Poetry on Demand.
Re: Poetry on Demand.
Gonna have to put an end on this for tonight at least. I wont be online for most of tomorrow BUT if you still wanna make suggestions I'll do my best to hammer them out when I'm online again.
So what did everyone think of the idea? I had fun.
So what did everyone think of the idea? I had fun.
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- Evil Jim
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Re: Poetry on Demand.
I just now discovered this thread & it's wonderful! Nice work, Trixy. I used to write a LOT more & would ask my friends to challenge me with topics for poems such as this. One night I got requests for an ashtray & Vladimir Tepes. It was an interesting couple of days working out poems for those two.
But anyway, this is a great way to keep sharp on writing. Thanks for sharing it with the forums.
As for a suggestion for next time: sentient peanut butter.
But anyway, this is a great way to keep sharp on writing. Thanks for sharing it with the forums.
As for a suggestion for next time: sentient peanut butter.
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Re: Poetry on Demand.
Evil Jim wrote:I just now discovered this thread & it's wonderful! Nice work, Trixy. I used to write a LOT more & would ask my friends to challenge me with topics for poems such as this. One night I got requests for an ashtray & Vladimir Tepes. It was an interesting couple of days working out poems for those two.
But anyway, this is a great way to keep sharp on writing. Thanks for sharing it with the forums.
As for a suggestion for next time: sentient peanut butter.
Thanks for that. I guessed I'd get more suggestions here then I did on facebook. Also watch this space... sentient peanut butter poem will be done, sometime tonight, maybe.
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- Deedles
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Re: Poetry on Demand.
This was fun to read through! Good work, I think you used the subjects well, Trixy. =D
Makes me miss writing poetry. D:
Makes me miss writing poetry. D:
Hurp-De-Durp!
- Ptangmatik
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Re: Poetry on Demand.
I don't suppose you'd be up for another suggestion? Its just I have a favourite poem:
There are holes in the sky
Where the rain gets in.
But the holes are small,
That's why rain is thin.
-Spike Milligan
So I'd like to suggest the topic: Stories grown ups tell children
There are holes in the sky
Where the rain gets in.
But the holes are small,
That's why rain is thin.
-Spike Milligan
So I'd like to suggest the topic: Stories grown ups tell children
Geoff_B wrote: ... Even for here, that was weird.
Re: Poetry on Demand.
I love that poem.
Re: Poetry on Demand.
Sentient Peanut Butter
There is a sentient peanut butter,
living in my flat.
It doesn't really do much,
in fact its kinda flat.
People say send it to scientists,
or to the government.
But I can't really do that,
it's paying half my rent.
Stories Grown Ups Tell Children.
There is an omniscient person,
that watches when you sleep.
And a fat man from the North Pole,
that brings good children a treat.
A bunny that lays eggs,
made of chocolate.
And children in Africa,
Who want the food you hate.
If you make a silly face,
the wind will make it stay like that.
And they never really told you,
just what happened to the cat.
You were found under a cabbage leaf,
but your brother was brought by a stork.
And you'll never grow up big and strong,
if you don't finish your pork.
If you put a brick on you head,
it will stop you growing tall.
With all the lies they tell us,
it's a wonder we believe them at all.
There is a sentient peanut butter,
living in my flat.
It doesn't really do much,
in fact its kinda flat.
People say send it to scientists,
or to the government.
But I can't really do that,
it's paying half my rent.
Stories Grown Ups Tell Children.
There is an omniscient person,
that watches when you sleep.
And a fat man from the North Pole,
that brings good children a treat.
A bunny that lays eggs,
made of chocolate.
And children in Africa,
Who want the food you hate.
If you make a silly face,
the wind will make it stay like that.
And they never really told you,
just what happened to the cat.
You were found under a cabbage leaf,
but your brother was brought by a stork.
And you'll never grow up big and strong,
if you don't finish your pork.
If you put a brick on you head,
it will stop you growing tall.
With all the lies they tell us,
it's a wonder we believe them at all.
* Disclaimer: The person writing this has no idea what she is talking about.*
- Ptangmatik
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- MrPayneTrayne
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Re: Poetry on Demand.
Gah, whenever I think of lies grown ups tell I have to quote Philip Larkin:
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.
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Re: Poetry on Demand.
Could you make one about Godzilla fighting a Jesus raptor?
