What was your first poem?

[ChristopherSea]

Got it:

Canis lupus

Beneath the radiance of the Arctic moon,
the snarling gray timber wolf
stealthily looms.

Breaking the silence of the long cold night
is the wolf’s terrified prey
in desperate flight.

The howl of the wolf is the ‘Call of the Wild,’
like mournful cries
from a tortured child.

With eyes ablaze from Hell’s inferno,
the wolf strikes fear into
the heart of its foes.

Strength of the wolf lies within the pack.
There is safety in numbers,
the hunt’s odds are stacked.

The timber wolf survives the frozen North
through strong social bonds
and lupine force.


I think they called my Mom about the tortured child bit.

---

Would you be too embarrassed to post it?

I /should/ be too embarrassed to post it. Almost everything i wrote for the first ten years has been thrown away but thanks to the magic of the internet, my first poem remains forever. i recently tried to rewrite it into a story:

Goblin's Rime

On yellowed floor sat we three
And little Bobby on Chandra's knee.
She spoke most nights of many things
But that night she spoke of Goblin Kings.
She spoke of Fruelegh and of Blaag
She spoke of Grollen and his dog,

But the name she whispered was One-Eyed-Nick's
Who only spoke in limericks
To end each rhyme there was a riddle
While demons backed him on the fiddle.
An errant child the puzzle he'd ask,
Thrice accepting an answer, each time banging his staff:
Once . . . Twice . . . Thrice.
And if the riddle was answered right,
Old Nick was banished for the night.

Off to hang by dread-locked hair
In Kindra, the ancient dragon's lair.
But if the child answered incorrectly
Nick stole them up, took them directly
To goblin mines, to slave away
Pounding rock 'til judgment day.
The Overseer, a ruthless master,
Whipped them raw to urge them faster.

-Mary giggled to hear such names
-Luke chuckled at childish games
-I wasn't sure, but laughed the same
but Bobby's eyes went wide with fright
there'd be no sleep for him that night.

It was a night like any other
Old One-eye came and took my brother.
I awoke to a sound outside of climbing
Then not long after, the sound of rhyming,
The dreadful sound of Goblin's laugh,
The ominous pounding of a staff,
The chitinous sounds of demons clacking
On devilish fiddles for riddle-backing,
The horrid thump of staff on wood,

If he didn't answer he'd be gone for good.
-Oh fiendish sound of goblin's giggles
-At Bobby's ineptitude with riddles
-And those discordant fiddles.
To the end of my days, I'll hear the resounding
Echo of that staff's last pounding.
I tell my story, nobody believes
Mom says he fell out the window
And blew away with Autumn's leaves.
Today, I still cry sometimes
Thinking of Bobby in goblin mines.

Very cool Milo!