Poetry Project | Teen Ink

Poetry Project

May 21, 2012
By WillN BRONZE, Happy Ville, Indiana
WillN BRONZE, Happy Ville, Indiana
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Haiku



Forest winds sweep

Over the hills and valleys

I can hear them come



Limerick



Away I went, away I fled

I was kind of over my head

I just ran away

Because I couldn’t stay

I must take refuge in this shed



Rondelet



Just laughable

When you climb up on that there stage

Just laughable

You run around just like a clown

You humour us about your age

A silly story about rage

Just laughable



Villanelle



I enter into the street

Before the sunlight of day

There is the man who sells meat



From a bird I hear a single tweet

In the corner of my eye, I see the jay

I enter into the street



Now I must retreat

For in my dismay

There is the man who sells meat



All I really want is wheat

Not meat from this man’s sleigh

I enter into the street



The cops come and greet

And they tell me to say

There is the man who sells meat



They put the man in the backseat

The cops drive him away

I enter into the street

There is the man who sells meat



Ballad



My worries come to you

She calls that man but not myself

Abuse but not approve of I

Who kept her in good pleasant health



On second notice I

Want you just to know

That I don’t love her any

More and nothing we do owe



Pantoum



I’m over

Just to let you know

And I’m not gonna go

I’ve found myself in my heart



Just to let you know

I’m staying

I’ve found myself in my heart

And I know where I stand



I’m staying

Trust me, I’m not playing

And I know where I stand

Please just talk to the hand



Italian Sonnet



I don’t know if I can recover

After what happened last night

I don’t feel quite right

At least word didn’t get to my bother

Should be happier it didn’t come to my mother

I got in a fight

And I don’t know if I might

Have gotten into another



Well I guess what I’ll do

Is wrap up these wounds

And see to it they don’t see the blood

I hope I didn’t catch the flu

I’ll regret this fight for seven moons

Next time I'll come back like a flood



English Sonnet



If I could only be able to see

Then back to the wind I would go and run

Because that is the place meant for just me

Now it’s not like I didn’t have much fun



For I can see into my very own heart

And know that I could have avoided dread

Maybe I should have saved the meat man’s cart

Ate some meat and spend sometime out of bed



Going to comedy clubs almost every night

Writing letters to a friend with no answer

Now here on my death bed with my last fight

It’d be nice to go back and be a dancer



Just dance away in the calm rural world

I guess now that, that idea should be hurled


The author's comments:
This Potetry Project when read in order tells a story.

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