Author Topic: Poetry collection  (Read 203603 times)

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #960 on: January 28, 2018, 10:02:57 PM »
Pg 853

Wasn't Round The Bend, Believe? It Depends...

She says, "Sweetheart,
Come eat, Emil."
He was coming, old fart,
No need to yell!

He spies the feline,
Grabbing a cake.
He was really in his mind.
There was no mistake.

Right, he now recalls,
He wasn't out of his gourd.
Should have tried harder, is all,
The lounger on board.

Would he have believed?
Says he, "Definitely!"
Not instantly achieved,
But eventually. Maybe.


A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #961 on: January 29, 2018, 09:09:01 PM »
Pg 854

Thanks For Today. Okay

On the ice plank,
And today the Finn,
Emil wants to thank
For saving his skin.

He was going to barge,
Straight in with no thought.
Of his mind not in charge,
They would have got got.

Does he have this constantly,
With him being a mage?
Whispers taunting thee,
Unconsciously plagued...

A mouth full of dessert,
After curing his brain fever.
He has a new convert,
Now a magic believer.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #962 on: January 31, 2018, 09:44:05 PM »
Pg 855

Too Feeling To Stop Mind-Stealing

Can Lalli be mind-dominated?
They have no influence any more.
Mages that can't repudiate it,
Are short-lived therefore.

Why could Emil be influenced?
So very weak is his mind.
No defence, no offence, since
He's too empathetic and kind.

Did it become fortuitous,
That the mage ended up in there?
They couldn't have seduced him thus,
If his mind with him didn't share...
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #963 on: February 02, 2018, 02:53:30 AM »
Pg 856

Access Point Unprotected, Position Unprecedented

The mage prisoner
Is a point of access.
As long as he's in there,
They're at risk, more or less.

Can be jointly attacked,
With this head-mate of his.
He wants to go back,
Don't worry, Emil says.

I'll help you get out of here,
Just tell me what you need.
Tell all, all-knowing seer,
In order to get freed.

But he says "I don't know."
What does he mean by that?
It means it's just so,
Not an all-knower, that cat.

When forcibly booted,
They can be lost forever.
With no return route,
Their self permanently severed.

But he hasn't heard of being
Trapped in someone else's mind.
So there's no guaranteeing
A solution they will find.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #964 on: February 04, 2018, 10:18:08 PM »
Pg 857

Dad Won't Be There, He Doesn't Care

Don't know what'll transpire,
This unknown phenomenon.
If his body does expire,
Will he stay or go on?

Find his way to Tuonela,
Or be stuck in this limbo...?
Don't worry little fella,
You can trust him, you know.

They can find someone to assist,
Once they're out of there.
The meeting point won't be missed,
And he'll keep alive the pair.

The nanny informs re his dad,
But he shouts "I DON'T CARE!"
Can't she see his comrade?
She doesn't mind the spite unfair.

The way the Swede reacts,
Emil can't seem to control.
Acting like some kind of brat,
She must be on a high payroll...
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #965 on: February 06, 2018, 02:25:00 AM »
Pg 858

That Was Rude, Don't Be Weird, Dude

"I'm sorry that was rude."
"It was?" "Uh, yeah.", he says.
Yelling at people isn't good,
Also let's address...

When one thanks you, chum,
It is polite to say
To them "you're welcome"
And not simply "okay".

These lessons of his,
Quite a lot to take in.
Quickly put in practise,
By the magical Finn.

Good manners applying,
"Thank you", he chimed.
"Thank you for trying",
"And not leaving me behind."

Did Emil really hear correctly,
Were those words really spouted?
The teasing annoys Lalli,
"Don't be weird about it!"
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #966 on: February 07, 2018, 09:18:13 PM »
Pg 859

Sensitive Question, Incensed His Expression

Emil's just really happy,
To hear thanks from the Finn.
"Never again" says the crabby
Scout through his chagrin.

Just once is plenty,
What was his childhood like?
Manner no longer friendly,
Sudden hostility spikes.

That's none of his business,
Emil crossed the line.
Too soon to discuss this,
Will his progress be undermined?

He was just too excited,
To be able to talk, that's all.
A question asked, short-sighted,
He could rebuild the wall.

------------------------------------

Don't Ask Me by OK Go (with a few small changes)

Quit acting so friendly
Don't nod, don't laugh all nicely
Don't think you'll befriend me
Don't smile, don't be all pretendy
And don't try to reconcile
And don't flash that stupid smile

Don't ah-ah-ah-ah-ask me
Don't ah-ah-ah-ah-ask me
Don't ah-ah-ah-ah-ask me
Ask me how I've been

Don't think I've forgotten,
You're stupid and so reckless
So spoilt, so rotten
So friendly, so feckless
This is the final time
And don't get inside my mind

Don't ah-ah-ah-ah-ask me
Don't ah-ah-ah-ah-ask me
Don't ah-ah-ah-ah-ask me
Ask me how I've been

You over-reacted
So frank, so straight, so candid
So thoughtless, so tactless
So dumb, just so off-handed
You just crossed the line
Your empathy's a crime

Don't ah-ah-ah-ah-ask me
Don't ah-ah-ah-ah-ask me
Don't ah-ah-ah-ah-ask me
Ask me how I've been
« Last Edit: February 07, 2018, 09:56:50 PM by corncobman »
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #967 on: February 08, 2018, 10:38:09 PM »
Pg 860

Too Many Food Portions, Emil's Not An Orphan!

Personal issues are
Off limits, Emil knows.
If he so chooses,
He can ask the Swede though.

To him, it's not injurious.
He minds not conversation.
Is Lalli not curious
About the current location?

Lalli doesn't need that,
He observes, hears and feels.
So making accurate
Conclusions revealed.

Too much food for one,
Big house, not a mother.
It means he was an orphan,
And adopted were the others.

"You were the only child left.
Very sad." Says the seer.
It was not as he guessed,
It's his home they see here.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #968 on: February 11, 2018, 10:04:11 PM »
Pg 861

Quantity Commonplace, Too Tired, Keep The Pace

The food's not that much,
In fact they're normal portions.
Like a rich man, out of touch,
And probably wasting a fortune.

At least the cleanser stops,
From continuing with his line.
To change the subject, he opts.
It doesn't matter. It's fine.

Despite the circumstances,
He's glad to have company.
You understand this,
Lalli, don't you agree?

He's loathe to awaken,
Out there, it's such a grind.
How many days has he taken,
The Swede just wants to unwind.

Feels like three days, but just one,
Emil wants to sleep evermore.
But until they are home and done,
He will have to keep foot on floor.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #969 on: February 12, 2018, 10:54:09 PM »
Pg 862

Tiredness Consuming, Long Travel Looming

Giving his eyes a break,
Leaning back, in dozing.
Going back to the cake,
The scout's not opposing.

Both slumbering, body
And mind in the deep.
Dream doubling squaddy,
Sleep within sleep.

The briefest respite,
From the long trek impending.
But for now, through this night,
All animation suspending.

---------------------------------

Just A Little Time For A Rest
(based on Once Upon A Time In The West by Dire Straits)

So sleepy, gonna keep on dreaming, must be sweet innit
Sharing imagination for a minute
Stopping thought process, arms and legs are gassed
Leaning just before I fall on my ass
Getting tired, maybe for the best
Oh yeah, just a little time for a rest

Yes, it's no use staying awake and rushing
It's still gonna get you if I can't do something
Animation suspense, it's a troubling place
Oh, I can't even go on pulling if I fall on my face
Strength's at zero, begging for a pillow's caress
So stressed, just a little time for a rest

Mind is weary, I'm going slower than I oughta
Both of us suffer if you never get brought there
Resurrection while I'm snoozing
Else big trouble and more time a-losing
Tomorrow it's gonna be most best
I guess, just a little time for a rest

Oh yes, just a little time for a rest
Gods bless, just a little time for a rest
I guess, just a little time for a rest

Just a little time for a rest
« Last Edit: February 17, 2018, 06:11:35 AM by corncobman »
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #970 on: February 19, 2018, 09:21:10 PM »
Pg 863

Old Bones On Pews, Unknown, Bemused

An Icelandic guy,
Looking up at the sky.
Kitty on standby,
What caught their eye?

