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Author Topic: Poetry collection  (Read 229274 times)

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #675 on: August 03, 2016, 01:26:02 AM »
Pg 572

Similar Jobs, Helping Poor Mobs

Her path is clear, She
Can leave when she pleases.
But she remains here
To help others find Jesus.

She was a spirit guide too,
Of a kind at least.
Helping lost souls through,
Akin to a female priest.

The two here however,
Are in no need of such aid.
One Icelandic mage blether,
The other, the forest made.

Both men living still,
So no need of a guide.
But if looks could kill,
Would she convert to her side?
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He got hit on the head
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #676 on: August 03, 2016, 11:37:10 PM »
Pg 573

Reynir Entreats, While Onni Eats

The rag the two chew,
While Onni shovels cake.
Sad spirits pursue.
Yet more Onni takes...

The ghosts could be led
To the church goer bygone.
She will help the redhead.
While Onni shovels on...

The church of this nun,
Location is called for.
Having finished his one,
Onni still spoons some more...

No more words to say,
While he stuffs his face.
Now that's out of the way,
He'll eat through this place.
« Last Edit: August 05, 2016, 03:49:06 AM by corncobman »
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #677 on: August 05, 2016, 03:48:35 AM »
Pg 574

Air Red, There Dead

A struggle mental,
She's forced to endure.
A shift transcendental,
The scenes start to blur.

Can't remember really,
As she clutches her head.
Uncomfortable feeling,
It's all swathed in red.

Glimpsed fate of mater's,
Taken out of a space.
Medicinal containers,
But no hope for this case.

A reminder of last moments,
Someone carried out.
A showing of past portents.
The cause of her doubt.

Distant echoes shown somehow,
Memories all but erased.
The location is lost now.
Scene snaps back to place.
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A man left his Icelandic home
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He got hit on the head
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #678 on: August 07, 2016, 10:28:37 PM »
Pg 575

Memory Decay, Named Only 'A'.

No location procured,
Coming up nil.
But they will find her,
Correction - he will.

Asking her name,
Of that, can't even say.
Only the first letter came.
Even doubtful it's 'A'.

Whatever it was,
Sounds nice, he believes.
She agrees, so she does,
But now it's time to leave.
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A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
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Odd word here and there: :japan:

Rhynerd

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #679 on: August 08, 2016, 09:06:26 AM »
From Page 275:

Two Weeks By Grizzly Bear, modified for SSSS:


Filling false medbays,
This hospice we made.
Our goal is simply:
To keep the rash at bay.

I'll be logging,
As the time flies.
I'll keep healing,
They'll be fine.

Red among the grays,
This bar is a maze.
Gets worse every day,
And now they pass away.

One other has died.
Quarter left alive
Dear god, one's turning!
Quick keep the troll at bay!

I keep logging.
As the sores rise.
It's not easy,
Watch them die.

No more logging,
They have all died
More are turning,
Will we die?

Hurry!
Block lines!
This way!
Hide!
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Rhynerd

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #680 on: August 08, 2016, 09:46:37 AM »
For the first poem in one of my Creative Writing courses, I was assigned to do a poem. I ended up using SSSS as inspiration.
Here is the first draft:
Spoiler: show
Rashes

The bar wept as its floor became a hospice,
Watching beds and curtains replace booths and tables,
And patrons become patients.

The new staff worked as machines,
Fighting ruby rashes and carnelians,
Cataloging every cabochon.

The first week developed a maze,
And Onyx cysts filled it on the second,
Staining the sheets sanguine.

The other rooms became morgues,
As bloated logbooks finally found their rest,
And the bar had its last call.

Here is the second:
Spoiler: show
Rashes

The bar wept as its floor became a hospice,
Watching beds and curtains replace booths and tables,
And patrons become patients.

The new staff worked as machines,
Fighting ruby rashes and carnelians,
Cataloging every cabochon.

The first week developed a maze,
And Onyx cysts filled it on the second,
Staining the sheets sanguine.

The other rooms became morgues,
As bloated logbooks finally found their rest,
And the bar had its last call.

The pink slips were doled in brass,
Behind the barricades of sinopia beds,
Lest the rashes rise up again.

