OOT POETRY DAY

[diebitter]

Okay, if you want
to participate, all your
responses must be...

haiku, or rhyming
couplets, or limericks or
a suitable form.

Let not the subject
deter you from your effort.
Let poetry rule!

[snagglepuss]

poetry is not
all about the formatting
see this sucks; you too

[Coffee]

There was a young man from Dallas,
Who was dating a girl named Alice.
He read OOT
Which said SIIHP,
And Alice's P met his phallus.

[fifield]

A short poem I wrote re: life, in octameter.

Upon the cafetere I crept,
with head held high and stride in step,
with arms outstretched against myself,
tray held high to catch the manna,
coming down from golden handles,
to feed this hunger panged young soul,
then send me back into the fold,
from whence I came, and should return,
once manna nutured, filled up full,
and floating on the breeze then sent,
my satiated soul content,
lionesque and body able,
ready to enbread the table,
conquer all that I encounter,
squashed in masses, those entrampled;
though today the conquered countered,
determined, all, to see my fall,
amidst, among the rebel horde,
I stood there, helpless, sans my sword,
the worst bad day that one could have
when in a cafeteria;
sitting in around the middle,
this evil eatery of hate,
cast aside from two more tables,
humiliation deep inside
and, oh my god, could I just die,
is that too much to f*cking ask?
eating quickly, in a hurry,
to leave this place so far behind
so...choking on the pasta, that's
been nicely hardened under lamps,
with the sauce all running sideways,
really cramping up my style,
right in front of all the hotties
looking, laughing at the sausage,
and the foyer is behind me,
but too far, so I can't see it,
and these people are all laughing at me,
looking like they mean it,
and I cannot stop from hiding,
crying, going under tables,
just to find I'm still surrounded
by malicious omnipresence,
their desecrated rosaries,
and all their fronts of too much talk,
so, cowardly I slink and walk,
and stumble, fall away from them,
and get back up, begin again,
and stumble, fall, I gasp for air,
and curse the days when I exist,
and lift myself, somehow, again,
and now again, and then again,
when sudden stomach pains explode,
and on the floor goes what I know
and what I don't, and cannot hide
from this inside, and just look down,
upon the ground, through sobby steps
and bated breaths and teary eyes
that drown myself while struggling
against myself, and with myself
I claw up there to safety's shore,
where nevermore shall I explore
the victimhood and sorrows felt
in deadly cafeterias.

Fifield

[Kratzer]

There was a young man from Peru,
who fell asleep in his canoe,
while dreaming of Venus,
he played with his penis,
and woke up covered in goo

[mason55]

the poetry in this
thread
hurts me
like the ravens
tearing at my eyes
my lungs
my chest
my heart

just as she tore my heart
it will never be
whole
again
like peeled orange

please

make the pain
of the
awful
po
e
try
in this thread
stop

as an amptuee's pain
ends
when his leg is removed

[Kratzer]

mason55 thinks my poem is quite lame,
he'd rather prefer something tame,
well sir may I say,
i think you're quite gay,
and of your poem i think much the same

[mikech]

[ QUOTE ]
as an amptuee's pain
ends
when his leg is removed

[/ QUOTE ]
well, actually, most amputees, in fact,
feel something called phantom sensations where
their limbs had been. oh and free verse is kind
of boring; this blank verse is much more fun
to write. i'm going for a dry, talky,
frost-like pentameter; how'm i doing?

[mason55]

god i hate you mike
i knew someone would call me
like a blue sparrow

[DCopper04]

A year, db! Tips,
jokes, haikus 'n cockney. Yay
for Captain Obv'yus.