Ladies and gentlemen... the WrongPlanet writing showcase

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I liked that one, puddingmouse. Interesting imagery.



Here's my maddening day put to poetry... I'm a lousy babysitter; for all those who might want to inquire about my nightly rates...

War of The Twins

Silly eyes tell tales,
And with voices to size,
Yet they never fail to be kids;
Throwing tantrums over spilled milk.
And spill the milk, they did;
While one built his castle
Out of paper cups,
The other played bulldozer
And breached the walls;
Two boys collapsed to the ground
In tears at the injustice
Of the other twin brother
And tonight, though I love them both dear,
I do not envy their father,
Nor do I envy their mother.

Last edited by kestrel on 11 Feb 2012, 10:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.

^

I like that one.

I'm trying to write a poem a day as a weird method of journaling -- recording in some verse the highlight of each day, or at least, how boring the day was because there was no highlight to speak of.

This was from two days ago...

Discordant Daydream

The choreographed dance of the crowd,
The grating noise of a thousand voices,
Here I sit, apart and silent amid an endless,
Tumultuous sound of a thousand fresh made choices;
A couple sharing drinks at the corner table,
The drunkards leer noisily by the bar,
Collective college kids laughing,
And dare I venture too far?
Balls clatter together,
Roll discordantly, gathering
Into pockets, and the eight ball,
Without a doubt, they shout, hazarding,
Along the narrow ledge of granite,
People living, loving, knowing,
And I, all the while, sit,
No drink, no friendly
Touch, no words passed,
Apart, silent, amid it all.

I haven't the faintest idea if I've shared this one in this thread or not, but I feel like it now. Written when I was 14 or 15 as a homework assignment.

Where I'm From


I am from playrooms,
from G.I. Joes and cowboys and indians
I am from the squash growing awkwardly
(white, yellow
pretending to love it)
I am from tossed logs,
the bagpipes
who’s long silent pipes
still ring in my ear.

I’m from burned bacon and donations,
from Sallyirene and someone I don’t care for.
I’m from the rolly-pollies
and the snails,
from cheer up and settle down.
I’m from “THOU SHALT NOT STEAL OR LIE”
with the littlest fibs
and the strangest reasons.

I’m from McDonald’s and Carl’s Jr,
Cheesecake and french fries.
From the scar on my brother’s shoulder
from the lightbulb fragments
to the money my mother spent to keep us happy.
On the old shelf were binders
holding pictures in place,
many, many moments in time I don’t remember
to make me wonder “What was I thinking?”
Those are my moments-
frozen in time,
Never to be relived.

Fickle


I have this thought
It’s probably nothing
Not worth stating

You’d do well
To ignore
Pay no mind
To the things
That have been
Spewing from my mind

May have felt that way
Felt it important to say
Once it’s out
The mind can doubt
Change
Like a kaleidoscope

That sounds like what goes on in my head a lot of the time. I like it.

Thanks.

Turn with me
Sigh with me
Feel my steady breath
And my heartbeat
As it thumps in my chest

Sonnet (about a dead raccoon and also a relationship)

pointed nose, darkened bristles teared with blood
resting against ashfalt
wind-torn, frigid
nose feeling for company, mouth thinking of a kiss

lain on the ashfalt, watching
for distant cars with his eyes closed
a wet breeze, provoking the whiskers
ears listening to a bloody smear

sleeping un-bothered in the daylight,
un-noticed by the children walking to school,
un-noticed by the passing traffic
thus apportioned a frictionless space,
the movements of the living persevere

thinking of old friends, old lives
things impenetrable and things about the white air
You, your grey fur and floofy tail

I liked that. Interesting, though slightly morbid -- not bad at all.

Well, the morbid-ness all depends on what you think of dead raccoons I guess. There was one at my bus stop and I was like: "gross, it still looks so fluffy and adorable, and I sort-of want to touch it. But I won't."

Umm, I'm not sure what I was trying to say about relationships, but I thought it was cool to think about. The poem was originally about the raccoon plain and simple, but then I was in a break-up shortly after I wrote it and it started taking-on extra meaning. I'm glad you liked it.

I could see myself taking inspiration from the same sort of experience. Creativity comes from odd places.

Shards - a poem by: Bun

I'm not over
How brilliant you think you are
And you're not over
Faking humility for your life

I should have been the one
to pull the plug out
You should have been the one
Still left wondering

You said I lived in a fantasy
But I don't recall you ever playing with the broken shards
Like the ones you gave me

If you were perfect
I'd still be longing
If I were perfect
I'd ache much more

And if it had been a story
Then it would all make sense
But if it made sense
Then I wouldn't have had to write about it

And if it had been in any way fair
Words would have been good enough

You're moving in the information highway
While I still walk the asphalt world

As part of World Book Day, my daughter's school has organised a story writing competition for the parents. It has to be a short story (up to 500 words) for primary school aged children. From experience, I don't expect many parents to write anything, but I'm always up for a challenge, so I've written one, aimed at the infants. I've never written fiction before, so this was totally new to me, but I don't think they're looking or anything too polished or professional. I was hoping that some of you might critique the story (please be kind ).

Last edited by Mummy_of_Peanut on 02 Mar 2012, 6:38 am, edited 1 time in total.

^ That's so cute!

Thanks, I appreciate that comment from you, Bun. I think some people might say it's a little bit cheesy. But, it is intended for young kids, about my daughter's age (she's 6).

BTW My daughter has taken a bit of a dislike to the little man. She wants him to be an elf or an alien.