If I got a flower for every friend I have
I’d need a small balcony
If I got a flower for all my accomplishments
I’d require something like my grandmother’s old garden
If I got a flower for every good memory I have
A field would be best
But if I were to end up
With a vast, endless garden
I’d need a flower
For every time I have failed
Hoods and lies.
I roll my eyes at my mother and walk
away singing a song; I close the door
and song louder — must I not sing? What for?
I am alone — there’s none with whom to talk
But wait, who’s that I see behind that stalk?
he’s smiled at me, I want to know some more
if mom knew of this, she’d feel such horror.
He seems friendly… Is it okay to talk?
He looks hungry, and I have food to spare
grandma won’t mind; she knows I like to play —
maybe he wants someone he could play with?
“Mean wolves” do not exist; they do not scare
Oh please, just one small game, is all I may.
I hope “stranger danger” is just a myth.
so I ended my english presentation with “these fatal flaws brought macbeth to his macdeath” and at least 60% of the class groaned
“women are weaklings!”
i’m strong enough to carry
your corpse to the woods
this haiku is my favorite haiku
One day you will
wake up and realize
that you actually can go
and that the places on those maps
aren’t just paper towns
but that they will give you room
Your entire life is a contradiction.
written by 6-Word Story, #57 (via mostlyfiction)
Have I hit (poetry) rock bottom?
((I don’t know if I’m allowed to do this but the 4th stanza has a different rhyme scheme… If that’s even a rhyme scheme.))
this isn’t a story
nor an epic tale
I’m sorry, there is no glory
in this; this is like a cereal gone stale
I started with “my birth was not typical”—
then I struggled to think of a rhyming word
“oh, the state of this ballad is already critical”,
I couldn’t think of anything but a sword
then BAM, my warm, bitter coffee slipped from my hand
“maybe I’ve really been ‘blessed’”
blessed with a blank mind
and the tendency to always make a mess
I guess now it’s the time to wrap this up
and address everyone who said I had a talent:
it takes little to think of deep lines and post them online,
but it takes hours (and 2 tylenol) to think of a rhyming couplet
(here we go) I’m so sorry
but I have failed again —
posting this makes me worry
and writing ballads are a pain