Random Poetry

[The Master]

Wonderful poem I discovered from The Office:

Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough
It isn't fit for humans now,
There isn't grass to graze a cow
Swarm over, Death!

Come, bombs, and blow to smithereens
Those air-conditioned, bright canteens,
Tinned fruit, tinned meat, tinned milk, tinned beans
Tinned minds, tinned breath.

Mess up the mess they call a town --
A house for ninety-seven down
And once a week for half-a-crown
For twenty years,

And get that man with double chin
Who'll always cheat and always win,
Who washes his repulsive skin
In women's tears,

And smash his desk of polished oak
And smash his hands so used to stroke
And stop his boring dirty joke
And make him yell.

But spare the bald young clerks who add
The profits of the stinking cad;
It's not their fault that they are mad,
They've tasted Hell.

It's not their fault they do not know
The birdsong from the radio,
It's not their fault they often go
To Maidenhead

And talk of sports and makes of cars
In various bogus Tudor bars
And daren't look up and see the stars
But belch instead.

In labour-saving homes, with care
Their wives frizz out peroxide hair
And dry it in synthetic air
And paint their nails.

Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough
To get it ready for the plough.
The cabbages are coming now;
The earth exhales.
John Betjeman
_________________
"napalm is nature's toothpaste"

[The Master]

Here is another which I would consider to be poetry. I like it so much it is even glorified in my sig (for now). From Godspeed You! Black Emperor's the dead flag blues (even better with the music behind it. Check it out if you have never heard it: F#A#∞):


the car's on fire and there's no driver at the wheel
and the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides
and a dark wind blows
the government is corrupt
and we're on so many drugs
with the radio on and the curtains drawn

we're trapped in the belly of this horrible machine
and the machine is bleeding to death

the sun has fallen down
and the billboards are all leering
and the flags are all dead at the top of their poles

it went like this:

the buildings tumbled in on themselves
mothers clutching babies picked through the rubble
and pulled out their hair

the skyline was beautiful on fire
all twisted metal stretching upwards
everything washed in a thin orange haze

i said: "kiss me, you're beautiful --
these are truly the last days"

you grabbed my hand and we fell into it like a daydream or a fever

we woke up one morning and fell a little further down --
for sure it's the valley of death

i open up my wallet and it's full of blood
_________________
"napalm is nature's toothpaste"

[The Mayor]

i got another one for my lov stuie who is so awesome hugs and kisses all over

my love is like an icicle
it melts and hangs from a tree
continental drift is wonderful
it brings you closer to me
_________________
"If you're a cop, deadly force is the last thing you want to use. However, if you're a really twisted cop, a weapon that leaves a suspect flopping about like an epileptic puppy is dead-bang perfect."

[Stuie]

oh mayor you're so sweet and sexy too, i wrote you one as well.

it makes me sad that you're so far
the happiest i'll ever be
is when i come to visit you
and find out if you're he or she
_________________
^{"Kicking a kitten... a grown man punting a kitten who was looking the other way... It was the bravest thing I've ever seen." - Torg}

[The Master]

All right, here is a really lame poem from Billy Collins:
Sonnet
All we need is fourteen lines, well, thirteen now
And after this one just a dozen
To launch a little ship on love's storm-tossed seas,
Then only ten more left like rose of beans.
How easily it goes unless you get Elizabethan
And insist the iambic bongos must be played
And rhymes position at the end of lines,
one for every station on the cross.
But hang on here while we make the turn
Into the final six where all will be resolved,
Where longing and heartache will find an end,
Where Laura will tell Petrarch to put down his pen,
Take off those crazy medieval tights,
Blow out the lights, and come at last to bed.