And here's the Genesis of both (hyperlinks are provided to each page used as inspiration):
Spoiler: show
Genesis for Rashes:
I had gained a bit of curiosity about the “shifting tropes” style when reading about it in Serious Daring. The example of something I could try it on was a modification of lyrics I had done for fun for the web comic Stand Still. Stay Silent. It had taken the song Two Weeks by the band Grizzly Bear and changed it to fit the page that came out that day, most likely from the point of view of the person who wrote the book the page depicted (you can see the modification in its original form here, if you desire). As you can see, I ended up running with that idea, only with the more fantastic portion of the story cut out. One of the goals here was to focus on the escalation of the disease, and how the world slowly fell apart thanks to it. The second goal was to come close to creating the scene both depicted here and on the page already linked twice in this genesis. Fingers are crossed that this idea will end up being rather concrete and my use of tropes will help to produce a nice rhythm, but knowing that this is just the first draft I expect many mistakes to appear through the eyes of whoever ends up reading this version.
Revision Genesis:
Most of the feedback on the poem was positive, there were only two leads for improvement. The first was about the use of “sanguine” being too positive, which was also complimented. Checking a list of shades of red, “sinopia” (a brownish red) would work as well, but the stresses on it are a bit too extreme, and the rhythm would be tampered with if I used it as a replacement. The second was that the poem wasn’t clear enough, which inspired adding a fifth stanza which will hopefully assist in clarifying the situation. For this one, I looked to this page here for inspiration for an extension to the narrative that would hopefully wrap things up further. While I did find one comment about the openness it had interesting, there was much less interpretation and much more “what’s this about?”
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Róisín

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #681 on: August 08, 2016, 10:19:40 AM »
That's a dark and interesting take on the scene. I hope you will keep making poetry.
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Rhynerd

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #682 on: August 08, 2016, 09:01:16 PM »
Thanks!
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Rhynerd

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #683 on: August 09, 2016, 12:25:48 AM »
Although I do also have a few song lyric modification I've yet to post here, according to my list of posts.

This one's from page 276:

Quote
Heck, let's see if I can do what I did with the same to One More Last Song by Kaiser Chiefs the same thing I did to Two Weeks yesterday!

One More Last Page:

Trolls and ice,
Keep on cleansing,
cats in training
Hold the line!

Close the case,
see the funding,
what can we lessen?
Yes, the lives!

Don't ask for any more
Go grab anyone,
I promise the council,
We'll work with what we can,
(And get some good books!)

More give us more, we want more, ay, ay, ay
Everybody wait another week
More give us more, we want more, ay, ay, ay
Everybody push on right through the break.

Two from Ice,
And then Emil,
Scouts and Skalds
Trains on time!

All's arrived,
load the tank,
break it's flank
Let us ride!

Go open the main door
Watch for any trolls,
I promise officer,
We won't be breaking any laws,
(Well not the bad ones!)

More give us more, we want more, ay, ay, ay
Everybody waiting for two weeks.
More give us more, we want more, ay, ay, ay
Everybody push on straight through the break.

Oh, every page is like the one more last page
Every page is like the one more last page
More give us more, we want more, ay, ay, ay
One more last page!

Don't open up that door
Hurry off the floor,
I promise now Mikkel,
We haven't burned up any books,
(Well not the bad ones!)

More give us more, we want more, ay, ay, ay
Everybody waiting for two weeks
More give us more, we want more, ay, ay, ay
Everybody push straight on through the break.
Oh, every page is like the one more last page
Every page is like the one more last page
More give us more, we want more, ay, ay, ay
Оne more last page
More give us more, we want more, ay, ay, ay
Everybody waiting for two weeks
More give us more, we want more, ay, ay, ay
Everybody push straight on through the break.
Oh, every page is like the one more last page
Every page is like the one more last page
More give us more, we want more, ay, ay, ay
One more last page!

One more last page!
One more last page!
One more last page!
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #684 on: August 09, 2016, 02:50:59 AM »
Pg 576

Sighting, Lighting, Even Trolls Biting

A spectral solo steed,
Roaming the rubble,
For foul flesh to feed,
To even trolls, trouble.

Galloping, great and gross,
Manoeuvering for morsels.
Charging, chomping, close,
Haunting horror horse hell.

Scared skeletons shy aside,
From the ethereal equine there
Fleeing figments, terrified, of
The nasty gnawing night-mare.

Creatures cowardly clear,
From this intangible thing,
Hinder or halt it here, for
A song of extinction it sings.
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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

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Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #685 on: August 09, 2016, 11:09:55 PM »
Pg 577

Corral, Light, Dark, Et Al

Shadows and glows,
Like unholy breeds.
The numbers grow,
In a savage stampede.

A light and dark charge,
In the shadows of night.
Foul legion at large.
Darkness dances with unlight.

Pursuers bottlenecking,
Black shades like a net.
To meet their reckoning,
And absorbing, amalgamate.

