Poetry Thread

[Kaiser of Arabia]

Here are some of my better works:

The Great Wars
War rages across the earth
Fire shoots across the skies
Blood turns the seas a deep red
Many people are struck down
and for what cause?
War has ravaged the lands
Since Man first inhabeted the earth
Millions have fell victim to it's horrors
and the reason is always false.
Our lives are dictated by Government
Susperstition and false beleifs that
Man can be good, just, and kind.
But it is not true
Man cannot live without suffering
in his dominion.
Man and Satan, different but alike
are the causes of the pain and anguish
that inherit the world.

Scott Raymond Piazza, Jr.

Copyright ©2004 Scott Raymond Piazza, Jr.

and:

Prince of Wales
Oh thy Good prince of wales,
whost thou blood, sweet and pure,
has been slain today,
even now thy mass slauter insues.l

For you have invaded our land,
you have stolen our rights,
you have killed our leaders,
you have slaughtered our wives,

Though death faces us,
we shall stand and fight,
for the blood of many souls,
have been spilled during the night,

Go now,
leave us be,
for if we shall die,
we shall die free

Scott Raymond Piazza, Jr.

Copyright ©2004 Scott Raymond Piazza, Jr.

-Capo

[Beirut]

(I really, seriously apologise for this... )

On the second day of masturbatory May
The boys and the men all had it their way
The women complained and shouted real loud
And snivelled that they were left out of the crowd

For the art is an art, a male art you see
An art form to you and an art form to me
But the women are newbies and don’t do it real good
They need a man’s help to be done as it should

“We’re all experts” I said to my sweetie last night
She looked stunned and surprised and frozen in fright
“What is your problem? Have you all gone insane?”
I explained to her “Baby, it’s simply our game.”

From the very first Playboy, to Penthouse and better
We scan every picture and read every letter
From the age of a teen to the oldest old prude
We conduct our experiments and don’t think it’s rude

A man is a man, we’re all spankers you see
We provide our own fun, we provide our own glee
You women are great, don’t get us wrong
But how often are you there in a nightie and thong?

We can’t wait forever, we’re animals at heart
And can’t wait for “maybe Saturday” before we can start
We’ll do it ourselves, with confidence too
If you could do it as well, you’d do it times two

We conduct our experiments, sometimes unfrocked
And safe sex is the safest when the door she is locked
To be caught in the act by the wifey, bad luck
Brings scorn and contempt and “Put your pants on you shmuck”

Then they question themselves and wonder “is it all me?”
“Do I still do it for him? Is he bored? Possibly”
“Well tonight I’ll make changes, into a nightie and thong”
“And I’ll show that dumb man that his self love is wrong”

So now the girls are involved, to prove they’re needed
After all of these years our begging is heeded
Now the stigma is gone, we’ve removed the old hex
There’s now proof that wanking leads to great sex

[Snowhobbit]

Well, since I wrote some poetry today, I might aswell share one, although I do apologize for the sometimes bad ryming, well here it goes:
Poem to none
Lost what never was mine to have





Never was I loved,
Never, she was never mine to love
Nor did I love you,
Or so I thought.
Yet when I saw you two together,
A storm broke out, and the bird lost it’s feathers.

Scattered, broken my mind slipped away,
I went away, never would I stay.

On the way home my mind raced,
My thoughts picked up the pace.

As I thought of you, and your sweet face,
I couldn’t help but lose my grace.

A tear slipped down from my eye, and as it passed my cheek
I couldn’t help to think that,
By the Gods I’ve become weak.

As I fled all I could hear was their mindless chatter,
Into the night I went, never looking back
And all I could think of was you, your smile and the act.
The night, the pain, the cold and you all mixed into a bitter brew.
The night when I lost you.

The end

Constructive critism appreciated.
Edit: broke makes a lot more sense than boke.

[DemonArchangel]

The World's Shortest Poem

Fleas.

