Katya's Wondeful Poems

23 posts1, 2
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Gender Female
Points 279
Reviews 240
Day Eight

13. I don't even
I have a secret
It is very important
You know it. Your mom.
Whale. Whale. Whale. What do we have here?
Some scurvy dog looking at my post, eh?




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Gender Female
Points 279
Reviews 240
Day Eight

14. Stupid
Haikus are stupid
But if I am writing one
Am I stupid too?
Whale. Whale. Whale. What do we have here?
Some scurvy dog looking at my post, eh?




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Gender Female
Points 279
Reviews 240
Day Eight

15. Unoriginal
Unoriginal
Cant' make anything myself
That is what I am
Whale. Whale. Whale. What do we have here?
Some scurvy dog looking at my post, eh?




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Gender Female
Points 279
Reviews 240
Day Eight

16. Inner Voices
Why must I do this?
What motivates me so much?
Why can't I just give up?
Whale. Whale. Whale. What do we have here?
Some scurvy dog looking at my post, eh?




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Gender Female
Points 279
Reviews 240
Day Eight

17. The Jungle of the Mind
My travel through the jungle
It was really fun at first
Until I woke up
Whale. Whale. Whale. What do we have here?
Some scurvy dog looking at my post, eh?




User avatar
Gender Female
Points 279
Reviews 240
Day Eight

18. Netflix
My best friend is real
She is different from others
Her name is Netflix
Whale. Whale. Whale. What do we have here?
Some scurvy dog looking at my post, eh?




User avatar
Gender Female
Points 279
Reviews 240
Spoiler
For A Poet's Universe: Prompt 3

Day Eight

19. A Rainy Night of Studying
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The airy breeze blows against the window.
Tiny drops of water stick to the screen.

An airy breeze intrudes into the room.
A bright yellow light blazes from the lamp.
The fresh smell of parchment fills the room.

Tap. Tap. Tap.
Tears drop one by one on a moist desk.
A small girl looks out the window; scared.
Whale. Whale. Whale. What do we have here?
Some scurvy dog looking at my post, eh?




User avatar
Gender Female
Points 279
Reviews 240
Day Nine

20. The 4 year old child
No! Never ever!
Like never ever ever
Will I eat my beans!
Whale. Whale. Whale. What do we have here?
Some scurvy dog looking at my post, eh?



In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
— JRR Tolkien