Poems and Acrostics

I am a stranger here below,
And what I am is hard to know;
I am so vile, so prone to sin,
I fear that I'm not born again.

When I experience call to mind,
My understanding is so blind,
All feeling sense seems to be gone,
Which makes me think that I am wrong.

I find myself out of the way,
My thoughts are often gone astray,
Like one alone I seem to be,
O is there anyone like me?

My nature is so prone to sin,
Which makes my doing so unclean;
That when I count up all the cost,
If not free grace then I am lost.

— The Sacred Harp (2012) from Clay's Hymns & Spiritual Songs, 1793

BELIEVE

Do you feel crushed under the heavy weight of sin?
Do you want to be washed and be innocent within?
There’s only one thing that you have to do:
Believe, believe in Jesus, and he will save you.

Do you feel lonely and empty in your soul?
Do you feel hungry, though your stomach feels full?
There’s only one thing that you have to do:
Believe, believe in Jesus, and he will fill you.

Do you feel too weak to make it through the storm?
Do you feel as if temptations round you swarm?
There’s only one thing that you have to do:
Believe, believe in Jesus, and he’ll strengthen you.

I have felt weak, guilty, and hungry to be wise.
I’ve wanted to tell the truth, though my mouth poured out lies.
But I did one thing, and I felt all better then:
I believed in Christ Jesus, and now I’ll go to hea’en.

It needs some work, but I think it is good.

Silly little baby won't go to sleep.
I already told him not another peep.
Hush little baby, don't say a word;
Bubba's gonna buy you a mocking bird.
(Wait, that's not it, that's the other tune.)
I'm gonna read him "Goodnight Moon".
If after that he still won't shut up,
I'm gonna get him a drink in a cup.
If that drink in a cup gets spilled,
I'm gonna get him some sleeping pills.
If those sleeping pills do nothing,
I'm gonna stop that dog from ruffing.
If that dog won't pay no heed,
I'm gonna get him a book to read.
If that book leaves him too scared,
I'm gonna get him a teddy bear.
If that teddy bear just ain't right,
I'm gonna get him a bright nightlight.
If that bright nightlight ain't bright,
I'm gonna turn on the hallway light.
I'm gonna give him a kiss and a hug,
And then I'm gonna get me some nice earplugs.

You must have an intelligent dog if it can read.

Wow! Matthew, that's really good! :D

@margaret: facedesk You and Matthew both. You always tease when you really do know what people mean. :P

I'm surprised you mentioned that instead of cracking down on my bad grammar. xP

Bad grammar seems to be accepted in poetry. xP

Bad grammar seems to be accepted in poetry. xP

Aww, that's really sweet xD

Bad grammar seems to be accepted in poetry. xP

Intentionally bad grammar, that is.

Bad grammar seems to be accepted in poetry. xP

Yep, exactly. But not when it comes to incorrect subject specification. xP

Aww, that's really sweet xD

It is? I thought it was satirically funny. :P JK

Aww, that's really sweet xD

It is? I thought it was satirically funny. :P JK

Nope, you're wrong. xP xP jkjk

Bad grammar seems to be accepted in poetry. xP

Yep, exactly. But not when it comes to incorrect subject specification. xP

Mmmhmmm. xP

The Travelers and the Raccoon

Travelers were hungry, tired, cold.
They had no blanket they could hold.
They walked all day, they slept all night,
Wolves and bears gave them a bad fright.

One day, they were overcome with fright
But this was not during the night
No, this thing happened in the day,
That made it scary, I daresay.

They'd been walking for a while that day
One of them looked, and shouted, “Hey!”
There, in the broad path, was a 'coon.
Raccoons come out at night, not noon.

They yelled, “It probably has rabies!”
Mothers quickly snatched their babies.
The raccoon ran, and snatched at one
A boy, amid shouts of “Run! Run!”

He wisely took their advice, and ran
To the end of the caravan.
A man picked up a stick, and swung
While another one fired a gun.

