deird1
in
still_grrr
147 ficlet - Poetry
Title: Poetry
Author: deird1
Rating: PG
Word Count: 720
Prompt: 147 (April - National Poetry Month)
Characters: mostly, a lot of Potentials...
Notices
Complaints
Notices
The Giant Noticeboard of DOOM
The Big Board of Poetry
(Yet another name change?
How very strange!)
Announcement: In honor of National Poetry Month, all submissions to this board must now be done in POEM FORM.
Obey this new rule - ’cause it’s just that cool.
By order of The Great Xander (chief morale officer, bringer of snacks, and general punching bag)
Has anybody seen my hat?
I really need to find it - stat.
Movies!
Tonight, on T.V.
At 8 will we see
Star Wars, and then some Bugs Bunny
So don’t make a fuss
Come downstairs and join us!
It’ll be really exciting and funny
Roses are red
Violets are blue
California is hot
And so are you
whoever’s doing the next shopping run, we need more toilet paper
- Buffy
(The Great Xander disapproves of the lack of poetry in this submission. Please amend this error immediately.)
There once was a vampire named Spike
Who tried to ride on a bike
But he soon was unnerved
The bike swivelled and swerved
And so he decided to hike
Roses are red
Violets are blue
If Buffy gets a rocket launcher
I want one too
training begins at 6pm this evening - don’t be late
- Buffy
(Still not good enough, Buff. The Great Xander is seriously displeased.)
twenty-fourth in line
for the shower
a hallway full
of shuffling feet
impatient sighs
towel-filled hands
minor scuffles
then
finally
it is my turn
I step inside
triumphant
wipe the steam-covered mirror
towel on the door
clothes on the floor
a long relaxing soak
but
the hot water’s already gone
and the next in line is hammering on the door
Yummy to drink, and white as silk:
Someone needs to buy more milk
- Buffy
(happy, Xan?)
A Haiku:
stakes are good weapons
classic, simple, hand-to-hand
crossbows? much better
One day, when we leave this town
Buy a house and settle down
We’ll look back on these days, and recall
How wonderful we thought it all
But today, we think it loud,
Far too busy, too big a crowd,
Too much noise - we have to shout
We really just want to get out
But when at last we move away
And look back fondly on this day
We’ll remember heaven instead of hell
…and won’t remember the really gross smell
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Vampires are scary
But we are too
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Give me some Kleenex
I’ve got the flu
(Roses are boring
Violets are too
Write any more of these
And I’m going to sue
- T.G.X.)
Sword drills, fake kills
Seven times a day
“When do we get a REAL fight?”
The new Potentials say
Sword slicing, death dicing
All too much to ask
“Back to relaxing sword drills?”
The old Potentials bask
To whoever stole my REALLY EXPENSIVE shampoo:
When I get a hold of you
I’m going to punch you black and blue
Kick your shins, pull your hair
Fix you with an icy stare
Steal your clothes, burn your money
Fill your sleeping bag with honey
Pelt you with big clumps of mud
Get vampires to suck your blood
And then I will assault your ears
By making you listen to Britney Spears
If you wish to avoid this fate
Then never fear - it’s not too late
The only thing you have to do
Is give me back my damn shampoo
Tonight we'll practise throwing knives,
Kicking ass and saving lives
It starts at six - don't be late
It's going to be really really great
- Buffy, poet extraordinaire
Roses are sad
And violets regretful
Call us boring again
And we’re coming to get you
Willow the witch
is still biding her time
Working her way
to completing a rhyme
Wondering if
her poem will be done
Before the rest of us
get sick of this fun
Katy and Steph
have been writing for ages
The floor is increasingly
covered with pages
And yet they still seem
to be having no luck
Their poem’s unwritten
They’re both terribly stuck
Young Dawn, meanwhile
is researching Sumerian
She won’t write in English
(or even Hungarian)
Instead she painstakingly
composes her thoughts
In a language of which
we can understand nought
All strive for verboseness
- yet all are laconic
I must say,
I do find it strangely ironic
This challenge
with which we are utterly smitten
takes up all of our time
…and still nothing gets written!
