That awkward moment when you realize,
No matter what you do,
The life-size stuffed bear that you own
May have more game than you.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Monday, December 30, 2013
I Can't Get Free
I'm writing a free verse here for you.
I'm not sure where I'm going with this...
But what else is new, so here we go!
Hmm. I feel like those first lines had far too much rhythm.
Sorry about that, it's one of my first times.
But at least I don't have any rhymes.
Oh no! What have I done?!
Can I still call this a free verse?
It seems no matter how hard I try,
I can't escape these two captors:
Rhythm and rhyme.
Guess I'll just have to stick to boring old
Imprisoned verse.
I'm not sure where I'm going with this...
But what else is new, so here we go!
Hmm. I feel like those first lines had far too much rhythm.
Sorry about that, it's one of my first times.
But at least I don't have any rhymes.
Oh no! What have I done?!
Can I still call this a free verse?
It seems no matter how hard I try,
I can't escape these two captors:
Rhythm and rhyme.
Guess I'll just have to stick to boring old
Imprisoned verse.
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Prodigy
I found this when I was cleaning out my desk. It's a valentine's poem I wrote when I was eightish, I think.
Roses are red,
People are tan,
And boy am I glad
That you're not a man.
Roses are red,
People are tan,
And boy am I glad
That you're not a man.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Bloody Knuckles
Feel the rhythm in your arms.
Here its beat in every thud.
Left. Right. Left. Left. Hook. Left. Duck.
Your hands in wraps all stained with blood.
Your stress subdued with every blow
As the bag rebounds from your throbbing hand.
Your mind is clear. Your will is strong.
This it means to be a man.
Here its beat in every thud.
Left. Right. Left. Left. Hook. Left. Duck.
Your hands in wraps all stained with blood.
Your stress subdued with every blow
As the bag rebounds from your throbbing hand.
Your mind is clear. Your will is strong.
This it means to be a man.
Heartbroken
You broke my heart the day you left
The hot chocolate you meant to bring
And left me wishing I was dead,
Shot by a bullet through the head.
This is based on a true story. It was sad.
The hot chocolate you meant to bring
And left me wishing I was dead,
Shot by a bullet through the head.
This is based on a true story. It was sad.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Cleaning Some Teeth on a Sunny Morning
Whose teeth these are I do not know.
His mouth is in my office though;
He seems to mind me working here
To clean his teeth before he goes.
My hands move deftly as they clear
The plaque with my plaque removing spear.
I find mixed in are bits of steak;
He didn't brush it would appear.
People don't realize how hard they make
My job when they don't even take
The time to brush and floss their teeth,
So through their lunch I have to rake.
It could take hours to clean his teeth.
But I have scheduled appointments to keep,
And others to clean before I sleep,
And others to clean before I sleep.
His mouth is in my office though;
He seems to mind me working here
To clean his teeth before he goes.
My hands move deftly as they clear
The plaque with my plaque removing spear.
I find mixed in are bits of steak;
He didn't brush it would appear.
People don't realize how hard they make
My job when they don't even take
The time to brush and floss their teeth,
So through their lunch I have to rake.
It could take hours to clean his teeth.
But I have scheduled appointments to keep,
And others to clean before I sleep,
And others to clean before I sleep.
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