LOL, pomes
Nov. 18th, 2009 06:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maychorianWent through some stuff today and found some VERY old poems I wrote. I don't know when, but it must have been a long time ago, because I kinda like football now. I must have been in my mid-teens.
WARNING: They are bad.
Lakes
Lakes are nice.
In winter they are ice.
In summer they're fun,
And sparkle in the sun.
In spring they are blue,
But icy and cool.
But in the chilly fall
No one sees them at all,
Cuz everyone is playing football.
Football
I don't understand
The hormones in man
That prompt him to play football.
It's a moronic sport,
And people get hurt,
All on account of football.
You slam into people,
Throw things at a pole,
In order to win football.
You're called silly names,
And make up silly plays,
Because you want victory in football.
There's too many rules,
All of them construed
To organize the game of football.
And I don't pretend
To understand men
And their unexplainable, odd, weird, brutal, savage, idiotic, beloved game of football.
Fire
Sparkling, shining, shimmering,
Firelight brightly glimmering.
A beacon of light
On a cold winter night,
A tower of warmth and heat.
Orange flames rising,
Tiny sparks flying,
Dangerous savior,
Defender and slayer,
In it life and death complete.
No child's toy, fool--
Man's oldest tool,
Winter's tamer,
Cold night's lamer,
But superseded today.
Only entertainment,
A strange kind of amusement,
Novelty unneeded,
Danger unheeded,
Dropped beside the way.
Ah ha, I remember! I do believe I wrote them at a bonfire when I was about a fifteen, bending over my notebook, holding it angled so I could see well enough to write. I must have been very bored.
WARNING: They are bad.
Lakes
Lakes are nice.
In winter they are ice.
In summer they're fun,
And sparkle in the sun.
In spring they are blue,
But icy and cool.
But in the chilly fall
No one sees them at all,
Cuz everyone is playing football.
Football
I don't understand
The hormones in man
That prompt him to play football.
It's a moronic sport,
And people get hurt,
All on account of football.
You slam into people,
Throw things at a pole,
In order to win football.
You're called silly names,
And make up silly plays,
Because you want victory in football.
There's too many rules,
All of them construed
To organize the game of football.
And I don't pretend
To understand men
And their unexplainable, odd, weird, brutal, savage, idiotic, beloved game of football.
Fire
Sparkling, shining, shimmering,
Firelight brightly glimmering.
A beacon of light
On a cold winter night,
A tower of warmth and heat.
Orange flames rising,
Tiny sparks flying,
Dangerous savior,
Defender and slayer,
In it life and death complete.
No child's toy, fool--
Man's oldest tool,
Winter's tamer,
Cold night's lamer,
But superseded today.
Only entertainment,
A strange kind of amusement,
Novelty unneeded,
Danger unheeded,
Dropped beside the way.
Ah ha, I remember! I do believe I wrote them at a bonfire when I was about a fifteen, bending over my notebook, holding it angled so I could see well enough to write. I must have been very bored.
