Author Topic: Poetry collection  (Read 239883 times)

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1395 on: February 14, 2020, 01:03:10 AM »
Pg 228

Long Pause Quietude, Strong-Armed Entry Dudes

However, in this...
...Empty. Well, that's great!
This building they'll hit,
You see, Mikkel cannot wait...

While the scout stands still,
Not silent, they prise the screen.
The brawny and blonde men will
Open with a tremendous lean.

Cat's arms folded, no effort made,
The other two much more keen.
Preparing their great tarp raid,
They'll strip the establishment clean.
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:

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  • Bragi
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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1396 on: February 14, 2020, 01:47:02 AM »
Adventure 2, Page 227

They left the building empty.

Rotted planks crumble, and cans
Toppled from their shelves, lie scattered
On the dust-stained floor

Untouched, unseen, a memory
Lingers here, the footprints of the past
Are sitting on the tiles

Whose hands once steadied
These rusted shelves? Whose feet
Stepped through the door?

They are gone now. Tangled vines
Fall through windows, long unwashed
And down the soundless walls
« Last Edit: February 14, 2020, 01:50:25 AM by Keep Looking »
I write poetry sometimes.

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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1397 on: February 17, 2020, 01:16:42 AM »
Pg 229

Dust, Dirt And Spider Webs, 'Ew' Blurts The Dunderhead

The doors opened sufficient,
It's time to take stock.
Not the best condition,
Over fallen goods they walk.

"Ewwww." the Swede blurts.
On the sweeping of the dust.
It's just spider webs and dirt,
That's why he's in disgust.

It's the reason he said 'Ewww',
He says to the nurse.
Cleansing is in his purview,
To filth and grime he's averse.
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:

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  • Bragi
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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1398 on: February 19, 2020, 12:32:59 AM »
Adventure 2, Page 229

Who left these tarps here on the ground
Collecting dust and cobwebs fine?
The shop is empty, not a sound
Has echoed through the shelving lines
For decades now, and those around
That linger still have lost their minds
To whispers dark and voices chill
That echo as the world stands still
I write poetry sometimes.

Icon by the amazing Rithalie from the SSSS discord (rithalie-art.tumblr.com)

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1399 on: February 20, 2020, 01:18:00 AM »
Adventure 2, Page 231

The sunlight softly falls upon the gently waving grass
And touches it with brushes of a bright and golden green
While cast in stripes of shadow, through the doors of ancient glass
A still and silent watcher can in cloak of furs be seen

His searching eyes watch o’er the shades that lie in doorways dark
Their souls, forsaken, tinged with tints of violet-glowing gloom
Their whispers pierce through open minds - their suff’ring leaves its mark
In skins that stretch, in wire-filled grass, in damp and empty rooms

And as the watcher scans for hints of dangers lying low
His eyes ignore the friendly wave from captain in the sun
The cat that sits on braided head, these faces that he knows
Can send him all their greetings once the searchers’ job is done
I write poetry sometimes.

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1400 on: February 21, 2020, 02:21:31 AM »
Adventure 2, Page 232

Words, like birds, are fleeting things
That leap from mouth with flurry of wings
What words have we that words don’t bring?

Paper. Scissors. Rock.

Pens draw bends that warp and turn
And leave their marks in paper burned
What needs no scrawling pen to learn?

Rock. Paper. Scissors.

Tongues among the worlds of men
Are twisted, tangled things - so then
What needs no tongue, no words, no pen?

Scissors. Paper. Rock.

(also, this is my 99th post. Wonder what'll be post 100?)
I write poetry sometimes.

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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1401 on: February 21, 2020, 11:33:53 PM »
Pg 230

Invigilating Outside Thus, And Navigating Detritus

Overall, items appear
To be semi-salvageable.
He directs the seer
To maintain visuals.

To keep an eye out for
The area's inhabitants.
He will watch the outdoors,
While they continue procurement.

He salutes his understanding,
Stood right in the entrance.
They make way clambering
Over the detritus and remnants.

They'll try to find what they need
From the shelves and stock tilting.
Hoping they quickly succeed
In that one particular building...

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

Pg 231

No Observation, Self-Consolation

On top of the scrap-pile
Sit the mage and minder.
Sigrun spots Lalli's profile
But he doesn't find her.

He's not looking her way,
"Just doing his job as he should."
Consoling herself, she says,
He's not distracted so that's good.

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

Pg 232

Gets The Mime, It's About Time

Reynir with head-mounted cat
Kitty's new permanent home.
To the one with furry hat,
There's a fist to him shown.

Misunderstanding her intent,
He gives Sigrun a fist-bump.
That was not what she meant,
The troublesome dumb-dumb.

