Did you ever write a poem?

I reckon most of us, at one stage in our lives, have attempted to turn our hands to poetry. Even if it was only something you tried in primary school.

I do poems, me; but I also have one from secondary school, which is awful. I'll type it later as mine isn't the point of this thread.

Go on, give us your most notorious attempt. I promise mine will be worse.

ytpe2r5bxkn0c1

I've poems galore often read
and posted on boards' poetry threads.
In the proper forum it's put
So this AH one can be shut.

Outlaw Pete

Roses are red, violets are blue, pull down your knickers and give us a goo.

I have a dog he is five years old his name is Sam he wags his tail when he is happy.

Barrett Square Tin

Barrett Square Tin wrote: »

I've poems galore often read
and posted on boards' poetry threads.
In the proper forum it's put
So this AH one can be shut.

Almost 10/10 for metre!

Lines 2 & 3 let you down:pac:

Still, far better than what I had in mind from my own attempts!

Archeron

Arctic forest
A silver lizard reflects
watching the sunlight.

ytpe2r5bxkn0c1

A Tyrant Named Miltiades! wrote: »

Almost 10/10 for metre!

Lines 2 & 4 let you down:pac:

Still, far better than what I had in mind from my own attempts!

I've have many published down the years (here and the UK) but I'm not putting them up here.

Mr.Crinklewood

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Ken.

Mod- From the charter
Do not post here to reach a larger audience.
Posting on After Hours to reach a larger audience is not allowed. If there is a more suitable forum for your thread, post it there.

https://www.boards.ie/vbulletin/forumdisplay.php?f=382 Creative Writing
https://www.boards.ie/vbulletin/forumdisplay.php?f=19 Literature

Ken.

Mod-After taking a bribe donation to my charitable foundation. Reopened.

Dravokivich

Used to when I was younger. They were also a bit popular in school amongst a few students and the vice principle.

Not quite sure where any of it is now.

Had the following bouncing in my head recently...

There was a man who worked a long the line,
Clockin' his card in'n out over time,
No chance for his woman, kids out'a sight,
Working from the mornin long into the night.

ArnoldJRimmer

When I was a moody teenager, I wrote a poem about Kurt Cobain's suicide for the school annual, and it got published

Thats a level of cringe I'll never get over

AllForIt

nothing rhymes with poem :cool:

Your Face

I used to.

ArnoldJRimmer

ArnoldJRimmer wrote: »

When I was a moody teenager, I wrote a poem about Kurt Cobain's suicide for the school annual, and it got published

Thats a level of cringe I'll never get over

I re-wrote a couple of Ted Hughes's CROW poems for my school magazine, for an unrequited love who ditched me at a junior disco.

You're not alone in the cringe stakes here.

Pinch Flat

Her name was Honour
she made me an offer
And all night long
I was on her and off her

Yeah usually romantic ones OP

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=634TC7Feku4

frag420

Roses are red
violets are blue
I've got a gun
get in the back of my van

ytpe2r5bxkn0c1

You'd get away with chrome, comb, jeraboam...

AllForIt wrote: »

nothing rhymes with poem :cool:

AllForIt

I once wrote a poem
about a comb
the color of chrome
what a s*it poem

M.T. Cranium

On a beach,

beside a lonely sea,

cloud above, sand below,

white seagulls circling,

watching the dogs in their frolics,

afraid to land, calling out,

get lost dogs, get lost dogs,

or something else, who knows

if they don't speak seagull language?

but do the dogs care?

do they? you jest, for they are dogs,

they see no birds, only sticks,

sticks that young girls throw

as their parents shout encouragement,

go away, cried the seagulls,

go back to the comfort of your homes,

so we can land and eat snails

in the green and black oozing mud

that the sand failed to cover,

and I thought to myself,

I wish I could write poetry,

yet surely,

all we are is an amusement for some

intelligence.

M.T. Cranium

After Hours

have some rules,

must have been

devised by fools,

not allowed to reach too many,

what's the harm asked my friend Kenny,

if you have the internet

what's the point unless you let

every thought go far and wide,

now I'm going to have to hide.

Franz Von Peppercorn

A Tyrant Named Miltiades! wrote: »

I reckon most of us, at one stage in our lives, have attempted to turn our hands to poetry. Even if it was only something you tried in primary school.

I do poems, me; but I also have one from secondary school, which is awful. I'll type it later as mine isn't the point of this thread.