Very soon the raccoon fell down dead.
A man had shot it through the head.
The travelers moved on, still scared.
To risk tasting it no one dared.

But now they're where they started to go,
They're planting now, with spade and hoe.
If a raccoon anyone sees,
They will scare it away with ease.

There once was a poet from Rome,
Who lived by the writing of poems,
But try as he might,
He never could quite
Get the last line to rhyme with the rest of them.

There once was a poet quite Russian,
Who was known for his terrible fussing.
He hated bad rhymes
Others thought were just fine,
Let this poem teach those a good lesson.

There once was a poet from Manchester,
but he mostly wrote prose.

There once a man from Pompeii,
Who gave talks on volcanoes each day.
When the mountain erupted,
He got interrupted,
And forgot what he wanted to say.

Lol! You guys are too funny xD

There was once this kid from Ohio,
Who dabbled in poetry (kindo),
And he wasn't too bad
When an idea he had
Which was altogether too rare, though.

(I think he probably spends too much time reading…)

I read that poem in one of my reading books. I didn't get it back then, but now I find it funny! :)

Yup!

There once a foot doctor from France,
Who always wanted to dance.
When he asked a girl out,
She started to pout,
Because he was wearing weird pants.

……..Um. Yeah. A weird one someone in our family (who shall remain anonymous) quickly came up with. xP

There once was a poet from Rome, Who lived by the writing of poems, But try as he might, He never could quite Get the last line to rhyme with the rest of them.

LOL (for real) - I really like that one. The prose one is good, too. :)

Hmmm, the only one I know goes like:

There once was a lady from Lynn
Who was so extraordinarily thin
That when she essayed
To drink some lemonade
She slipped through the straw and fell in

A composer attempted a worship song;
Though the content was absent or mostly wrong,
He was really defeated
By how much it repeated,
And how it made the service go far too long.

Rarely do I truly LOL, but with every one of your limericks I have done so.

Rarely do I truly LOL, but with every one of your limericks I have done so.

There was an old man of peru
Who dreamt he was eating his shoe
He awoke in the night
In a terrible fright
And found it was perfectly true

There was a young woman named Kite,
Whose speed was much faster than light,
She set out one day,
In a relative way,
And returned on the previous night.

A flea and a fly in a flue,
Were imprisoned, so what could they do?
Said the fly, "Let us flee!"
"Let us fly," said the flea,
And they flew through a flaw in the flue.

+The Story of a Would-Be Poet Plagued by a Long-Winded Deadpool with a Mind for Grammar+

There once was a guy from Anton'.
(No, that just sounds too much alone.
It must need the "San".)
Anyhow, this man
Had a penchant to which he was prone.

He tried to write poems, but instead
Ideas kept going to his head,
(Or maybe his “brain”.)
But as I was sayin’,
(Perhaps “as it was to be said”?)

These ideas were not to be lost.
He felt need to use them at all cost.
(You forgot the plural!)
But what rhymes with “plural”?
Nothing really that makes any nous.

(That word’s chiefly British, you know.)
Will you please quit making a row?
This guy, as I said,
Had ideas in his head
Which he really knew how to make grow.

His writings turned out to be longer
Than he really meant them, and stronger
Still than the fact that he bored some
With all his ad hominem
Was the fact that he questioned his grammar.

This poem could’ve really been said
(Or is it more proper as “read”?)
In two verses or less.
Just look at this mess.
I think I’ll write music instead.

(This guy may, or may not, be me. I was trying to be satirically funny. xP)

I like it. :)

+The Autumn Rail+

Looking at the world from up on the fence rail
The autumn colors merge around me
Up here where I don’t feel so frail
Like something wild and free

Its God’s wonderful works in radiant detail
I never wanted a better explanation
I feel a wonderful colorful sensation
I love just sitting on the fence rail.

