If liked this piece, please take a moment to fave it (^_^). Each faves let's me know that you liked the piece and it helps the piece get ranked for popularity :3If you'd like to hear me read poems and do a little comedy live then then check out episode 3 of my live show here: [link] Author's Comment:
Alright, so here's another Shot-Glass Poem for all of you. I tried a little something different, starting out with rhyme and then fading it out as the structure becomes free-verse before the final ending. I mean, it's nice to have rhymes throughout, or free throughout, but the mixed stuff can sometimes be better at carrying the emotions through. Rhymes to get the ball rolling and then the switch to keep the meaning serious.
That said, I hope you all enjoy this piece and please let me know if I managed to get the emotions right. I hope to perfect my shot-glass poetry technique.
That said, what inspired me was:
a) Avatar, The Last Airbender: i.e. Iroh's son (he sang a song for him I think it's also called Little Soldier boy, but I only used those three words xD)
b) My dear friend
who has his birthday today. He often writes a few pieces on soldiers and combat and I wanted to do something similar for him. Happy birthday mate. If everyone else could, please wish him a happy birthday too ^^
-Captain Chenbeard of the Black Fedora Pirates
P.S. Yes I'm writing a lot, got more birthdays to handle so you guys get more entertainment WHOO!Other Poems by Me:
I Comfort Myself
With a warm drink, whispering secrets to my own reflection.
The struggles that plague me, though none may know,
Are only for the ears of my quiet mirror, who smiles
Softly, warmly and with care. He tells me, I'm fine
I've done well for now and soon I may finally rest.
Though the silence continues to press upon me,
Weighing upon my soul like an iron crate.
Still I find comfort in whispering secrets,
If only to my own reflection - holding a warm drink...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 17th October 2012
Yeah I'm Stupid!
Yeah I'm Stupid!:
Indeed you are absolutely superior. A divine being, more intelligent,
Learned and completely right in everything you say about me.
However, if I might be permitted to as they say in slang
"Drop the beat", then I'd like to show you my own style of doing things.
Art thou ready for this my sibling from a different parent?
Sir can I have just a moment of your time? I think I lost
My will, let me sit and bust a rhyme rappin' like I'm
Edgar Allan singin' Raven songs, thank god I have a
life and love that keeps me really strong. See I
Understand the fact that you may not like the things I do,
It begins in the same way, every single night
Fire spreading from an altar in the darkness
As all living beings are slowly consumed,
The coruscating flames appear wet with blood
The scene then changes to a flooded hallway
Live wires dangling just above the water,
Like venomous serpents slithering in the darkness
A single pounce would end my life
Eventually the hallway ends with a door,
One that reminds me of forgotten yore
And my thoughts shall be in rhyme at this point
As though lips and tongue are eternally joint
What maddened schemes have they in mind?
It is not a questio
This is for the Reader
This is for the Reader:Other Literature by Me:
With the soft touch of his fingers
The piano begins to play, a heart untouched for so long
Bares its secret melody...
When I first started out I couldn't avoid just bein' cold
My life revolved the things that I was always told
I never knew the warmth of standing up to take a bow
It was not a joy that I would ever-ever be allowed
Through all the days I feared that everything would disappear
You held me up and held me close like I was something dear
I never knew I had a part of me that you would like
I guess that's what you feel when you can't even see the light
So this is the only way, that
Chapter 1: Blood is Beauty
Release One: Pages 1 - 3
THE COLD AIR in Baron Rorke's study did little to calm his nerves. He was expecting visitors this night and they were not the best of company. A shiver of dread ran down his spine and he spent most of the twilight hours staring out of a large window which stood behind his writing desk. It was amazing, he felt, how quickly a man could become attached to a life of luxury; only to be made painfully aware of how easy it was to lose it. War was always a frightening thing, even more so when one had the knowledge and sense to realise that it was no longer an exercise of glory, but a si