Author: deird1
Rating: PG
Word Count: 720
Prompt: 147 (April - National Poetry Month)
Characters: mostly, a lot of Potentials...
Notices
Complaints
Notices
The Giant Noticeboard of DOOM
The Big Board of Poetry
(Yet another name change?
How very strange!)
Announcement: In honor of National Poetry Month, all submissions to this board must now be done in POEM FORM.
Obey this new rule - ’cause it’s just that cool.
By order of The Great Xander (chief morale officer, bringer of snacks, and general punching bag)
Has anybody seen my hat?
I really need to find it - stat.
Movies!
Tonight, on T.V.
At 8 will we see
Star Wars, and then some Bugs Bunny
So don’t make a fuss
Come downstairs and join us!
It’ll be really exciting and funny
Roses are red
Violets are blue
California is hot
And so are you
whoever’s doing the next shopping run, we need more toilet paper
- Buffy
(The Great Xander disapproves of the lack of poetry in this submission. Please amend this error immediately.)
There once was a vampire named Spike
Who tried to ride on a bike
But he soon was unnerved
The bike swivelled and swerved
And so he decided to hike
Roses are red
Violets are blue
If Buffy gets a rocket launcher
I want one too
training begins at 6pm this evening - don’t be late
- Buffy
(Still not good enough, Buff. The Great Xander is seriously displeased.)
twenty-fourth in line
for the shower
a hallway full
of shuffling feet
impatient sighs
towel-filled hands
minor scuffles
then
finally
it is my turn
I step inside
triumphant
wipe the steam-covered mirror
towel on the door
clothes on the floor
a long relaxing soak
but
the hot water’s already gone
and the next in line is hammering on the door
Yummy to drink, and white as silk:
Someone needs to buy more milk
- Buffy
(happy, Xan?)
A Haiku:
stakes are good weapons
classic, simple, hand-to-hand
crossbows? much better
One day, when we leave this town
Buy a house and settle down
We’ll look back on these days, and recall
How wonderful we thought it all
But today, we think it loud,
Far too busy, too big a crowd,
Too much noise - we have to shout
We really just want to get out
But when at last we move away
And look back fondly on this day
We’ll remember heaven instead of hell
…and won’t remember the really gross smell
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Vampires are scary
But we are too
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Give me some Kleenex
I’ve got the flu
(Roses are boring
Violets are too
Write any more of these
And I’m going to sue
- T.G.X.)
Sword drills, fake kills
Seven times a day
“When do we get a REAL fight?”
The new Potentials say
Sword slicing, death dicing
All too much to ask
“Back to relaxing sword drills?”
The old Potentials bask
To whoever stole my REALLY EXPENSIVE shampoo:
When I get a hold of you
I’m going to punch you black and blue
Kick your shins, pull your hair
Fix you with an icy stare
Steal your clothes, burn your money
Fill your sleeping bag with honey
Pelt you with big clumps of mud
Get vampires to suck your blood
And then I will assault your ears
By making you listen to Britney Spears
If you wish to avoid this fate
Then never fear - it’s not too late
The only thing you have to do
Is give me back my damn shampoo
Tonight we'll practise throwing knives,
Kicking ass and saving lives
It starts at six - don't be late
It's going to be really really great
- Buffy, poet extraordinaire
Roses are sad
And violets regretful
Call us boring again
And we’re coming to get you
Willow the witch
is still biding her time
Working her way
to completing a rhyme
Wondering if
her poem will be done
Before the rest of us
get sick of this fun
Katy and Steph
have been writing for ages
The floor is increasingly
covered with pages
And yet they still seem
to be having no luck
Their poem’s unwritten
They’re both terribly stuck
Young Dawn, meanwhile
is researching Sumerian
She won’t write in English
(or even Hungarian)
Instead she painstakingly
composes her thoughts
In a language of which
we can understand nought
All strive for verboseness
- yet all are laconic
I must say,
I do find it strangely ironic
This challenge
with which we are utterly smitten
takes up all of our time
…and still nothing gets written!