dragonqueen
W:O:A Metalhead
also ich das "gedicht" ist doch ein song von den doors, oder? das hab ich nämlich schon öfters gehört...
Unregelmäßger Gedichtthread für Starlight
- Ersteller monochrom
- Erstellt am
-
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Toffi Fee
W:O:A Metalgod
Noch'n Gedicht:
Hinter eines Baumes Rinde
wohnt die Made mit dem Kinde.
Sie ist Witwe, denn der Gatte,
den sie hatte,
fiel vom Blatte
- diente so, auf diese Weise,
einer Ameise als Speise.
Eines Tages sprach die Made:
Liebes Kind, ich sehe grade
drüben gibt es frischen Kohl,
den ich hol',
so leb denn wohl.
Halt! Noch eins: denk, was geschah!
Geh nicht aus, denk an Papa!
Also sprach sie und entwich.
Made junior aber schlich
aus der Wohnung, das war schlecht
- denn schon kam ein Specht
und verschlang die kleine fade
Made
ohne Gnade.
Schade.
Hinter eines Baumes Rinde
ruft die Made nach dem Kinde...
Hinter eines Baumes Rinde
wohnt die Made mit dem Kinde.
Sie ist Witwe, denn der Gatte,
den sie hatte,
fiel vom Blatte
- diente so, auf diese Weise,
einer Ameise als Speise.
Eines Tages sprach die Made:
Liebes Kind, ich sehe grade
drüben gibt es frischen Kohl,
den ich hol',
so leb denn wohl.
Halt! Noch eins: denk, was geschah!
Geh nicht aus, denk an Papa!
Also sprach sie und entwich.
Made junior aber schlich
aus der Wohnung, das war schlecht
- denn schon kam ein Specht
und verschlang die kleine fade
Made
ohne Gnade.
Schade.
Hinter eines Baumes Rinde
ruft die Made nach dem Kinde...
TALKHEAVY
W:O:A Metalgod
Toffi Fee schrieb:Noch'n Gedicht:
Hinter eines Baumes Rinde
wohnt die Made mit dem Kinde.
Sie ist Witwe, denn der Gatte,
den sie hatte,
fiel vom Blatte
- diente so, auf diese Weise,
einer Ameise als Speise.
Eines Tages sprach die Made:
Liebes Kind, ich sehe grade
drüben gibt es frischen Kohl,
den ich hol',
so leb denn wohl.
Halt! Noch eins: denk, was geschah!
Geh nicht aus, denk an Papa!
Also sprach sie und entwich.
Made junior aber schlich
aus der Wohnung, das war schlecht
- denn schon kam ein Specht
und verschlang die kleine fade
Made
ohne Gnade.
Schade.
Hinter eines Baumes Rinde
ruft die Made nach dem Kinde...
Das ist ein Plagiat!
Sie werden demnaechst Besooch von unserer Rechtsabteilung bekommen!Hast du nix zu toon oder waroom holst du altthreads aussem Sarg?
Toffi Fee
W:O:A Metalgod
Karsten wars - und ausserdem hat das gestern oder so jemand getanTALKHEAVY schrieb:Das ist ein Plagiat!
Hast du nix zu toon oder waroom holst du altthreads aussem Sarg?
TALKHEAVY
W:O:A Metalgod
Gestern?Toffi Fee schrieb:Karsten wars - und ausserdem hat das gestern oder so jemand getan
was habt ihr gestern denn NOCH gemacht?
TALKHEAVY
W:O:A Metalgod
Rain
W:O:A Metalmaster
- 16 Nov. 2004
- 5.309
- 0
- 81
Herbstgedanken
Wenn im Herbst alles dunkler wird
Und der Sommer sein Kleid verliert
Wenn die Wärme der Welt den Rücken kehrt
Und die letzte Blume einsam erfriert
Wenn im Nebel alle Farben erbleichen
Und endlose Schauer die Erde aufweichen
Wenn der Westwind erbarmungslos weht
Und die Sonne nie hoch am Himmel steht
Dann träume ich von der glücklichen Zeit
Als Du bei mir warst; vor der Einsamkeit
Und ich fühle Schmerz und Freude zugleich
Denn die Liebe zu Dir war mein Himmelreich
...mir war grad so danach das mal zu posten... geschrieben hab ich es natürlich im Herbst; ganz schön kitschig, was?
Wenn im Herbst alles dunkler wird
Und der Sommer sein Kleid verliert
Wenn die Wärme der Welt den Rücken kehrt
Und die letzte Blume einsam erfriert
Wenn im Nebel alle Farben erbleichen
Und endlose Schauer die Erde aufweichen
Wenn der Westwind erbarmungslos weht
Und die Sonne nie hoch am Himmel steht
Dann träume ich von der glücklichen Zeit
Als Du bei mir warst; vor der Einsamkeit
Und ich fühle Schmerz und Freude zugleich
Denn die Liebe zu Dir war mein Himmelreich
...mir war grad so danach das mal zu posten... geschrieben hab ich es natürlich im Herbst; ganz schön kitschig, was?
Kate McGee
W:O:A Metalgod
Schlossvippach
W:O:A Metalhead
Fire and Ice
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Lord Soth schrieb:
Hey, der Robert Frost steht garantiert schon im Thread - das ist mein Lieblingsdichter samt seinem Lieblingsgedicht.
*Weiteres tolles Gedicht von dem Mann sei*
1. The Road Not Taken
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
War zu faul um den ganzen Thread danach abzusuchen, außerdem... ein schönes Gedicht hört man gerne öfter!
GRRRR!!
