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Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month.
Topic 21: today's prompt is to written from the viewpoint of someone you hate.
Line requirements: 8 lines or more
Questions?
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Does Heaven Have a Thermostat?
They must think that the signs
will now be hidden in some closet.
God’s hate is the blue of the ocean,
the cold of the sky.
It is the barricaded door
of one righteous man
praying for the fire.
God’s love is not found in the streets
of Sodom swirling in the angry crowd.
It is in this quiet room,
though the air is strangely hot.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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Why do I feel so anger all the time?
It doesn’t matter, it’s his fault.
There was that time he laughed at me
and hurt my feelings; never has apologized.
Then there was the time he rejected me.
I humbled myself to go out to the porch
where he was sleeping, because my
mother was sleeping in our bed to
help me with the baby so I could get
some sleep; it was fifty degrees on
that porch, and still I offered myself
to him, even though I was freezing.
He told me no, he wanted to sleep,
How dare him, how dare he reject me,
I was completely humiliated.
He deserved it when I pawned all
his stuff to buy myself some jewelry.
It was only what he deserved!
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
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Usurper
Call me the destroyer of dreams,
your moral decency’s blunder.
I am the spoiler of fresh cream.
I'm preoccupied with vile themes
that creep closer from deep under.
Call me the destroyer of dreams.
I crave the music in a scream,
melodies I cast asunder.
I am the spoiler of fresh cream.
Upon slimy banks by the stream,
sleeps the remains of my plunder.
Call me the destroyer of dreams.
Once I pilfer your self esteem,
you’ll be marching to my thunder.
I am the spoiler of fresh cream.
I‘m your savior, join my regime;
you will worship me in wonder.
Call me the destroyer of dreams;
I am the spoiler of fresh cream.
My new watercolor: 'Nightmare After Christmas'/Chris
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I am the semblance of a man
With a hump across
My back enshrouded by my suit
Of lofty begging cloth.
I dare not think who painted me
To smoothly slay the guys
With course and tremble telling hands
Who seek to wear my tie.
I never felt regret for who
Are they but similar signs
As notes of cow conquering men
Referring to bovine.
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My footprint
You only see the hated signs,
resent the footbath barriers
that trap you. The fires are set
with effigies of me in hooded
suit and white wellies.
I am not closed, like your herds,
tied to the genetic codes you chose.
The heritage I leave will breed
a better economy for farmers,
but you will not thank me.
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I like your big feet AJ.
My new watercolor: 'Nightmare After Christmas'/Chris
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I should probably pray for your soul;
the devil will swallow you whole,
you’re living in sin
and that’s just to begin,
you’re too unrepentant and bold.
I should probably pray for you but
you’re both a heathen and a slut
probably possessed
improperly dressed
unholy non-believing nut
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Pop crimes
Evil? no, you make me laugh,
we were young, enjoying life
each night we would drink wine,
eat bread and swiss cheese.
Oh please, there was no plot or plan,
just the oom-pah and a touch of polka.
Café culture at its best, cheap cigars,
strong coffee and back room bands.
No I don’t hate it; popular culture has its place,
nor do I feel that I’m a disgrace,
a simple tune to bring in the custom,
it was never meant to sell a million.
My Name, Werner Thomas from Davos,
I’m not the one to whom you should speak,
I believe the Tweets took it to the streets.
you say its a crime but I've done nothing wrong,
I only gave Europe the Birdie song.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
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(04-22-2014, 08:15 PM)Keith Wrote: Pop crimes
Evil no, you make me laugh,
we were young, enjoying life
each night we would drink wine,
eat bread and swiss cheese.
Oh please, there was no plot or plan,
just the oom-pah and a touch of polka.
Café culture at its best, cheap cigars,
strong coffee and back room bands.
No I don’t hate it; popular culture has its place,
nor do I feel that I’m a disgrace,
a simple tune to bring in the custom,
it was never meant to sell a million.
My Name, Werner Thomas from Davos,
I’m not the one to whom you should speak,
I believe the Tweets took it to the streets.
I have done nothing wrong, my only crime,
the Birdie song.
Ha ha, the 'chicken dance' and the accordion are both high crimes Keith. A fun one./Chris
My new watercolor: 'Nightmare After Christmas'/Chris
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