Go on, give us your most notorious attempt. I promise mine will be worse.

I liked this. Blank verse. Very good.

gingernut79

I vaguely remember sending one to the school magazine that started off
The train is big, smelly, orange and black
It runs from Sligo to Dublin on a railway track

pleas advice

she walked across the dancefloor that night
she was dressed to kill
she was a sexy lady
she had to get her thrill
how’d she get him, how’d she know
and all the music, the beat, the tempo
she was up for that night
she was in for a fright

Alright, I'm going to regret this tomorrow. In keeping with the most cringeworthy AH posts, I wish I'd had the excuse of being drunk when I copy & pasted this.

I'm only typing this because I said if you typed your worst efforts, I'd do mine. It's not that the rhyming here is bad in itself, it's that the poem. Is so terribly grovelling. Mortifying, but fair is fair.

(can't disclose the title for anonymity... Also, I was a teenager)

This right-dishonourable , Miss J____ (rhymes with Bloom),
She stands in Tipperary.
She wears a hat, and smokes cigars,
And strolls about most gaily

(note: *I was trying to do Byron, nevermind*)

Some say she's bred of Russian blood,
Or that she's England's daughter;
I've seen her face on a Munich street,
She was borne of German laughter!

I saw her once in Cape Town,
Spendthrift as an heir;
The mist was in her frowning face,
The sea-spray in her hair.

She's gone off now, to some far-off place,
Guyana or Costa Rica.
We don't know where she'll turn up next,
Hong Kong or Argentina.

She is raising a coup in a faraway place,
And no man shall ever deter her.
In Rome they are trying to make her a Saint;
In Berlin, they are looking to shoot her.

But she was born in mid-November,
When the snow was in the Glen.
And hounds were chasing Renard
For the love of hunting men

We'll sip our gin, and up to bed,
And leave alight down in the room
For that -- indescribable,
-- indefatigable
-- that right dishonourable Miss J___ (rhymes with Bloom)

*Ends*

I Know. Don't @ me

Now for all you lurkers, you have no excuse. Give us your worst, most cringeworthy efforts.

A Tyrant Named Miltiades!

A Tyrant Named Miltiades! wrote: »

Alright, I'm going to regret this tomorrow. In keeping with the most cringeworthy AH posts, I wish I'd had the excuse of being drunk when I copy & pasted this.

I'm only typing this because I said if you typed your worst efforts, I'd do mine. It's not that the rhyming here is bad in itself, it's that the poem. Is so terribly grovelling. Mortifying, but fair is fair.

(can't disclose the title for anonymity... Also, I was a teenager)

This right-dishonourable , Miss J____ (rhymes with Bloom),
She stands in Tipperary.
She wears a hat, and smokes cigars,
And strolls about most gaily

(note: *I was trying to do Byron, nevermind*)

Some say she's bred of Russian blood,
Or that she's England's daughter;
I've seen her face on a Munich street,
She was borne of German laughter!

I saw her once in Cape Town,
Spendthrift as an heir;
The mist was in her frowning face,
The sea-spray in her hair.

She's gone off now, to some far-off place,
Guyana or Costa Rica.
We don't know where she'll turn up next,
Hong Kong or Argentina.

She is raising a coup in a faraway place,
And no man shall ever deter her.
In Rome they are trying to make her a Saint;
In Berlin, they are looking to shoot her.

But she was born in mid-November,
When the snow was in the Glen.
And hounds were chasing Renard
For the love of hunting men

We'll sip our gin, and up to bed,
And leave alight down in the room
For that -- indescribable,
-- indefatigable
-- that right dishonourable Miss J___ (rhymes with Bloom)

*Ends*

I Know. Don't @ me

Now for all you lurkers, you have no excuse. Give us your worst, most cringeworthy efforts.

Don't do this to yourself. The past is a foreign country.

(But yes, guilty as charged, and I'll take it to my grave).

Vela

Many, but under a pseudonym. Looking forward to read your posts

[Deleted User]

[Deleted User] wrote: »

Don't do this to yourself. The past is a foreign country.

(But yes, guilty as charged, and I'll take it to my grave).

I promise you, I'm cringing harder than anyone else on my behalf!

Your turn. Fair is fair.

emeldc

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I heard a shout,
Get off the fcukin’ daffodils.

Franz Von Peppercorn

If it’s any consolation ATNM I have written poems worse than that in my teenage years.