I really don't like this poem and neither did my coworker. So he created one of the most amazing poems ever written. It is seriously one of my favourites:
SONNET
for Billy Collins with love
Oh Billy, who had the heart
To logically beat into you
Some uncaterwauled notion
Of what is art and how
We breed it? I'll tell you
Now: we should mourn
The loss of the telegraph.
And yes, Billy, the moon
Shone harder in Greek.
I have a rough time
Letting myself fall, mauled.
But the tarpits call and if I
Bring a comfort, it will be only
You, inverted, gaping, moutless.
_________________
"napalm is nature's toothpaste"

[Xander]

Like a raisin in your cookie
when you want a chocolate chip,
like banana-peels avoided
til the wax floor makes you slip,
the twists and turns of this old life
can catch you unawares,
I can't think of a rhyme for that...
oh heck, let's have a beer.

[Travis*]

Well, that certainly was refreshing after all the bombs and twisted metal. Good one!

[The Mayor]

aww my 'ittle honey bee
you sting and make my butt swell
i want you to come here too
i would give a rose from me
with thorns that hurt and me yell
just to get a little piece of you\

xxxoooxxx
the mayor
_________________
"If you're a cop, deadly force is the last thing you want to use. However, if you're a really twisted cop, a weapon that leaves a suspect flopping about like an epileptic puppy is dead-bang perfect."

[Ikuret Oti]

“I Do Not Cry for Blindness”
by Ikuret Oti (pseudonymn)

O cry does the child,
O cry does he.
For around is only darkness
For he cannot see.

O cry does the child,
O cry does he,
For the world he sees is nowhere
For he cannot see.

“Fool!” said the man.
“Can you not see? Your hand
Is the key
To feel the land.

“Fool!” said the man.
“Can you not see? Your ear
Is the key
That lets you hear.”

“Old man! Can you not see?
I do not cry
For blindness,
But for my sweet lover who will die.”

[Jedo the Jedi]

Here's one that I wrote a few years ago for English class. I know the meter is off a bit, but I never got around to making it flow better.

All the screaming, all the yelling,
All the pain and strife.
I have had to deal with it
For nearly all my life.

The anger welling up inside
I just have to let it out.
When I release the monster,
He will want to rage about.

I do not know what to do
With all this pent up rage.
I cannot carry it with me
Through the end of the age.

Snakes, wriggling inside me
Want to spit and hiss.
If I do not remove them
I may be thrown into the Abyss.

If I do not learn to love
And stop with all this hate,
I may find myself standing
Outside the Pearly Gates.

I will be left out in the darkness
Never to see the Light again.
There will be weeping and some gnashing
Among the forgotten men.

I wish to choose another road,
The one that is meant for me.
Or could it be that this one is
My path of destiny?

If this is my chosen track
Perhaps in my distress
I should just end my life
And speed up the process.

So I find my father's gun
And point it at my head.
I know before I pull the trigger
That I will soon be dead.

[Tahnan]

Belated, I know, but I happen to love "Sonnet" by Billy Collins, and I'm not at all sure what The Master's coworker's response is getting at.

[Lauritz Melchior]

This is my favorite poem:

Ode To A Nightingale


My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
’Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,—
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves;
And mid-May’s eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—
To thy high requiem become a sod.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?

-John Keats

I love his Odes.
_________________
2500th member give or take 3

[Hitchhiker]

First you've got your mafia.
It's a Family affair --
They keep your town well organized
(It's all because they care).

Then you've got your townies,
Who haven't got a clue:
Whoever baa's the loudest,
The sheep will follow you.

And don't forget the cops,
Though they stay out of sight.
They search the town for scum
And hope to find some every night.

And what about the doctor,
Sipping whiskey from a cup?
If your torso's been a target,
Ol' Doc will stitch you up.

There might even be some masons.
If there are, then they won't say.
Only the other masons know --
I'm not one. Nope. No way.

[jesus_saves*]

this poem is written by a dear friend of mine and i like it alot.

a still life image (sort of):

a teakettle, with steam still coming out
a half-full mug, with the teabag
on the side of the saucer.
a notebook and a pen
uncapped. a book of poetry
opened to page 236
(which is dog-eared)
she'll be right back.

