Simic

-Ring-
Silly thing, a ring.
Running rampantly ‘round the finger.
Yet, still it runs without the hand.
It gleams in its mad pursuit of nothing,
Dancing about, shining, shining, running prancing.
Silly little thing.

-Paper-
Paper, the great white desert.
Grinding slowly, snatching ink and lead.
So fine and compact your sand
That no one thinks you as you are.
The cool, undetected thief, the vast wasteland,
The knife that draws no blood.
Yet, so dry, you have no cacti.
Were they lost?
Did they fall?
Ah!  You’re far too thin for a cactus’s roots.
Foul white wasteland.

-Bass Drum-
Doom.  Doom.  Doom.
That is your cry.
Not of war.
Of death.
Of life.
It is your cry of pain.
You have no tears to cry,
As you are beat
Without mercy,
Care,
Worry.
We hear your cry and call
“Beat again!  Beat again!”
You cry.  You are struck.
You cry.
Doom.  Doom.  Doom.

Word Cinquain

-Rabbit-
Rabbit.
Fluffy, white.
Hopping across fields.
The most innocent creature.
Innocence.

-Notebook-
Notebook.
White, lined.
Writing endless words.
Dreams become reality here.
Expression.

-Theater-
Theater.
Big, empty.
Acting on stage.
Lives that never were.
Acting.

Syllabic Cinquain

-Cinquains-
Stupid.
Yep, annoying.
Cinquain poems are quite
The dumb bits of poetry works.
Yep, dumb.

-Basesball-
Baseball.
Swing-and-a-miss.
Batter-up, bases are
Loaded, full count.  It all comes down
To this.

-Freedom-
Limit.
Just let me go!
I have got to be free
When writing poetry.  I need
Freedom.

e. e. cummings Poem

-Penguin-
					S
					   Lip and
					S
					    L
					        i
					           D
						e along the
S
    Lic
	K ice!  Just another day and another S
					    L
					        i
					           D
						E
And then we jump!
and
F
A
L
L
SPLOOSH!
And catch a fish!

-Storm-
The w	    i	n	d flies by
stiriring the leaves and
l
     I
     G  h 
					             T     n
					            I	        ng
Flashes while the thunder CRACKS!
The house creaks

-You Stupid Head-
	I hate you E. E. Cummings.  You’re poetics are horrible.  How do you expect people to enjoy your illegible works.  Thanks to you, I have to write in your style, which sucks, mind you.  Realize this, E. E. Cummings:  This is your style, right here.  Take a look at this.  You did this.

Limerick

-Bryce-
There once was a guy named Bryce.
He cursed writing poetry once or twice.
But still he wrote
The poetry he smote.
And now he has cursed it thrice.

-Sarah-
There once was a girl named Sarah.
She couldn’t think of a word that rhymes with Sarah.
So she asked here friend,
And his mind did bend.
Then he went and wrote about Sarah.

-Greg-
There once was a guy named Greg.
One day he came across  penguin egg.
So it he snatched.
And then it hatched,
So he kept it and called it Craig.

-Sienna-
There once was a girl named Sienna.
Greg said her name rhymed with Banana.
This made her sad
And kind of mad,
But true, her name rhymes with banana.

-Trever-
There once was a mouse named Trever.
He was adventurous and quite clever.
But the dragon came
And breathed his flame.
Thus Trever sought vengence forever.

Haiku

-Star-
An age old light in
The night sky.  Is it alive
Still?  Burn on, good light.

-Hawk-
Its clever eye scans
The field for a meal.  Mice run
From the hawk’s curved beak.

-Adventure-
As they turned the
Corner, and arrow whizzed
Past the leader’s face.

Occassional Poem

-Easter-
Hip-Hop-Hip!  Give the egg a dip!
Color it pretty and hide it then!
Try to find mine and you get candies.
Hop-Hip-Hop!  Here’s a chocolate glop!
Yummy-yummy, but don’t get sick in the tummy!
Dinner tonight with family and friends!
Gotta go to church today.  Jesus Christ!  Hooray!  Hooray!
Twelve o’clock, time to play!
Let’s run and hid!  Grab your glove and ball,
Let’s play catch!  Six o’clock now, so off to Grandma’s!
Gotta eat up, don’t want leftovers!
Ten o’clock now, time for bed.
Ugh, can’t sleep, chocolate’s gone to my head…

Found Poem

-Living Fences-
From neatly clipped evergreens
To rows of flowering shrubs
To a stand of B
	        A
	        M
	        B
	        O
	        O
	There are lots of options for planting a green screen.

