Author Topic: Poetry collection  (Read 240821 times)

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #930 on: December 03, 2017, 11:37:10 PM »
Pg 824

Deprivation, Deflation, Desolation


The trio in loss,
Lonely journey must make,
Thoughts in chaos,
While this they undertake.

Mikkel's calm exterior,
The others juxtaposed.
Atmosphere drearier,
Feeling isolated, exposed.

Two minds in turmoil,
For which no consolation.
Irrevocably spoilt,
Thus their vacation.

Elimination systematic,
No matter what they do.
Mentally traumatic,
Difficult to eschew.
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 #931 on: December 04, 2017, 09:20:30 PM »
Pg 825

Virtually Flatline, Waking Feline

Wearily stumble,
Heavily land.
Resistances crumble
Like a castle of sand.

Teamwork collapsed,
Debilitation can't shake.
Body and mind gassed,
A fall with no break.

Spirit all but spent,
Activity close to flat.
The sound of the descent,
Wakes the slumbering cat.

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

Desperate Days (based on Separate Ways by Journey)

Here we stand
Worlds apart, hearts broken in two, two, two
Sleepless nights
Losing ground, I'm mourning for you, you, you
Feelin' that it's gone, can't walk on blind
If we can't go on, to survive the tide
Dark divides

Sad days always find you
Worse times aren't behind you
Death has now resigned you
Worse to come
And these are desperate days

This trip always hurts you
Cannot fully nurse you
Bad luck seems to curse you
Worse to come
And these are desperate days

Troubled times
Caught between confusion and pain, pain, pain
Losing lives
Promises we made were in vain, in vain, in vain
Can't let them go, you can't give up
Don't just walk alone, wait, just wait up
Just hold up

Sad days always find you
Worse times aren't behind you
Death has now resigned you
Worse to come
And these are desperate days

This trip always hurts you
Cannot fully nurse you
Bad luck seems to curse you
Worse to come
And these are desperate days

Oooooooooh

Sad days always find you
Worse times aren't behind you
Death has now resigned you
Worse to come
And these are desperate days

This trip always hurts you
Ever growing worse too
Bad luck seems to curse you
Worse to come
And these are desperate days

Eyes close and hit the dirt
Brief release from this hurt
Bad luck seems to curse you
Ever growing worse too

Nooooooooo
Nooooooooo
« Last Edit: December 05, 2017, 01:08:43 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 #932 on: December 06, 2017, 09:12:52 PM »
Pg 826

Face-down In Slush, Aid In A Rush

A sound of a 'prrh?'
On the barrow sits.
Mikkel asks her,
Asking "what is it?"

Looking back to see,
On the ground he finds,
Sigrun lying and she's
Of unsound body and mind.

"Stay there" he commands
Reynir to remain.
Help is now at hand
From the medical Dane.
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 #933 on: December 07, 2017, 09:43:30 PM »
Pg 827

Self Mocking, Cold Shocking

Overexerted herself,
Mikkel will carry her the rest.
For the good of her health,
No! She's failed the test!

Leave her behind,
She's not meant to return.
Safe carriage declined,
Refuge she hasn't earned.

Sigrun has became weak,
And as a leader she failed.
Death in disgrace she seeks,
"The gods will it" she wails.

Mikkel will have none of it,
Grabbing her by the scruff.
A pile of snow shoves in,
Into her back the medic stuffs...
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 #934 on: December 10, 2017, 09:41:49 PM »
Pg 828

Sadness With Anger Replaced, Shake About Face

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
Sigrun loudly exclaims.
No longer feeling blue,
Her anger thus enflamed.

Then grabbing, the medic,
Her visage he shakes.
Will it do the trick?
Survive whatever it takes.

"Are you thinking straight again?"
Asks the burly farmer man.
"Now listen closely" then,
Back to the mission at hand...
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 #935 on: December 11, 2017, 10:31:43 PM »
Pg 829

Oh Humiliation, Prrr Commutation

It's not time to give in,
So buck up and dig deep.
Back safely he'll bring,
Either awake or asleep.

Help Mikkel will provide,
Whether you like it or not.
So, Sigrun, take a ride,
Before he gives you a shot!

So on the barrow he plops,
Sigrun with no dignity.
Are you comfortable on top?
Embarrassment's epitome.

It's been a heavy day.
"Prrr", agrees mascot kitty.
"We'll set camp soon", he says,
As Sigrun lies in humility.


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 #936 on: December 13, 2017, 09:22:54 PM »
Pg 830

Call The Hearse, Infection Way Worse

In a broken old shack,
The trio set up tent.
Of energy there's a lack,
Sigrun feels almost spent.

Round her neck a sweater,
Totally unlike before.
"Are you feeling any better?"
Why, she's on death's door!

Her infection's gotten worse,
But is it in her mind?
According to Mister Nurse,
Better than yesterday he finds.
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 #937 on: December 14, 2017, 10:45:21 PM »
Pg 831

10% Physicality, 90% Mentality, Story Not Reality?

