In this thread, we share our best poetry from before we graduated from high school. College freshmen efforts are forbidden! (Don't fix your grammer or punctuation, it's more charming in the original.)
I'll start it off: I was 13 when I wrote this:
The Pen
The writer sat quietly in the glen,
writing, (to stir the hearts of men)
rebellious words, against the throne
of the king, and with a groan,
he rose to distribute his words in town.
He heard a noise, and turned around.
"Varlet pig, writing the treasonous word!"
And he killed the writer with his sword.
The knight burnt the writer's words that day,
but one scorched sheet was blown away.
A child found it in the street,
showed it to his fatehr; he found it complete.
The words incited the people's rebellion,
and the threw out the king, and all his
young hellions.
The were thrown out, by what the wind gave,
and the dead writer smiled in his grave.
Even though Onii-chan has seen this already I will just post it for completion.
The Genome Song
Get me a strawberry, fill this with beer,
Everyone gather around right here,
Nobody's seen this creation before?
Only a drop of soap, not too much more,
Mash up the berry to drop in the foam,
Et voila! You've found the strawberry's genome!
--
The sky and earth are bleached and I am tanned.
I straggle through this hostile land,
looking for that goddamn door so that I might return
to a heaven where I dreamt of sand.
--
A Girl's True Desire
Stuffiness is stuff I cannot stand.
"Let me out," I will demand--
You believe that you could leave me in this muggy room?
I'll open the door and grab your hand.
I'd rather be Dregs than be Scum!
I'd rather be Dregs than be Scum!
I'd be so more Tickled
To be the Last Trickle,
than be skimmed away with the Scum!
~ Ode to a Muffin
Ah! but what is this familiar smell?
What is this that seems so delectable?
A blueberry treat; this much I can tell.
Its visage seems nearly adorable.
Small for its kind, yet unmistakable:
Who would leave this sweet on its very own?
One whose faith was quite unreliable,
That the best choice was to leave it alone.
So now I have taken this pleasant task
Of eating it, before I am found out.
“Is this not ethical?” you’d surely ask.
But I’ve done this more times than you can count.
And now it is eaten; its day is done.
Which leaves me to find yet another one.
~ Slam Poetry (or, rather, the fervor thereof)
Ten minutes on the clock to go,
Ten words to use; that’s how it goes.
These words are a bit confusing, at best;
“Pile”; there’s one; here are the rest—
First I’ll find something to hurl,
But hurl a pen, or hurl a door?
Kick the ground with your shoe…
This doesn’t make sense! What should I do?!
Slide the key under the door,
Don’t get locked out anymore?
Candy, candy, how to use that?
Skip it for now, rhyme-with-at
Wheel, wheel, what to do?
I’m running out of time, I need a clue—
But there it is, my time’s run out…
(and I can’t use anything to rhyme with “out.”)
~ Wait
floating
feeling
or something
less
similar?
It’s quite nice, now that
I have regained “normal” senses.
But it still seems so
very
strange.
I don’t remember much, but—
Now I see it all.
There wasn’t much to regret,
Nothing much left at all.
Some things, perhaps, I would like to have done
But find myself as complete without having done so.
and so
I must
carry on.
But how do I?
I must carry on.
I can never really stop.
But I can wait a little while,
Can’t I?
A white dog beckons to me.
To follow him is to carry on.
But for now I wait in this ivory garden,
Among flowers of icy stone.
I can
wait
for a little more.
An eternity and a half—
That’s only a little while,
Isn’t it?
Distant memories, long and forgotten,
come back, horrid and rotten.
NIGHT LIGHT
I cannot sleep tonight.
The dark oppresses me.
The dark, normally a welcome friend,
bringing his companion, slumber
to cast his spell upon me,in this
midnight hour, and set upon me
a brief death.
No, tonight it crouches, waiting.
My night light sends it scurrying
to distant corners, reduced but oh so
obviously there, preying on my mind.
It is there.
And as I write to calm my troubled thoughts,
It slowly lays black marble in my stronghold.
"the fireworks are overrated"
I said through the cold weather
"true beauty should be natural and last forever"
she said: "imaginations what you need
'man made' doesn't mean to concede.
and yes, after seconds they are no more, but that's what you use your memory for"
So i turned my head towards the skies
and all night dreamt of suicidal fireflies
This is as sophomoric as it gets, written in my freshman year
"Ten Little Idiots"
Ten little idiots went out to dine,
One stuck his fork into his hand and then there were nine
Nine little idiots looking for girls to date,
One got smacked and then there were eight
Eight little idiots went driving to Devon,
One died in the desert crash and then there were seven
Seven little idiots had to apply some Vicks,
One got allergic and then there were six
Six little idiots went to the pool to dive,
One hit the fat chick and then there were five
Five little idiots were tiling the floor,
One ate the grout and then there were four
Four little idiots were cutting a tree,
One touched a snake and then there were three
Three little idiots with nothing to do,
One died of boredom and then there were two
Two little idiots calling each other dumb,
One shot the other and then there was one
One little idiot was shot with a gun,
His attacker first declared, “AND THEN THERE WERE NONE”