Epic winning.

So, here goes. I'm rating it 16+ to be safe; but my poems don't usually go heavy on profanity. Just creepiness

Note that most of these will be posted at an ungodly hour of the night/morning. Also note that I have tiger blood.

I'm bi-winning.

POEM 1


Unfortunate.
The doctor said
His talk the needle;
I the thread.
But age is just a numbered year
And you’ll be dead soon too; my dear.
Be glad you’re in your supple youth
Before eventual decline
Where you become a bag of bones
Your skin tanned down to parchment fine.
You’ll rot in quiet solitude
And die decayed; a pleasant mood.
Or so I read in speckled eyes.
The doctor told me my demise.

POEM 2
(I hate this one, for the record)


I have a shelf
Of little toys.
They represent
My worldly joys.
The rattle
Is little Elsie dear.
A tot; no more than
Four a year.
The spinner top-
Pricissla Sue.
Her eyes were hazel
Drops of dew.
The jumping rope
Is Mable Ive
She was not more
Or less than five.
They gather dust
Upon my wall
Next to the gun-
I killed them all.

Why do you hate it?

I love your solid rhythm. It's refreshing to have a rhythm to sink in to and hold on to. And then to be blown away at the end. Like the quick way you can break someone's neck.

Just fix the rhythm here:

The rattle
Is little Elsie dear.

Poem tw

ToritheMonster wrote:Unfortunate.
The doctor said
His talk the needle;
I the thread.

ToritheMonster wrote:They gather dust
Upon my wall
Next to the gun-
I killed them all.

Yeessss.

Thanks, ear and Hannah!

POEM 3

BLAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Beautiful.

Thanks, it took a really long time to write.

ToritheMonster wrote:POEM 3

BLAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Bravo. Words cannot describe the feeling in my heart I felt after reading this,

(ACTUAL) POEM 3
(I hate this one even more....)

There is a magician on Keeney Street.

Of course, somebody stole his hat

and the little white rabbits ran away.

What are you supposed to do with one dove and a weighted die?

He's just another drunk.

But wait-

Maybe if you walk by

and you drop a penny in the metal cup he holds

he'll do a trick.

Maybe the skies will light up.

Maybe it'll rain for once on this godforsaken town.

Maybe; just maybe, the sad will slip the fray

and come, twiddling their matchstick thumbs.

They'll walk on down to Keeney Street

they'll light up their hand-rolled cigarettes

they'll jangle the loose change in their pockets.

And maybe they'll drop a penny in that old metal cup.

And maybe their eyes will glow.

You should write more about this magician.

I especially liked

What are you supposed to do with one dove and a weighted die?

and everything up to "he's just a drunk", and I really wanted to know more about these characters that come out at the end. I'd love to see this one revisited after NaPo or even during it with more poems. :3

Gracias! Yeah, I plan to edit tese all after Napo and make a portfolio.

POEM 4:
(okay. Pretend this makes sense.)(Also I made up a metre. I call it the Torielle. It's ABC (D)D E (D) D in 6 line stanzas!)


They told me that everything was going to the beat.

Everything is going to be alright.

My feet are bleeding, Father.

Tell me I can cry now.

My eyes are burning, Murderer.

Please me; let me die now.



They told her keepmarchingtothe beat.

Everything was their glittering eyes.

Her heart was bleeding, Father.

Tell me to let go now.

My mind is racing, Murderer.

Broken from the flow now.



I choked them with their words [beat].

Everything is glorious monochrome.

My thoughts are seething, Father.

I walk on leather feet now.

My hands became the Murderer.

Listen to the [beat] now.