P o e t r yf r o n t p a g e |
front page
|
| Welcome to our poetry archive containing poems we have sent through email during our senior year of high school, 1998-99. The archive consists of several pages and can be navigated using the arrows found at the top and bottom right of each page. Enjoy! |
Daedalus did in Crete Invent a labyrinth of living green, Scented by blossoming flowers sweet: The valleys and hills joined to meet A sunlit spot serene. With sluggish warmth did the ether lull And a river coursing, rarely dull, Through the mazy hedges into a grotto Where unseen wonders glimmered with eerie sheen; Through here did the gentle breeze blow Caressing all and all in between And then the awaited moment came For the geyser to shower it's lifegiving jet But oh! that raging shooting torrent turned lame The garden's glory under the moon to be the same Constant for all eternity, unwatered and unwet With no living creature to speckle its wavy terrain Lawless, flourishing foliage left to reign And yet, beyond thorny vines and tendrils wild Within the garden deep life still prevailed. Through valley deep still whispered breezes mild And nectar divine in the silver temple ever undefiled For although unfruitful, the vale can survive And without dew, greenery can still thrive Cyn and Urania
Like an immense sun ray captures my day Gentle she is, words can't even express Her beauty is such, how soft I can't say When she is not there, I feel so much less It seems like the world has come to an end For when she departs, I feel the great void So large and dark, there'll be light don't know when But when she returns, reversal of joy The crowds will all roar, instilled with new life With great emotion, so rare do you see And sudden absense of internal strife With joint feeling, none shout louder than we Those as unique as her, they're hard to come by If ever she's gone, you can't help but cry (another multiple interpretations one) --Wayne
This poem is a parody of Shakespeare's #71, found below. There is mild profanity.
No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall see me in sullen hell Give warning to Drennan that I have fled From this vile world, where physics loves to dwell: Nay if you scan this line, remember not That it's dactylic; for I loath that so, That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, Rather, finals alone should make you woe. Oh, if, I say you look at this verse, When you see harmonic motion's not gay, Do not so much as transverse waves curse, But let your even with my grades decay, Lest the wise world see you take such classes, And mock you with me for being an ass. --Wayne "who is of the opinion that physics sux" :o(
No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell: Nay if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it; for I love you so, That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, If thinking on me then should make you woe. Oh, if, I say you look at this verse, When I perhaps compounded am with clay, Do not so much as my poor name rehearse, But let your even with my life decay, Lest the wise world should look into your mourn, And mock you with me after I am gone. Shakespeare
(with apologies to the word "Urn" for using it so pejoratively) Her attempts at logic have flaws so great That I fear listening will kill my mind. All her ideas are decades out of date, Worse ones nowhere can you possibly find. Her own words, already a waste of time, Yet she compels us to cite others still. This tactic bears less value than a dime, It's as exciting as John Stuart Mill. Two hours with her, two hours too much, Thank goodness it only comes once a week. We all try our best to stay out of touch, Paths to avoid her we daily do seek. In words I cannot possibly express How important she is to our success.
Card-signers should find this couplet twist obvious enough. A clue to non-signers: You cannot express what you do not believe. Ask if you still don't get it.
Pai
(gee, no inside jokes here...) months remain til the dreaded days of end tapes of shows to watch, email left to send ponder great tam works, catch more z's in bed find who warned cyn! what's that the spoiler said? weeks remain til the dreaded days of end from sick amit, my calendar defends planning group movies, showtimes i must find, off to AMC! left someone behind :( days remain til the dreaded days of end find the "perfect girl," diss the football men defend pooh from syl, pc world to read buffy to watch, ewwwwwww, dawson did the deed?! Guess I should find my physics notes and junk... Why do I know finals I'm going to flunk? --Wayne :o)
sorry....i'm procrastinating on calc.....er.....:) taking a break. doing uh....english instead :) Bisso's eyes are nothing like the sun, Coral is far more white than her face (bright red), After Jay pisses her off and she gets a gun; The whole speech team runs away from dread. Alas, with a speech meeting goes the sunlight I have seen debaters faint as she loudly speaks And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from Ol' Bisso reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a demon go, Like Bisso, leaving dead debaters all around. And yet, by heaven, I think love for her is rare. No wonder debate is such a nightmare :) okokokokkok =P geez. sigh, that was bad...but hey :) now i know the poem....for those of you who need a bit of prodding to look at it again....here's the original :) My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then her breats are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grown on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; An in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I htink my love as rare As any she belied with false compare. -Cyn PS :):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):) =P so there :) hee hee ha ha ha ha =P
Never have I met another person Acting entirely without reason. Hideousness lessens not in the sun, Nor doth her horrid voice change with season. Her anger always comes without a cause, Poor fools, run! RUN! - before it is too late. Once started never shall it even pause For hours it will not at all abate. She thinks she helps, but she does even less Than the laziest ones do in their sleep. If she tries to take charge, things are a mess. She can do nothing but make others weep. Alas, we cannot find any redress, As to such sins she would never confess. Pai
Ms. Bissonnette is the greatest teacher. Of role models, she is clearly the best Number one in every trait and feature For exams on coolness, she aces the test. To say that she only brightens my day Would be a crime punishable by death For she is heaven to me in every way I bless and worship her with every breath. My heart fills with joy each time I see her Not once has she made me feel annoyed or faint Or angry or made me think of murder, Not just perfect; she is truly a saint! But of course, I would hate to waste such wit, To please her with such a load of bullshit. Henry
This poem is a little vulgar; it was late. You have been warned.