Adam Had Em'

[Kaiser of Arabia]

Hobbit, i read the first few lines only but it looks really good.

[Kaiser of Arabia]

NO this is the worlds shortest

Me We

by Mohamed Ali

[thrashaholic]

Capo, if you'd be so kind, could you possibly explain to me the subject of your second poem, by jingo it's confused me. The first one seems fairly self explanitory, it's about war...., but the second, I can't quite put my finger on. I think it's about war once again with a hint of liberty and justice thown in as well, but I can't bally well understand the first stanza about the Prince of Wales please do shed some light.

[Kaiser of Arabia]

It's kinda of a what if medieval england was invaded and the Prince of Wales was slain fighting for englands freedom

God, I posted this in June.

[zelda12]

I wrote this one boring friday afternoon in my English book.

Bored

I'm bored,
Sitting here in the cold dark class room.
I'm bored,
The teacher drones on and on,
Of people who are now dead and gone.
I'm bored,
Minutes pass like hours,
Hours pass like days, and all the while
I'm bored.

Joke is my English teacher gave me credit for it.

[Fragony]

Not mine, but I really like this one. It was made by Michael Owen, a brittish soldier in the trenches of the Somme

Futility

Move him into the sun —
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.

Think how it wakes the seeds —
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides
Full-nerved, — still warm, — too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
— O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth's sleep at all?

[BDC]

(I really, seriously apologise for this... )

On the second day of masturbatory May
The boys and the men all had it their way
The women complained and shouted real loud
And snivelled that they were left out of the crowd

For the art is an art, a male art you see
An art form to you and an art form to me
But the women are newbies and don’t do it real good
They need a man’s help to be done as it should

“We’re all experts” I said to my sweetie last night
She looked stunned and surprised and frozen in fright
“What is your problem? Have you all gone insane?”
I explained to her “Baby, it’s simply our game.”

From the very first Playboy, to Penthouse and better
We scan every picture and read every letter
From the age of a teen to the oldest old prude
We conduct our experiments and don’t think it’s rude

A man is a man, we’re all spankers you see
We provide our own fun, we provide our own glee
You women are great, don’t get us wrong
But how often are you there in a nightie and thong?

We can’t wait forever, we’re animals at heart
And can’t wait for “maybe Saturday” before we can start
We’ll do it ourselves, with confidence too
If you could do it as well, you’d do it times two

We conduct our experiments, sometimes unfrocked
And safe sex is the safest when the door she is locked
To be caught in the act by the wifey, bad luck
Brings scorn and contempt and “Put your pants on you shmuck”

Then they question themselves and wonder “is it all me?”
“Do I still do it for him? Is he bored? Possibly”
“Well tonight I’ll make changes, into a nightie and thong”
“And I’ll show that dumb man that his self love is wrong”

So now the girls are involved, to prove they’re needed
After all of these years our begging is heeded
Now the stigma is gone, we’ve removed the old hex
There’s now proof that wanking leads to great sex

I think we have witnessed the birth of an epic...

[zelda12]

It should be converted into a song.

I would love to see "Wain and the Kers" on Top of the Pops singing that.

I'm surprised that Fathers for Justice don't use it as their anthem.

[Devastatin Dave]

I think we have witnessed the birth of an epic...

Agreed, this shall rival the Ryme of the Ancient Mariner!!! Simply brilliant!!!

[Orda Khan]

I wrote this one boring friday afternoon in my English book.

Bored

I'm bored,
Sitting here in the cold dark class room.
I'm bored,
The teacher drones on and on,
Of people who are now dead and gone.
I'm bored,
Minutes pass like hours,
Hours pass like days, and all the while
I'm bored.

Joke is my English teacher gave me credit for it.

I think your teacher is less of a joke than you think Look at what you wrote and how you wrote it. You did not sit and think of a subject and you did not look for rhyme. It speaks volumes to me. Poetry should flow freely from the mind to the paper and this one obviously did.

......Orda