W:O:A Metalmaster
- 4 Dez. 2001
- 5.831
- 0
- 81
- 46
The Malancholy Death Of Oyster Boy - by Tim Burton
He proposed in the dunes,
they were wed by the sea,
Their nine-day-long honeymoon
was on the isle of Capri.
For their supper they had one specatular dish-
a simmering stew of mollusks and fish.
And while he savored the broth,
her bride's heart made a wish.
That wish came true-she gave birth to a baby.
But was this little one human
Well, maybe.
Ten fingers, ten toes,
he had plumbing and sight.
He could hear, he could feel,
but normal?
Not quite.
This unnatural birth, this canker, this blight,
was the start and the end and the sum of their plight.
She railed at the doctor:
"He cannot be mine.
He smells of the ocean, of seaweed and brine."
"You should count yourself lucky, for only last week,
I treated a girl with three ears and a beak.
That your son is half oyster
you cannot blame me.
... have you ever considered, by chance,
a small home by the sea?"
Not knowing what to name him,
they just called him Sam,
or sometimes,
"that thing that looks like a clam"
Everyone wondered, but no one could tell,
When would young Oyster Boy come out of his shell?
When the Thompson quadruplets espied him one day,
they called him a bivalve and ran quickly away.
One spring afternoon,
Sam was left in the rain.
At the southwestern corner of Seaview and Main,
he watched the rain water as it swirled
down the drain.
His mom on the freeway
in the breakdown lane
was pouding the dashboard-
she couldn't contain
the ever-rising grief,
frustration,
and pain.
"Really, sweetheart," she said
"I don't mean to make fun,
but something smells fishy
and I think it's our son.
I don't like to say this, but it must be said,
you're blaming our son for your problems in bed."
He tried salves, he tried ointments
that turned everything red.
He tried potions and lotions
and tincture of lead.
He ached and he itched and he twitched and he bled.
The doctor diagnosed,
"I can't quite be sure,
but the cause of the problem may also be the cure.
They say oysters improve your sexual powers.
Perhaps eating your son
would help you do it for hours!"
He came on tiptoe,
he came on the sly,
sweat on his forehead,
and on his lips-a lie.
"Son, are you happy? I don't mean to pry,
but do you dream of Heaven?
Have you ever wanted to die?
Sam blinked his eye twice.
but made no reply.
Dad fingered his knife and loosened his tie.
As he picked up his son,
Sam dripped on his coat.
With the shell to his lips,
Sam slipped down his throat.
They burried him quickly in the sand by the sea
-sighed a prayer, wept a tear-
and they were back home by three.
A cross of greay driftwood marked Oyster Boy's grave.
Words writ in the sand
promised Jesus would save.
But his memory was lost with one high-tide wave.
He proposed in the dunes,
they were wed by the sea,
Their nine-day-long honeymoon
was on the isle of Capri.
For their supper they had one specatular dish-
a simmering stew of mollusks and fish.
And while he savored the broth,
her bride's heart made a wish.
That wish came true-she gave birth to a baby.
But was this little one human
Well, maybe.
Ten fingers, ten toes,
he had plumbing and sight.
He could hear, he could feel,
but normal?
Not quite.
This unnatural birth, this canker, this blight,
was the start and the end and the sum of their plight.
She railed at the doctor:
"He cannot be mine.
He smells of the ocean, of seaweed and brine."
"You should count yourself lucky, for only last week,
I treated a girl with three ears and a beak.
That your son is half oyster
you cannot blame me.
... have you ever considered, by chance,
a small home by the sea?"
Not knowing what to name him,
they just called him Sam,
or sometimes,
"that thing that looks like a clam"
Everyone wondered, but no one could tell,
When would young Oyster Boy come out of his shell?
When the Thompson quadruplets espied him one day,
they called him a bivalve and ran quickly away.
One spring afternoon,
Sam was left in the rain.
At the southwestern corner of Seaview and Main,
he watched the rain water as it swirled
down the drain.
His mom on the freeway
in the breakdown lane
was pouding the dashboard-
she couldn't contain
the ever-rising grief,
frustration,
and pain.
"Really, sweetheart," she said
"I don't mean to make fun,
but something smells fishy
and I think it's our son.
I don't like to say this, but it must be said,
you're blaming our son for your problems in bed."
He tried salves, he tried ointments
that turned everything red.
He tried potions and lotions
and tincture of lead.
He ached and he itched and he twitched and he bled.
The doctor diagnosed,
"I can't quite be sure,
but the cause of the problem may also be the cure.
They say oysters improve your sexual powers.
Perhaps eating your son
would help you do it for hours!"
He came on tiptoe,
he came on the sly,
sweat on his forehead,
and on his lips-a lie.
"Son, are you happy? I don't mean to pry,
but do you dream of Heaven?
Have you ever wanted to die?
Sam blinked his eye twice.
but made no reply.
Dad fingered his knife and loosened his tie.
As he picked up his son,
Sam dripped on his coat.
With the shell to his lips,
Sam slipped down his throat.
They burried him quickly in the sand by the sea
-sighed a prayer, wept a tear-
and they were back home by three.
A cross of greay driftwood marked Oyster Boy's grave.
Words writ in the sand
promised Jesus would save.
But his memory was lost with one high-tide wave.
starlight
W:O:A Metalmaster
hab ich jetzt echt ganz gelesen (mit der hilfe von babylon).GRRRR!! schrieb:
hinterläßt irgendwie ein komisches gefühl. aber lustige stellen zwischendrin und ziemlich abgefahrene idee
aber das kommt davon, wenn man nach dem essen sex hat!!!