An outlet for players whose creativity extends beyond the board. Post your original works here!
The posting of song lyrics is not the purpose of this board and as such please refrain from doing so. Exceptions can be made to this rule if you are the copyrighted owner of the lyrics and the lyrics are not found offensive by the majority of the population. This board is a place to post your original works of poetry and prose and also a place for discussion of poetry and related areas.
We have received word from Fencer that other's poetry can be posted to this board. These are the two conditions: 1) When someone posts a known copyrighted poem, he must add the author's name as well 2) If the author is not known, the poem can be posted without problems
Seznam diskusních klubů
Není vám dovoleno psát zprávy do tohoto klubu. Minimální úroveň členství vyžadovaná pro psaní v tomto klubu je Brain jezdec.
How long till this war is over
till this war has come to an end
i shall fight till the day
i can tell my wife that i love her
my children to be brave
my mother not to be scared now
as the war is near to save
Ive seen many dieing
there lying all around me
im fighting in a see of muddy deat
many screaming wounded
legs arms and face
theres hardly any supplys left
this land is such a horrid place
The wa if finall over
many friends have died
my memorys will sty with me
the guns the bombs the death
all f these will stay put
my life, i shall ae the most of it
no i realised how short it could of been
and what this fighting should all mean
who cares what colour?, black or white
why do we torment?, why do we fight?
we are all on this earth for better or for worse so why do we treat it as if it was a curse?
each on of us is different, hair, hight or weight,
so why cant we all just give or take?
we are all just people, so treat each other as one,
then our world would be better and life could be more fun.
'Twas the night before implementation and all through the house,
not a program was working not even a browse.
The programmers hung by their tubes in despair,
with hopes that a miracle would soon be there.
The users were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of inquiries danced in their heads.
When out in the machine room there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter.
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a super programmer (with a six-pack of beer).
His resume glowed with experience so rare,
he turned out great code with a bit-pusher's flair.
More rapid than eagles, his programs they came,
On update! on add! on inquiry! on delete!
on batch jobs! on closing! on functions complete!
His eyes were glazed-over, fingers nimble and lean,
from weekends and nights in front of a screen.
A wink of his eye, and a twitch of his head,
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
turning specs into code; then turned with a jerk;
And laying his finger upon the "ENTER" key,
the systems came up and worked perfectly.
The updates updated; the deletes, they deleted;
the inquiries inquired, and closings completed.
He tested each whistle, and tested each bell,
with nary an abend, and all had gone well.
The system was finished, the tests were concluded.
The users' last changes were even included.
And the user exclaimed with a snarl and a taunt,
"It's just what I asked for, but not what I want!"
If only I could leave this awful place
and find the tranquil waters of the sea
to swim with your abandon and your grace
and lead your life so simple and so free.
But I must travel through life as a man,
as restless and as angry as a storm.
I seek out and I find peace where I can
but, to my human nature, must conform.
What must you think of me out here afloat
just looking on, your captive as you play?
Upon this large and slow and clumsy boat,
if you could speak my words, what would you say?
They say you dream of men, perhaps you do.
But, in my fondest dreams, I dream of you.
If a Packet Hits a pocket on a socket on a port, and the bus is interrupted as a very last resort, and the address of the memory makes your floppy disk abort, then the socket packet pocket has an error to report.
If your cursor finds a menu item followed by a dash, and the double-clicking icon puts your window in the trash, and your data is corrupted 'cause the index doesn't hash, then the situation's hopeless and your systems gonna crash!
If the label on the cable on the table at your house, says the network is connected to the button on your mouse, but your packets want to tunnel on another protocol, that's repeatedly rejected by the printer down the hall, and your screen is all distorted by the side effects of gauss, so your icons in the window are as wavy as a souse, then you may as well reboot and go out with a bang, 'cause as sure as I'm a poet, the sucker's gonna hang!
When the copy of your floppy's getting sloppy on the disk, and the microcode instructions cause unnecessary risk, then you have to flash your memory and you'll want to RAM your ROM. Quickly turn off the computer and be sure to tell your mom.
Never worry about what they do,
even if it's a motely crew.
Something always comes up,
making the problem dry up.
Swings and roundabouts,
every action has a reaction.. things turnabout.
Cool the way it works,
bet on it, dead cert.
how doth the little crocodiLe
improve his shining tail,
and pour the waters of the nile
on every gOlden scale
how cheerfUlly he seems to grin,
how neatly spreaDs his claws,
and welcomes little fishes in,
with gentlY smiling jaws
Awwwwwww, thank you (((((ALL))))) for the warm welcome back!!! Missed you all!
