Poor Pathetic Penguins

Poor Pathetic Penguins

Little birds in black and white

Looking oh so fancy

It’s like they’re ready for the ball

Even though they don’t have pantsies

At the bottom of the earth

With nothing to do

Poor pathetic penguins

If only you flew

Fine champagne and caviar

Many spirited waltzes

You’d be enjoying all of these things

If not for that one faultzes

Maybe if we sent a boat

And gave you the chancey

You would sail right to the ball

But please don’t forget your pantsies

Aren't penguins fun?  They definitely do look as though they are birds dressed up in little tuxedoes.  They're fancy!  :-D  Also, isn't making up words so that they rhyme fun too?  I certainly enjoyed writing this poem.  The "pantsies" part makes me think of Ogden Nash because I played around with how the word was spelled so that the rhyme would work.  I think that is where I got inspiration for it.  But, back to penguins and their dashing, feather attire.  I hope that you liked this poem!  Feel free to comment or share!  :-D

I’m Only Saying, “No.”

This is a random poem I wrote.  It's definitely an older one.  I wrote it in 2010 during the summer.  I figured I would share it on this blog too.  I'm not sure how I feel about it.  Maybe it needs some work.  Maybe not.  Also, I do think that my more recent poetry is definitely better, but it's still not too bad.  This was, after all, before a poetry writing course.  Take a read, and let me know what you think.

I’m Only Saying, “No.”

I don’t know what is wrong.

I can’t explain this feeling.

I feel like we’ve never met.

For a while you’d had me reeling.

Did you do something?

Was I under a spell?

It was a paradise to me,

But now it’s a hell.

I want to get away.

You’ve caused me pain.

When I asked for sunshine

All you gave me was rain.

We started out all right.

I felt that it was real.

I thought that it could be love.

But instead there’s now pain I feel.

I was number one.

I was the crux of your universe.

Now things have changed.

You are like a curse.

This has to stop.

It needs to end.

This is one heartache

That you cannot mend.

You’ll want to fix it, and

Try to make it right.

Save your breath though.

For it’s not worth the fight.

I’m saying were finished.

We’re finally done.

I know I was wrong.

You were not the one.

You’re telling me to wait

And hear your last plea.

I’m only saying, “No.” cause

You were no good for me.

Ire-land

I don't know where this idea came from.  It was just something that popped into my head while I was at work and I wrote it down so that I wouldn't forget it.  I think that it could use some work.  Maybe it could be a bit longer too, but I decided to post it anyway.  It's kinda cute.  :-P

Ire-land

In Ire-land

Where life is grand,

And luck is always true

There lives a fairy.

Or is it faerie?

I’m never sure.  Are you?

A leprechaun

Was very fond

Of our dear fairy.

She stole his heart

Right from the start.

Their love was meant to be.

From dusk till dawn

The leprechaun

And fairy walk hand in hand.

Through hills of green

And beautiful scenes

Of dear, old Ire-land.

I am alone.

I am alone.

I walk the streets alone each day.
Yet, there are many faces around me.
People move about as if I'm not even there.
I stare at them.
Wondering.
Do they notice?
Nothing.
Not even a hint of recognition as to my presence.
I feel alone.
I am detached from the world that surrounds me.
I'm an outcast in a populous civilization.
Alone.  Nothing.  Empty.
It didn't used to be like this.
I was loved.
I had friendships.
I was cherished.
People knew me.
I was a part of life.
Not anymore.
That's gone.  Over.  Finished.
The funeral was a week ago.
But what can I do?
I am alone.
I'm still getting used to this.

I do not know where this came from.  It's definitely a tad darker compared to my other poems.  :-P  Feeling alone in a crowded world because you're really a ghost and no one actually can see you?  I mean... yeah... it's definitely different.  Hahaha  But... I do like it for some reason.  Different can be good.  Sometimes.  What do you think?

Early to bed, Early to rise... means you gotta be quiet.

Early to bed, Early to rise... means you gotta be quiet.

First off, I'm going to say that I myself have probably been the "loud neighbor" at one time or another in my life.  Probably more than once.  Definitely more than once.  :-P  

You ever have loud neighbors?  My roommate from college, Denae, and I had some neighbors who were a little loud.  There were a few nights where it would be rather late and we could hear them talking through the walls while we would be trying to go to bed.  And, I think, one or two of those nights when they were a little loud, we actually complained to our hall director about them.  At least then, we knew who was to blame because we knew what wall the talking was coming from.  :-P  There were other times though.  I found these to be more annoying.  It would be in the morning.  Now, when you do not have an 8:00 AM class, you really enjoy the extra hour or so that you get to sleep.  That's hard to achieve when your neighbors would be up earlier than you and be really loud in the bathrooms/their rooms anywhere from 6:30 to 8:00 AM.  So, this poem was my polite and nice way of asking the neighbors to be just a tad more courteous in the mornings while others are still asleep.  I put it up on the doors in the bathroom since Denae and I didn't really know which neighbors were to blame for the loud noises.  Sometimes I feel like my mom needs this too.  :-P  She can be loud in the mornings when she's up.  I love her, but she has a habit of walking with determination.  Almost like stomping, but not quite.  My sister, Hannah, says that mom got up that early and put on her shoes and walk around loudly so as to wake her and myself since we would still be in bed.  My mom gets up pretty early in the mornings, so, of course, Hannah and I are still asleep.  But, My mother goes to bed early and gets up early.  She works hard during the day whether she's at the office or home in the yard.  She accomplishes much.  She's a hard-working woman, so therefore, I can't really complain too much about her being loud.  She should be more of an inspiration, than an irritation, but I'm young, she's my mom, and maybe someday I'll learn.  :-P

Early in the morning

You may be awake,

But please be aware

Of how much noise you make.

This poem was short.  So, I felt as though it needed a little more information about the backstory of where it came from.  Also, I don't know if it really needs a title.  But, I do really like this poem.  You have any stories of people being too loud while you're trying to sleep?