I'm going to see if I can write some right and proper formal poetry. Free form modern era poetry isn't for me I think so this is the best way to try it out. The following is a pitiful excuse for a sonnet. Slate Grey Skies My mind is likened to a cold blank slate By the graceful mourners who pass me by Upon me they only look with naught but hate Contempt for me and my likeness to fly The body in the ground is blank as I They see it in me, they see it in him If I were them I would not even try To overwrite myself with heavy limb But they also can fly as well these fools Not look up to me in their dreary grief For now not bound by mortality's tools Accusatory as I were the thief The slate is blank and all the sky is grey And so it’s not my place for me to stay Main focus here was rhyming and rhythm. Subject matter and metaphorical rules will be followed in the future if there is one here. CnC appreciated as always.
Limericks are fun and easy apparently. A man by the name of Duquesne Would saunter along down the lane Till tripped by a broom He fell with a boom And never did saunter again Was told by a man I was lame That I couldn't ever gain fame Beat the poor bugger Like I was a mugger And oh yes I forgot "The Game"
