The Queer One

In this tiny cubicle,
Was born the queer one.
They say they sang him a canticle,
As soon as he was born.


In this little village,
Grew the eccentric one.
Some say he set on his life's voyage,
Ere he had even begun.


In his own little world,
Lived the weird one.
All he sought did evade him.
All he fought did defeat him.
He would toil,
And he would moil.
He would try,
And he would cry,
But things would yet go awry.
He would scratch,
And he would search,
But yet for life he stood no match.
Still he couldn't stop.
No sooner had he left than he would return.
His was a frantic search for meaning,
A futile scouring for essence,
Another way of saying,
He knew not his own essence.


Cc: Texanomaly, Everestdebliu, Laykorn, Donifez, Leki10, Cisse7575

Sorry Mc that nobody has reviewed yet.
I'll do that now.
Ayamlaykorn

McSterling:
The Queer One

In this tiny cubicle,
Was born the queer one.
They say they sang him a canticle,
As soon as he was born.


In this little village,
Grew the eccentric one.
Some say he set on his life's voyage,
Ere he had even begun.


In his own little world,
Lived the weird one.
All he sought did evade him.
All he fought did defeat him.
He would toil,
And he would moil.
He would try,
And he would cry,
But things would yet go awry.
He would scratch,
And he would search,
But yet for life he stood no match.
Still he couldn't stop.
No sooner had he left than he would return.
His was a frantic search for meaning,
A futile scouring for essence,
Another way of saying,
He knew not his own essence.


Cc: Texanomaly, Everestdebliu, Laykorn, Donifez, Leki10, Cisse7575

I really like this. Is there a reason the last stanza is so big compared to the others?

texanomaly:


I really like this. Is there a reason the last stanza is so big compared to the others?

Not really. I intended to make it short but it just kept coming to me, and I kept writing till it stopped. Thanks for the review. Compliments of the season.

McSterling:
The Queer One

In this tiny cubicle,
Was born the queer one.
They say they sang him a canticle,
As soon as he was born.


In this little village,
Grew the eccentric one.
Some say he set on his life's voyage,
Ere he had even begun.


In his own little world,
Lived the weird one.
All he sought did evade him.
All he fought did defeat him.
He would toil,
And he would moil.
He would try,
And he would cry,
But things would yet go awry.
He would scratch,
And he would search,
But yet for life he stood no match.
Still he couldn't stop.
No sooner had he left than he would return.
His was a frantic search for meaning,
A futile scouring for essence,
Another way of saying,
He knew not his own essence.


Cc: Texanomaly, Everestdebliu, Laykorn, Donifez, Leki10, Cisse7575

i like the picture painted with your poem..from a child through youthful age and finally adulthood, I pray he finds his essence later,Brilliant poem..Keep it up.

donifez:

i live the picture painted with your poem..from a child through is youthful age and finally adulthood, I pray he finds his essence later,Brilliant poem..Keep it up.

Several of us can relate to this poem somehow. Thanks, chief.

McSterling:
Several of us can relate to this poem somehow. Thanks, chief.

You are welcome...but please am not a chief ooh

McSterling:
Several of us can relate to this poem somehow. Thanks, chief.

You are welcome...but please am not a chief ooh

donifez:

You are welcome...but please am not a chief ooh
You are welcome...but please am not a chief ooh

I meant chief colloquially not literally. But you're still my oga sha

McSterling:
I meant chief colloquially not literally. But you're still my oga sha

Funny dude..you win.

In this tiny cubicle,
Was born the queer one.
They say they sang him a canticle,
As soon as he was born.


In this little village,
Grew the eccentric one.
Some say he set on his life's voyage,
Ere he had even begun.


In his own little world,
Lived the weird one.
All he sought did evade him.
All he fought did defeat him.
He would toil,
And he would moil.


He would try,
And he would cry,
But things would yet go awry.
He would scratch,
And he would search,

But yet for life he stood no match.
Still he couldn't stop.
No sooner had he left than he would return.


His was a frantic search for meaning,
A futile scouring for significance,
Another way of saying,
He knew not his own essence.




Just a suggestion If you wanted to break up the last stanza and a word replacement to keep from unnecessary repetition.

Take it or leave it. This is your creation.

texanomaly:
In this tiny cubicle,
Was born the queer one.
They say they sang him a canticle,
As soon as he was born.


In this little village,
Grew the eccentric one.
Some say he set on his life's voyage,
Ere he had even begun.


In his own little world,
Lived the weird one.
All he sought did evade him.
All he fought did defeat him.
He would toil,
And he would moil.


He would try,
And he would cry,
But things would yet go awry.
He would scratch,
And he would search,

But yet for life he stood no match.
Still he couldn't stop.
No sooner had he left than he would return.


His was a frantic search for meaning,
A futile scouring for significance,
Another way of saying,
He knew not his own essence.




Just a suggestion If you wanted to break up the last stanza and a word replacement to keep from unnecessary repetition.

Take it or leave it. This is your creation.

Oh, thanks. You've made it better.

Was trying to write me an iambic pentameter sonnet as assigned to us by texanomaly. Wasn't coming easy, so I wrote this in the meantime:


Morning hush:
Unruffled.
Fill me with rare tranquility.

