Soothing the Savage Grimbledorfs

Dreams and Schemes

I lay asleep soundlessly

beneath the covers on my bed,

Only to be awoken by the sound

of Grimbledorfs above my head.

Now Grimbledorfs are ugly creatures

with ears the size of a fist

and their eyes are blood red

as if they were blood-kissed.

Their teeth were sharp like razor's

and yellow as the sun.

There flesh green and cover in scabs,

plus they'd all talk as one.

Grimbledorfs were savage creatures

who would feast on human skin

and the secret way to be spared,

was to tell them tales of the Moonlight Gin.

Now this gin wasn't really real,

or an alcohol of any kind.

It was just something they had invented

within their convoluted minds.

See Moonlight Gin had the power

to turn Grimbledorfs into men

and so they searched for it endlessly

but believed it was hidden from them.

On this night I told them a tale

of a land very far the way.

Where there was enough of the gin,

to cure them all they say.

The place lay beneath the sea,

looked deep within a metal chest.

I absentmindly pet one of these creatures,

a small one laid upon my breast.

I told them If they hurried

they could make it by first light.

Because Grimbledorfs would explode

If they weren't hidden before the end of night.

And so they clambered over one another,

diving off of my bed.

Saying that if it wasn't there,

I'd better have another tale or I'd be dead.

They closed the door quietly behind them

and I ground in sorrow.

For this underground island did not exist

so they'd be back tomorrow.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

When I was younger I'd imagine these little creatures were sitting at the foot of my bed.

And they were always getting ready to nibble off my toes if I ran out of tales.

This is what they sort of looked like:

Road Rage Wuss

Erik's Poems

Pay attention
to the tension
fingers on the steering wheel
gripped as tight for bending steel
red and racing, raging mind
wishing mayhem on mankind
an air of chronic malcontent
lights his eyes with vile intent-

all within his vehicle
he’s wicked and maniacal!

pay no mind to little man
protected in his rolling can
the same man who has cast this wrath
tonight will take a bubble bath
kiss his kids and wife and then
tomorrow rage on roads again……..

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The End of a Poem

I sit upon my comfy chair
To type away my time
A press placed here, another there
Form sentences sublime
My fingers start to ache and creak
Yet still I try to find
The perfect words to add to it
A poem by the mind

I have words
But nothing’s working
They turn the rhymes to shambles
I try hard
And nothing’s changing
This thing just seems to ramble

This is a burden I shan’t bear
The poem is not worthy
I’ve typed so long the keys show wear
Although it makes me surly
Perhaps I’ll try another week
By then it should work, surely
Until then I think it fit
To end this poem early

Author's Notes/Comments: 

One of the few poems I've ever written, I didn't really stick to any style, I just made the first "stanza" (I think that's the correct name) and tried to go along with it, except for the middle which I put to purposefully disrupt the flow to better emphasis the little "story" of the poem. Took forever to do, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

The new President

Something happened that was both unexpected and great.
By some miracle, I've been elected President of the United States.
I got 535 electoral votes and Romney got three.
Obama didn't even get one and he's pissed at me.
I had no idea that I'd win on that large of a scale.
This is the biggest landslide since Reagan beat Mondale.
I'm very surprised but happy that this came about.
Obama and Romney are plotting revenge, there is no doubt.
I ran as an Independent and my victory is what many will resent.
But for the next four years, I promise that I'll be a great President.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a fictional poem.

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The change

Something happened that was strange.
My wife decided to have a sex change.
When she said she was going through a change, I thought it was the change of life.
I came home and was greeted by a husband instead of a wife.

I packed his bags and threw him out the door.
I sure as hell wasn't going to be married anymore.
Now I'm remarried and she wants to have a sex change too.
Somebody please help me, I don't know what the hell to do!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a fictional poem.

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One Last Time

Everyday seems like a living dream
Sleeping into a nonexisting world of impossiblities
And then you wake up
Limited by actions and urges to continue more
One last time

Your mind then wanders off into a different dimension
A realm of warmth and comfort
No worries
Just Pleasure
One last time

The urge is no more than just a habit
A soul quenching paradox
Confused and depressed
Only if I did it
One last time

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41st birthday

Today is my 41st birthday.
I'm a year older and my hair is getting gray.
It's not like it was twenty years ago.
My bones creak as I climb hills because I'm slow.
I don't know how many more years that I have left.
I'm one year older and one year closer to death.

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The incredible chicken

Last year I was zapped by a large amount of gamma radiation.
Now when I get angry, I go through a startling transformation.
But instead of becoming a large creature, I become a chicken.
When this happens, people always give me a lickin'.
When I change, people almost die from laughter.
And then I sure do pay the price after.
Every time I return to human, I've been beaten black and blue.
When people call me a chicken, it's one hundred percent true.
One guy nearly rung my neck and another plucked me bald.
I'm incapable of self defense because I'm less than one foot tall.
My transformations are embarrassing but they're incredible.
I must be careful because after transforming, I become edible.
I don't want to be sold to KFC, that's for damn sure.
I'll give you a billion dollars if you can find a cure!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a fictional poem.

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Eight feet tall man

People have been laughing because I'm eight feet tall, they think I'm weird.
Or perhaps they've been laughing because of my three feet long beard.
I've been getting tired of the laughter from people who are small.
Yesterday I decided to get revenge by beating up them all.

Why have people been laughing, I don't understand it fully.
But God struck me with lightning for being an 8 feet tall bully.
God sure did make me pay for my sin.
The small people and I have promised not to mess with each other again.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a fictional poem.

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