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Regurgitations December 2, 2006

Posted by K in From The Attic, God, Life, Poem.

Some Old stuff I now proceed to put up owing to an acute case of I-don’t-want-to-write-but-want-to-update-blog 🙂


This is a simultaneous example of terrible poetry and lying through my pants. I was 14 or 15 when I wrote it and even at that time I knew what trash it was. Why it still lies undeleted is because I take strange pleasure in occasionally(hopefully) spewing utter trash (not to be confused with nonsense, which I delight and pride in 😉 )

The strange land freezes my soul,

I cannot make any friends.

For deep inside, my heart’s calling

Out loud to my homeland.

My home is by the green blue sea

Where cries of the gulls sound through the day

The smell of the sea, the sound of the sea

How I survive without them is a mystery.

The sand at home is golden and warm

I yearn for the feel of its shells.

Oh, the sun’s lazy rays,

I long to bask in there.

My home is a little cottage,

On an island in the sea.

Its rich brown wood

Encloses all my needs.

I had a sandy garden

Oh the marvels I grew in there!

Lettuce plants and bushes of rose

They all grew in my care.

Behind my cottage there grew a tree

So big, so old, oh so green!

On a hot summer’s day I yearn and yearn

To lie in the willing arms of its shade.

No more is that little path

Walked upon by feet

For the door of my cottage is locked and barred

And dusty has grown the friendly porch.

Years ago the letter had come,

And seduced me to a land far away

Money sufficed not the needs

The needs of my hungry soul.

I’ll go back, unlock and unbar that door,

Will sweep all the dust

From my porch floor.

Un-weeded, my garden will spring to life,

My tree will share its shade.

The sand, the sea

Will once again beckon to me.

The gulls, their cries I shall hear once more.

My island will yet be in sight

When I board the homeward bound ship-

And return home once again.

God’s Hand

Same age, written in a moment of I’m-amused, not to be taken too seriously, a funny-funny poem. :eyes: Yup, I realise thats a terrible description, but I’m felling funny-funny, a different funny-funny, at the moment.

A whip, my whip, so handy a tool

It’s shaken and worked up many a fool

It can stir up a storm, or calm a squall

Under its power lie one and all

One crack, a smack, and trees will deliver,

One wave, a swish, and time goes on forever.

One twirl, a flick, will fill a pea pod.

For I am Nature, I am God.

Behold, you humans, you think you are so great

In my whip I hold your fate

One gesture, a mere twitch

Can undo you world, your every stitch.

What stays my hand?

What saves your land?

It is my favourite creation,

It is Man.





1. glandheim - December 3, 2006

The first one isn’t terrible at all, especially for 15. Kind of romantic/fantasy/wish fulfillment.

The second one I really like. It’s playful, obviously not to be taken seriously, but serious nonetheless.

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