Thanks Bob, I “modified” it a bit at the end so you may not have seen that since I just changed it.
OOO yeah nice… BTW I am michael.
Oh sorry Michael. Ok here’s another one that I just wrote, this time I purposely didn’t rhyme and just kindof put down thoughts as they came. Kinda personal thoughts, but hey that’s poetry sometimes, right?
“Look back no more” by Terry Peterson 5/29/07
Alone is my life, away from the crowd
Coming out of my shell trying to connect
How can I relate to a world so removed?
How can life find me when I can’t find myself?
I want so deeply to give love and be loved
I’ve been there before but can’t quite remember
Blocking out the pain of loss, and her beautiful face
I must resign myself to a lonely existence
Accepting that life is in its endgame
But I did have one true love, which has long past
And for the rest of my days I will look back no more…
Sounds good its cool many call me bob… I wonder why lol…
Ok, a happy one this time!
“My playground” by Terry Peterson 5/30/07
The mountains’ my playground, a place to unwind
Where negative thoughts are left far behind
I’m one with my muni, and find strength from within
As adrenaline, ‘dorphins begin to kick in
We’re shreddin’ the trail all rocky and loose
Although it’s built strong, it can take my abuse
Muni’s engrained and a part of my life,
Without it I guess I’d consider a wife
But until then I say, I will always be here
Just me and my Muni, without any fear
Exploring new vistas and lush mountain sides
It’s the best “high” by far, that nature provides
Poetry is for little fifi boys…
Hmmmmm… Maybe I should at some point put some of my poetry up… I don’t know tho I’m not very good at it…
You who denounce, haven’t an ounce
Of creative, artistic expression,
you only deride, and show your mean side
by taking this act of agression…
Written by Terry Peterson, 5/30/07
Haha, nothing personal, just having fun at your expense!
Damn, I’m good! 
Here, I’ll start…+1!
+1
lol Uni57 that was great for only ten minutes of thinking.
I used to like poetry untill i found out that there are poems that dont have to rhyme or follow rules. Then everything became a poem, i began speaking in verse and it all got quite our of hand. Now i seldom rhyme 
Some mild language, just a heads up.
Tell me what you think.
enjoy
A little thing called life
Whether it may be
kicking around the rock
rolling around the block
smokin all that pot
whatever it may be
I choose it to set me free
from my preformed destiny
of amounting to nothing, never to succeed
Life to many may seem
fun and free like a dream
but for those like me
the drive, the will, desire never
seems to deam themselves necessary
I may appear care free, but the
thoughts of life, future, and
the unknown terrorfy me
skeptiscism trys to keep me sain
never believing I’ll end up like kobain
being, meaning something
is all i really strive for
knowing this why do I refuse to try
instead have my head implanted in the sky
sleeping on this lie, that all will end up fine.
Going to school, the prison for the lazy
for many it is all just a joke
the brilliant potential lost of all
those who have been diluted
I really hate to say it, myself included.
sending me further down the hall,
forcing me up that never ending wall
we call life.
31 days to name and
what do I have to acount for it?
Not a God damn thing.
Could have done so much
but instead did so little.
Alone, isolated, depressed
choosing the easy way out.
I’ve had chances to do something for the better
but instead chose to lift a single finger.
To many regrets, not enough pride
sends me sliding down that familiar path
we call life.
Pressure from the free world.
Pressure from society; to be on top
number 1 for all to see; to be the pennicale of conformity.
Pressure from parents; like a whip accross my back.
Pressure to fill them with pride and I just subside and hide
by running and getting high.
Always expecting so much, yet saying so little
Forcing me to lean on my one true crutch
that is the energy, love, and support
of my dearest friends.
Knowing that no matter how bad I fuck up
they will be with me 'till the bittersweet end.
I choose what I choose to set me free
from my preformed destiny
of amounting to nothing, never to succeed.
Chase
Jerrick started a thread to post your poems in… it’s right here…
Oops, yeah I realized that after I posted mine here.
Okay, let’s get back to discussing poetry. I like how economical it is. In just a few words, it connects the reader to an idea or story or emotional state. The reader must bring something of their own to the poem.
Like, in my silly poem, am I riding my Coker down a road next to a forest? Or a 29er on a residential road? Or maybe it’s a MUni poem. The reader can supply all those details. If you are a MUni person, you are free to picture the hill as a rocky trail. I was picturing a forest-lined, quiet street. But there’s no “right” image. The poem suggests and invites. And the reader fills in the rest. The reader participates. I like that.
If I were to improve it, I would make the injuries vague and unspecified. Let the reader supply the injuries. That way, they can supply an injury similar to what they’ve experienced in the past, thus connecting them to the poem even more. I know that not all poetry works like this, but I think it works well for my silly poem.
Also, the unicycle is present throughout, but hardly mentioned. That’s cool too.
I may try to write another. I’m sure that a poem with depth and meaning would be a lot harder. I mostly focused on the structure and rhythm. And the progression of the story. And the changes of emotional state from verse to verse. I think being a computer programmer helped me “abstract” the poem and see the structure at a higher level. Also, I played the drums in school – the poem is in 4/4 time by the way (most of the syllables are eighth notes; “go” lands on 3 and you rest on 4, or a least that’s how I hear it).
I’m not convinced it’s a good poem, but I do find it silly and amusing (I think due to the child-like simplicity and the repetition).
Dreams
By Langston Hughes
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
Simple, repetitious, and powerful.
That’s what’s been said so many times about my poems by people who’ve read them; I’ve even been asked to publish a book of them, but alas, I don’t have enough (yet) to fill even a small book.
When you get enough poems, I think you should make a book MuniAddict. I’d buy it, and I’m sure lots of other people would buy it too. All your poetry is pretty good.
Haha thanks! I appreciate that.
Hark! Let them tell Yourself a tale!
Back in the days of yesterweek the trees
Got jealous of the whales.
They
Dug
Down
Deep
Into
The
Dirt
To Uproot the
Dinosaurs.
Bones of legs, great and strong
Assembled into fragile towers of perpetual movement
A war machine
The wheels of the great
Churn the milk of the populace
Turning the people to cheese
Many moons before the apocalypse
An uprising,
Rebellion unlike any
Fathomed by the small mouse named
Socrates
And at the crescendo of the
Insanity
A small bird landed on a fence post
And sang the first song of spring
I really like that. The tone is very nice. I like the style of it, and the diction is good too. (I think diction is the word)
thanks man, it was kinda beat generation inspired a bit… and yeah… did it in school