Vela

Vela wrote: »

Here's one on the sly

You don't have to wait for people to change, you know.
You can decide. You can decide who's worth holding out
hope for and who isn't very worthwhile at all.
It's the very best in us that wants to find the best in
them but not everyone can turn over a new leaf
Not if this world has already clipped the stem that breathes
life into their souls and pulled them right up from
the root. It's hard to save a life that's already rotting
at the core, and it's not your job to bring them back, love,
Sometimes they're simply too far gone.

Is that really an original?

No cheating pls. We're here to hear crap :pac:

A Tyrant Named Miltiades!

A Tyrant Named Miltiades! wrote: »

I promise you, I'm cringing harder than anyone else on my behalf!

Your turn. Fair is fair.

Thankfully it's from a time before I typed so it's all scrawled on scraps and locked away in a box at home. (well, childhood home).

Anyhow, never apologise, as Graham Greene said “Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose, or paint can manage to escape the madness, melancholia, the panic and fear which is inherent in a human situation.”

**** the begrudgers, Irish society is still (bizarrely) similar to the society Yeats decried in the Fisherman. I've some bleak stuff from when my father died. I'll not be sharing it, but I'm glad I had the outlet to write it.

Franz Von Peppercorn

Franz Von Peppercorn wrote: »

If it’s any consolation ATNM I have written poems worse than that in my teenage years.

But I burned them.

[Deleted User]

[Deleted User] wrote: »

Thankfully it's from a time before I typed so it's all scrawled on scraps and locked away in a box at home. (well, childhood home).

Anyhow, never apologise, as Graham Greene said “Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose, or paint can manage to escape the madness, melancholia, the panic and fear which is inherent in a human situation.”

**** the begrudgers, Irish society is still (bizarrely) similar to the society Yeats decried in the Fisherman. I've some bleak stuff from when my father died. I'll not be sharing it, but I'm glad I had the outlet to write it.

You make some very fair points, but actually the reason I began this thread was that I'd been reading a popular literary journal (The Moth) and I thought 'Nobody really writes like this all of the time'

Most of the time, poets write material which is similar to that of your average unpublished writer. So let's share our worst material, and enjoy our clangers, for a change!

That's why I wanted to discuss this in AH. Literature is for everybody. Everyone should know how low poets can go :pac:

Vela

A Tyrant Named Miltiades! wrote: »

Is that really an original?

No cheating pls. We're here to hear crap :pac:

Yes I write poetry daily.

I hope that means you liked it.

Vela

Vela wrote: »

Yes I write poetry daily.

I hope that means you liked it.

I googled it because I thought you were pulling my leg!

Too good. We want crap poems only here

Vela

Mary, mary quite contrary
how does your garden grow?
"NOT BAD DAITHI, HOW'S YOURS COMING ALONG"?
Oh mary, mary quite contrary
I think me bulbs are in need of a blow!


BETTER?

JupiterKid

Silver swan
With your beady eyes
Peck me till I bleed
I can see your disguise

Sapphire kitten
Scratch me till I scream
You shriek and growl
As I jump from dream to dream...

An Ri rua

Nosnon wrote: »

Mod- From the charter
Do not post here to reach a larger audience.
Posting on After Hours to reach a larger audience is not allowed. If there is a more suitable forum for your thread, post it there.

https://www.boards.ie/vbulletin/forumdisplay.php?f=382 Creative Writing
https://www.boards.ie/vbulletin/forumdisplay.php?f=19 Literature

Weird poem Mod. But intriguing.

Outlaw Pete

Not looking at anyone in particular.... :P

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=634TC7Feku4

orourkeda1977

Outlaw Pete wrote: »

Roses are red, violets are blue, pull down your knickers and give us a goo.

Roses are red
Violet are blue
Lovey dovey
me bollix

Insect Overlord

I've a manuscript under review at the moment, hopefully to be published later this year. It has about 50 of my poems in it. I've posted a good few drafts on this site over the years.

Insect Overlord

Insect Overlord wrote: »

I've a manuscript under review at the moment, hopefully to be published later this year. It has about 50 of my poems in it. I've posted a good few drafts on this site over the years.

Show us your worst

Insect Overlord

A Tyrant Named Miltiades! wrote: »

Show us your worst

This one has changed a lot since I posted it here!

https://www.boards.ie/vbulletin/showpost.php?p=52324494&postcount=1