Alphabet Poem

-Odd Day in London-
“Ah!” an astounded Alicia,
Begiled by Big Ben,
Cried carelessly.  Claustrophobic Clyde carefully came closer.
“Dang, Dan didn’t do
Every errand Eva elected!”  Exclaimed he.
“Forget faulty forgotten
Goals,” gave the girl.
“Howdy!” hummed Hamlet,
“I indeed inquire if
Jaunty jack is Jewish.”
“’Kay.  Know you Clyde?”
“Lo, Larry left, leaving
Me
Never nicely noted of Clyde.”
“Oh.  One on the outside is he.”
People passed by
Quietly and quickly,
Rudely rampaging upon Alicia’s rottenly
Sore
Toe.  The two took through the threshold to,
Undisputedly, urge upon
Visiting Clyde via
Walking where he was.  The weather was
Xeric.
“Yo Clyde!” yelled Alicia
Zestfully zany.

Sonnet

-An Excerpt from the Tales of Gabin-
A dark day came, and mountains split open.
Evil flowed, destruction came, death reigned high.
Three Elven forests’ and twelve towns’ of men
And five deep Dwarven mines’ people did die.
Alliance then formed with the three races
To beat back this evil without a name.
The kings agreed to go to dark places
The Armors of Caisavolse then came.
The last kings donned the armor with good hope
To save their peoples from evil and fought
To the mountains of the north.  The dark slope
Was defeated, but still vengeance it sought.
The evil tainted the armors and kings.
Gabin the bard leaped out, this song he sings…

-Continued from the tales of Gabin-
“I’ll not allow thee to harm your peoples,”
He said, reaching for his lute.  Gabin played
A great song, despite his quickening pulse.
The three kings stopped, hearing what Gabin said.
“Thou art the greatest kings of Elf and Man
And Dwarf.  You have sold your very souls to
Save your peoples from this evil,” began
He.  “You would not harm your peoples, would you?
Be not tainted, mighty Guardians!  Great
Thou were and great thou art.  Fight this evil
And conquer it!  Reclaim yourselves of late.
I plead of thee, and cease this upheaval!”
So the kings heard, and turned back.  There they slept
And their title, the Guardians, they kept.

Ballad

-The Tales of Gabin as Told by Justin Cermoon-
Far back, in the second age, there was a fellow called Gabin.
He, like myself, was a bard, traveling the world, but then…
The dark day came when the North Mountains were ripped in two,
And the greatest evil that ever was known began to spread anew.
Its darkness was growing and covered the land
And killed many of the people of Elf, Dwarf, and Man.

The people were afraid and retreated to the south
And destruction followed quick as flames from a dragon’s mouth,
Twelve towns of Men and Three tallest of the Elven wood
And the five deepest Dwarven mines were lost it seemed for good.
Soon it seemed that hope was gone and fretting soon began
In the final southern sanctuary of Elf, Dwarf, and Man.

It was in that final sanctuary that three great kings, one of each race
Found that they could run no more from the evil they would have to face.
And the only weapons they had left were the Armors of Caisavolse
Which had not been disturbed for a millennium and a day.
But such a power would have to be used in the peril at hand
For the gods themselves created these armors for Elf, Dwarf, and Man.

One armor for each race had there been created.
Designed perfectly for that people, as it had been fated.
The Blue Armor of Man was as cold as their care,
And the Green Armor of Elf, swift as the wind in their hair,
The Red Armor of Dwarf, burning more fiercely than a desert sand
Were donned by the three great kings of Elf, Dwarf, and Man.

And so they set out with Gabin following closely behind,
Fighting back the evil plague until its origin they did find.
In the North Mountains, they prepared to deal the final blow
While their every move was captured in the ballads Gabin did sow,
But a twist did befall, for fate had another plan
For the bard and the three great kings of Elf, Dwarf, and Man.

A black hand of pure darkness struck each king
Before they destroyed the evil, taint it did bring.
And even though they were victorious and the evil slain,
The three great kings’ armors were infected.  They went insane.
They turned toward the bard, ready to kill poor Gabin,
But a mystic song he sang to the kings of Elf, Dwarf, and Man.

The song he sang told of their great acts of sacrifice,
And for a time they remembered themselves and took the bard’s advice.
They returned to the dark cave and their oath they would keep,
And it was there in that tomb for all eternity they would sleep.
Gabin returned, telling his tales, and soon the globe they did span,
So that all would know of the Guardians of Elf, Dwarf, and Man.

Tanka

-Mario-
The Italian plumber
Clad in red leaps onto his
Foes. He must save the
Princess from the evil King
Koopa.  His green brother helps.

-Boredom-
My eyes begin to
Droop as my teacher blabbers
On about sine waves,
Cosine tangent.  The Margin
Ninja fails me, so I nap.

-Anxiety-
I say the lines and
Do my act.  Will I make the
Call backs?  I’ll not know
Until Thursday.  Will I make
The show?  I can only wait.