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

I'm Not Alone (based on You're Not Alone by Embrace)

No, I'm not alone
'Cause all my spirit friends are having fun
But none will hear your screams
We're gonna be a different kind of team

And all you critters know that
There's no escape from us
You still try and flee
I've got time

You try so hard, you join the throng
You can't deny the spirits won
It's time you stopped and let us feed

So, keep running on
Thy kingdom come
We'll join right up
There's no way back
So stop, it's absurd
You just a part of the herd, of dead

We need every body
To supplement, for better
This fated medley
Will be a super being, you see
We need every body
All of you now
And soon our time will come
Yeah, they'll know what we are

No, we're not alone
'Cause everyone will be swept and overthrown
And you can't just flee the scene
We'll all be like a tidal wave of genes

You try so hard, you're not so strong
You can't deny we'll be as one
It's time you stopped and let us feed

So, stop running on
Our will be done
We'll join right up
There's no way back
So stop, it's absurd
You just a part of the herd, of dead

We need every body
To supplement, for better
This fated medley
Will be a super being, you see
We need every body
All of you now
And soon our time will come

So just stop, it's absurd,
You just a part of the herd, of dead

We need every body
To supplement, for better
This fated medley
Will be a super being, you see
We need every body
All of you now
But no, it's just the end of the world
Better join up the herd, of dead

We need every body
To supplement, for better
« Last Edit: August 10, 2016, 09:11:56 AM by corncobman »
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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:

MegaJar

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #686 on: August 10, 2016, 11:25:46 PM »
(Pg. 577)

Filk time!

Horrors of the Night
(to the tune of Pat Benatar's Shadows of the Night)
----------------------------------------

We're running from the horrors of the night.
So baby take my hand, let's flee in fright.
Suppress your desperate screams for me tonight.
Or we'll both meet our end.

You said, oh girl, in the Silent World,
Better keep your voice to yourself.
I said we must hide, on the inside,
From the ghostly hordes of hell.
Run from the monsters, baby, don't look back,
Let 'em eat somebody else!

We're running from the horrors of the night.
So baby take my hand, let's flee in fright.
Suppress your desperate screams for me tonight.
Or we'll both meet our end.

You know, sometimes, it feels like
The ghosts're moving way too fast.
Use every alibi, put on a disguise,
And hope that they run past.
You can cry tough later, it's alright.
But we shouldn't breathe easy -- they hunt tonight!

We're running from the horrors of the night.
So baby take my hand, let's flee in fright.
Suppress your desperate screams for me tonight.
Or we'll both meet our end.

We're running from the horrors of the night.
So baby take my hand, let's flee in fright.
Suppress your desperate screams for me tonight.
Or we'll both meet our end.
And now we're Staying Silent, Standing Still.
Midnight monsters, please don't start to kill!

We're running from the horrors of the night.
So baby take my hand, let's flee in fright.
Suppress your desperate screams for me tonight.
Or we'll both meet our end.
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #687 on: August 11, 2016, 02:07:25 AM »
Pg 578

Beasts Displaced, A Tired Face

Creatures of spirit,
Continue their chase.
Running off, to wit,
For the group to face.

The Soul-Horse rears back,
And stares off to space.
Sockets, which eyes lack,
Doth detecting life's trace?

Meanwhile, in daytime,
At a span of many leagues.
The partnets in crime,
Continue their intrigue.

For breakfast a rally,
At morning's peak.
But that face on Lalli,
A look of fatigue.
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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:
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Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #688 on: August 12, 2016, 04:42:16 AM »
Pg 579

Finished Patrols, Ready For More Trolls

Scout returns with a wave,
Get the maps to scrive.
He's feeling a bit grave,
Place has got many things alive.

The road is fine though,
So they can travel some more.
The area's activity grows,
But that's what weapons are for.

The platoon's radio sounds,
Onni wants to have a chinwag.
Mikkel, hearing, comes round,
Some more trolling to snag.

Lalli goes over to Braidy,
Looking past Little Bo Peep.
Seeing something, afraid, he
Can only articulate: "Eep!".
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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 #689 on: August 14, 2016, 10:48:14 PM »
Pg 580

Just An Omen, What A Showman!

A phantom spectral,
In the light of day.
Making Reynir stressful,
Don't know what to say.

Foreshadowing potential,
Only visible to some.
Just an omen celestial,
Stop looking so dumb!

Grabbing Lalli's sides,
Acting like he knows.
His worry he hides,
In a pretentious pose.

Lalli most displeased,
At the Icelandic's show.
He wants to get free.
Will it come to blows?
Logged
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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