–Sarah B. @(October 2011)@

Do you remember me?
True - you left me far behind
But I have been waiting for this day
To bring refreshing memories to mind

It’s like feeling how the windbreaks
If you keep good memories as treasurer
It’s contentment and heartaches
Just to think deeper and remember

-Sarah B. @(Summer 2012)@

Aw, that's nice, Sarah!!! You did a really good job :D

Thank you, Emily. I have a hard time sharing my poems… because I don't ever feel that they are as good as they could be.

Yeah, I know how that is :-/ But you really did do a nice job!! Thank you for sharing! :D

Thank you, Emily. I have a hard time sharing my poems... because I don't ever feel that they are as good as they could be.

No poem is ever as good as it could be! I liked the poems, and I don't think you have to be ashamed of sharing them. :)

^^ What he said. :) I especially liked the second one.

I entered my poem in Bethany's 4th of July poetry contest, and to my excitement, it won :D

You can read it (along with the other four poems) here:

http://2timothypoetry.weebly.com/

I'm also about to post the entire poem here (for the contest I actually cut out one verse so that my poem's length would not exceed the limit).

Blessed Land of Liberty
(c) Emmy S. June 2014

Picnic baskets, blankets plaid;
Upon the grassy field are clad
The people of our fairest land
With red and white and blue so grand.

Barefoot, carefree the children run
With merry laughs and hair undone.
Their parents smile in gladdest mood,
Enjoying friends and scrumptious food.

And as the sky is clothed with black
The starlight does not brightness lack.
The parents gather children near;
Excitement growing, much good cheer.

Thunderous bursts of radiant light
Appear above the crowd, so bright!
The glorious display of fire
Sings of the land, as if a choir.

It sings of men who, without doubt,
Led their families on a new route
To an unexplored, wild new place:
Our beloved United States.

It sings of bravery, courage, skill:
Of men who fought of their free will;
Of women who cared, loved, and taught;
A prosperous land of liberty wrought.

It sings of a land under God
Freedom he gives, though men are flawed.
He allowed our nation to be
Our blessed land of liberty.

Wow! I love the full thing even more. My Dad did, too, so I'll have to show it to him. :)

Aww, thanks Bethany! ;) Haha, okay!

Oh, that's really good! I like it a lot! :D

Oh, that's really good! I like it a lot! :D

Yes! It is very good! :)

Thanks Emily and Sarah! :)

I look in the mirror to search my face
Crying and pleading for grace
To hear that song that is my life
Played to the tune of joys and strife

I open my eyes to see my days
Notes of doubt and faith
Hopes that set the page ablaze

It is the Lord who writes this song
He will make every verse right
Even the things that seem wrong
Will come to good at the finish this fight

-Sarah B. (September 22, 2014)

Worlds Shortest Poem…

"Fleas"
Adam
Had'em.

:P :P

revives this thread 'cause poems are awesome =)

Worlds Shortest Poem... "Fleas" Adam Had'em. :P :P

aha!

I wrote this today for a literature assignment. Enjoy :) If you want to offer any feedback/critiques, please feel free!

Delights Which Bring Me Joy
Emmy S. November 2014

All these delights, though simple, are delights which bring me joy:

Soft, delicious, golden sunlight spilt upon the floor;
Aroma of a baked loaf filling home with its allure;
A mug of tea, so warm and strong; sweet fruit and savory cheese;
Windows ushering in the day; the coolness of a breeze.

Sounds of children playing, laughing; strains of music sweet;
The beauty of a shaded path; a cozy, welcoming seat;
Sincere and happy smiles; the embrace of a dear friend;
The still moments of silence which the early morning lends.

A kettle shouting boldly as it's letting off its steam;
The scampering of a squirrel; a merry eye's bright gleam;
The end of childhood fights resolved by all-forgiving love;
Billions of shining silver raindrops falling from above.

Happy hours with a book; time spent emerged in thought;
Wildflowers, streams, and acorns; the whole of nature sought;
The mysteries of a common tree; the details of each stone;
The faithful lights of heaven which across the earth are known.

All these delights, though simple, are delights which bring me joy.