GFY poetry thread
 

I'm working on my first poetry collection, I've written 100's of poems in my life, but recently, I decided that collecting all of my poetry together was a better idea than working on my tube site killer, for now, because... reasons.

Anyways, I've got about 25 or so poems as part of my collection, and it got me thinking, does anyone on GFY regularly enjoy poetry? It doesn't have to rhyme, obviously, as the best poetry doesn't.

Post your favourite poets or poems!

My on-brand-for-GFY favourite poem(not written by me):

don’t ever get the idea I am a poet; you can see me
at the racetrack any day half drunk
betting quarters, sidewheelers and straight thoroughs,
but let me tell you, there are some women there
who go where the money goes, and sometimes when you
look at these whores these onehundreddollar whores
you wonder sometimes if nature isn’t playing a joke
dealing out so much breast and ass and the way
it’s all hung together, you look and you look and
you look and you can’t believe it; there are ordinary women
and then there is something else that wants to make you
tear up paintings and break albums of Beethoven
across the back of the john; anyhow, the season
was dragging and the big boys were getting busted,
all the non-pros, the producers, the cameraman,
the pushers of Mary, the fur salesman, the owners
themselves, and Saint Louie was running this day:
a sidewheeler that broke when he got in close;
he ran with his head down and was mean and ugly
and 35 to 1, and I put a ten down on him.
the driver broke him wide
took him out by the fence where he’d be alone
even if he had to travel four times as far,
and that’s the way he went it
all the way by the outer fence
traveling two miles in one
and he won like he was mad as hell
and he wasn’t even tired,
and the biggest blonde of all
all ass and breast, hardly anything else
went to the payoff window with me.

that night I couldn’t destroy her
although the springs shot sparks
and they pounded on the walls.
later she sat there in her slip
drinking Old Grandad
and she said
what’s a guy like you doing
living in a dump like this?
and I said
I’m a poet

and she threw back her beautiful head and laughed.

you? you . . . a poet?

I guess you’re right, I said, I guess you’re right.

but still she looked good to me, she still looked good,
and all thanks to an ugly horse
who wrote this poem.

I voted for Obama
I ain't no llama
So save all the drama
for

Yo mamma!

:1orglaugh

:1orglaugh:1orglaugh:1orglaugh

:thumbsup

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Only 1 person on GFY,
Who really likes poo!

Now that's some good shit!

:thumbsup:1orglaugh

I thought this poem was great when I had to study it in school as a kid. Not sure this is really appropriate for junior high schoolers, now that I'm an adult but 🤷

Richard Cory
BY EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
Most poems rhyme,
but this one doesn't.

:D

Roses may be red,
Violets might be blue.
But who gives a fuck about flowers?
I just like poo :2 cents:

OP, interesting poem. Have you considered using more analogies and metaphors?

I was getting high
Fucking around with AI
All my homies, hi

GFY's very own muse JesseQuinn already started a poetry thread . . .

That's Bukowski who wrote that...

So much talent, so little time.

Imagine the cancelling today