[Ningal]

José María Zonta, translated by Carlos Reyes
Keep Speaking German

to the statues of Medellín

tell them all that I am fine
working a lot

that the flu is going away
and I'm much thinner

that I liked the gifts a lot

that an Australian poet wrote me
from his den of kangaroos

that the airplane ticket included
a glass of wine that I haven't finished
that illuminates the street you must cross
to get here

that our house
was attacked
by a bird that knew your name
and turned you into my house

tell everyone I wrote
and I am happy

except for the fat woman from Botero
tell her the truth.

[Jedo the Jedi]

One of my favorite poems.

To laugh is to risk appearing the fool,
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental,
To reach out for another is to risk involvement,
To expose feelings is to risk exposing true self,
To place your ideas, your dreams before the crowd is to risk their loss,
To love is to risk not being loved in return,
To live is to risk dying,
To hope is to risk despair,
To try is to risk failure,
But risk must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.
The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, and is nothing.
He may avoid suffering and sorrow, but he simply cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, live.
Chained by his certitudes, he is a slave, he has forfeited freedom.
Only a person who risks - is free.

Author unknown

[Sniklac16]

I know everyone has been eager to hear a recent poem from me since I am the random Poet. The thing is I don't have one but I will post one as soon as I finish the one I'm working on.
_________________
What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.

[Sniklac16]

Well i just recently finished two poems. Here they are:

sitting in this empty room
no where to go from here
my heart explodes like a sonic boom
nothing left in me but fear
Everything becomes a blur
Slowly falling down
Speech becomes a slur
All my tears they weigh a pound
Get up off this cold floor
Head swimming with thoughts
I fall against the door
As I realize all my faults
My love for you will never die
No matter how many angels fly

[Sniklac16]

As I lay my head down to sleep
I look up and see the stars shining high above
I look over, see the peaceful, shimmering pond
I dream of that place, there she is but a dove

She is but the center of my world
She, who walks on water only for me
I who flies to the heavens for only her
And only she can set me free

She is beautiful, that girl of mine
Her might unknown and unstoppable
Her genus unparalleled, except by her beauty
And that beauty, it is unmeasurable

This is a great new day
My view of the world is altered
I have a new life this great day
And no, I've not, no, I have not faltered

I recognize her unending beauty
I feel her overriding power
I want to be part of that presence
Oh, how I long for that hour

[CzarJ]

I had a stint where I wrote lots and lots of poetry. Let me see if I can dig some up that's anywhere remotely near good.

....Nope. I'll put some here anyway.

Hmm, here's a sad, self-righteous poem:

On the Loss of Life When Haunted by a Final Promise of Love

I have seen tomorrow yesterday,
And every day that man creates in emptiness
And casts into the fire,
And every day God feeds us in our hunger
To be vomited and eaten again,
And every day that fades into every selfsame night,
So that soon tomorrow, more still like yesterday, is dead,
And so am I.
And every day the weak sun rises and the sunrise dies
So the day is just another day without a painted heart,
And living has no art.

When the clock was turned to face the wall you said
"There is still enough time."
And with the clock still turned to face the wall I said
"There was never enough time."
And you squeezed my hand and I coughed and the clock stopped.

And the flower coming from the ground realizes its mistake,
But just a day too late
To crawl between forget-me-nots
And fields of roses on the heath
With bodies underneath.
~~~~~
Here's an angry, screwed-up poem:

How to Write Poetry

II.
Poetry is an expression of the soul
(write down your soul in imperfect words;
tell others your secrets in imperfect words--
ink is thicker than blood)

III.
Remember your audience
(they won't remember you
when your words with empty rhymes
fade in the crisp winter air)

IV.
Figurative language will convey your message
(your message is a crying child and a dead mother;
your message is a lost child
and my heart is a grapefruit spoon)

V.
Be careful with your punctuation
(...? *!, --
&~#...~#??
!. !!!.
.................
'''''''''''''''''
&.....X?)

VI.
Bleed

I.
Pick a topic from a hat and burn it
(BURN YOUR GRANDMOTHER'S SWEATER
AND THE PICTURE OF YOUR WIFE
BURN THE BIRDS AND THE SUNRISE
AND THE HOUSE THAT YOU GREW UP IN
BURN THE HAT, BURN THE ASHES, START AGAIN)
~~~~~
Here's a happy poem (I like this one the best):

