Poetry Daze are here again!

We’ve been working on poetry projects as of late, and that means writing poems. Well, I’ve got one for you. This isn’t the best, isn’t the worst. But here it is anyway. This one is modeled after Paul S. Dunbar:

I’m just standin’ ‘neath a shadder
Waitin’ for my life to start.
I’m just singin’ a little louder
Waitin’ for the clouds to part.
 I’m just wukin’, hummin’ a chune
Waitin’ for someone to see.
I’m just dancin’ with the moon
Lovin’ life and being me. 
-DQ#1

Cinderella: twisted edition.

This year, we’re doing yet another cracked fairy tale poem. Don’t know what I’m talking about? Check it.
On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t. It’s a really stupid poem, and now I realize why everyone secretly hated it in my ninth-grade English class. They didn’t say anything positive about it, and I didn’t get to recite it to the class, so that’s what tipped me off. However, I think this poem is pretty funny. Judge for yourself:

Cinderella:

‘Twas the night of the ball and all over the floor
Were soap-suds and tearstains, strewn door-to-door;
For Cinderella was stuck here, cleaning a mess
Made by her two evil stepsisters no less.
As Cindy sat down for a long night’s sad cry,
A twinkling light appeared in the sky!
The girl was struck dumb, transfixed on the glitter,
When an old man popped out, and, giving a titter,
Called out quite loudly, “I am here! I am here!
You’ll go to the ball, now, please do not fear!”
The girl’s crying stopped; she asked, “Who are you?”
The old man chuckled, and produced a glass shoe.
“Why, I am your fairy godfather, silly!
I’ll give you your prince- but we can’t dally or dilly,
For at midnight all of my magic runs dry,
And then, my dear, you will wish to just die!
Because you’ll be wearing these rags,”- here he winced-
And this drab old dress is not fit for a prince!”
Cinderella’s heart leaped; she’d finally succeeded!
All of these years she had wished and she’d pleaded
And here was her moment, it was make it or break it,
She’d look like a princess- she hoped she could fake it!
So she gave her consent, and the man waved his wand,
And all of a sudden, she was green as a pond!
She shrieked, and out slithered a little brown toad
From the hem of her dress and hopped down the road.
The girl was in shock, she was agog, and aghast!
If this was magic, she didn’t want it to last.
So she asked what else the old man had in mind,
(Hoping his next idea would get her out of this bind).
The man clapped his hands, and found an old beet,
And, laying the root at the girl’s tiny feet,
Said “Alacazoo, alacazam!
Here is a carriage just for you, ma’am.”
Sure enough, there arose a coach, red as can be!
But when the lady stepped in, she found it squishy,
And overall nasty, why just the bad smell
Was enough to make her tummy feel rather unwell.
So she stumbled out, and gulped breaths of fresh air,
While asking the man, “how is this fair?
I’ve cooked and I’ve cleaned, I’ve scoured and scraped,
And all I get is a fairy, whose talents are half-baked!
I will NOT wear this dress; I will NOT ride your coach!”
(For some time she continued her whiny reproach),
Until the fairy had had it! He was finished and through!
So he packed up his bags, but left her the glass shoe,
And vanished away, in a puff of black smoke,
Oily and thick enough to make Cindy choke.
Now she was angry, so do you know what she did?
She kicked and she screamed, like a spoiled little kid!
She hollered and bellowed, until at long last,
The glass shoe shattered, in one tinkling blast!
It was then she stopped crying, for what’s more,
It seemed that her evil family was right at the door,
And when they entered, oh what a sight!
Her sister, Prunella, had danced through the night,
And was now betrothed to the royal delight
Known as Prince Charming! They’d fallen in love!
So in love, in fact, that Charming gave her his glove!
So here the story ends, with a peculiar twist-
Cinderella never met Charming, and true love’s first kiss
Eluded her, but the old man had tried,
So here Cindy sits, always the bridesmaid, never the bride.
Grotesquely long, yes. Funny? I dunno. Andrew had the decency to laugh, at least. So maybe hope isn’t lost…
Yet.
-DQ#1

Pantoums

I really don’t like pantoums- I suppose there are good ones out there, but I don’t like making one from the passages of a book. It’s pretty lame, if you ask me. Anywho, here’s the pantoum I had to write on Monday, from the book The Hiding Place.

Rise up:
Papa, what is it like to die?
We mustn’t let the clock run down.
I feel so sorry for him.
Get back in line!
We mustn’t let the clock run down.
Look at Jesus only.
Get back in line!
Thank you for the fleas.
Look at Jesus only.
It will do them such good, Corrie, to care for flowers!
Thank you for the fleas.
You and I… Always together.
Papa, what is it like to die?
It will do them such good, Corrie, to care for flowers!
You and I… Always together.
I feel so sorry for him.

