I wrote these poems in an Alice in Wonderland theme so yea..... So if anyone actually reads these please comment and give me feedback.
My first stupid poem is an ode. I know that these poems are kinda lame but oh well...
Ode to my singing dandelion
The Dandelions
Sing in the
afternoon.
voices like
silk, and
songs as elegant
as a purple
sunset.
My dandelion sings in the front row.
Draped in its
lion like mane,
it becomes superior.
A small sun
smooshed into
one, small, delightful
flower. The rose
Joined my dandelion
in song.
The silky song
Of my dandelion over powered that
of the rose.
There my
dandelion stood twinkling.
A star,
in the golden
sky.
Sing in the
afternoon.
voices like
silk, and
songs as elegant
as a purple
sunset.
My dandelion sings in the front row.
Draped in its
lion like mane,
it becomes superior.
A small sun
smooshed into
one, small, delightful
flower. The rose
Joined my dandelion
in song.
The silky song
Of my dandelion over powered that
of the rose.
There my
dandelion stood twinkling.
A star,
in the golden
sky.
I happened to forget what type this poem is but i really like this one.
It was all a dream?
Footstepps all around me,
running, screaming cards.
Red suites of armor swirling
around me. "Catch the girl! Catch Alice!"
I hear as i keep running,
I turned, only to see the red queen's
massive head. Her expressions
clouded with anger. her skin
changed into a deep red.
I kept running. I ran towards
the door, the door which
would take me to safety. It
was locked. I peered through
the lock, and saw myself fast asleep.
Was i really dreaming?
Footstepps all around me,
running, screaming cards.
Red suites of armor swirling
around me. "Catch the girl! Catch Alice!"
I hear as i keep running,
I turned, only to see the red queen's
massive head. Her expressions
clouded with anger. her skin
changed into a deep red.
I kept running. I ran towards
the door, the door which
would take me to safety. It
was locked. I peered through
the lock, and saw myself fast asleep.
Was i really dreaming?
I really hate this poem and it is a parody. I Find that the parodys are simple and goofy like this one:
The Mad Tea Party
Ten little teacups sitting in a line,
one fell down, now there is nine.
Nine little teacups waiting at the gate,
one cracked under the hater's weight, now there is eight
Eight little teacups looking for a haven,
one saw the queen, now there is seven.
Seven little teacups played with lipsticks,
one wrote on the wall, now there is six.
Six little teacups amazingly stile alive,
one ate the tarts, now there is five.
Five little teacups saw the little locked door,
one squeezed through, now there is four.
Four little teacups found paint, red as can be,
one painted the roses, now there is three.
Three little teacups needed a tissue,
one used the queen's dress, now there are two.
Two little teacups looking for fun,
one chased the Jabberwockey, now there is one.
One little teacup went to the auction,
he bought the hatters socks, and now there are none.
Ten little teacups sitting in a line,
one fell down, now there is nine.
Nine little teacups waiting at the gate,
one cracked under the hater's weight, now there is eight
Eight little teacups looking for a haven,
one saw the queen, now there is seven.
Seven little teacups played with lipsticks,
one wrote on the wall, now there is six.
Six little teacups amazingly stile alive,
one ate the tarts, now there is five.
Five little teacups saw the little locked door,
one squeezed through, now there is four.
Four little teacups found paint, red as can be,
one painted the roses, now there is three.
Three little teacups needed a tissue,
one used the queen's dress, now there are two.
Two little teacups looking for fun,
one chased the Jabberwockey, now there is one.
One little teacup went to the auction,
he bought the hatters socks, and now there are none.
This next poem is called the venemous verse and is meant to be hate full. iHate the Catter piller so yeah xD
Stupid Caterpillar...
Dear Stupid Caterpillar,
You remind me of a cat after a shower,
a clog in my most beautiful porcelain throne,
a terrifying, itchy rash that will never leave.
Your legs are all plump, stubby sausages,
who have a bite taken from each one.
Your arms wobble, like a table with half of the legs sawed off and the rest uneven.
Your hair is absent, as if it were a misbehaving school boy, who hated school.
Your personality is like a spitting llama, with overactive spit glands.
When I am with you I wish I had a truck, to hit you with said truck, to yell and scream.
Yours, when toasters fly, and eat bacon.
And thats all off the ones i have written so far sweatdrop
