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Thread: Poetry by Twebbers

  1. #1
    tWebber shunyadragon's Avatar
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    Poetry by Twebbers

    A previous thread on the old site that worked well. I will start with a little humor on cats. The next one on dogs.

    (Huffington Post) Bad news for all you cat lovers: That feline you are obsessed with is a total jerk. Sure, cats are cute, soft, lovable and an endless source of viral GIFs and memes, but in actuality, they kinda suck.

    New Cat in Town

    Hey guys who’s this black cat?
    You new in town?
    Yeah! Slipped in last week
    You’re in time, holiday food abound.

    What’s in a holiday, pray tell?
    Red and Green balls of yarn.
    Ribbons, bows and bells, bells, bells!
    Inky Spoty bite these off my neck

    New guy, what’s your name?
    Name? What’s in a name for me?
    You know, what our servants call you.
    They don’t call, they yell and throw at me.

    They may be your pets
    But it’s not the world for me,
    With forced pets and vets.
    They’re a pain, it’s the loner life for me

    Ya wanna spook the dog?
    Spook a dog why bother?
    Charlie’s the ambush cat, Pounce and scratch
    Jerk and choke end of tether.

    Serious guys dogs are dumb,
    I prefer bash and crash.
    Pisses everyone off, shout and curse
    Eat well and scatter the trash.

    Where do the girls hang out?
    Silence was the answer, tipped.
    Tabby Tubs rolled and cried.
    Don’t tell me you guys been clipped?

    Is it all play a tethered feather?
    Eat fish spam from a can.
    and spook dogs on the leather tether.
    Neat, no competition, howl from the top can.

    Frank A. Doonan

  2. #2
    tWebber shunyadragon's Avatar
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    Haiku

    God is not a chess player.
    God is the Sea.
    We are the fishes.
    Glendower: I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
    Hotspur: Why, so can I, or so can any man;
    But will they come when you do call for them? Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 1, Act III:

    go with the flow the river knows . . .

    Frank

    I do not know, therefore everything is in pencil.

  3. #3
    Theologyweb's Official Grandfather Jedidiah's Avatar
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    I have not written poetry since grade school. Well there was college . . . I am just not a poet.

  4. #4
    tWebber Darth Executor's Avatar
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    When trouts eat gerbils
    And gerbils eat trout
    Don't be surprised
    When they both have gout
    There is no such thing as innocence, only degrees of guilt.

  5. #5
    tWebber
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    One of my favorite poems is "The Race" by Dee Groberg

    The Race

    “Quit! Give up! You’re beaten!
    They shout at me and plead.”
    “There’s just too much against you now.
    This time you can’t succeed.”
    And as I start to hang my head
    In front of failure’s face,
    My downward fall is broken by
    The memory of a race.

    And hope refills my weakened will
    As I recall that scene;

    For just the thought of that short race
    Rejuvenates my being.

    A children’s race–young boys, young men–
    How I remember well.

    Excitement, sure! But also fear;
    it wasn’t hard to tell.

    They all lined up so full of hope;
    Each thought to win that race.
    Or tie for first, or if not that,
    At least take second place.

    And fathers watched from off the side
    Each cheering for his son.
    And each boy hoped to show his dad
    That he would be the one.

    The whistle blew and off they went,
    Young hearts and hopes afire.
    To win and be the hero there
    Was each young boy’s desire.

    And one boy in particular,
    Whose dad was in the crowd,
    Was running near the lead and thought:

    “My dad will be so proud!”

    But as they sped down the field
    Across a shallow dip,

    The little boy who thought to win
    Lost his step and slipped.
    Trying hard to catch himself,
    His hands flew out to brace,
    but mid the laughter of the crowd
    He fell flat on his face.
    So down he fell and with him hope
    He couldn’t win it now–
    Embarrassed, sad, he only wished
    To disappear somehow.
    But as he fell his dad stood up,
    And showed his anxious face,
    Which to the boy so clearly said,
    “Get up and win the race.”

    He quickly rose, no damage done,
    Behind a bit, that’s all–

    And ran with all his mind and might
    To make up for his fall.

