Author Topic: User Poems (Read 152907 times)

Polymath · « **Reply #130 on:** November 12, 2022, 09:10:40 AM »

https://classicalpoets.org/2022/11/11/no-extra-lives-by-joshua-c-frank/

No Extra Lives

While all his friends were learning skills
To gain them wives or pay their bills,
John fought with monsters on a screen,
Got knighted by a game world’s queen,
Amassing troves of digi-treasure
That bought eight bits of gaming pleasure.

But as the habit lasted longer,
John’s dungeon shackles grew much stronger.
His friends moved on and all gained wives
While he sat gaining extra lives—
One-upped by men just half his age
Who’d put in time and earned life’s wage.

One day, much older, John awoke
And felt his electronic yoke:
No friends, no wife, and children none,
His life still stalled at World 1-1.
No princess wishes to be saved
By a gaming hero thus enslaved.

John’s game-themed room now seemed a waste,
An emblem of his time misplaced.
No dragon’s hoard of jewels and gold
Could buy back time and youth he’d sold
For shiny bits of program code—
He wept beside perdition’s road.

But, leaving home and breaking free,
He had no guide for strategy.
The social world seemed too complex
To a man who lived in pixel specks,
And so he ran back home to game,
Never quitting, to his shame.

The moral of this tale in rhyme?
Work while you’re young, don’t waste your time.
Don’t put your life goals off till later;
Shoot down your schedule’s space-invaders,
Or, like our captured gamer guy,
You’ll find your life has passed you by.

Polymath · « **Reply #131 on:** November 12, 2022, 09:11:55 AM »

If you like my poetry, I’m getting published all the time; I even have my own page at the magazine that publishes me now:

https://classicalpoets.org/?s=Joshua+C.+Frank

ServusInutilisDomini · « **Reply #132 on:** November 12, 2022, 01:53:40 PM »

Quote from: Polymath on November 12, 2022, 09:10:40 AM

https://classicalpoets.org/2022/11/11/no-extra-lives-by-joshua-c-frank/

No Extra Lives

While all his friends were learning skills
To gain them wives or pay their bills,
John fought with monsters on a screen,
Got knighted by a game world’s queen,
Amassing troves of digi-treasure
That bought eight bits of gaming pleasure.

But as the habit lasted longer,
John’s dungeon shackles grew much stronger.
His friends moved on and all gained wives
While he sat gaining extra lives—
One-upped by men just half his age
Who’d put in time and earned life’s wage.

One day, much older, John awoke
And felt his electronic yoke:
No friends, no wife, and children none,
His life still stalled at World 1-1.
No princess wishes to be saved
By a gaming hero thus enslaved.

John’s game-themed room now seemed a waste,
An emblem of his time misplaced.
No dragon’s hoard of Jєωels and gold
Could buy back time and youth he’d sold
For shiny bits of program code—
He wept beside perdition’s road.

But, leaving home and breaking free,
He had no guide for strategy.
The social world seemed too complex
To a man who lived in pixel specks,
And so he ran back home to game,
Never quitting, to his shame.

The moral of this tale in rhyme?
Work while you’re young, don’t waste your time.
Don’t put your life goals off till later;
Shoot down your schedule’s space-invaders,
Or, like our captured gamer guy,
You’ll find your life has passed you by.

Very good.

I think English is not that good for poetry, at least most English poetry sounds bad to me because it is severely limited by the lack of declensions and fixed word order, however, this sounds pretty good, probably because of your alliteration.

Polymath · « **Reply #133 on:** November 12, 2022, 04:50:30 PM »

Quote from: ServusInutilisDomini on November 12, 2022, 01:53:40 PM

Very good.

I think English is not that good for poetry, at least most English poetry sounds bad to me because it is severely limited by the lack of declensions and fixed word order, however, this sounds pretty good, probably because of your alliteration.

Thanks! This poem earned me high praise from a university English professor, leading a friend who’s a very experienced and prolific poet and knows him to tell me this means I’ve made it as a poet.

Poetry in English was not always in its present form; originally, it was in alliterative verse, where there were a fixed number of stressed syllables per line (usually four) that always started with the same sound within each line, but didn’t necessarily rhyme or have a fixed number of unstressed syllables between two stressed ones.

CathInfo.com

Author Topic: User Poems (Read 152907 times)

Polymath

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