Ode to One Fine Dinner (Poem)

Okay so as you know I suck at poetry, but I love it so I try anyway. I also had to do a poetry unit for school and I had no idea what to write so I just took a bit from a poetry inspiration website and a bit from my own experiences and ended up writing probably the best poem I have ever written in my entire life. It's still horribly imperfect, I practically took a butcher knife to grammar, and there are structure holes everywhere, but here it is:

Ode to One Fine Dinner

Eskimos dwell in the frigid north
Said the lasagna, come steaming forth:
“Together we live in ice and storm
Let me keep you sheltered and warm.”

Asked the eskimo: “Are you quite sure?”
Nodding, the pasta did reassure:
“Snug and toasty, my dear eskimo,
Tucked tight between fine oregano.”

The eskimo then donned, like a coat,
The lasagna, which soothed his sore throat
But when he became hungry, he then
Couldn’t help it—he ate up his friend

Now the eskimo, cold and alone,
Stands in alaska: frozen like stone
While high above in meaty sauce cloud
Lasagna dances and sings aloud.

- Inspired by my father, who said the other night as we all burnt our tongues: "Eskimos should wear lasagna."

Strayed Soul Poem

I had to write a poem for school using couplets and these sets of words:

• plea, me
• thrown, stone
• stood, wood

So here's what I got:

Long way down the road there stood
a dark and dangerous, forbidding wood.
Souls of many, there were thrown
and there they lay deep under stone.
From the forest could be heard the plea:
"Come, strayed soul, to rescue me."

I can't believe I wrote something so freaky.
I don't even know what it means.
But it rhymed, so.
Lemme know what you think.

Cookies and Poems

So, um... I made Snicker-doodles, like, two weeks ago. They were good. Yay.

Zagum: *aplauds*
Tacos: shutup.
Zagum: shuttingup.


And I wrote more poems too:

Nobody

John was a gardener

who picked flowers. (yellow)

Ernest was a mailman

and a very nice fellow.

Fredrick was a painter

who painted houses brown.

Henry was a mayor

who ran a small town.

George was a baker

who baked cherry pie.

I know who they are--

but who am I?

Jane

Jane was a girl

of age twenty-two.

I like her alot.

(You'd like her too.)

When we would meet

she'd give me cho-co-lot.

I like meeting Jane.

(You'd like it alot.)

When we parted

with a too-da-loo,

I was sad she left.

(You'd be sad too.)

Cats and Dogs

Dogs are brown,

Cats are white,

They're all the same.

(They both bite.)

I wasn't sure if I was going to post the last one, because I found it both dull and inaccurate. Ah well.

I've never been good at writing poems

And this kind of bothers me because I absolutely adore poetry.

Not all poetry, mind you, but some of it is amazing.

(For instance:)

Recently, I've been reading A. A. Milne's 'When We Were Very Young' and I must say, if you haven't read his writing, you really should.

You have to.

Well, not really.

You're not going to die or anything if you don't.

But you should. 

Anywho.

I must say that mostly my favorite poems are the somewhat nonsensical ones.

For instance, I've memorized Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky poem.

My favorites of A. A. Milne's are 'Happiness', 'The Four Friends' and 'Halfway Down'. I think I like a lot of his because some of them don't quite flow perfectly. His poems somehow always inspire me that way.

So now,
I've wrote
two poems-
not one
but two.
They're not
amazing poems
but they
will have
to do.

Ooh. I came up with that on the spot.
Moving on:

Raining

Pitter, patter
all the clatter
on the window pane.

Ping, pong
all the song
going down the lane.

Pound, pound
all the sound
driving me insane!

Why can't
          I go
               outside?

I'm not quite purfickly happy with this one. But I s'pose I like it. If you have any ideas on how I could make it better, feel free to leave a comment.

Far Away

Down, down
at the edge of town
is a long,
            dirt
                road.

Down, down
at the end of the road
is a big,
          green
               toad.

Long is the road,
green is the toad,
down at the edge
                    of town.

This one I'm pretty happy with. It was fun to write, it it is kind of what I was going for. Once again, if you have any ideas for improvements, lemme know.

I got this stuff simply from reading Milne's poems and, well, trying to mimic them. I'm rather proud.
Rather.
I like that word.

Happiness

John had
Great Big
Waterproof
Boots on;
John had a
Great Big
Waterproof
Hat;
John had a
Great Big
Waterproof
Mackintosh --
And that
(Said John)
Is
That.

     ~ A. A. Milne