Sunrays of laughter
fall comes in quick
Memories of a summer
lay before me in pics
The travels we made
the dreams we create
The joy of infinate freedom
will meet before the fireplace soon...
Sept 20 - 2005
Josetta, The Hague - The Netherlands
Pieces of Laughter
Patches of Tears
Threaded with Tenderness
Tattered with Fears
Bits of Forgiveness
Mounds of Grace
Quilted together
With Love,
Hope and Faith
Anonymous
Hear the sledges with the bells--
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells--
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
2
Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Throught the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens,
while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells--
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
3
Hear the loud alarum bells--
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now--now to sit, or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale of their terror tells
Of despair!
How they clang and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells--
Of the bells--
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells--
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
4
Hear the tolling of the bells--
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their melody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people--ah, the people--
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All alone,
And who tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone--
They are neither man nor woman--
They are neither brute nor human--
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells--
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells--
Of the bells, bells, bells--
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the tolling of the bells--
Of the bells, bells, bells--
Bells, bells, bells--
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
Once it smiled a silent dell
Where the people did not dwell:
They had gone unto the wars,
Trusting to the mild-eyed stars,
Nightly from their azure towers,
In the midst of which all day
The red sunlight lazily lay.
Now each visitor shall confess
The sad valley's restlessness.
Nothing there is motionless--
Nothing save the airs that brood
Over the magic solitude.
Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven
That rustle through the unquiet Heaven
Uneasily, from morn till even,
Ove the violets there that lie
In myriad types of the human eye--
Over the lilies there that wave
And weep above a nameless grave!
They wave:--from out their fragrant tops
Eternal dews come down in drops.
They weep:--from off the delicate stems Perennial tears descend in gems.
white fluffy cotton balls
fluttering through the sky
slowly falling in flakes,
to leave a white blanket covering the ground.
Kids dancing happily
grabbing mittens and scarves..
building snowmen and forts...
laying in its softness and shifting their arms...
I wonder
soft chirping birds
fluttering through the sky
building nests on the tree limbs
slowly swooping and drifting, spreading their wings to fly
Kids dancing happily
grabbing kites and tails....
watching colors of triangles..
smelling at flowers starting to bloom, picking them innocently.....
I wonder
Bright brilliant flashes
fluttering through the sky
full of energy.. and clapping...
bringing along with it... heavy droplets of water, to feed natures call....
Kids dancing happily
as the storm moves on..
staring at tears from above trickling on the window...
feeling the warmth of the sun... and the coolness of the swimming pool....
I wonder
Oranges, yellows, reds and greens
fluttering through the sky...
giving freedom to the branches...
and turning crisp and cool, days get much shorter..
Kids dancing happily
making friends at school...
learning history, arithmatic, and science
seeing pumpkins, and holiday wreaths.. bringing joy to their hearts....
I wonder.....
do you see the same way I do..?
written on 020501 posted to bluemountain arts.. on same date... :)
How I dreaded this day would come
though at this time you don't realize
the hug and kiss you offered so...
was the start of just letting go...
Then deep pain within, will shortly start
tearing at your precious heart..
I will offer my caring arms..
to comfort you.. and protect from harm..
Your father is a good man, he tries..
yet confusing will make your innerside cry..
How he could move so far away
and promise to you visits for a future day.
I shall not promise the lies he's made.
I don't walk in his path.
I have facts that he has done this before
I know it won't be his last.
You are young and innocent and try to believe
Yet only inside you will grieve.
The anger has yet to come I know.
and I your mother will help let it out.
I don't know how a parent could do this.
he knew he could never be there
why does he do this... does he care?
Thank you mods, your job's not easy
Especially when some of us act so sleezy
You keep your cool and take it in stride
Click a little button and put us on hide.
You read our PM's with excuses and pleas
Settling disputes which you handle with ease
You're ready and willing to hose down the flaming
And tell the offenders to get back to their gaming.
So we appreciate all the work that you do,
If BK was an art project, you'd be the glue.
And so taking this moment, we want to say THANKS! From members the world over, and even us Yanks.
Foxy Lady: Thanks. And it also has the other meanings in the poem. :) I can't remember what we were discussing on the chat board but it was about the word chit. ;)
I'll see if I can find the mod poem I wrote. heheh
(skrýt) Chcete-li hrát hru s hráčem podobné úrovně, můžete definovat požadovaný rozsah BKR pro novou výzvu ke hře. Pak nikdo, jehož BKR leží mimo tento rozsah, nebude schopen vidět/přijmout vaši výzvu. (Katechka) (zobrazit všechny tipy)