Gonna post some old poems
like this one.
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
Other than a couple of little ditties for my baby girl, I haven't really written any decent poetry in probably 10 or 15 years. In fact, some of the stuff that I have dates all the way back to 1984. (eek!) But some of it is still halfway decent.
With that in mind, here then is a piece I created my freshman year in college.
A little set-up for it:
You know how most of the time, ancient inscriptions are found on urns and stelae and tablets and stuff? And you know how most of the pottery and tablets and so forth are cracked and broken into a lot of little pieces? Well, Keats claimed to have found an "Ode on a Grecian Urn"... but what if the urn had been shattered, and had to be pieced back together incompletely? (n.b. For full effect, I recommend that you actually go read the original.)
I give you "Ode on a Piece of a Grecian Urn":
Thou ravish'd bride,
Thou sylvan who can press a flowery hyme[n],
That leaf-fringed leg haunts deities, mortals, men, gods.
Maidens mad pursu[e] a struggle to wild ecstasy.
Hard me! Sweet but unhard are wet;
therefore, yes oft pipes lay on the sensual but[t], dear.
Pipe I one fair.
Youth beneath the trees, thou can ever be bare;
Bold lover ever can kiss in the goal, ye[s], do [i]t;
He cannot fade, thou hast thy bliss,
Forever wilt thou love.
Ah, happy, happy! she leaves never,
And, happy me, unwearied, forever piping more love!
Forever warm and still to be enjoyed,
Forever panting, and forever young,
Breathing passion, that art high,
A burning head, an arching tongue.
Who comes?
O priest, lead to the skies her silken dres[s].
At sea shore with peaceful citadel,
I emptied thy teats.
Silent be; and not a soul tell
Why thou art so late.
O shape! Fair tit! Bred of men and maidens,
I rest on thou.
I ease out of thou, Oh, o aa!
[ I ] shall in thou remain, in thou, beauty,
Beauty--that is all we need.
With that in mind, here then is a piece I created my freshman year in college.
A little set-up for it:
You know how most of the time, ancient inscriptions are found on urns and stelae and tablets and stuff? And you know how most of the pottery and tablets and so forth are cracked and broken into a lot of little pieces? Well, Keats claimed to have found an "Ode on a Grecian Urn"... but what if the urn had been shattered, and had to be pieced back together incompletely? (n.b. For full effect, I recommend that you actually go read the original.)
I give you "Ode on a Piece of a Grecian Urn":
Thou ravish'd bride,
Thou sylvan who can press a flowery hyme[n],
That leaf-fringed leg haunts deities, mortals, men, gods.
Maidens mad pursu[e] a struggle to wild ecstasy.
Hard me! Sweet but unhard are wet;
therefore, yes oft pipes lay on the sensual but[t], dear.
Pipe I one fair.
Youth beneath the trees, thou can ever be bare;
Bold lover ever can kiss in the goal, ye[s], do [i]t;
He cannot fade, thou hast thy bliss,
Forever wilt thou love.
Ah, happy, happy! she leaves never,
And, happy me, unwearied, forever piping more love!
Forever warm and still to be enjoyed,
Forever panting, and forever young,
Breathing passion, that art high,
A burning head, an arching tongue.
Who comes?
O priest, lead to the skies her silken dres[s].
At sea shore with peaceful citadel,
I emptied thy teats.
Silent be; and not a soul tell
Why thou art so late.
O shape! Fair tit! Bred of men and maidens,
I rest on thou.
I ease out of thou, Oh, o aa!
[ I ] shall in thou remain, in thou, beauty,
Beauty--that is all we need.