Jump to content

Home

Help and be a better person


Yufster

Recommended Posts

My sister needs help. By tomorrow morning she needs a poem. It has to be four verses, four lines each, it has to rhyme, and it has to be about love. It has to be original...ish.

 

So here's a fun game. You guys think up a poem (Orca and Alia are good at this!) and I'll get it in the morning, when I wake up!

 

I'm gonna like this game. Okay, here's some stuff you might wanna know;

 

 

Her Teachers Name is Mr Lonegan.

 

 

Ha ha ha!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

First you need the planet earth beneath your feet, you couldnt live for long without that,

Then you need the air, oxygen to breathe, you couldnt live 5 minutes without that,

Then you need the water, the icy cold water, you couldnt live too long without that,

And you need the love, you need the love, you need the love and thats a fact.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Originally posted by Yufster

So here's a fun game. You guys think up a poem (Orca and Alia are good at this!)

 

*blinks at screen* whaa...?

 

What is Love? Why...

Love is the thing that makes babies,

Love is the thing that makes panties fly,

Love is the thing that makes people do dumb sttufff...

 

Love is the thing that causes *censor*

Love is the thing that is done in a drive-in,

Love is the thing that is not at an ellection,

Love is the thing that goes wheeeeeee!

 

Love is the thing that makes birdies go "Braaak!"

Love is the thing that is on Discovery Chanel,

Love is the thing that......

 

at this moment, the poet said "Aw, screw." and stopped. We may never see the end...

 

:dozey: meh. its a good start...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

here's a nice little poem for your sister...

 

once upon a time

i had to write a rhyme

about the topic love

while i was wearing gloves

 

so here's the rhyme i wrote

you'll probably want to choke

after reading this stupid poem

while sitting in your home

 

love is really great

kinda like fish bait

actually not really

it's no better than a wheelie

 

love really bites

just like flying kites

so that's the rhyme

oops! i'm out of time!

 

i know. it was amazing. now everyone snap your fingers.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

How about...

 

hate hate hate hate hate

hate hate hate hate hate

hate hate hate hate hate

hate hate hate hate hate

 

hate hate hate hate hate

hate hate hate hate hate

hate hate hate hate hate

hate hate hate hate hate

 

hate hate hate hate hate

hate hate hate hate hate

hate hate hate hate hate

hate hate hate hate hate

 

hate hate hate hate hate

hate hate hate hate hate

hate love hate hate hate

hate hate hate hate hate

 

Her teacher'll think she's a fricken genious.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Idiots.Idiots.Idiots.Idiots.

 

 

Yuf, tell your sis to do what I do when I need to write a poem.

 

1) Go to the school library before class.

 

2)Find an obscure poetry book that hasn't been checked out for years.

 

3) Find a poem that is 4 verses with 4 lines each.

 

4)Copy.

 

5) (You get detention and repeated work for unsatisfactory work)

 

6) Go back to the Library.

 

7) Rinse and repeat, until Miss Loner likes the poem and stops giving you DT.

 

THE END.

 

 

 

 

 

Wasn't it beautiful?

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The trick is to use a lesser known poet. Someone NO-ONE has heard of. I'm talkin' back of the shelf, blow off the dust.

To avoid plaugerism, but tiny quotation marks at the start and end. Works for me.

 

 

Nazi school? Close, but no cigar.

I go to a Catholic school [oh, that explains it] but I'm not actually a Catholic. It just happens to be behind my house. We share a fence. Same postcode.

 

Its handy. Who else can sleep in until 9am EVERY schoolday.

 

[Don't start 'til 9:30, but be there by :20.]

 

And yes, I still manage to be late every morning.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

One life upon another gently laid

Whilst all around are mourning for the loss -

But those within the deadly sighing shade

Of Love are racing for the cross

 

Of everlasting bands to fix them round

And hold each other to the bitter end.

I cannot ask you to be chained and bound

Nor half-reveal the truth they had to bend

 

To forge the iron knots around our hearts

And break the mould of stubborn willfulness.

I turn to go, yet turning cannot part

With these four wall without a distant kiss

 

Of lips upon a word, a line, a page

To send across a void of nothingness

In hopes that it will reach you in our cage

Of nothing more that once was something less.

 

 

 

10 minutes. Sufficient to bull**** meaning.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I've been reading Beckett, Sartre, the Existentialists, the Surrealists and the Dadaists all day in preparation for a portfolio essay for my degree in english lit. I needed an outlet for the nothingness of being :D Feel free to use it, there's plenty more nonsense where that came from.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Eyelids closed, the shivring body freezing,

Searching for some love to keep him alive

He runs over the past, while remembring

All of the ladies for which he had strived

Recalling the love that he was given

He became aware of a certain flaw

Never got lovin’ from any women

Just because he’s without a lower jaw

So desperate and dying, feeling left out

He caught the eye of nearby passing rat

“Finally! Love!” The hobo did then shout

“Yes, I’ll receive your love” rat then did chat

So they made love under the sweet moonlight

A great relationship they did ignite

 

 

 

 

 

5 minutes with the brain totally shut down, and look at the results!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

No one beats Shakespeare:

 

Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press

My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain;

Lest sorrow lend me words and words express

The manner of my pity-wanting pain.

If I might teach thee wit, better it were,

Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so;

As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,

No news but health from their physicians know;

For if I should despair, I should grow mad,

And in my madness might speak ill of thee:

Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,

Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be,

That I may not be so, nor thou belied,

Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.

 

--Sonnet 140

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

 

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

 

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

 

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

×
×
  • Create New...