Fishbowl

I went fishing yesterday
and caught one named Another Day.
She said "Goodbye, I cannot stay"
and swam so very far away.
Where have you gone, Another Day?
I saw you just the other day
beneath the ice so cold and grey.
I'll wait for you another day--
another and another and
forever and a day.

It's such sweet bliss to kiss a fish.

[Jedo the Jedi]

Not quite so random, I suppose, but poetry nonetheless. If my english assignments keep up the way they are, you can probably expect more poetry from me, though it may not be all that good since it is forced.

This is supposed to be modeled after The Shepherd to His Love by Christopher Marlowe.

You sit there looking mighty serene
As I finish conducting this scene,
Of my masterpiece that is for you
To express the love between us two.

When all is through and the day is done,
We shall sit together and be One.
Watching that which I have directed,
And see our love truly reflected.

You’ve been portrayed by a shining star
(But more beautiful are you by far),
And me looking like a humble boy
Who has just seen his life’s greatest joy.

Those on the screen accurately show
All that none but us do truly know.
How when I first saw that angel there,
I knew we would make a lovely pair.

The courtship had then taken its flight
As I thought of you all through the night,
And dreamt ‘bout how I would show my love
To one who had come from far above.

When on the next opportunity
I expressed my true love for thee,
You looked deep in my eyes and confessed,
'It would seem, Love, that you are obsessed.'

From that point on, we ne’er were apart
And we were perfect right from the start.
The rest, they say, is just history
But it will ever be in my mem’ry.

[Jedo the Jedi]

Trying out different styles, I wrote this one.

Lunar Love

I watch as the sun begins to set,
And slowly doth the night begin.
The amber stars start to shine
While I await my love.

I see her slowly coming out
Looking full as ever.
Pale and brilliant in the sky
A goddess over all.

Then the dance truly begins,
I stare as she comes closer.
Surrounded by her entourage,
The trumpets start to sound.

Her face it entrances me,
And none does compare.
Oh! I wish this lasted forever,
For time is ever fleeting.

Suddenly, the hour strikes,
The time hast finally come.
We bid each other fond goodbyes
As she disappears.

Soon it shall start anew,
But not without some sorrow.
Though I patiently wait for her,
My Lunar Love.

[Jedo the Jedi]

I'm having fun with this poetry and I kind of just create them off the first line. I haven't a title for this one, so any suggestions would be appreciated.

O! Able-bodied swordsman!
Come plunge thy dagger here,
For I have done great deeds
Of vileness and horror.
I deserve no less than this,
And willingly accept my reward--
A slow and painful death
Unto a dark slumber.

O! Swift and young deliverer!
Relieve me of my disgrace.
Every second is more than I can bear,
With such upon my mind.
The people look at me and cringe,
Knowing my vast exploits.
They wish for me to take myself
That their hearts may be freed.

O! Strong and noble knight!
Spare my mind from misery.
I think of nothing else besides
The errant feats that I have wrought.
My head hangs with shame,
My shoulders slump with sorrow,
My heart is weary with this life,
And I can bear no more.

O! Kind and goodly spectre!
Thou art upon me now.
You know that I am glad of this
Although you bring me doom.
Any release that you have brought,
Or all you wish to do,
Take me forever home with thee.
Save me from this world.

[Mackay]

You have very good rhythm *approves!*

And your poetry is already showing a marked improvement from that first one. Much less contrived. (imho)

[LGB*]

I thought it was great. Really smart use of metaphor!!


Title Suggestions:

1)The first time

2)Take me I'm yours

3) My cherry amour

etc..

[Jedo the Jedi]

Thanks for the compliments. I'm still considering titles, and the suggestions are noted. (This seems to be the hard part.)