    So anxious to restore himself
    To catch up and to win–

    His mind went faster than his legs;
    He slipped and fell again!
    He wished then he had quit before,
    With only one disgrace.
    “I’m hopeless as a runner now;
    I shouldn’t try to race.”

    But in the laughing crowd he searched
    And found his father’s face;
    That steady look which said again:
    “Get up and win the race!”

    So up he jumped to try again
    Ten yards behind the last–
    “If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought,
    “I’ve got to move real fast.”
    Exerting everything he had
    He regained eight or ten,
    But trying so hard to catch the lead
    He slipped and fell again!
    Defeat! He lay there silently
    A tear dropped from his eye–
    “There is no sense in running more;
    Three strikes: I’m out! Why try!”
    The will to rise had disappeared;
    All hope had fled away;
    So far behind, so error prone;
    A loser all the way.
    “I’ve lost. So what’s the use,” he thought,
    “I’ll live with my disgrace.”

    But then he thought about his dad
    Who soon he’d have to face
    “Get up,” an echo sounded low.
    “Get up and take your place;
    You were not meant for failure here.
    Get up and win the race.”
    “With borrowed will get up,” it said,
    “You haven’t lost at all.
    for winning is no more than this:
    To rise each time you fall.”
    So up he rose to run once more,
    And with a new commit
    He resolved that win or lose
    At least he wouldn’t quit.

    So far behind the others now,
    The most he’d ever been–
    Still he gave it all he had
    And ran as though to win.
    Three times he’d fallen, stumbling;
    Three times he rose again;
    Too far behind to hope to win
    He still ran to the end.

    They cheered the winning runner,
    As he crossed the line first place.
    Head high, and proud, and happy;
    No falling, no disgrace.
    But when the fallen youngster
    Crossed the line last place,
    The crowd gave him the greater cheer,
    For finishing the race.
    And even though he came in last,
    With head bowed low, unproud,
    You would have thought he’d won the race
    To listen to the crowd.
    And to his dad he sadly said,
    “I didn’t do too well.”
    “To me, you won, his father said.
    “You rose each time you fell.”

    And now when things seem dark and hard
    And difficult to face,
    The memory of that little boy
    Helps me to win my race.

    For all of life is like that race,
    With ups and downs and all.
    And all you have to do to win,
    Is rise each time you fall.

    Quit! Give up! You're beaten!
    They still shout in my face.
    But another voice within me says,
    Get up and win the race!
    Last edited by onefour1; 01-26-2014 at 03:53 AM.

  6. #6
    tWebber shunyadragon's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Jedidiah View Post
    I have not written poetry since grade school. Well there was college . . . I am just not a poet.
    I am just not a poet!
    A poet I am not!
    The more I try, I don't do it
    It rhymes, I guess I did it!
    Glendower: I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
    Hotspur: Why, so can I, or so can any man;
    But will they come when you do call for them? Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 1, Act III:

    go with the flow the river knows . . .

    Frank

    I do not know, therefore everything is in pencil.

  7. #7
    tWebber shunyadragon's Avatar
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    Compathy

    Compassion is the earth,
    it is always beneath you regardless of flavor.
    It receives all in death,
    without judgment or favor.

    Love is the moon,
    a beautiful reflection in the lake.
    entwines the favored son,
    but fades dancing away in the wake.

    Compassion is the sun.
    The sun gives warmth and life to all,
    even the dark shadows in the morn
    receive light in the eve whether short or tall.

    Love is the moon
    sometime a smile, sometimes not
    dancing in the shadows
    sometimes there, sometimes not

    Compassion fills the air.
    to some a soft breeze.
    others a deadly roar and a prayer
    Not one nor the other to please.

    Love is the moon
    Playing hide and seek
    Sometimes a wink
    for those who vainly seek.

    Compassion is the sea,
    Ascending to the heavens unseen,
    returning again to give life.
    or a grave to some in the sea

    Love is the rose.
    Beautiful to behold,
    When no longer a rose,
    the thorns take hold.

    God is not a chess player
    with the white pieces.
    God is the sea . . .
    and we are the fishes

    Frank A Doonan
    Glendower: I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
    Hotspur: Why, so can I, or so can any man;
    But will they come when you do call for them? Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part 1, Act III:

    go with the flow the river knows . . .