Re: Poetry on Demand.
Is this still going, if not disregard this.
Can I get one please? Erm... Think. Can it be about... *looks around* The Sims?
Can I get one please? Erm... Think. Can it be about... *looks around* The Sims?
- dackwards d
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Re: Poetry on Demand.
Trixy doesn't really come on the forums any more, but I'll let her know she has some clamouring fans
- Jamfalcon
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Re: Poetry on Demand.
Don't worry Dan, I'm here to save the day!
My friend has a swimming pool,
I think it's really quite cool.
I went for a dip,
then quick as a whip,
The ladder vanished, how cruel.
I never said it'd be good!
My friend has a swimming pool,
I think it's really quite cool.
I went for a dip,
then quick as a whip,
The ladder vanished, how cruel.
I never said it'd be good!
Re: Poetry on Demand.
I'm still about sort of... So yeah will put a Sims and Godzilla fighting a Jesus raptor.
Need to confirm does Jesus raptor mean Jesus on a raptor or a raptor that was Jesus?
Need to confirm does Jesus raptor mean Jesus on a raptor or a raptor that was Jesus?
* Disclaimer: The person writing this has no idea what she is talking about.*
- Ptangmatik
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Re: Poetry on Demand.
Wow, I had a go at writing poetry, not even on one of these subjects and it was just stuffed full of cliches, like I couldn't help but frame it in those terms. Trixy, you're remarkable.
Also, I know its been over a week, but how about 'cliches' as a topic if this is still a thing
just to cheer my unimaginative rs up
Also, I know its been over a week, but how about 'cliches' as a topic if this is still a thing
just to cheer my unimaginative rs up
Geoff_B wrote: ... Even for here, that was weird.
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Re: Poetry on Demand.
I gave The Sims a quick shot.
I live in the perfect suburb,
beautiful houses from curb to curb...
Even if some of them are slight askew.
But from my home, there's the perfect view
Sometimes things seem off though,
like someone watching all the time.
It constantly fills me with dreadful woe,
I feel as though I'm a simple mime.
At times I lose control of myself.
The actions of my body are not mine.
Do you know how it feels to lose oneself?
Your very indentity to redefine?
Who else could be in control then?
It seems to happen again and again!
It's not a matter of if, but when.
It's seemingly as simple as picking up a pen.
I suppose there's nothing to be done.
That other person will have their fun.
In the end, I'm but a simple puppet.
At this point all I can say is f*** it.
One minute I'll be fine at the store,
the next I'll be sleeping on the floor.
It does make things a bit exciting.
Even if it is somewhat frightning.
My life is never really a bore,
not even working on a simple chore.
Hopefully things will settle down
before I end up burning down the town.
I live in the perfect suburb,
beautiful houses from curb to curb...
Even if some of them are slight askew.
But from my home, there's the perfect view
Sometimes things seem off though,
like someone watching all the time.
It constantly fills me with dreadful woe,
I feel as though I'm a simple mime.
At times I lose control of myself.
The actions of my body are not mine.
Do you know how it feels to lose oneself?
Your very indentity to redefine?
Who else could be in control then?
It seems to happen again and again!
It's not a matter of if, but when.
It's seemingly as simple as picking up a pen.
I suppose there's nothing to be done.
That other person will have their fun.
In the end, I'm but a simple puppet.
At this point all I can say is f*** it.
One minute I'll be fine at the store,
the next I'll be sleeping on the floor.
It does make things a bit exciting.
Even if it is somewhat frightning.
My life is never really a bore,
not even working on a simple chore.
Hopefully things will settle down
before I end up burning down the town.
Re: Poetry on Demand.
The latter also thank you
- Ptangmatik
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Re: Poetry on Demand.
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
This poem always gives me a sense of calm, knowing that no matter what, in the end, it really doesn't matter. This is why I don't mind that people like the Kardashians exist, they just don't matter.
Also, handily, lets me necro this thread that I love. If you're still up for writing poetry Trix, shout out. If not, no worries.
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
This poem always gives me a sense of calm, knowing that no matter what, in the end, it really doesn't matter. This is why I don't mind that people like the Kardashians exist, they just don't matter.
Also, handily, lets me necro this thread that I love. If you're still up for writing poetry Trix, shout out. If not, no worries.
Geoff_B wrote: ... Even for here, that was weird.
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