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Roxy DeNoir Jul 2013
Robot girl made of tin
Owns no heart
To break apart
Robot girl made of tin

Robot girl made of tin
Has no emotions to feel
No hurting to heal
Robot girl made of tin

Robot girl made of tin
No reason to live
No desire to give
Robot girl made of tin

Robot girl made of tin
No reason to die
No secrets to hide
Robot girl made of tin

Robot girl made of tin
Sees the sky
Doesn't care to fly
Robot girl made of tin

Robot girl made of tin
Doesn't work
Habitual irk
Robot girl made of tin

Robot girl made of tin
No power to gain
No desire for fame
Robot girl made of tin

Robot girl made of tin
Never thinks deep
Or promises keep
Robot girl made of tin
I love this poem
Hunter K Feb 2015
The tin warrior,
Stands tall and strong,
His creator looks in horror,
As his new creation has gone terribly wrong.

The tin warrior was suppose to have no heart,
But no, he came out with a part,
The tin warrior was the key to victory,
Now who ever wins the war is a pure mystery,
Who do they blame for this new creation?
Obviously the one who created all this frustration!

The tin warrior has a half a heart,
Not the best, but it is a start,
Instead of stone cold,
It became pure gold,
Only one person knows why,
And it most certainly wasn't the creator guy.

The daughter of the creator,
She was the one,
She may be a traitor,
But she knows what she had done.

The tin warrior was better than a weapon,
The daughter knew that,
She doesn't regret her choices for a second,
The tin warrior was even better than her father was aiming at.

The tin warrior was build for peace,
His sword pure white,
Not a speck of blood upon it,
To walk he used all his might,
To keep his heart pumping,
He struggled greatly,
What the daughter witnessed,
Make her quite shaky.

You see, a heart was meant for man,
And the tin warrior just wasn't it,
The tin warrior went out with a plan,
So he left a dent in this world,
Letting himself shut down,
Knowing his plan was unfurled,

Everything would be fine without him,
As he did his part,
The daughter was grim,
But knew this was just the start,
The tin warrior saved many souls,
And now it was her turn to achieve the tin warriors goals.
Amado Nervo  Jun 2017
El granizo
¡Tin, tin, tin, tin! Yo caigo del cielo, en insensato
redoble, al campo y todos los céspedes maltrato.
¡Tin, tin! ¡Muy buenas tardes, mi hermana la pradera!
Poeta, buenas tardes, ¡ábreme tu vidriera!
Soy diáfano y geométrico, tengo esmalte y blancura
tan finos y suaves como una dentadura,
y en un derroche de ópalos blancos me multiplico.
¡La linfa canta, el copo cruje, yo... yo repico!
Tin, tin, tin, tin, mi torre es la nube ideal:
¡oye mis campanitas de límpido cristal!
La nieve es triste, el agua turbulenta; yo sin
Ventura, soy un loco de atar, ¡tin, tin, tin, tin!
...¿Cenduras? No por cierto, no merezco censuras;
las tardes calurosas por mí tienen frescuras,
yo lucho con el hálito del verano
yo soy bello...
                        -¡Loemos a Dios, Granizo hermano!
zebra Jul 2019
her tongue rattles a smoky gauze
wet lipped licks a velvet *****
holding her slavering heart

tin tin deo

while she finger painted her inside
thighs  honey glazed red
hot as a fever
her mouth pours out of itself
a flagellating tongue    fluent
*** blizzard

tin tin deo

dumb founded happy cross-eyed
her head like a carved moon
swaying asylums of shrieking beds
curved slick as a honeymoon ****

tin tin deo

a storm of purple
blowing wind  of violets
from her warm kiln belly
zodiac    ancient *******
ravishing flame
ruler of ever dreams

tin tin deo
Paul Roberts Feb 2011
On the table , over there by the woven chair,
a box of prize possesions still line up there.
Left unattended, as if in a rush...
something is now missing...something he used to touch.

Let us flip the page of time, perhapes a few days back.
Count the items that were in the box, perhapes something
is a lack.
A ball of string, so carefully rolled, a coin with faded date.
A photo of a lovely girl and a flag of the United States.
A ring  and then a whisp of hair, human one would hope
and then a little soldier of tin , the hero of the show.
This tin soldier had seen the world, in the hands of the holder.
Seen him slip and fall, civilian and a soldier.
Listens to him as he thinks. Stands by as he cried.
Looked away when words were cursed, felt warm when he saw him smile.
The night was all as usual, the holder had been gone for a few days.
He entered ,sat down at the chair, all seemed normal one would say.
First came out the flag, quite moments would follow that.
Then the photo, ring and hair, normally the holder would sit back.
This time the holder knelt by the fire and the tin soldier strained to see,
the holder cried more then usual, the tin soldier wondered what could it be.
Then came a string of curses and a rush of air,
the tin soldier was caught up in the moment, quite unprepared.
As he layed to close to the flames, he felt his time draw near.....
the final moments as he left he could see the holder clear......

So now the room is empty. The table left untouched.
The holder left and never returned, he had lost all so much.
Tin soldiers they say are a dime a dozen, funny, kind of like us.
It's how we are lined up for the play, what we see or touch... the tin man melts away...we return to dust.
Paul Roberts: Fade
The Nameless Sep 2016
Let's, let's keep time, you and me, together,
We can be a little tin can band
With stagelight streams of leftover holiday
And we can blot out the stars with their glow
Until we're the only ones left.

You can't get ahead by staying behind,

So move, so move, you and me, together,
We can be a little tin can band
And move to the drummer boy's beat.
Just turn the little windup key
And follow the clockwork ballerina tempo.

You can't get ahead by staying behind,

But allargando, allargando, calando, you and me, together,
We can be a little tin can band
Wrapped up and forgotten in last year's tinsel
And shelved another year with dying poinsettia petals
Hoping we survive our expiration date.

You can't get ahead by staying behind,

Let's, let's keep time, you and me together,
We can be a little tin can band
And echo, echo, echo till we're nothing but silent wishes
And leftovers of sugar plum dreams,
Gilded, rusted tin sentiments screaming:

You can't get ahead by staying behind
Seven Glorious Ones,
Are searching for our Tin!
Across seven vast ages,
Though here’s where we’ll begin.
And those twinkly-ones appear,
Stare from the painted haze…
Those ‘eyes’ attract, erratic mind…
Tin settle’s on their gaze.
Run Tin! Run! Her falling velvet,
Stag-man hangs now on horizon,
Hunter’s purpose, -rage!
Mourn the loss, Oh brave Tin,
Brave hero Tin, -seven dancing on your grave.
The myth of Tin is Jupiter is Jove is God is Yahweh... The seven who dance on the god's grave are always the Great Bear or seven pole stars...
Tap Head  May 2017
Tin Pot House
Tap Head May 2017
I live in a tin *** house
with clatter and clutter
and not an ounce of living space
my tin *** house is sad and sorry place.

Junk piled on furniture
and muck on the walls,
my tin *** house doesn’t get
many visitors at all.

The fence is falling down,  
the flowers dying in the heat.  
My tin *** house is such a mess,  
a tip could not compete.

The spider’s webs’
are the only thing that grows
and from the taps,
it's only cold water that flows.  

So yes, my tin *** house
is a sad and sorry place
and my tin *** family
is in a sad and sorry state.

— The End —