    Frank

    I do not know, therefore everything is in pencil.

  8. #8
    tWebber
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    Come Follow Me and He Went
    Author Unknown

    Camp 332 the captain came through

    He was wearing insignia bright.

    “Men” he declared, “You must be prepared

    To conquer the enemy’s fight!”

    With a towering glare and heart without care he said,

    “Men, I’d like you to hear…”

    “Soldier,” he said, “Get this into your head

    get rid of your cowardly fear!”

    So night after night they prepared for the fight

    At the feet of the militant man,

    Till the soldiers were ready, their spirits were steady

    And every man’s thought was I can!

    Well, the night finally came and name after name was

    Read for the march of the day

    It was then that they heard the cowardly word,

    “The captain is going to stay.”

    Well, they left for the trek and were dressed to the neck

    In attire designed for a fight

    But the hearts of the legion that marched through the region

    Were back in the camp in the night.

    You see as they went, they thought of a tent


    of a cowardly captain who stayed

    Who didn’t go through what he told them to do

    Because he was really afraid.

    He easily told the men to be bold

    To have courage for strength in a fight,

    But he was the man when the battle began

    Who hid in the dark of the night.

    Then there was one who walked in the son


    of Galilee country of old.

    A teacher was He as He walked by the sea

    For His words with His actions were bold

    “Men” he declared, “We must be prepared

    to conquer the enemy’s fight.”

    Then He went in the power of prayer to the hills

    And He prayed for the rest of the night.

    It was He long ago who taught men to know

    That it is far more blessed to give

    Then by His example His teaching was ample

    To show them how better to live.

    “Come follow me” was His conquering plea

    “We must not give up the fight.”

    “Father, thy will not mine be done,”

    and they followed in spirit and might.

    You see, the master teacher wasn’t a preacher

    Who hid in a camp in a tent,

    He was the one who showed how it was done

    He said, “Come follow me” and He went.

  9. #9
    tWebber
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    The Man in the Glass

    When you get what you want in your struggle for self
    And the world makes you king for a day,
    Just go to a mirror and look at yourself,
    And see what the man has to say.

    For it isn't your father or mother or wife,
    Upon you whose judgement must pass;
    But the one whose verdict that counts most in your life
    Is the one starring back from the glass.

    He's the one to please, never mind all the rest.
    For he's with you clear till the end,
    And you've passed your most dangerous and difficult test
    If the man in the glass is your friend.

    You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years.
    And get pats on the back as you pass,
    But your final reward will be heartaches and tears
    If you've cheated the man in the glass

  10. #10
    Freshman Baldie the Limey's Avatar
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    I tend to post my poetry to my Tumblr account here. But here's a sample;

    Bell of mercy for one who deserves none

    Here I dwell
    Across the sea
    Listening to the tolling bell
    Of sweet mercy

    For a man of great crimes
    A product of selfishness
    For him this bell chimes
    In spite of his hellishness

    I was this man
    A being of pure evil
    I was the one to damn
    Deserving of punishment most lethal

    Yet my Lord loved me
    He stepped down from His throne
    My Jesus I still cannot see
    Why you threw this dog a bone

    So I was given the hammer
    And three nine inch nails
    I hung you on that cross like a banner
    As I listened to your screams and wails

    I stood back to admire my handy work
    Not knowing that this was your deed
    Yet I could not find my old smirk
    And right there and then sprouted my seed

    Faith rushed into my every nook
    Suddenly my stone heart broke
    And I could not bear to look
    I was put under a different yoke

    That man died with Christ
    He was hung there with Him on that cross
    When Jesus was sacrificed
    Now if it isn’t for Him it is all loss

    Christ Jesus for me did die
    Oh great King of Kings
    Son of God Most High
    To Him I owe all things

    So now my life is great joy
    Yet also great sorrow
    I was once a foolish boy
    But now the truth I know

    I weep for my Lord
    That He should show such benevolence
    To His sinning ward
    Who at the time did all things in malevolence

    My soul is sorrowful
    Because of my manifold transgressions
    Yet my heart is freely joyful
    Because He is faithful to forgive at my confessions

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