cry no more, to suffer one more day
Surrounded by her food of choice, her chocolate bars and cakes,
She pondered life and jibes so cruel, words venomous as snakes.
They found her two weeks later, and much to their dismay,
Her body lay all thin and starved,
Her problems ate away -
INSOMANiAC 4,732 posts
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Registered 13 years agoBeaten
Jerry used to beat his wife, so sure she didn't mind,
At other times he'd shown her fun, compassion, love and kind
But Jerrys wife was scared of him, her fear grew more and more,
Each time he lashed out with his tongue or slammed the kitchen door
He didn't know she hid away and wept alone in pain,
Her bruises memories of that fear, of Jerrys evil reign
One day, the wife had had enough and packed her bags to leave,
But Jerry could not understand and looked to find reprieve.
On bended knee he held her hand and cried pathetic tears,
'I've been the man about the house, looked after you for years'
A broken man, our Jerry fell, and begged with every gasp,
But Jerrys wife, a fool no more, had beaten him at last -
Metalfish 9,191 posts
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Registered 16 years agoHate to be "that guy" but have you got anything that isn't couplets? -
MrWorf 64,187 posts
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Registered 20 years agoKeep 'em coming man! -
Moshbag 109 posts
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Registered 11 years agoMaybe try this. -
INSOMANiAC 4,732 posts
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Registered 13 years agoMetalfish wrote:
Nope! I find them the easiest way to make it flow and the idea was to have them all in a similar style about a variety of different people.
Hate to be "that guy" but have you got anything that isn't couplets?
I don't like poetry anyway, I find most of it pretentious nonsense but in particular if it doesn't rhyme and if it just look like a wall of text. -
Good stuff. I appreciate the care you've taken over the scansion. Seriously gets on my tits when people use tight rhyming schemes but then bail out on the scansion when it doesn't suit, and then claim artistic intent. It's bullshit and post-rationalisation. If you're going to do this type of thing then 100% perfect scansion or nothing, and you seem to believe the same, so I approve
My only tiny criticism is that you've sacrificed grammar for the sake of rhythm in a couple of places to this end, and I think if you were really strict with yourself that wouldn't be necessary either, but it's a quibble really. -
neilka 24,021 posts
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Registered 16 years agoINSOMANiAC wrote:
Have... have you considered a different hobby?
I don't like poetry anyway -
Metalfish 9,191 posts
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Registered 16 years ago@INSOMANiAC Fair play. A whole book might be a little samey though. I'm not a huge snob but there's value in exploring the field a bit too.
I tried writing a sonnet the other day -how stupidly restrictive is that form? I swear that shakeyspear was cheatin'. -
INSOMANiAC 4,732 posts
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Registered 13 years agoMetalfish wrote:
I agree it would be rather boring I wouldnt want maybe five couplets in a single book, if anything they'd probably be better in a collective book.
@INSOMANiAC Fair play. A whole book might be a little samey though. I'm not a huge snob but there's value in exploring the field a bit too.
I tried writing a sonnet the other day -how stupidly restrictive is that form? I swear that shakeyspear was cheatin'.
kalel wrote:
Ah yes but sadly I don't have the greatest grasp of the English language therefore its quite difficult to makes things fit without , for example, changing 'eaten' to 'ate'
My only tiny criticism is that you've sacrificed grammar for the sake of rhythm in a couple of places to this end, and I think if you were really strict with yourself that wouldn't be necessary either, but it's a quibble really. -
puddleduck 2,002 posts
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Registered 14 years agoEnjoyable to read. In the words of Shakin' Cat Stevens, "lovely stuff." -
INSOMANiAC 4,732 posts
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Registered 13 years agopuddleduck wrote:
Cheers
Enjoyable to read. In the words of Shakin' Cat Stevens, "lovely stuff."
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INSOMANiAC 4,732 posts
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Registered 13 years agoThis is the first one I wrote, before they got all whimsical
Poor, dead Roger
People gathered round the corpse, they stared and looked aghast,
But Roger knew what he had done, he'd sealed his fate at last.
He lay there cold and motionless, of course, as he was dead,
He'd got his final wish at last, not life, but death instead.
By now, his body rigid, regret began to grow,
He wanted chance to breath again, to let his bloodstream flow.
He tried raise his body up, from off his concrete bed,
An effort he could not achieve, of course not, he was dead.
A terror filled poor Roger, 'Oh fuck, what have I done?',
'I'll never taste the rain again, I'll never feel the sun'.
The angels hovered from the sky and cradled Rogers head
'Oh please, can I just try again?' 'Of course not. You are dead'. -
Haha, that's awesome!
.gif)
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