The red-head man slight,
Staring above at height,
The kitty matches his sight,
Both bathed in the sunlight.

A church they've arrived at,
Covered bones laying flat.
No alarm for man and cat,
But other paw prints than that...
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #971 on: February 26, 2018, 11:10:47 PM »
Pg 864

Cat In A Bag, Lad Again Lags

On the wheeled conveyance,
The stricken Sigrun's sprawled.
The mage burdened, bechanced,
Slowing down to a crawl.

Meanwhile their kitty mascot,
Sleeping in the pack of supplies.
Buried in a clothes basket,
A sweater shields from the bright skies.

"Still okay there?" Asked
The Danish country surgeon.
With the heavy loads tasked,
The burly beef of burden.

Glancing back, Sigrun spots
The Icelandic man trail.
Reynir's lethargic trots,
With the cadence of a snail.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #972 on: February 28, 2018, 10:36:44 PM »
Page 865

Supposed To Be With Them, Can't Keep The Rhythm

"Reynir!" Calls he,
In a manner most brusque.
"You're supposed to be
Walking right next to us."

Apologising, weakly,
Trying to keep pace.
Falls back again quickly,
In lethargy and malaise.

-----------------------

Epitaph Road (based on Telegraph Road by Dire Straits)

Through rain and snow at the demon's beck
Walking lonely miles on a desperate trek
And we went with the flow when we thought we were the blessed
Digging gold in the wilderness

Can't say happened or what'll be in store
We trudge along the ground, arms and legs are sore
And we met with disaster, we came under attack
She never went further, she'll never go back

Lost to the shadows, drowned in a pool,
One after another, those sorry fools
Three of us remain, with a heavier load
And travelling back on this epitaph road

Navigating blind, what is it for?
Those visions divine didn't help us before
The stories I was told about the world outside
This terrible road is so deep and so wide
Full of trolls and killers

Only one way to go, through the dirt and the trees
Keep on moving on through pain and disease
Walking in molasses
Says I'm moving slow

I used to think this was a lark, like a merry clown
This place is cruel and dark, like it's the devil's playground
Yes, your body it'll break, your mind it will erode
We're gonna have keep on pushing with an unbearable load

From the ashes, from the fires, and the devilish trolls
Just spirit me away from this pain and control
I can hear them taunting through my telepath soul
All the way down this epitaph road

Well, I'd sooner forget, but I remember those nights
Yeah, life was just to play games and to see the sights
You had a cut on your shoulder, we were unaware
Now the night's a little colder, now they're no longer there

There's no relief from this strain and no walking away
From out of this darkness and into the day
From these shadows of dead lives, these whispers of pain
From the aching that lives on through the three that remain
'Cause I'm to weary to fight and I'm going insane
I've seen expectations explode into flames
And I don't wanna see it again

Maybe we'll be fine, maybe we will go
All the way
Down the epitaph road
« Last Edit: March 01, 2018, 02:55:48 AM by corncobman »
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #973 on: March 01, 2018, 10:09:27 PM »
Pg 866

Man Saws Dog's Paws

Encumbered man sluggish,
Increasingly slowed.
Into his luggage,
Sleeping kitty stowed.

Following a trail
Left by his compadres.
A strange detail
Found by the laddy.

He notices there are,
Some extra paw prints.
Somehow familiar,
In a manner of hints.

Following the band,
Or leading for some search?
A reunion at hand
To a certain olden church...?
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #974 on: March 04, 2018, 10:17:39 PM »
Pg 867

Shooting It Dead Or Swinging At Its Head

Their attention Reynir draws,
While hanging back.
Pointing to the snowy paws,
Amongst all their tracks.

Would you look at that, aye,
Too fresh for comfort.
A beast troll nearby,
Wolf or wild dog of sorts.

Either way it's a threat,
Keep your eyes peeled.
If within range it gets,
Start shooting up the field.

Start shooting like a madman,
Only one bullet needs to hit.
Alternatively, Mikkel can
Swing at the target.

He can incapacitate it,
With a strike to the head.
Sigrun has okayed it,
Though unsure of what he said.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan: