For those who realized that the title is a Floyd song, screw you. For those who don't, screw you anyway. This is an excellent post. In this, I'm going to be posting all the 'poems' I wrote, while sitting at the KPN Bus Stand, waiting for an eleven 'o' clock bus, that turned up only at eleven forty five. This is the product of an idle mind, a devil's workshop. Hence the title. QED. By the way, these are more couplets than actual poems. I don't have the patience to write an entire poem.
1. Comets streak the gloomy sky,
brand my heart, I know not why.
Touch a chord within me,
I think I like astronomy.
2. Doubt not the hope of man,
doubt not his desire.
Stain not his character,
nor his attire.
3. Forever lost in thought shall I be,
forever lost in doubt.
Forever trying to rid of thee,
trying to throw you out.
4. She ripped a hole in his heart,
the size of her fist.
She did a lot more,
this is just the gist.
Confounded? Well, I did start every couplet with the intention of writing a serious, proper one. Unfortunately, the dark side took over each time with the above. However, the mark of a man is in his conquering his own spirit. So, I managed to actually write a few serious poems (atleast to me). Here they are.
5. You chant, war is what we hate,
war is what we loathe,
war is as useful as a run aground boat.
Know then that you are a fool.
Peace we desire,
War is but a tool.
6. He limped down the street,
down the road he hobbled.
He tripped and fell,
upon the stones cobbled.
They helped him up, they did,
They asked of him, his story sordid.
Never a larger audience did listen to him.
He sat them down and told them,
the story of his limp.
Vietnam, he called it.
Vietcong, he named them.
A hero he was,
ere a bullet made him maim.
7. In the land of the dead, he roams.
Alone for eternity, his fate he mourns.
Purge his spirit he must, to enter the pearly gates.
Cleanse your soul they say, or a fiery hell awaits.
All this was before loss of power in my hostel for about two hours. Sitting in the dark, I actually managed to write an entire poem. I think this really combines both the types above.
8. So alighted her delicate form,
from the wavering boat.
I felt pangs of passion,
with my lips, hers I smote.
They touched but a second,
she pulled away,
a moments lust,
thrown away.
"I am not the one you pine for.
She died a while ago.
I am not the one you long for,
She drowned in her sorrow."
Her words are heard,
not understood.
He steps out beside her,
a hollow sound upon the wood.
Against her will,
she had been forced to marry.
He owned a mill, they said
and also a quarry.
I will never forget her face that day,
It is etched into my memory, as if today.
My life seemed empty,
my soul seemed hollow,
My eyes stared vacantly.
as if to follow.
Her every move,
in the space of our lives,
in a means to disprove,
her little lies.
"They would condemn us!", she said,
"Burn us at the stake.
Accuse us of heresy,
and throw us into the lake."
And so I agreed to forget,
her love for fear of them.
Thats why I sit here yet,
writing this lesbian love poem.
Thats it. This is what I have managed to compose in the last two days. I assure you I have given up my wayward ways. No more poetry for me. I initially took it up because my best friend kidn of challenged me to. Blame this burden on him..
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1 comment:
Good stuff dude... liked the Vietnam one! :)
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