A poem?

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Grate the Vraya
I came up with this in English while I was supposed to be taking notes. I only consider it a poem insofar as it rhymes. You judge it. I'm interested to see what you think.

A watchman stands upon a ship,
A pistol rests upon his hip,
He's on the deck on a cloudy morn;
His posture, straght; expression: forlorn.

His lover's who he's thinking of,
A true beauty from above.
He sees her within his mind's eye,
Her morose stare and passive sigh.

She haunts him in his dreams at night.
Her image follows a flash of light,
But disappears, as quick as it came,
And her face is never quite the same.

The expression remains as a photograph,
But the image changes from wheat to chaff
As creases appear on her once smooth face,
And a hobble conquers her former grace.

What a curiosity
Which befuddles our man at sea
To see his lover age one year
per every passing day

...His thought escapes and floats away...

A watchman stands upon a ship.
A pistol rests upon his hip.
He's on the deck on a cloudy morn,
His posture, straight; expression: forlorn.

40 fathoms below...

Bardock42
In what way do you not consider it a poem.

Grate the Vraya
Originally posted by Bardock42
In what way do you not consider it a poem. Well, I didn't really focus on the aesthetics of the language other than the rhyming part.

Bardock42
I don't think anyone posting "poems" here does. I'd say it's a poem, not a particularly bad one either, you could work on it flowing better though.

Grate the Vraya
Originally posted by Bardock42
I don't think anyone posting "poems" here does. I'd say it's a poem, not a particularly bad one either, you could work on it flowing better though. Right, I was saying that, at the moment this poem is looking more like a "poem". Are there any areas that you think need special improvement or just the whole thing?

Grate the Vraya
I jumped through your hoops of fire,
Driven by a dark desire.
To see your pale face in the dead of night,
To learn your ways of wisdom and flight.
And now, Mr. Owl, a question I propose
To you in the most direct form of prose:
Mr. Owl, how many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop? smile
Written By: Tom Kelsey
Poet Laureate of the imagination of Tom Kelsey
And those bastards can't take that from me! MWAHAHAHA! big grin

killamikeisback
Thankfully u guys are not reel poets

Grate the Vraya
Originally posted by killamikeisback
Thankfully u guys are not reel poets ikr. What would the world be like? *shivers*

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