Poetry [MGTD]

One of my personal favorite poems by one of my personal favorite authors.

Give me O Night, a blessing
Of peace, and a handful of stars-
Give me O Dawn, a beginning,
New life, and a healing of scars;
Give me O Day, a freshening
Of spirit, and warmth in the sun-
Give me, O Earth, of thy bounty,
Strength for the task I’ve begun.

Leave me, O Night, of your stillness
A calm for my inward soul-
Leave me a breath of your darkness
To cool me, and keep me whole;
Leave me the wind in the willows
The roll of the surf and the sea-
Leave me, Beloved, my memories
Of dreams you have given to me

-Louis L'Amour

 

The Slave

You're an addict, you know it,
But you don't want to quit.
So long you've had, and owned it,
But you still relish it.

It's a problem, and face it,
You are one too.
When you're drunk as hell, and knee deep in booze.

You've tried, God knows,
How many times.
To kick it, stop it,
But in the end you're fine.
With staying a slave, to the drink all the time.

Till one day you lost her, because of your thrill.
You threw out the liquor, did away with the pills.
You sat in your bedroom, tears were spilled.
Your vision was clearing, your thoughts were stilled.
And you understood then, what she had felt.

So you avoided the stuff, and stayed away.
With each step you got stronger, each and every day.
And you still sometimes miss her, in every way.
But at least you are, no longer a slave.
- Me

 

Another Louis L'Amour one. This one is just eerie, sends goosebumps down your spine especially at the final part where the first is repeated.

I have three friends, three faithful friends,
more faithful could not be-
and every night, by the dim firelight,
they come to sit with me.

the first of these is tall and thin
with hollow cheeks, and a toothless grin,
a ghastly tare, and scraggly hair,
and an ugly lump for a chin.

the second of these is short and fat
with beady eyes, like a starving rat-
he was soaked in sin to his oily skin,
and verminous, at that

the crouching one is of ape-like plan,
formed like a beast that resembled man:
a freakish thing, with arms a-swing,
and he was the third of that gruesome clan.

the first I stabbed with a Chinese knife,
and left on the white beach sand,
with his ghastly stare, and blood-soaked hair,
and an out-flung, claw-like hand;

the fat one stole a crumbling crust,
that he wolfed in his swinish way-
so i left him there, with eyes a-glare,
and his head cut of half-way.

we fought to kill, the brute and i,
that the one that lived might eat,
so i killed him too, and made a stew,
and dined on human meat.

and so these three come to visit me,
when without the night winds howl-
the one with the leer, the one with a sneer,
and and one with a brutish scowl;

their lips are dumb, but the three dead come
and cough by the hollow great-
the man that i stabbed, the man that i cut,
and the gruesome thing that i ate.

their lips are sealed, with blood congealed,
but they will not let me be,
and so they haunt, grim, ghastly, and gaunt,
till death shall set me free.

i have three friends, three faithful friends,
more faithful could not be-
and every night, by the dim firelight,
they come to sit with me.
Louis L'Amour

 

Thanks. The slowly mounting speed of it was intended.

 

Last poems, because I have to put zombies everywhere. This one definitely has a creepy feel to it, especially after the end.
It is rather short, and a limerick of sorts. Rhyme.

Each night Father fills me with dread
When he sits on the foot of my bed;
I'd not mind that he speaks
In gibbers and squeaks,
But for the seventeen years he's been dead.
-- Edward Gorey

There were three friends that buried the fourth,
The mould in his mouth and the dust in his eyes,
And they .went south and east and north--
The strong man fights but the sick man dies.

There were three friends that spoke of the dead--
The strong man fights but the sick man dies--
"And would he were here with us now," they said,
"The Sun in our face and the wind in our eyes."
- Rudyard Kipling

 

Roses are grey
Violets are also grey
Let's go chase cars

-A dog.

 

I learned poetry overnight.
If you contradict that your in for a fight.
Rhyme scheme a, a, a, a just feels right.
The jeans I am wearing are way to tight.

 

Poetry is easy can't you see?
I'm writing this poem one handed while taking a pee.
My poetry isn't meant to impress you.
Just passing time while taking a poo.
Birdie birdie in the sky
Dropping white wash in my eye
Should I laugh or should I cry?
Gee I'm glad that cows don't fly.
I plagiarized that funny rhyme
not giving the writer one steel dime
I've got rum and I've got wine
but what mother hugger stole my lime?
Now that my bladder and colon are clear
The end of this poem is imminently near...
My last line for all to hear.

Hillary Rodham two thousand sixteen and BEER!

 

Five times
I was called ugly
It was the second grade and I didn't fully understand what that meant
I was treated differently
The kids pulled my hair
The kids pushed their desks away from mine as if my ugly was a disease
I was certain I could cure it

Four times
I got on my knees and begged my mom for plastic surgery
to fixThe imaginary ugly on my face
To cut off pieces of myself that had done nothing wrong
To cleanse my myself of the sin of being ugly
I was certain a scalpel could be my first best friend
The kids pulled themselves into circles
The kids pushed me out

Three times
My heart was broken
he was the first one to ever call me pretty
But he never said he loved me ,I never asked
I placed my self worth into little bottles of concealer and skin tight dresses
Anything to be called pretty
He found a taller prettier girl
The clock struck twelve and I was ugly again
My Prince Charming found his Cinderella
There were two more like him
One left me uglier than before
And the other left me bloody on the floor


Two times
I wanted to die

Once
I told myself
I was beautiful
I was worth it
I'm more than my appearance
I learned to love myself

 

Does epic count at all?

 

im assuming this means epics as in the form of poetry?

 

Yoyo up and down
Tethered to the string it stays
The dog walks itself

 

Beauty.

 

I write sometimes
in english? good, okay
a bit in Spanish, Hola, denada, porque, Si bien?
..