The MoFo Poetry Club

I just wrote this.

Days grow short as the sun begins to descend and evenings are colder than the days before.

As I walk, I feel the coolness on my face. I hear the rustle of leaves at my feet.

The smell of smoke from the chimneys and people are bundled for warmth.

I know soon that the sun will be gone and bitter cold will be here.

But for now, I can't forget my favorite season is here.

Autumn.

"The Journey" (an original poem by Allaby)

Did you stop to count the cost,
before everything was lost?
And was it a beautiful, scary ride,
With the ones you loved by your side?
Did you wake from your dreams?
Was reality as strange as it seems?
Have we won it all,
Or did we watch it fall?
Grasping for something to hold,
Seeking warmth in the coldest cold.
What does it all mean?
What have you seen?
Take a deep breath,
Live life now until death.

"A Psalm of Lament" (an original poem by Allaby)

You ask how I feel,
This pain is so real.
I don't know why I feel this way,
Can I make it through another dark day?
I wish I could make myself smile,
I know it has been a long while.
My heart feels so broken,
My fears and pain go unspoken.
Will you hold me tight?
Will you tell me it will be alright?
Can I find the light?
Can I survive this night?
I reach out and weep for help, as I fall,
I will cling to hope no matter how small.
Please don't flee,
Just try and love me.

"Get out of here, Minio!"

You think you’re so smart,
You think you’re a work of art.
You think you’re better than everyone else,
You think you’re the king of the shelf.
You think you’re witty and charming,
You think you’re disarming and alarming.
You think you’re the best thing ever,
You think you’re so clever.

But let me tell you the truth,
You’re nothing but a goof.
You’re not smart, you’re just a bore,
You’re not a work of art, you’re just a sore.
You’re not better than anyone else, you’re just a pest,
You’re not the king of the shelf, you’re just a mess.
You’re not witty and charming, you’re just annoying and grating,
You’re not disarming and alarming, you’re just irritating and aggravating.
You’re not the best thing ever, you’re just a blunder,
You’re not clever, you’re just a wonder.

A wonder how you can be so deluded,
A wonder how you can be so eluded.
A wonder how you can be so vain,
A wonder how you can be so insane.
A wonder how you can be so clueless,
A wonder how you can be so useless.
A wonder how you can be so lame,
A wonder how you can be so shameless.

So please do us all a favor,
And stop being such a bragger.
Stop being such a jerk,
And stop being such a quirk.
Stop being such a nuisance,
And stop being such an influence.
Stop being such a pain,
And stop being such a stain.

Just go away and leave us alone,
Just go away and find your own zone.
Just go away and don’t come back,
Just go away and hit the sack.
Just go away and disappear,
Just go away and don’t come near.

We don’t need your snide remarks,
We don’t need your snide sparks.
We don’t need your snide jokes,
We don’t need your snide pokes.
We don’t need your snide attitude,
We don’t need your snide platitude.
We don’t need your snide poems,
We don’t need your snide gnomes.

We don’t need you at all.

__________________
Look, I'm not judging you - after all, I'm posting here myself, but maybe, just maybe, if you spent less time here and more time watching films, maybe, and I stress, maybe your taste would be of some value. Just a thought, ya know.

I don't read much poetry, or anything for that matter.


Wrote it some years ago, here's by order in which it was written...



the eco

on a heavy morning,
the birds sang
conjunctionally,

a faint sunlight
dodged the mass
highlighting
an old oak tree

an impending rain
was booed,
or maybe
cheered,
or preached,

the first drops,
the last wing beats,
and,
in the old oak tree
a bird sang,
alone

he called,
he waited,
he knew.



cork oak

there, seated
like i
and my mother
once were

seated in that cork oak
we told stories,
we laugh,
we escaped

seated in that cork oak
generations
imagined
their realms

i love that
cork oak.
he is my
first,
and most faithful
friend

how many friends
has he had?
how many will
he have?
what secrets
does he hold?

it's roots
rest in infinity
alongside
with our
purest
being.




flow

winter morning;
vived blue sky
hidden with a spread
of white,
and some gray

a small, gentle
waterfall
intermingles
a riverstream
guided by
old, dramatic,
crooked
trees
that bend
touching the water;
a green field
at the other bank
corners it all

a small,
light
bird
lands on top
of one of the trees

at a small breeze
the bird departs
across the green field

one strong wingbeat –
breeze softly carries
another wingbeat –
go with the flow
of one of the trees

at a small breeze
the bird departs
across the green field

one strong wingbeat –
breeze softly carries
another wingbeat –
go with the flow.



a rainy night in the summer solstice

last night
it was softly raining
during the summer solstice,
creating a strange
heavy atmosphere.

i took a shower,
looking trough the small
bathroom window-
watching the mountain,
the fog in the high trees,
it looked like
the forest was breathing.
the birds were all hurried up
to get to their nests,
their refuge
from the night.

i went to bed early,
closed the curtains
and watched
the evading light
on the celling,
and on the floor.

i waited, watched the light
slowly ceasing to pitch-black.
i imagined that outside
was a danger zone,
was the realm of the monsters,
and all the creatures of the night.

my bedroom was my safe zone,
hidden under the soft blankets,
like the birds in their nest.

Pussy Trash

There once was a cat with a grin,
Who loved to play with a pin.
It would leap, it would twirl,
Give the pin a good whirl,
Till it got dizzy and fell in the bin!