Not everyone knows this.
Our health's determination,
By not physical fitness,
But ninety percent imagination.

So he thinks, correct?
That she imagines being sick?
Rather her mind may affect
Recovery, slow or quick.

So the medic tells a tale,
Of two men in fishing industry.
One's psyche was frail,
Like he would die out at sea.

The other's mind was steel,
Attacked by a sea beast nasty.
Guts shredded, in a week healed
Back to working capacity.

The first got a paper cut, and
Died of multiple organ failure.
It was all in his nut, the
Poor feeble-minded sailor.
« Last Edit: December 14, 2017, 11:59:41 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 #938 on: December 17, 2017, 11:51:08 PM »
Pg 832

Weak Will Or Strong, Where Did It All Go Wrong?

You must have seen it
Happen yourself, Sigrun.
The strong will not to quit,
Or not, when they have none.

"Yeah", saying Sigrun, she,
Has seen it happen prior,
In her own hands recovery will be,
He can't dig her out of this mire.

Mikkel is quite surprised,
At the poor reaction of hers.
Her great experience belies,
The torture that she suffers.

It weighs on her conscience,
The sadness she exudes.
She's never experienced
A failure of this magnitude.
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 #939 on: December 18, 2017, 11:51:51 PM »
Pg 833

Torn Asunder, Her Many Blunders

Never, not like this.
Unlike this before.
That's not what this is,
Not dying like a warrior.

It's more like a test
Of her worth in this role,
When she is hard pressed,
Combat trained, just her sole.

When she is not among,
The highly trained of her peers.
By her own petard she was hung,
Her joy replaced by her tears.

Their mission all but messed,
Everything that could went awry.
Didn't do her most best,
And so self-disqualified.

Mishappenings everywhere,
Exuberance thus curtailed.
Now sitting here in despair,
Feeling like she has failed.
« Last Edit: December 19, 2017, 12:01:01 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 #940 on: December 22, 2017, 12:29:33 AM »
Pg 834

Purpose To Die? Wrong! Here's Why!

Her purpose foremost and first,
Was to protect everyone.
Now that it's reversed,
How can Sigrun go on?

If someone had to die,
It should have been her.
How can she go home, she sighs,
If they can't, dear sir.

"Look," says the farm-lander,
"I highly disagree with all that."
She wasn't even a real commander,
Being picked by the bureaucrats.

You can't be a real leader,
If you haven't faced defeat,
And overcoming it indeed,
Or your mistakes you'll repeat.
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 #941 on: December 26, 2017, 09:10:23 PM »
Pg 835

No Towel Throwing, The Test Is Ongoing

What happened was a test,
Maybe you're right, Sigrun.
But from the man unexpressed,
The test has only begun.

If you give up everything,
You weren't worthy after all.
Surrender here wallowing,
Or fight on, it's your call.

From one look to another,
His words of impact astute.
From sadness and guilt smothering,
To hopefulness minute.

Will Mikkel's bait
To rally leader succeed?
Does he lift the weight and
Can her gloominess be freed?
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 #942 on: December 28, 2017, 10:52:56 PM »
Pg 836

Weightless Virtually, Smiling Externally

"I'll still be a burden to
You two." Sigrun says.
Can't walk as fast as you,
Can't aim while in a haze.

She'll slow them some if
She's on the stupid barrow.
"It's quite alright" from him,
They've been barely slowed.

He doesn't mind pushing along,
She weighs nothing virtually.
But he somehow looks wrong,
When he's smiling happily...

Can't tell if serious,
Or if he's telling tall tales.
He must find this hilarious,
So tending her ails.
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 #943 on: January 01, 2018, 03:22:37 AM »
Pg 837

Not For This Role, Shoot At The Fence Pole

"Come. Let's go," says Mikkel,
"Let's have supper." He goes on.
But he needs fighting skills,
If Sigrun's to pass the baton.

She hands her rifle to him,
But not for him to carry.
His aim, in his view, dim,
The Danish apothecary.

She says "Don't be silly",
He's been trained, at least a bit.
Can't be working, really,
In the military without it.

His protests maintaining,
This request's troublesome.
It's not the training,
It's a spacial awareness problem.

"No excuses!" Drop the pretence!
If Sigrun's not to die,
To shoot at the fence,
Mikkel at least has to try...
« Last Edit: January 01, 2018, 09:27:39 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 #944 on: January 02, 2018, 12:28:09 AM »
Pg 838

Bullets Unguided, Not Bad, If Not Sighted

He takes aim carefully,
He fires from his gun.
His aim is bad, truly,
He hits with not one.

As a shooter, he's unfit,
Targetting ability be darned.
The farmer can't hit
The broad side of a barn.

His target pristine,
Though the surroundings not.
His eyes not exactly keen,
As evidenced by his shots.

"Hmh. You're not bad", she says,
For a person who's blind.
She has for the remaining days,
Another solution to find.

The medic's handicap severe,
Puts her plan in a crimp.
So next, maybe Reynir,
To make not-a-wimp...
« Last Edit: January 02, 2018, 12:42:40 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: