Week 6 - Open Mic

[Prof. Sky Alton]

We’re having our very own open mic night! (Well, week)

This is your chance to share your own poetry. It can be in any form you like: serious or funny, free verse or villanelle. You could even try your hand at writing deliberately bad poetry (trickier than it sounds!).

Your poem should be at least 8 lines long for full credit (that’s 8 individual, unique lines - if you repeat, it will need to be longer) and needs to be your own creation. You can take inspiration from other poems or satire a famous one but the work needs to be yours.

Post your poems below by 23:59 HOL-time on the 20th of August to earn 20 beans!

[Anne-Marie Gagne]

Writing Poems

Oh poems and poetry,
Such pain you give me.
I like reading them
Not so much writing them
But when I do I feel a bit insane.

Rhyming words are hard
But finding rhythms is easy.
But nonetheless that does not mean
That writing them is not my bane.

I will never remember most types of poems.
I know that Shakespeare plays read like poems
Though that’s not what they are.
But I’d rather read those than try and write more.

Poems are hard to do right.
But one thing is nice about them
And that’s just that rules for writing anything
Are definitely meant to be broken.

[Prof. Sindor Aloyarc]

“Foolish Whims”

Slipping away on a tide that’s cursed
Without heeding your lessons
For better, or for lowly worst
It’s ignorance, not nescience

The wretch beyond horizon
Does not grant out special passings
Nor cares to keep enlivened
Foolish whims a lad-or-lass sings

But should your deep compulsion
Never turn those sails around
You might just avoid impulsion
Binding sure what’s nary yet been bound

So with that helpless way to think
I wish you well, in spite of fear
May your story lived be worth the clink
I pray one day we’ll get to hear

[Janne Halla]

In silence, I once danced to melodies so sweet,
But now, a heavy shroud descends, a deafening defeat.
The world of sound, now fading, slipping away,
Like whispers lost in the night, at the break of day.

No more laughter's music or a bird's sweet song,
Only the hush of stillness, where I once did belong.
The symphony of life, I can no longer hear,
As silence wraps around me, drowning what was dear.

The laughter of children, the gentle hum of rain,
All these precious sounds, I'll never hear again.
In solitude, I stand, in a world now so unclear,
A silent world I've entered, where sound has disappeared.