I Finally Have An ID!|
Current Residence: America
Favourite genre of music: I listen to EVERTHING
Personal Quote: Im not afraid of falling, its stopping that worries me.
Writing a SestinaI hate writing this poem.Writing a Sestina by ryu-ren
I like to write, don’t get me wrong,
But I do not like writing this sestina.
It’s hard to manage, you know?
To come up with a poem that is whole,
How am I to pull this out of thin air?
This thing makes me want to swear.
What idiot invented this kind of poem?
So picky about what’s right and wrong,
How do you make it not full of holes?
No matter what I do they say “No. No,
That’s not a correct Sestina.”
6 lines in 6 paragraphs: this is a sestina.
6 words in a pattern; and you have to make them pair,
But how to do this I just don’t know.
Taking out the rules makes a much more enjoyable poem,
Just writing not worrying about making holes
And since it’s just for fun it’s never wrong.
I’m sure there is to a way that’s not wrong.
There must be a way to do a good sestina.
A way to see it as a complete whole,
But against the professionals how can mine compare?
Against these published authors my little poe
FargoThe first time we saw her I said no at firstFargo by ryu-ren
Her paws were so big on her little body
And I knew that like my own large feet and long fingers
This was a sign that she would go from small and cute
To very large, very quickly
But it was too late; my sister had already picked out where she would sleep
And my brother already had a dozen names picked out
Not caring that none of them where girl names
Her brown eyes and her little floppy ears
Her tail like a helicopters blade;
Round and round in circles, not right to left like most dogs.
She won us over within 5 minutes
Despite all the times her tail whacked into someone’s leg like a fur covered whip
We took her home that very day
I was right, by and by she grew
We got her in the summer when I returned for Christmas
She almost knocked me over when she jumped up to greet me
Well it’s too late now
She is a part of our family, fixed in with extra strength glue
Sometimes I wonder what she dreams
She turns over in her sleep
American PoetryAmerican poetryAmerican Poetry by ryu-ren
Whatever it is it must have
The grit of ether a hyena or a sloth
It doesn’t matter which
You posses a potters wheel
Or a broken mirror
Or a hundred fractureed reflections
Just stop whining and do
American Poetry II
Whatever it is it must have
The grit of ether
A hyena’s fierce pursuit
A sloth’s steady climb
It doesn’t matter which.
It is made on a potter’s wheel
Looking into a broken mirror
Or within one hundred fractured reflections
Just stop hesitating and jump.
OrigamiHow do you make a decision about a dead man?Origami by ryu-ren
The situation is complicated or maybe it’s not.
I’ll try to make it simple for you.
I fold paper cranes at work - simple enough.
I don’t do anything big or intricate,
Just folding scrap paper into cranes when I grow bored.
Walk in and you can see my cranes all over the room
Every desk and cabinet has one or two, some have four.
Green and red, white and cream, plus black, even pink,
Dark blue is popular and sometimes yellow and sky blue.
Actually there is only one sky blue crane.
It sits in Kenneth’s “In” box.
After he died I thought about changing it,
Putting a black crane there instead,
But I decided against it.
It seemed like the kind of gesture only a friend could do,
And I really hadn’t known him that well.
I can’t remember if he liked my cranes
Though I remember everyone else thought they were cute
And never minded when they turned up next to their computers.
It’s possible he didn