Chirping fowl:
Musical.
Permeate my soul with nature's song.

Blooming bud:
Beautiful.
Inundate my nares with sweet smells.

Flighty fly:
Colourful.
Imbue my world with thy beauty.

Mighty ace:
Elegant.
Sustain the globe with raw-pure strength.

cc:
Texanomaly
Laykorn
Everestdebliu
1miccza
Donifez
Leki10
Cisse7575
Dannidom
Mynd44
Royver

This is good. I really like it.

texanomaly:
This is good. I really like it.

Thanks.

McSterling:
Was trying to write me an iambic pentameter sonnet as assigned to us by texanomaly. Wasn't coming easy, so I wrote this in the meantime:


Morning hush:
Unruffled.
Fill me with rare tranquility.

Chirping fowl:
Musical.
Permeate my soul with nature's song.

Blooming bud:
Beautiful.
Inundate my nares with sweet smells.

Flighty fly:
Colourful.
Imbue my world with thy beauty.

Mighty ace:
Elegant.
Sustain the globe with raw-pure strength.

cc:
Texanomaly
Laykorn
Everestdebliu
1miccza
Donifez
Leki10
Cisse7575
Dannidom
Mynd44
Royver

Well as for a sonnet I can describe but I just can't figure out what you mean by an iambic pentameter,can you describe that to me?

1miccza:


Well as for a sonnet I can describe but I just can't figure out what you mean by an iambic pentameter,can you describe that to me?

1micca did you not see this?

McSterling:
Was trying to write me an iambic pentameter sonnet as assigned to us by texanomaly. Wasn't coming easy, so I wrote this in the meantime:

texanomaly:


1micca did you not see this?

This is officially welcoming the teacher *bows and takes off his hat* *moves close and whispers* so what is an iambic pentameter and what exactly was McSterling trying to do...

1miccza:


This is officially welcoming the teacher *bows and takes off his hat* *moves close and whispers* so what is an iambic pentameter and what exactly was McSterling trying to do...

This is it..

https://www.nairaland.com/2045307/poetry-classes-beginners-npc-signup/27#29286636

texanomaly:


This is it..

https://www.nairaland.com/2045307/poetry-classes-beginners-npc-signup/27#29286636

See?told you I wasn't good

texanomaly:


This is it..

https://www.nairaland.com/2045307/poetry-classes-beginners-npc-signup/27#29286636

See?told you I wasn't good

1miccza:


See?told you I wasn't good

See?told you I wasn't good

You've got mail sir.
Ayamlaykorn

laykorn:

You've got mail sir.
Ayamlaykorn

Yes boss and I've replied sir

1miccza:


See?told you I wasn't good

See?told you I wasn't good

Don't try to hide your talent. I see right through you sir.

1miccza:


Well as for a sonnet I can describe but I just can't figure out what you mean by an iambic pentameter,can you describe that to me?

This poem isn't one.

McSterling:
This poem isn't one.

Show me one then...

texanomaly:


Don't try to hide your talent. I see right through you sir.

What?You're putting on a binoculars or what?

1miccza:


Show me one then...

Like I said earlier, I attempted writing one but didn't find it easy. But if you just wanted to see an example, here's the one texanomaly posted in her class:

He turned the fourteenth glass and said, “Begin.”
and I had fourteen minutes left to live;
and I had fourteen unrepented sins,
and fourteen people whom I would forgive,
and fourteen unread books upon my shelf,
and fourteen loves I knew I’d loved in vain,
and fourteen dreams I’d kept within myself
(the fourteen I’d most wanted to explain.)
But fourteen minutes quickly passed away.
I filled my pen with fourteen drops of ink-
the fourteenth glass had offered one delay;
and fourteen final grains retained the brink.
This sonnet flowed like fourteen final breaths-
the fourteenth line, the fourteenth grain, then death.

~“Death of a Sonnet writer” by Scott Ennis

McSterling:
Like I said earlier, I attempted writing one but didn't find it easy. But if you just wanted to see an example, here's the one texanomaly posted in her class:

He turned the fourteenth glass and said, “Begin.”
and I had fourteen minutes left to live;
and I had fourteen unrepented sins,
and fourteen people whom I would forgive,
and fourteen unread books upon my shelf,
and fourteen loves I knew I’d loved in vain,
and fourteen dreams I’d kept within myself
(the fourteen I’d most wanted to explain.)
But fourteen minutes quickly passed away.
I filled my pen with fourteen drops of ink-
the fourteenth glass had offered one delay;
and fourteen final grains retained the brink.
This sonnet flowed like fourteen final breaths-
the fourteenth line, the fourteenth grain, then death.

~“Death of a Sonnet writer” by Scott Ennis

Were you trying to create yours or memorise this?

1miccza:


Were you trying to create yours or memorise this?

texanomaly:

When I get that tongue of yours?

1miccza:


When I get that tongue of yours?

1miccza:


Were you trying to create yours or memorise this?

To create mine.

McSterling:
To create mine.

Ok pick the word that would be repeating itself,determine the number of verses and then try weaving meaningful sentences around the word in such a way that it would be in between the sentence