INTENSITY²

Start here => Games => Topic started by: MrJones on September 30, 2006, 10:15:29 PM

Title: Poetry Game
Post by: MrJones on September 30, 2006, 10:15:29 PM
I dunno if this is an acceptable place for this...if not...maybe one of the administrators can spank me*coughPetercough*.

The way this game works is the first poster(moi) picks a word and writes a poem using that word...for the first word I chose, "frigid". From this point forward the person who writes the poem picks the next word.


Sonnet for an Ice Queen Defrosted


She lived on the frigid Northern ice
her lap had no place warm to land.
My ice queen's thighs were clamped like a vice
her love tunnel was completely unmanned

I knew she was the gatekeeper
for a portal that was capped forever.
My burning hot key could get no deeper
despite being magnetic and clever.

But all at once there came a change
cause by a hole in her ozone layer.
Her cooch heated up like a microwave range
when she noticed my hair getting grayer.

The ice queen's port of entry is thawed
and will soon be the dock for my throbbing rod


Word for next poem: Mirror

Title: Re: Poetry Game
Post by: SovaNu on October 01, 2006, 07:56:02 AM
mirror mirror
hanging on the wall
don't you ever get tired,
bored of all this blah?

tell me tell me who's the one?
of all the ones and zeros
the one to make a pale chutspah
of all the world's cosmetic heros

mirror mirror 7 years if you get broken
but what if you broke yourself?
mirror mirror on the wall
what then?


word: ringworm
Title: Re: Poetry Game
Post by: Lucifer on October 01, 2006, 01:17:08 PM
"ringworm", she said.

i wondered if it was
a directive.   
because that would be difficult:

worms don't have

ears.



next:  postcards
Title: Re: Poetry Game
Post by: El on October 01, 2006, 01:30:11 PM
the postcards kept a-flyin' from
the pen-pal lovers soon to meet
she lied about her cup size, but
he lied 'bout his virility

Next topic:  Shoes
Title: Re: Poetry Game
Post by: Lucifer on October 01, 2006, 01:31:32 PM
the postcards kept a-flyin' from
the pen-pal lovers soon to meet
she lied about her cup size, but
he lied 'bout his virility

Next topic:  Shoes

(fucking brilliant.  hope my students this year produce stuff as good).
Title: Re: Poetry Game
Post by: SovaNu on October 01, 2006, 01:58:15 PM
well i didn't quite make it in time but i'm gonna post this anyway :P

postcards from the edge of heaven:

Jesus writes to Satan
"Hi B how are you? did it snow there too today?
would you go out with me?
no pressure, i just thought you looked nice
in that blue dress and golden earrings
shimmering in the glow of Mordor... so pretty"

Satan writes to Jesus
"hi J i am flattered yes it snowed here too,
ashen grey as you well know,
we played on the beach today
as Mordor was exceptionally firesome
will you pick me up at 8 your time?
i have a surprise for you, i can't wait"

Jesus writes to Satan
bring that Trident :flame:
Title: Re: Poetry Game
Post by: Gopher Gary on June 27, 2013, 08:02:06 PM
the postcards kept a-flyin' from
the pen-pal lovers soon to meet
she lied about her cup size, but
he lied 'bout his virility

Next topic:  Shoes

(about shoes, and feet)

pretty pretty little feet
pitter patter down the street
stepping stomping muddy wet
wander wading grime and sweat

phases passing toenails pink
thongs and sandals, socks and stink
working lazy dirty fat
under tables sneaky lap

covers, fuzzy socks and slippers
kicking balls and flipping flippers
running with a mini pair
foot prints and a little care

time is passing painful arch
oatmeal massage powder starch
socks are itchy ground is hard
tough to walk across the yard

hire boots and special soles
throw away the ones with holes
memories and photo shoots
baby socks, rainbow boots

now its fading far too long
feet are bent, calluses gone
haven't walked or stood a week
weary weary little feet.

Next topic: Eggs.
Title: Re: Poetry Game
Post by: skyblue1 on June 27, 2013, 08:05:16 PM
Upon a rock, yet uncreate,
Amid a chaos inchoate,
An uncreated being sate;
Beneath him, rock,
Above him, cloud.
And the cloud was rock,
And the rock was cloud.
The rock then growing soft and warm,
The cloud began to take a form,
A form chaotic, vast and vague,
Which issued in the cosmic egg.
Then the Being uncreate
On the egg did incubate.
And thus became the [...]

  ~ anonymous ~


Next topic: drink
Title: Re: Poetry Game
Post by: Gopher Gary on June 27, 2013, 08:37:58 PM
I was sipping my tea
when something ran down my knee
too much to drink?
I ask, as I tip in some more mead.

Tea with drink is quite the quencher
for desperate men of any stature
sit, legs crossed, and tie undone
the lady serves a tasty bun.

Sip, sip, sip.


Next topic: Colour
Title: Re: Poetry Game
Post by: skyblue1 on June 27, 2013, 08:48:00 PM
Orange is a carrot
And the orange I eat
Orange are these bright new socks
I wear upon my feet!

Yellow is a lemon
Yellow is a star
Yellow is the sun
In the sky so far

Red is an apple
Red is a rose
Red is the color of
My frozen, icy nose!

Purple is a grape
Purple is a plum
Purple is my favorite juice
Shall I get you some?

Black is the night
And a witch's hat
Black is my Mom's hair
And that witch's cat!

Blue is the ocean
Blue are my eyes
Blue is the sky where
The lonely eagle flies

Brown is the mud
Brown is the bear
Brown is the color
Of my brother's hair.

 
next topic:Time
Title: Re: Poetry Game
Post by: Gopher Gary on June 27, 2013, 09:15:03 PM
Tempus fugit and all is forgotten
I hold in my hand the future unseen
yet seen it were, a cyclical image
once barren, once full, ever changing scene.

Even Gods haven't mastered deaths open door
the painful trumpeter of loss and sorrow
we cry to be born and worry to die
forever imprisoned by unknown tomorrow.

Saviours they come and saviours they bleed
whilst our inevitable end is forged
a battle between desire and fear
we're caught in the chaos of closing doors.

We mourn our fathers, brothers and sons
our hearts buried with their merciless fates
how dare they abandon the window of now
how dare we keep living while others escape.

We call to the sand and we call to the sun
keeping falling, rising, and ticking the clock
we will not be here, and neither will you
for time flies us all to a desolate stop.


Next topic: Planet.