CALLING ALL BOOK NERDS!🗣️

#89 I do

Acceptable description btw

I mean not poetry myself but I write riddles in a poetic way

#91
Awesome! Have any poets (or poems) you like in particular?

#92 I made it as simple as possible, thx

#94

I sometimes write poetry, but I don’t have any poets in mind

#96
Cool. Care to share?

#89 I write a ton of music, thats like poetry 2.0

#97 hopefully I didn’t discard it, I wrote my most memorable one in 3rd grade.

Lmao what was it about?

It was about every life being a plant that grew with knowledge and died when you gave up, smth like that.

Also I said knowledge was a race at the end XD

Also #96 I’d recommend looking into Charles Bukowski and Billy Collins: here’s a poem from each

Bukowski: Cut While Shaving

It's never quite right, he said, the way people look,
the way the music sounds, the way the words are
written.
It's never quite right, he said, all the things we are
taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we
die, all the lives we live,
they are never quite right,
they are hardly close to right,
these lives we live
one after the other,
piled there as history,
the waste of the species,
the crushing of the light and the way,
it's not quite right,
it's hardly right at all
he said.

don't I know it? I
answered.

I walked away from the mirror.
it was morning, it was afternoon, it was
night

nothing changed
it was locked in place.
something flashed, something broke, something
remained.

I walked down the stairway and
into it.

And for Collins you should ready “The Lanyard” and “American Sonnet”

#101-102
Haha I’d love to give it a read sometime

#3 and #4 will do. I haven’t seen much poems yet, but they seem like a good read.

There’s also this Ogden Nash-esque masterpiece I wrote a year or so ago:

Let’s see what I’ll be eatin’.
I grab some food to get nuked.
Some Hiroshima bacon,
And some Nagasaki soup

They say it comes from pigs.
Some grade A-pparent pork.
Lobster, puréed figs,
At the finest diner in New York

I turn it on and pop it in.
I set the timer and sit down.
I hear the hum begin,
As I take a look around

Clockwise goes the radio knob.
Grab the paper from outside.
I get a call from my job.
I say I’m sick. (I lied).

Somethin’ chirps and beeps,
as I walk to the machine.
Pull out the radioactive heap,
As the air is filled with toxic steam.

A plastic spoon from the cupboard.
A strange smelling styrofoam bowl.
The artificial umbilical cord,
That sustains me in this hole.

It doesn’t taste like bacon.
It’s just my thrice daily pill.
All that my microwave’s makin’,
And I eat till I get my fill.

I’ll take my meager rations.
It’s all that I can get.
There’s not much that I’m askin’.
Just that my needs are gettin’ met.

Someday I’ll climb outta this.
Cut my life providing line.
There’s not a thing that I will miss.
Where can I get some genuine swine?

First thing I’ll do is buy some pig.
I won’t let a second go to waste.
Cook it quick and in I dig.
And I won’t need to dream how bacon tastes.

#7 holy-

#7 that’s actually a masterpiece

I call it- Microwaved Bacon,
And I hope it’s not too politically incorrect