10-18-2013, 11:02 PM
My Wheelchair
Silver frying pan
Shivering, portable to purpose
Purified and bleached
sacred, adept to the rite
Electric melting pain
Elated, the water boils
Sustenance comfortably blanched
Cooked, the food is ate
Please don't burn
Circular dearest wheel
Contraption, portable to purpose
Spinning along its rims
Bound, hog-tied and spoked
Immaculate mechanised steel
Ingenious, the turnstyle toils
Motion comfortably prism'd
directed, the point awoke
Please just turn
---
This is my first post. I'm not classically educated in poetry whatsoever as I dropped out of highschool and only have a couple years of university under my belt. Point is, I know my understanding of metre and such isn't up to far with some of the writers here, so be as constructive as possible please. Thank you very much to anyone who takes the time to read this and I hope you enjoy
My Wheelchair 2.0 (An attempt to make it feel more)
Silver frying pan
Functional and portable to purpose
Purified and bleached
sacred and adept to the rite
Electric melting pain
Elated, the nerves boil
And with sustenance comfortably blanched
cooked, the food is ate
Just please don't burn
And you, dearest wheel
another contraption, portable to purpose
Spinning along its rims
Bound, hog-tied and spoked
An Immaculate mechanised steel
Ingenious, the way the turnstyle toils
Motion comfortably prism'd
and directed-- the point is choked
Please just turn
My wheelchair 3.0
Silver frying pan
Functional and portable to purpose
Purified and bleached
the ingredient list expertly beaten
Electric melting pain
Elated, the nerves boil
And with sustenance comfortably blanched
the unleavened loaf is eaten
Just please don't burn
And you, dearest wheel
another contraption, portable to purpose
Spinning along its rims
Bound, hog-tied and spoked
An Immaculate mechanised steel
Ingenious, the way the turnstyle toils
Motion comfortably prism'd
and directed-- the point is choked
Please just turn
P.S There was a point I was about to enter "the meat is beaten"...so after giggling for a minute I realised this poem is dead to me. Thank you anyways for the welcome, and we'll see if something better comes out tomorrow
Silver frying pan
Shivering, portable to purpose
Purified and bleached
sacred, adept to the rite
Electric melting pain
Elated, the water boils
Sustenance comfortably blanched
Cooked, the food is ate
Please don't burn
Circular dearest wheel
Contraption, portable to purpose
Spinning along its rims
Bound, hog-tied and spoked
Immaculate mechanised steel
Ingenious, the turnstyle toils
Motion comfortably prism'd
directed, the point awoke
Please just turn
---
This is my first post. I'm not classically educated in poetry whatsoever as I dropped out of highschool and only have a couple years of university under my belt. Point is, I know my understanding of metre and such isn't up to far with some of the writers here, so be as constructive as possible please. Thank you very much to anyone who takes the time to read this and I hope you enjoy
My Wheelchair 2.0 (An attempt to make it feel more)
Silver frying pan
Functional and portable to purpose
Purified and bleached
sacred and adept to the rite
Electric melting pain
Elated, the nerves boil
And with sustenance comfortably blanched
cooked, the food is ate
Just please don't burn
And you, dearest wheel
another contraption, portable to purpose
Spinning along its rims
Bound, hog-tied and spoked
An Immaculate mechanised steel
Ingenious, the way the turnstyle toils
Motion comfortably prism'd
and directed-- the point is choked
Please just turn
My wheelchair 3.0
Silver frying pan
Functional and portable to purpose
Purified and bleached
the ingredient list expertly beaten
Electric melting pain
Elated, the nerves boil
And with sustenance comfortably blanched
the unleavened loaf is eaten
Just please don't burn
And you, dearest wheel
another contraption, portable to purpose
Spinning along its rims
Bound, hog-tied and spoked
An Immaculate mechanised steel
Ingenious, the way the turnstyle toils
Motion comfortably prism'd
and directed-- the point is choked
Please just turn
P.S There was a point I was about to enter "the meat is beaten"...so after giggling for a minute I realised this poem is dead to me. Thank you anyways for the welcome, and we'll see if something better comes out tomorrow