poetryboulevard - Hello Poetry

I think I should make it public How my love for compsci’s static My hatred is a void main(String args[]){ Where should I start? Where DO { I start? BREAK; it down To packages to classes I might just need glasses Primitives and variables Freedom: Inevitable. Step 1: Initialize Step 2: Declare Step 3: glare Then pull out your hair. Int and Strings Those petty things I’d rather float Than write oop notes IF my love for this Was put digitally boolean love = true; You have no ******* clue! Private or public? A Return or a void? Oh functions Just send me to oblivion Those red squiggly lines I’d rather be blind It’s only one sign: There’s millions more of its kind! Case 1: The brackets that contain everything. There’s the round ones The squiggly ones The square ones That come in a pair Case 2: Dots. I’d rather be on *** Case 3: Capital Letters. Static Behaviours. Comp-sci, my saviour I love shedding tears. G U I. More like **** you goodbye Grid layout my *** Only way it’d look nice If it was FOR Windows95 I should just make an arraylist of MyLove[]; Because my love for compsci cannot be bound by numbers Oh! OP - Don’t forget the getters And the ****** setters I’ll set this straight. I don’t get your traits. } }

0

Mar 1, 2018

Mar 1, 2018 at 9:21 AM UTC

poetryboulevard

String Myloveforcompsci = “java” {

I think I should make it public How my love for compsci’s static My hatred is a void main(String args[]){ Where should I start? Where DO { I start? BREAK; it down To packages to classes I might just need glasses Primitives and variables Freedom: Inevitable. Step 1: Initialize Step 2: Declare Step 3: glare Then pull out your hair. Int and Strings Those petty things I’d rather float Than write oop notes IF my love for this Was put digitally boolean love = true; You have no ******* clue! Private or public? A Return or a void? Oh functions Just send me to oblivion Those red squiggly lines I’d rather be blind It’s only one sign: There’s millions more of its kind! Case 1: The brackets that contain everything. There’s the round ones The squiggly ones The square ones That come in a pair Case 2: Dots. I’d rather be on *** Case 3: Capital Letters. Static Behaviours. Comp-sci, my saviour I love shedding tears. G U I. More like **** you goodbye Grid layout my *** Only way it’d look nice If it was FOR Windows95 I should just make an arraylist of MyLove[]; Because my love for compsci cannot be bound by numbers Oh! OP - Don’t forget the getters And the ****** setters I’ll set this straight. I don’t get your traits. } }

68

White leaves rustle in autumn To a swinging beat, marked with ink – Staff lines, and sharps that fall flat. Synchronised To the wave of a maestro’s hands. Camaraderie. But no words are needed. A fervent look From the drummer Gives away the tempo, Speed up! A rehearsed nod starts an improvised solo in another mode. Mixolydian. We exist on the same wavelength; you and I.

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Feb 25, 2018

Feb 25, 2018 at 7:42 AM UTC

poetryboulevard

Wavelength

White leaves rustle in autumn To a swinging beat, marked with ink – Staff lines, and sharps that fall flat. Synchronised To the wave of a maestro’s hands. Camaraderie. But no words are needed. A fervent look From the drummer Gives away the tempo, Speed up! A rehearsed nod starts an improvised solo in another mode. Mixolydian. We exist on the same wavelength; you and I.

25

I walked in blind – yet all I find Is a gaping hole In my heart. I jumped in fast – and all I asked Was that you wouldn’t leave me scarred. I leapt in trust – that there was still us. Guess I wasn’t smart enough.

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Feb 25, 2018

Feb 25, 2018 at 7:41 AM UTC

poetryboulevard

Misplaced

I walked in blind – yet all I find Is a gaping hole In my heart. I jumped in fast – and all I asked Was that you wouldn’t leave me scarred. I leapt in trust – that there was still us. Guess I wasn’t smart enough.

12

Ivory seafoam kisses the bleached sand, like long-lost lovers dancing to the rhythm of the ocean wave band. The tide crashes Into the sandy arms of the shore. A lingering embrace before receding, too fleeting. Soft waves cycle in an ostinato, as the ocean beckons Then retreats, repeats.

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Feb 25, 2018

Feb 25, 2018 at 7:40 AM UTC

poetryboulevard

A Moment's Meeting

Ivory seafoam kisses the bleached sand, like long-lost lovers dancing to the rhythm of the ocean wave band. The tide crashes Into the sandy arms of the shore. A lingering embrace before receding, too fleeting. Soft waves cycle in an ostinato, as the ocean beckons Then retreats, repeats.

16

You can stand still but it never stands with you Sit still, it runs from you Chase it, It flies Abstract complexions with given names, never ceases, never tamed. We are stitched to days, drenched in time Is there enough time, for all that’s mine?

0

Feb 23, 2018

Feb 23, 2018 at 9:19 AM UTC

poetryboulevard

Time

You can stand still but it never stands with you Sit still, it runs from you Chase it, It flies Abstract complexions with given names, never ceases, never tamed. We are stitched to days, drenched in time Is there enough time, for all that’s mine?

16