She waves an open hand,
Then scissors she mimes.
Finally he understands,
Games to pass the time...
« Last Edit: February 21, 2020, 11:58:21 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 #1402 on: February 23, 2020, 10:57:09 PM »
Pg 233

Playing A Heap, Suddenly Sheep

The games go, fro and to,
Winners and losers swap.
Won, lost and drew,
'Til there's a sudden stop.

After a few rounds of
Scissors-rock-paper,
Sigrun is confounded
By a new shape there.

A symbol most strange,
A sheep by the shepherd man.
Making an unexpected change,
With his attention span.
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:

Keep Looking

  • Bragi
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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1403 on: February 24, 2020, 10:19:06 PM »
Adventure 2, Page 234

Sheep eat paper, left unread
And rocks beneath their hooves that tread
A pair of scissors shear their heads
None can beat the sheep, he said.

Bang! The sheep is dead.
I write poetry sometimes.

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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1404 on: February 27, 2020, 04:22:47 AM »
Pg 234

Sheep Can't Beat Sigrun, She Whips Out The Finger Gun

The sheep eats the paper - nom!,
Eats the rock, and well, the scissors
Only give it a shearing! Schipp-schipp!
He thinks that he has it all won!

He's just been truly trumped,
Reynir's invincible sign withers
His all-powerful sheep takes a dip
When she pulls out the finger-gun.

Rock-paper-scissors to charades,
The mage tried to pull a fast one.
Sigrun just wasn't having it,
The lady just got even, not mad.

The Icelandic young lad's
Outplayed and outclassed some.
Now, sadly, he can only sit
And look at his open hand.

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

Pg 235

Games Of Board, Morale Restored!

The shelves Emil rummages
For useful ancient wares.
Taking items of old ages.
He stands and puts on airs.

"We need a dart board for morale."
He holds aloft and declares.
And a Monopoly to take, they shall,
For boredom he cannot bear.

A Rubik's cube and also 'Uno'
Such games fly off the shelves.
He can take as much as he wants, you know,
As long as he carries it all himself.

Still manned the entrance is,
Disinterested as he's prone.
Something spotted by chance
He's seen it unbeknown...
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:

Keep Looking

  • Bragi
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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1405 on: February 27, 2020, 04:35:45 AM »
Adventure 2, Page 235

Beneath the dust that coats these shelves
Long left through winters cold
Are treasures stacked in row on row
From happier times of old

A deck of cards, a rubik’s cube
A dart-board with its darts
A game of dice and business deals
(though one that’s broken hearts)

So take with you what you can bring
As ever on you’ll go
And find a smile when times are dark
A light through rain and snow
I write poetry sometimes.

Icon by the amazing Rithalie from the SSSS discord (rithalie-art.tumblr.com)

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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1406 on: February 28, 2020, 12:02:59 AM »
Pg 236

Creeping Decay, Snap! Snap! "Hey!"

In the distance,
In the shade,
Some existence,
A discovery made.

Statue or sculpture,
Hooded in rot?
Appendages bulbous,
The landscape it blots.

Creeping surrepticious,
Or had it always been there?
The silhouette suspicious,
A hollow figure laid bare.

Skinned in darkness,
Draped in ruin,
"Hey!" you regard this,
Or it'll be your undoing.
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:

Keep Looking

  • Bragi
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  • Preferred pronouns: she/her, they/them
  • Posts: 1169
Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1407 on: February 28, 2020, 01:47:52 AM »
Adventure 2, Page 236

Lurking in the doorway, through
The vines that wrap the rotting beams
Its back is hunched, it slowly moves
As sunlight filters through the leaves

Shrouded in a tattered cloak
Of twisted skins that hang like rags
Or some decaying strands of rope
That fold like empty linen bags

Waiting for a chance to strike
Or calling out for some release
From voices dark that hide the light
And shrouded eyes that cannot see
I write poetry sometimes.

Icon by the amazing Rithalie from the SSSS discord (rithalie-art.tumblr.com)

Ruler of Changi Airport

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  • Bragi
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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1408 on: March 01, 2020, 10:52:24 PM »
Adventure 2, Page 237

It lumbers through the doorway, falling
Into sunlight that’s seeping
On its skin, bulging
It’s feeling
Pain?
No.
Still coming
Hunched low, crawling
Not trapped by shadow, seeking
Those who pass it by. Always waiting.

There is no resting here.
I write poetry sometimes.

Icon by the amazing Rithalie from the SSSS discord (rithalie-art.tumblr.com)

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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1409 on: March 02, 2020, 01:37:04 AM »
Pg 237

Vision Binocular, Aglow Vesicular 

He calls out "Alert!"
To the two collectors.
Attention he diverts
And duly directs there.

With his vision binocular,
He spots at that direction.
The doorway of the structure
Masks a fiend of imperfection.

From the safety of shade,
For an opportunity waiting.
At last, a break made,
With day's cycle rotating.

From the shadows emerging,
Crawls with pustules aglow.
Fiend seeking, searching,
Revolting body, face low.
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: