DeletedUser8396
Guest
Hey guys! I'm chock full of bad ideas, so let's get this one underway:
I like to continuously challenge myself. And, as such, I would like to invite you on this journey. This idea will likely die, but meh.
Here's the deal: You give a topic - any topic at all (within forum rules, chalna
) - and I will write a poem about it. You'll be free to use the poem as you choose, all I ask is my username be credited.
P.S. - I'd like to challenge Varun to do the same
(Such a bad idea).
And last...and most certainly least:
I like to continuously challenge myself. And, as such, I would like to invite you on this journey. This idea will likely die, but meh.
Here's the deal: You give a topic - any topic at all (within forum rules, chalna
) - and I will write a poem about it. You'll be free to use the poem as you choose, all I ask is my username be credited. P.S. - I'd like to challenge Varun to do the same
(Such a bad idea).
Life is like water,
For most, if not all.
From gas to liquid then ice,
Beginning when we start to crawl
The first years are gas,
Bouncing with energy and joy,
Loving the world as it is,
No matter if you are girl or boy.
As we add years to our stock,
The energy begins to depart,
And then all that’s left is water-
But water is needed for life to start
Then time brings loss and pain,
Removing the life water brought.
Turning the water to cold ice-
And we give the joy away without a thought
The once energetic, life-filled soul,
Transforms into a heart of ice.
If only we could hold to hope,
For losing the passion is too great a price
For most, if not all.
From gas to liquid then ice,
Beginning when we start to crawl
The first years are gas,
Bouncing with energy and joy,
Loving the world as it is,
No matter if you are girl or boy.
As we add years to our stock,
The energy begins to depart,
And then all that’s left is water-
But water is needed for life to start
Then time brings loss and pain,
Removing the life water brought.
Turning the water to cold ice-
And we give the joy away without a thought
The once energetic, life-filled soul,
Transforms into a heart of ice.
If only we could hold to hope,
For losing the passion is too great a price
“Can we go outside, momma!?
It looks so bright and fun!
I wanna go out and play
I promise by bedtime I’ll be done.”
“Yes you may, my dearest child,
Go, have fun, play what you wish.
But do try and be here for dinner,
I’m making grandma’s favorite dish!”
“Oh thank you momma!”
She said as she went out to play.
All the mother could do was smile,
As her kid went to enjoy her summer day.
It looks so bright and fun!
I wanna go out and play
I promise by bedtime I’ll be done.”
“Yes you may, my dearest child,
Go, have fun, play what you wish.
But do try and be here for dinner,
I’m making grandma’s favorite dish!”
“Oh thank you momma!”
She said as she went out to play.
All the mother could do was smile,
As her kid went to enjoy her summer day.
Hours later the cops came with a knock,
With tears held back behind their eyes,
“She was running around the rocks and fell.”
They said, as the mother let out her cries.
“She’s at the hospital now,
But we have to hurry over.
The doctors say she won’t last long,
And must leave now if you want to see her.”
Upon their swift arrival,
The mother was led to her room.
But she was moment’s too late,
Forced to see and feel pain and gloom.
Years later, the mother sits at her chair,
Wishing she had told her daughter no.
She blames herself for the girl’s death,
A thought she will never let go.
This is your punishment for saying nothing depressing
With tears held back behind their eyes,
“She was running around the rocks and fell.”
They said, as the mother let out her cries.
“She’s at the hospital now,
But we have to hurry over.
The doctors say she won’t last long,
And must leave now if you want to see her.”
Upon their swift arrival,
The mother was led to her room.
But she was moment’s too late,
Forced to see and feel pain and gloom.
Years later, the mother sits at her chair,
Wishing she had told her daughter no.
She blames herself for the girl’s death,
A thought she will never let go.
This is your punishment for saying nothing depressing
Tried to write about codpieces,
In a way that I’d stay unbanned.
But sadly I could not,
No matter how well I planned.
Poems about a codpiece are odd,
A very strange request indeed-
A poem about medieval fashion,
An article meant to mislead.
A “fun” article of medieval cloth
Accentuating an area I dare not say,
(For children may find this poem),
But why did men even care about the display?
In a way that I’d stay unbanned.
But sadly I could not,
No matter how well I planned.
Poems about a codpiece are odd,
A very strange request indeed-
A poem about medieval fashion,
An article meant to mislead.
A “fun” article of medieval cloth
Accentuating an area I dare not say,
(For children may find this poem),
But why did men even care about the display?
Simple Object Access Protocol
Or so it was named before 1.2
We will call it SOAP for short,
And is a splendid web service to use,
Relying on XML to function,
Causing the parsing to be too long,
But improvements are being made,
So SOAP still remains strong!
For an abundant number of reasons.
REST, is infinitely more superior
Firstly, its name is so awesome:
Representational State Transfer
You have stateless operations?
The REST is your best man.
Limited bandwidth?
Then REST is still the better plan!
SOAP is the outdated father,
Needing to be placed to the side.
REST is the new web service champion,
And be used far and wide.
_________________
This one was actually kinda fun lol
Or so it was named before 1.2
We will call it SOAP for short,
And is a splendid web service to use,
Relying on XML to function,
Causing the parsing to be too long,
But improvements are being made,
So SOAP still remains strong!
For an abundant number of reasons.
REST, is infinitely more superior
Firstly, its name is so awesome:
Representational State Transfer
You have stateless operations?
The REST is your best man.
Limited bandwidth?
Then REST is still the better plan!
SOAP is the outdated father,
Needing to be placed to the side.
REST is the new web service champion,
And be used far and wide.
_________________
This one was actually kinda fun lol
The Gibralter Border or,
La frontera de Gibraltar for Spain,
Is a contested national boundary-
Arguments and debates remain.
“Check every car!” Spain screams,
With Britain reeling back with disgust.
Obviously shaken, they reply,
“Why Spain? What don’t you trust?”
Meanwhile Gibraltar says no.
Yes, that’s all they can say.
“They are not Spain’s to claim,
Nor Britain’s to give away.”
_________________________
I hate this one...
La frontera de Gibraltar for Spain,
Is a contested national boundary-
Arguments and debates remain.
“Check every car!” Spain screams,
With Britain reeling back with disgust.
Obviously shaken, they reply,
“Why Spain? What don’t you trust?”
Meanwhile Gibraltar says no.
Yes, that’s all they can say.
“They are not Spain’s to claim,
Nor Britain’s to give away.”
_________________________
I hate this one...
And last...and most certainly least:
Haha, chalna thought he had hope.
Well, I, A Pebble, reply with “NOPE!”
Bananas in the dairy section,
A poem that won’t ever see the light.
I’d rather write another on REST vs SOAP.
Well, I, A Pebble, reply with “NOPE!”
Bananas in the dairy section,
A poem that won’t ever see the light.
I’d rather write another on REST vs SOAP.
His cold, barren, lifeless eyes,
Stare back at my very soul.
The rosy cheeks, polished teeth,
Mouth opening to devour me
The Puppet master's screams echo,
Filling the halls through his hands.
But the puppet remains ever still,
Watching, waiting for me to dream.
Every second I watch the wretched show,
The Puppet crawls closer to me.
He silently whispers in my ears,
I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming.
The puppet crawls back to it's cave,
Willed by the master's unseen hand.
And I lay here cold and lifeless,
Dead by the puppet master's plan
Stare back at my very soul.
The rosy cheeks, polished teeth,
Mouth opening to devour me
The Puppet master's screams echo,
Filling the halls through his hands.
But the puppet remains ever still,
Watching, waiting for me to dream.
Every second I watch the wretched show,
The Puppet crawls closer to me.
He silently whispers in my ears,
I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming.
The puppet crawls back to it's cave,
Willed by the master's unseen hand.
And I lay here cold and lifeless,
Dead by the puppet master's plan
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