[LGB*]

Or how about 'Take me', 'Come take me', 'I'm yours' or something similarly ambiguous?

[Beartalon]

Don't stand still in the forest! True, Pa?
Of the moss will take a lichen to ya

[Jedo the Jedi]

The Virginity
By Rudyard Kipling

Try as he will, no man breaks wholly loose
From his first love, no matter who she be.
Oh, was there ever sailor free to choose,
That didn't settle somewhere near the sea?

Myself, it don't excite me nor amuse
To watch a pack o' shipping on the sea;
But I can understand my neighbour's views
From certain things which have occured to me.

Men must keep touch with things they used to use
To earn their living, even when they are free;
And so come back upon the least excuse --
Same as the sailor settled near the sea.

He knows he's never going on no cruise --
He knows he's done and finished with the sea;
And yet he likes to feel she's there to use --
If he should ask her -- as she used to be.

Even though she cost him all he had to lose,
Even though she made him sick to hear or see,
Still, what she left of him will mostly choose
Her skirts to sit by. How comes such to be?

Parsons in pulpits, tax-payers in pews,
Kings on your thrones, you know as well as me,
We've only one virginity to lose,
And where we lost it there our hearts will be!

Find many poems here.

[Sniklac16]

Jedo..my man. I happily pass my torch onto you young padawan very nice poems.

[Jedo the Jedi]

Thank you muchly. I wish I had more time to work on more. Perhaps this weekend. If only I could remember that idea I had last night...

[The Ragin' South Asian]

Juvenile
Back That Ass Up

Got you working with some ass, yeah
You bad, yeah
Make a nigga spend his cash, yeah
His last, yeah
Hoes clown when you pass, yeah
They mad, yeah
You gon' ride in the Jag, yeah
With dad, yeah
You could smoke or buy a bag, yeah
A grass, yeah
Got money I confess, yeah
And trash, yeah
I'm a Big Tymer nigga, yeah
Pulling trigger, yeah
A player hater to flip with, yeah
Gon' head and fill it, yeah
I be slanging wood, yeah
Out the hood, yeah
Let it be understood, yeah
It's all good, yeah
Got a nigga screaming large, yeah
On the hard, yeah
A smooth ghetto broad, yeah
I want the broad, yeah
A nigga do a trick, yeah
On the dick, yeah
You claiming you want a bitch, yeah
That ain't shit, yeah
The nigga with the money, yeah
Don't act funny, yeah
Got birds and I'm running, yeah
'Bout a hundred, yeah

Girl, you looks good, won't you back that ass up
You'se a fine motherfucker, won't you back that ass up
Call me big daddy when you back that ass up
Hoe, who is you playing with, back that ass up
Girl, you looks good, won't you back that ass up
You'se a fine motherfucker, won't you back that ass up
Call me big daddy when you back that ass up
Girl, who is you playing with back that ass up
Girl, you looks good, won't you back that ass up
You'se a fine motherfucker, won't you back that ass up

You got to steal, big ass, yeah
Make me laugh, yeah
Make a nigga wanna grab that
Wanna grab that
I'm sweating on the draws, yeah
On hard, yeah
Wanna walk it like a dog, yeah
Break you off, yeah
How you gon' get yours, yeah
That's for sure, yeah
You fucking with my nerves, yeah
To the curb, yeah
I know you bitches know, yeah
And it show, yeah
But a nigga got some more, yeah
I'm 'bout to flow, yeah
Fresh off some shit, yeah
In his bitch, yeah
We be making hit, yeah
After hit, yeah
Them titties sitting nice, yeah
I wanna bite, yeah
I could fuck you right, yeah
All night, yeah
Wanna bring it to my house, yeah
On the couch, yeah
Knock the pussy out, yeah
Get them out, yeah
I wanna see these hoes, yeah
Bend it low, yeah
Let me run it in the hole, yeah
Let me know, yeah


