Whiteclaws
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« on: August 18, 2013, 11:29:19 AM » |
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Bed bugs, Dead bugs, Rotting chunks of flesh. Dead flies, Meat pies, Standing on your chest.
Black hair, Death stare, Never does she scream. Black braid, Death's maid, Nothing but a dream.
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« Last Edit: August 19, 2013, 05:16:08 AM by Whiteclaws »
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Capntastic
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« Reply #1 on: August 18, 2013, 11:41:56 AM » |
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It's a poem, dude!
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Stimor
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« Reply #2 on: August 18, 2013, 11:49:39 AM » |
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cats are neat, they cant be beat
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Nothing is going to change unless you change things for the worse
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Eigen
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« Reply #3 on: August 18, 2013, 12:45:00 PM » |
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I used to write a lot of poems in my native language, but not so much in English. Translating is hard.
manparts, ladyparts? no matter, fits like a puzzle
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Conker534
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« Reply #4 on: August 18, 2013, 12:46:47 PM » |
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hello jello
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Dr. Cooldude
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« Reply #5 on: August 18, 2013, 12:48:39 PM » |
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Der var engang en abe den boede i en skov og den ku' svinge sig fra gren til gren og ta' bananer. Såd'n når den - bum - rendte rundt og laved' sjov.
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Blambo
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« Reply #6 on: August 18, 2013, 07:21:03 PM » |
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Danish sounds awesome no matter how silly the subject
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Eigen
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« Reply #7 on: August 18, 2013, 09:28:05 PM » |
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Inimesed naeravad mul näkku, kui ütlen hobiks "ma riistvõimlen", tahaks kiirelt pista plehku, aga vahel hoopis vastu sõimlen. Arvavad vist et olen homorastne, küljes riista katsumise maine, on küll liigesed elastsed, kuid kodus siiski ootab naine.
Google translates this ... well, somewhat ... but the wordplay doesn't translate at all. Riistvõimlemine means gymnastics on those metal bars and rings on ropes. Riist- is basically a dick in slang. See where I was going with this? People laugh at me in the face, hobby when I say "I riistvõimlen" 'd quickly shove amok, However, instead of the slang. I guess I think that homorastne, adhering dick touching reputation Although the joints are flexible, but at home, still woman waits.
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Evan Balster
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« Reply #8 on: August 18, 2013, 10:00:28 PM » |
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Silver-eyed and silver-tongued, the watching Osporidium. O'er abbatoirs it keeps its wretched post. Its grating sings the slain to sleep; its knife-keen gaze the mem'ries keep. Among who pass, it sees the end of most...
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Creativity births expression. Curiosity births exploration. Our work is as soil to these seeds; our art is what grows from them...Wreath, SoundSelf, Infinite Blank, Cave Story+, <plaid/audio>
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Impmaster
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« Reply #9 on: August 19, 2013, 02:05:16 AM » |
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Oooh, Evan, that sounds pretty good. Unless one of the words I don't know actually changes the whole thing into a joke.
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Whiteclaws
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« Reply #10 on: August 19, 2013, 05:15:47 AM » |
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Keep em' coming , let's make this post the poem thread
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Evan Balster
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« Reply #11 on: August 19, 2013, 08:59:29 AM » |
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A shapeless figure, locked away Inside a realm it godly sways To weave in light and shadow there A living, moving world from air And nightly does it host a guest Who comes and goes at own behest And time to time might seize the throne To make the place a toy its own And on the morn to leave the mess Its keeper cleans, without protest For lonely is the weaving-hand The breaking one's its only friend
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Creativity births expression. Curiosity births exploration. Our work is as soil to these seeds; our art is what grows from them...Wreath, SoundSelf, Infinite Blank, Cave Story+, <plaid/audio>
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Stimor
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« Reply #12 on: August 19, 2013, 11:47:45 AM » |
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a dog is not a pony, whatever happened to kony?
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Nothing is going to change unless you change things for the worse
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Dr. Cooldude
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« Reply #13 on: August 19, 2013, 11:48:33 AM » |
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a dog is not a pony, whatever happened to kony?
winner
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Evan Balster
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« Reply #14 on: August 20, 2013, 02:42:34 PM » |
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A flash of insight tears into my mind, And for a moment, through a sea of black, A brilliant light that nearly strikes me blind -- I seize for something I might carry back.
And to the mortal world a filament Of intuition's world is strangely sent. As brilliant as it be it seems a ghost Before the whole a breath ago so close.
And to black oceans I will not return, Through force or wish or poison of the mind. Each step between these worlds is to be earned! For precious are the treasures one might find.
The hist'ry books will praise the cunning thief, Mere seconds in a lifetime spends beneath.
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Creativity births expression. Curiosity births exploration. Our work is as soil to these seeds; our art is what grows from them...Wreath, SoundSelf, Infinite Blank, Cave Story+, <plaid/audio>
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Blambo
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« Reply #15 on: August 20, 2013, 05:10:17 PM » |
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+1000 for sonnet!
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Liza
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« Reply #16 on: August 21, 2013, 01:51:48 AM » |
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Give me my pie Or you'll have to die.
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Schoq
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« Reply #17 on: August 21, 2013, 07:30:07 AM » |
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oh shit, I wrote a poem once: sunrise in the west traveling to new places hoping for the bestit's a haiku that rhymes, pretty sure that's worth extra points?? (you're supposed to listen to this song while reading it!)
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♡ ♥ make games, not money ♥ ♡
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Kekskiller
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« Reply #18 on: August 21, 2013, 05:19:17 PM » |
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summer rain
a cloudy spire of midsummer grace destined to rule in a sudden
where it belongs is not yet known but still, fate imagined it's place
inmidst all grues - it shall sing a song of silence and fame
so on they tell, knowing of end for the deaf will hear for the blind will see a thunder beyond embrace
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Evan Balster
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« Reply #19 on: August 21, 2013, 10:48:25 PM » |
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There is work to do Ambition fights contentment Happiness can wait
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Creativity births expression. Curiosity births exploration. Our work is as soil to these seeds; our art is what grows from them...Wreath, SoundSelf, Infinite Blank, Cave Story+, <plaid/audio>
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