I wish I could say this was really deep and striking to me, but it was boring. Perhaps pantoums and I are not meant to be…

-DQ#1

Pantoums

I really don’t like pantoums- I suppose there are good ones out there, but I don’t like making one from the passages of a book. It’s pretty lame, if you ask me. Anywho, here’s the pantoum I had to write on Monday, from the book The Hiding Place.

Rise up:
Papa, what is it like to die?
We mustn’t let the clock run down.
I feel so sorry for him.
Get back in line!
We mustn’t let the clock run down.
Look at Jesus only.
Get back in line!
Thank you for the fleas.
Look at Jesus only.
It will do them such good, Corrie, to care for flowers!
Thank you for the fleas.
You and I… Always together.
Papa, what is it like to die?
It will do them such good, Corrie, to care for flowers!
You and I… Always together.
I feel so sorry for him.

I wish I could say this was really deep and striking to me, but it was boring. Perhaps pantoums and I are not meant to be…

-DQ#1

Pantoums

I really don’t like pantoums- I suppose there are good ones out there, but I don’t like making one from the passages of a book. It’s pretty lame, if you ask me. Anywho, here’s the pantoum I had to write on Monday, from the book The Hiding Place.

Rise up:
Papa, what is it like to die?
We mustn’t let the clock run down.
I feel so sorry for him.
Get back in line!
We mustn’t let the clock run down.
Look at Jesus only.
Get back in line!
Thank you for the fleas.
Look at Jesus only.
It will do them such good, Corrie, to care for flowers!
Thank you for the fleas.
You and I… Always together.
Papa, what is it like to die?
It will do them such good, Corrie, to care for flowers!
You and I… Always together.
I feel so sorry for him.

I wish I could say this was really deep and striking to me, but it was boring. Perhaps pantoums and I are not meant to be…

-DQ#1

DQ’s first sonnet.

If I lie very still in the dark of the night,

And picture what happened one day

My heart, it feels fuller, for I know I was right-

You told me you loved me that day.

It happened so quickly, I’m still in huge shock,

‘Cause you held my hand gently in yours.

Then when you confessed, my knees went a-knock

And my feet lifted right off the floor.

I opened my mouth; I tried hard to speak,

But you smiled and then quieted me,

With a quick and sure movement that made me go weak-

For your lips kissed so gently, and filled me with glee.

And now, my dear one, when we go a-walking,

My mind fills with that first day, and there’s no need for talking.

Why do I enjoy posting so much poetry? Because. Just because. (pssst- I’d also appreciate feedback! Thanks!)

-DQ#1

DQ’s first sonnet.

If I lie very still in the dark of the night,

And picture what happened one day

My heart, it feels fuller, for I know I was right-

You told me you loved me that day.

It happened so quickly, I’m still in huge shock,

‘Cause you held my hand gently in yours.

Then when you confessed, my knees went a-knock

And my feet lifted right off the floor.

I opened my mouth; I tried hard to speak,

But you smiled and then quieted me,

With a quick and sure movement that made me go weak-

For your lips kissed so gently, and filled me with glee.

And now, my dear one, when we go a-walking,

My mind fills with that first day, and there’s no need for talking.

Why do I enjoy posting so much poetry? Because. Just because. (pssst- I’d also appreciate feedback! Thanks!)

-DQ#1

Even more poetry

When my life seems dark and grim,

I travel to places that seem to brim

With adventure and romance.

I am a princess, locked in a tower

Hoping to be saved by a prince’s power,

And graced by his charming dance.

Then I’m a captain, my ship out at sea

Where sea monsters wait, to terrorize me!

Out in the salty wind.

I open my eyes and discover at once

That I’m only dreaming. I feel like a dunce.

I’ve traveled into my own mind.

-DQ#1

Even more poetry

When my life seems dark and grim,

I travel to places that seem to brim

With adventure and romance.

I am a princess, locked in a tower

Hoping to be saved by a prince’s power,

And graced by his charming dance.

Then I’m a captain, my ship out at sea

Where sea monsters wait, to terrorize me!

Out in the salty wind.

I open my eyes and discover at once

That I’m only dreaming. I feel like a dunce.

I’ve traveled into my own mind.

-DQ#1

Even more poetry

When my life seems dark and grim,

I travel to places that seem to brim

With adventure and romance.

I am a princess, locked in a tower

Hoping to be saved by a prince’s power,

And graced by his charming dance.

Then I’m a captain, my ship out at sea

Where sea monsters wait, to terrorize me!

Out in the salty wind.

I open my eyes and discover at once

That I’m only dreaming. I feel like a dunce.

I’ve traveled into my own mind.

-DQ#1