₦airaland Forum

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

texanomaly:
This is good. I really like it.

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

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?

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?

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...

texanomaly:
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

1miccza:
See?told you I wasn't good

See?told you I wasn't good

laykorn:
You've got mail sir.
Ayamlaykorn

1miccza:
See?told you I wasn't good

See?told you I wasn't good

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?

McSterling:
This poem isn't one.

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

1miccza:
Show me one then...

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

1miccza:
Were you trying to create yours or memorise this?

texanomaly:

1miccza:
When I get that tongue of yours?

1miccza:
Were you trying to create yours or memorise this?

McSterling:
To create mine.