Haikus are 5 sylbls, 7 sylbls and 5 sylbls.

I found this little tidbit within a Youtube comment and thought I'd post it here, because I found it quite amusing.

Haikus are easy,
But sometimes they don't make sense.
Refrigerator.

The Elements

So burns fire, like the tongue of the devil

Its biting flame searing like a hot blade

An enigma on many a level

But simple it can be easily made

For water trickles like tears down a stream

Only to reach a fall, where it will then

Flow like a stitch, like a runaway seam

Reaching the end where it will only grow

The earth, the ground, whatever it be called

Let us see what it will seed from rich soil

The stone will allow cities to be walled

And allow for men to endure less toil

Air, ultimate of elemental four

Lets us know why the rest we do adore

I wrote this poem three years ago in Year Eight for an assignment. It is a parody of The Ugly Duckling. Read to the end for a unique twist!
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RYAN SULLIVAN - BHA IS-FO LINLAVUE

The Ugly Duckling (The True Story)

Once a long long time ago

A mother duck was feeling low

The mother duck had laid her eggs

But half of them looked just like kegs!

One day the eggs began to hatch

They cracked and cracked

And all ten matched


One hadn't hatched and it was big

And looked different

Like a fig

The mother thought

"Oh me! Oh my!

"I guess this duck will never fly!"


Next day she came back to her lair

To her dismay

It wasn't there


He ran and ran for all his luck

She couldn't catch him

She was just a duck


He ran and ran till he was calm

Eventually he came to a farm

He was caught in a net

And came out of the wet

And landed in an old woman's palm


"I am going to cut you and slice you

"And mangle you into pieces!

"Then I will share you with all of my nieces!"


He was locked in a pen

With a hare and a hen

And soon it was night

And he was in fright


"Run!" said the hare, "With all your luck

She can't catch you, you lucky duck!"

"If you don't," the hen said

"She will chop off your head!

"And blood always makes me chuck"


So off went the lock

With nought but a knock

Away from the hen

Away from the pen


While the duck ran he also thought

"Oh why, oh why is life so short?

Oh why, oh why must all things die?

Oh, how I wish that I could fly!"


He was alone

Out on his own

And didn't know where to go

He saw a big light

Which shone very bright

But what it was he didn't know


The closer it came

The less it looked tame

And suddenly out went the light

He heard a door close

And that's when he froze

For he couldn't see much in the night


He was put in a sack

And thrown in the back

And the air in there was very tight

He gasped for his breath

On the verge of death

And that's when he noticed his plight


"I have been worked like a hound

"I thought they were very profound

"I'll chop off their heads

"The hare will be dead

"And the hen will be running around!"


The car stopped

The engine hopped

The duckling leaped onto the floor

The keys were turned

The engine churned

And the car drove on ever more


While he was sitting in the back

The duckling quacked and quacked

"Shut up, duck

"You're out of luck

"And no, it is not coming back!"


She pushed the clutch

But far too much

And somehow opened the door

Then she got out

And came about

And the duck thought, "Man, what a--"


She picked up

The ugly duck

And took him to the front door

It was locked

And so she knocked

And it wasn't locked anymore


The woman said

"Hi, McNewan! I've got the perfect duck for stewin'!"

"Come in! Come in!" said McNewan

"I just got the water brewin'

"He's still alive, but that's the best!

"Now let's be done with this damned pest"


They took him down the hallway floor

To the left and through the door

Past the photos all around

Hanging up and looking down


To the kitchen hence they came

Leaving then the hall of fame

"Mmm," the duck thought, "duckling stew"

"WAIT!" he thought, "That duck is YOU!"


They came closer to the pot

The duck went in

"That water's HOT!"

There and then the phone did ring

"You're mother's called about that thing!"

"I'll be back," McNewan said

"With bourbon and a loaf of bread"


The duck got out of the pot

And turned the knob a lot

He stopped at low

So he would know

The water wouldn't be so hot


The duck got back inside the pot

And now it was not quite so hot

He had a good laugh

And then he thought

"Well, I do love a good bath!"


McNewan returned with the bourbon and bread

And placed them down, nodding his head

He took a step back, admiring the view

And looking forward to his duck stew


McNewan's coat made him look fatter

He was coming to the pot with a platter

The duck looked asleep

With not even a peep

And everything else didn't matter


The woman's hands went to her head

"Oh my God! This duck's not dead!"

Then he hissed

And bit her wrist

And the rest of her hand went red


"Right!" McNewan said

"If this duck isn't dead

"He can go far from here

"And get eaten by the deer!"


"Throw me! Throw me!

"I don't care! I have courage like a bear!"

"I think you mean a lion, duck!"

But the duck was no more there


He flew and flew

"Achoo! Achoo!"

He had caught a cold

He thought that he had grown immune

But he was getting old


He landed by a clear blue pond

With which he felt a special bond

He had seen it once before

And now he was quite fond


"Hey, Ron! Yes you, the swan

"Do I have some luck?

"Am I just like you, a swan?

"Or am I just a duck?"


"Sorry, mate

"You're not a swan

"You're all out of your luck"


The other swan said

"Stuff him mate!

"He's just an ugly duck!"

Chapter Two is up in queue,
Three is on its way
Chapter Four is coming, too
But that's for another day

As an exercise for Literature, we were asked to attempt to describe the rain using metaphors and arranging it into verse, as is done with metaphysical poetry. My conceit for this piece was that rain inspires a writer.
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The Rain

If the drenchèd soul is thus turned to grey,

It doth inspire; an ideal ray

Shades of black liken to shades of white,

And they let the soul inspirèd take flight

And into the light the said soul doth fly

Idea returned and not let pass by.

I randomly decided to write this somewhere on the CC forums. This was a completely improvised poem, and as a non-poet, I'm proud of it. Let me know what you think!
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An E'erlasting Day

And so we are here,

A third through the year

We'll strive to aim high,

For the half-point is nigh

And if we do fail,

We'll trod 'round and flail,

(Then) look epically into the sky


But if what does work,

Does continue so

Why continue not,

(But) to meet a new low?

Keep what is good,

Cut what is bad

Make it the best,

That anyone had


Strive for the goal,

Reach a new high

Rest if you must,

But look to the sky


We'll strive to aim high,

For a new day is nigh

(And)

An e'erlasting day will not die