Staying up so late, doing college apps Go to gell U Penn -- your topics suck crap Brown's handwriting -- Princeton wants 4 blurbs Rather chat with friends -- but don't be a perv Sick jokes told all night -- some with just no taste Scrawling some BS -- sealing 'lopes in haste Don't talk! Do your apps...! No, it's almost dawn! Worked for 12 hours -- now must use the john Four months down the road, letters come back "Sorry grades are bad, and good taste you lack" Then you get depressed, get the hard liquor TRY to cheer up, but say no to the whore College apps just suck, really don't you see? Gosh, I'm glad I'm done -- unlike you I'm FREE! Wayne
'Twas some nights after Christmas And all through the house, Not a creature was stirring Except for this louse. She was named Urania, Called Mahamari by friends. She had procrastinated so long And was now making amends. She sat before the comp, Wanting to grumble and whine. She worried that her friends Would miss her online. Yet there seemed to be No end to this app. Should Maha go sleep Or take a short nap? Still she stayed awake, Maha worked and worked, While in the depths of her mind Old Morpheus lurked. She had thought the app done Just a few days before, But Dad looked at it and said, "You must send in some more!" And so Mah got down to work. Stole Sis' speaker cord. She recorded an audio tape As a supplement for Harvard. She even copied the video From weeks long ago, Of her playing cello And piano, fast and slow. A photocopy she did make Of a piece of her art, And three extra essays Finished off the supplement part. What more to add? Dad finally said, "All right." So Maha hopped off to bed, Bidding all a good night.
In a sea of confusion I am lost beyond all hope. If only it were but an illusion. Alas, it is real, and I must cope. The angler casts a line every which way - I know not whether to take the bait. Truly would it make my day To quickly end this painful wait. Yet I hide silent in the seaweed, I seek the solace of my lair. Capricious minds I cannot read, Without such insight I would not dare Cast aside the scales that deflect all. Emotions pass not through my skin, They crash into a crumbling wall. My will for mending does wear thin. But in the end, it's all the same I fear I could not bear the shame Confident resolve I cannot tame Myself daily I do blame Bitter despair to me did teach: Bliss soars high beyond my reach. Pai
bad lily has been neglecting her email which has been building twelve messages she must answer with this pathetic endeavor. to those who sent cards - i thank you but i think bluemountain's a poo my stupid comp won't let me download those nice cards sent to me. bug's life on tuesday we must see at our saratoga 14 i hope this is the movie that was wayne's brilliant thought. all these silly people whining about their procrastinating why did you apply to so many *?% schools that only want your money? be fast like lily and be FINISH'd with all your apps (oh me!) all filled out, written, and ready lily's ready to be set free! i'm sitting, thinking, and writing while our full house is partying with little kids playstation-ing and big kids (parents) mah-jong-ing. this poem is definitely long enough so i shall slowly return to staring at the wall imagination having a ball! lily
(Sorry Ms. Head, but "Winter Break's Joys" sounds really strange :) What could be more boring than Christmas Day? Not one fun store is open anywhere. Perhaps I have no life, you jump to say Think what you want, I really do not care. In theory, winter break should be restful Yet we forget those dreadful forms to type. The thought alone makes me feel regretful So many colleges I chose in hype. The fear sets in, I have wasted today A silent killer - procrastination. Drearily I type another 1A Boredom kills all my determination. Learn the lesson well lest you will be sad Apps over break are very very bad. Pai
Portions of one stanza of this poem have been blacked out. Click here for the original stanza. It makes some judgements about teachers' policies so don't click if you don't think you can take it.
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, except for this mouse; I'm just sitting here waiting for dawn to break, Or until I finish downloading this stupid patch for Quake. Cuz without it, I guess, I can't play online But then again, this CD isn't really mine So here I am working on this dumb MIT app, Cuz I can't go to sleep after taking that dumb nap. And it's so dang cold cuz my Dad turned off the heat Since he thinks, if we don't, we won't make ends meet. So it's like 30 in here, and I'm freezing off my butt, But then the cold never stopped Mariah from dressing like a slut. (sorry, i couldn't resist... =) ) And this MIT app is a pain, it's all a big mess, How the heck can I say what's important in 100 words or less? And wow, look at the time, looks like it's almost two, And I can't think of anything productive to do. Aiyah, there's so much work that needs to be done, Guess _____ doesn't believe that break is meant to be fun, And _______, geez, he just has to pile it on, So much ______ work that I gotta do for econ. And then there is English, so much stuff to read, A winter break, emphasis on the break, is what I really need, I could care less where Mr. Gulliver has gone, Just thinking about it makes me want to yawn. And comp sci, people told me it was going to be easy, But my grade in that class really makes me rather queasy, Plus these apps; it just destroys every nerve and fiber, Guess I should be used to it after 3 years with Schreiber. Hey, isn't Santa supposed to show sometime today? I could use him right now, running out of stuff to say, But he's still not here, guess I'm not on his list, After what I said about Harvard...yikes, he must surely be pissed. But I've been a good boy, as everyone knows, Oh $#!!^&% this piece of #$%$^!, stupid download froze, Sigh, he's still not here, guess my chances this year are slim, Makes me glad I didn't waste any milk or cookies on him. And now, can u believe it, it's 3 o'clock, Everything's weird now; nothing comes as a shock. Life's so crazy now, nothing's like it was before, It's easier to find meaning in a movie with Pauly Shore. Well, finally, this stupid download is through, And this poem is going to end with it on cue, So before I finish this and indeed, quite quite, This is where I gotta say Merry Christmas and good nite. Henry
|
front page
<= back forward => http://www.waynekao.com/poetry |