SnV Forums

[Tacofiend]

The toils of my second poem in this class prompted me to create a thread featuring the fruits of my labor. You can enjoy them, or tear your fucking eyes out of your head at the mere sight of these abominations. I really don't care. Luke can post his work here as well if he feels inclined. He's also in the class. Hey Luke, not that you care or anything, but posting some of your work here will save some of the space in your PM box.

The Jailbird’s Song

Stone that has taken centuries to create,
And has endured the elements for a millinea,
Is shattered in an instant by the fall of a hammer,
Fragments sailing through the air like shards of glass.
The hammers rise again.
The low hum of the line of bass’ comes back to life,
And the tenor wails his lamentations.
Pebbles trickle down the mounds of dust like water,
Pooling at the bottom.
The hammers fall.
A dozen grunts of yielding stone,
Synchronized into one, singular thud,
Separate the stanzas of the melancholy dirge.
The hammers rise again.
The ominous click of the warden’s spurs,
Keeps the ensemble disciplined.
The dragging whip, snaking through the dust,
Keeps them fearful.
The hammers fall.
That bittersweet melody returns once more,
And the rocks continue to be fruitlessly broken.
Even the carrion birds know the men are already dead.
The hammers rise again.

By: E. Christopher Vallecillo
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[Tacofiend]

The assignment was to write an A,B,C poem themed around a specific topic. Mine was phobias.

Phobia Alphabet Poem

Altophobia, that’s the fear of heights,
So just stay away from ledges.
Barophobia, don’t want to be pulled?
Sorry, but gravity does that.
Coprophobia, we all produce it,
Monkeys throw it; I’ll let you guess…
Dentophobia, Just hold really still,
This guy is a pro with your teeth.
Euphobia, like the Mormons say,
“Have you heard the good news yet, sir?”
Francophobia, the language of love,
What’s wrong with the Eiffel Tower?
Glossophobia, stand on the soap box,
Proclaim your words loud, don’t be scared.

Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia,
That would be the fear of long words…

Ideophobia, a light bulb turns on,
What’s so wrong with inspiration?
Judeophobia, dradles and matzo,
It’s Chanukah, come celebrate!
Kathisophobia, don’t be scared to rest,
Take a seat, the chair won’t hurt you.
Lutraphobia, an otter won’t bite,
That is, unless you have a fish.
Maniaphobia, we’re all scared of that.
After all, who wants to be crazed?
Nomatophobia, Cathy, Frank, Peter,
What’s in a name? What’s wrong with you?
Ophidiophobia, Snakes are everywhere,
Gardens, bedrooms, and even planes…

Pantophobia, you fear… everything?
Pardon, how worthless can you get?

Quartophobia, I just made that up,
A fictional fear of one fourth.
Rupophobia, dirt is frightening,
So much so that kids play in it.
Somniphobia, you appear fatigued,
Get some sleep, you can’t be scared of that!
Triskaidekaphobia, you don’t like thirteen.
What about nineteen minus six?
Uranophobia, an evil Utopia,
I would think heaven would be fun…
Vestiphobia, so you don’t like clothes,
Who cares?! Go nude, get arrested!
Wiccaphobia, cauldrons and broomsticks,
Too bad they all died in Salem…
Xanthophobia, yellow really sucks,
Forget caution, blondes, and Big Bird.
Yugophobia, I made that up too,
Yugoslavia’s not that bad.

Zemmiphobia, what do you fear most?
The Great Mole Rat… Are you kidding?

By: E. Christopher Vallecillo

I tried...
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[Tacofiend]

Because I can't find more constructive ways to fill my time, I sat down and compiled five haikus under extreme insomnia-induced dementia. Enjoy.

Tragic story lost.
But if it is so depressing,
Why is it yearned for?

My poor spine crackles,
And dark shades droop from my eyes.
I am so weary.

The Haiku, my friend.
Why does it appeal so much?
It is short and sweet.

Dragons confront morn,
Spread their diaphanous wings,
And blaze the great sky.

Topics running scarce,
And audience walking out.
Let them go; get sleep.

There is no way I'm taking these into class.
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[THE Moosed]

Bleh. I wish they had a poetry class at my school. I liked your first one best; your phobia poem just doesn't seem to flow well to me.

[Tacofiend]

Wow. I got a replie. Thank you Julie.
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[THE Moosed]

I will be sure to 'replie' again if you post more poems.

[Tacofiend]

This is the formatted "Identity" poem I wrote.

Cris
Genius, Visionary, conceited bastard.
Savoir of his generation and bane of their patience.
Lover of writing, video games and Chuck Norris, our blessed sovereign.
Who feels love, compassion, and anything else that will help me accumulate female attention.
Who fears circus folk, the Pope, and phobias.
Would like a theme song, a laugh track, and Rod Sterling to follow me around and narrate my life.
Resident of a worthless and unproductive society.
Vallecillo
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[Tacofiend]

The Self

An artist in a cluttered world,
Who seeks a clean sheet of parchment;
Who seeks originality.
Wishing for a chance to make his impression;
A chance at immortality.
To leave a legacy;
To live on through what he’s done.
He desires recognition;
Desires admiration.
Wanting to simply be remembered.


That was the "self" poem we had to write.
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