Girl, you looks good, won't you back that ass up
You'se a fine motherfucker, won't you back that ass up
Call me big daddy when you back that ass up
Hoe, who is you playing with back that ass up
Girl, you looks good, won't you back that ass up
You'se a fine motherfucker, won't you back that ass up
Call me big daddy when you back that ass up
Hoe, who is you playing with back that ass up

I know you can't stand it
Big Bandit done landed
See the draws handed
We can go get it y'all gang split it y'all
Put the bitch on the wall and I hit it y'all
I'm looking kind of lonely
I'm feeling horny
Put the dick in the middle like Monee
Big, thick plumber chick
And a Hummer chick
Beat the dick like a motherfucking drummer chick
Cinch that putty-cat look at that
I love a fucking hoody-rat
That's a fact
You'se a motherfucking get it girl
Quit it girl
I'm the nigga, the nigga, nigga
The hit it girl

Girl, you looks good, won't you back that ass up
You'se a fine motherfucker, won't you back that ass up
Call me big daddy when you back that ass up
Hoe, who is you playing with back that ass upGirl, you looks good, won't you
back that ass up
You'se a fine motherfucker, won't you back that ass up
Call me big daddy when you back that ass up
Hoe, who is you playing with back that ass up

Na, na, na, na, na
After you back it up, then stop
Then wha-wha-what
Dro-drop it like it's hot
Now after you back it up, then stop
Now,wha-wha-wha-what
Drop it like it's hot
Now drop It like it's hot
Drop it like it's hot
C-M-P make you drop it like it's hot
Drop it like it's hot
Dro-drop it like it's hot
Drop it like it's hot
Dro-drop it like it's hot

[Mackay]

*wipes a tear*

[Jedo the Jedi]

Does anyone have a spare sonnet lying around that I could use for my English assignment? The topic has to be love, but other than that there really aren't any qualifications. *groans*

I'm really just stuggling with making the iambic pentameter right. Any tips?

[Ningal]

...Don't bother with iambic pentameter? There's nothing in the definition of a sonnet that says you have to use it.

More seriously, my condolences. I don't know that I could ever write about love.

[casinopete]

"I don't know that I could ever write about love."

is writing about love. Poignantly.

[Jedo the Jedi]

Well, here's the sonnet I wrote.

Love's Reality

How is’t that love could seem so real to me?
For it be but a dream or glimpse of that
Which none were ever truly meant to see,
And only an idea to think at.
If love was meant not always to be true,
Then why doest the heart feel so great a pain
When the mind is thinking its thoughts of you
And the body does its labour in vain?
Perhaps the key to love is not in truth,
But in its grand and ever-present lies.
Although this thought seems strange and quite uncouth,
It echoes out from every person’s eyes.
Whilst dreams often appear more real than life,
They do naught at all to repair the strife.

(True, iambic pentameter is not necessary, but I found that the Shakespearean sonnet was much easier than the other forms. I may go back and change this so the meter isn't so strict, but that'll have to be for another day.)

[CzarJ]

I've always liked sonnets with strict meter... I don't know why. As a matter of fact, when I write them (which is rare, but has been known to happen), I almost always have all 14 lines with exactly 10 syllables, and I lose sleep over putting the accents in the right place. That said, your sonnet is very good. I approve.

... *thumbs up*.

[Ningal]

[The Ragin' South Asian]

The Monkees - Daydream Believer

Oh, I could hide 'neath the wings
Of the bluebird as she sings.
The six o'clock alarm would never ring.
But it rings and I rise,
Wipe the sleep out of my eyes.
My shavin' razor's cold and it stings.

Cheer up, Sleepy Jean.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.

You once thought of me
As a white knight on a steed.
Now you know how happy I can be.
Oh, and our good times start and end
Without dollar one to spend.
But how much, baby, do we really need.

Cheer up, Sleepy Jean.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.
Cheer up, Sleepy Jean.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.


Cheer up, Sleepy Jean.
Oh, what can it mean.
To a daydream believer
And a homecoming queen.