GUTCHUCKER wrote:From a germinologists perspective,
A terminalia is plant genitalia.
From a physicists perspective,
It's a superfluous curved surface.
From an agronomists perspective,
A flower means seed-making power.
From an insect's perspective,
An angelica means sweet nectar.
From a junkie's perspective,
A poppy makes wacky toffee.*
From my perspective,
Who gives a shit? I just needed a concept for this forum poem.
*I made that shit up.
I kinda like this poem, especially the part with the plant genitalia
I don't like the last two lines. Some cool or funny conclusion would have been good, or just leaving them out.
Dane Raider wrote:Like the Flower You Are
This will be the last time,
I promise myself that each time, but each time is a lie.
I laugh around others,
And tell them how I do it for your winning smile, your warm heart,
But really what sticks in my mind is that look in your eye.
He handles you so delicately,
Like the flower you are,
O princess of mine...
But not just mine.
As you flail and kick and squeak out your desperate cry,
By all that's holy, I wish I believed you,
But I'm no fool.
Your bodyguard so few today,
Oh, is it that time of month again already?
His venomous grin, those reptile teeth,
And with a flick of his wrist you are draped over his shoulder,
He bounds away, powerfully,
And I guess that's why you let him.
How could I compete?
A working man, me.
I unclog the drains,
Yet you let me be the hero of your heart,
I yearn for those days.
Anger wells within me,
How fucking dare you, you bitch?!
I crush the face of another betoothed mushroom,
Revelling in the moment's catharsis as I hold its life in the balance,
And with the final push of my heel it spasms to oblivion.
You're back with me now,
And we lay in each other,
A hero's reward, who could ask for more?
But the words keep echoing in my head,
Never ceasing, always mocking,
As true now as when ever they were spoke,
"Our princess is in another castle."
That's a very poety poem
. You know, the kind where it's hard to understand what the poet means unless the poet or your language arts teacher tells you.
So, the speaker is a plumber? And someone tries to abduct the princess? And the plumber rescues her, even though he first thinks she might want to be abducted? And then she sleeps with him? But what's that last part about "The princess is in another castle"???
Felstaff wrote:I saw it grow betwixt the crack
And crushed it with my boot
It wasn't in full bloom, alack
Yet now that point is moot.
It struck me then, as I drew breath
That unrelenting power
That I have o'er life and death:
A simple, growing flower.
The ease of which I brushed aside
This floræ growing wild
Could equally unto betide
An also-living child?
I get the first two verses, then I get lost. What's the last one? With the same ease as "I" killed a flower "I" could also murder a child?
Crunchy Pete wrote:So i was out in my car, tryin ta score some flower,
A brand new steet drug, keeps you hard for an hour,
But i couldnt find a dealer no matter how hard I scour,
Then it became obvious this whole idea had turned sour.
Then I thought, why does Crunchy Pete really want this again?
Even without it he puts shame to most mortal men,
And theres no real benefit to hangin out in this den,
Just to pick up what amounts to what a novelty pen is.
So I'm out
So this gave me the idea that Dingdong should redo his poem with the word "penis" instead of "flower". I think it could make him famous.
GreenCrayon wrote:Felstaff's words were once woven so fine,
That they sent a sharp chill up my spine,
So I did my worst,
Writ a flowery verse,
Just so one of his votes could be mine.
Kimra wrote:I see a flower on my desk,
I think, "Oh crap my desks a mess.
To clean it really would be best."
But cleaning isn't that much fun,
I'd rather sit and drink some rum,
and keep on drinking. Yes, I'm a bum.
So on my desk the flower can rot,
Til I care more for my own lot,
Or it's at least a lot less hot.
That's PURE POETRY.
Yes, it is
It's fun to read.
In lines 5 and 6 I have trouble reading it with the proper rhythm, maybe it's just my pronunciation.
I took this thing,
a 3 by 3 square of paper,
white on one side, red on the other.
I folded it, and made it into a paper flower
with 4 petals.
I set it outside and waited for it to rain,
at which point it wilted into a
big fucking mess.
I won't let you have it,
this thing of art that was taken from me.
wrote that in two minutes
For two minutes that's not bad.
I like the first 7 lines. Can kinda imagine someone speaking that on a stage in a poetry competition.
I am not sure how to feel about "big fucking mess", it kinda breaks the part before, but that could be intended.
I don't get the last line, why was the art taken from the speaker?
Maybe I should not overanalyze a two-minute poem.
Euclidthegreek wrote:My name is Euclid
I came here too late
I have to confess
I forgot the date
Some men claim
To while away the hour
The best way to do it
Is in contemplation of a flower
I didn't do that
I started too late
My natural impulse
Was to procrastinate
I was going to write
The best poem there ever was
Instead I just wrote
This lame piece of scuzz
It's not like I toiled
Through forest and fen
In the lofty pursuit
Of this flower pen
My excuses are meager
This poem is rote
But yet I will ask you
Can I still vote?
I like it, especially the part "My natural impulse / Was to procrastinate"
(My natural impulse always.)
I have trouble deciding what to vote for, there are several good ones. I think Dane Raider's is best.