Poetry Thread

[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?

[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