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I wrote this poem for a girl I like (it was requested), and the ending was being she uses the hashtag #Resist. I don't think it's all that good, but I wrote it in about 10 minutes so here ya go.

What’s the definition of flawless?

Idiots might think it’s the orange in the office,

Or maybe it’s the purity of solace,

It could be the nature of the beast, the lawless.

 

The lawless anarchist,

The bigoted racist,

The bumbling sexist,

 

Some might say these are the flawless,

Most would call them the jawless,

Brain warped and ball-less

 

Maybe it’s the tallest,

Or the most honest,

The one who keeps their promise

 

To me, MY definition of flawless,

It’s not the anarchist,

Or the racist,

Or the sexist,

No, it’s just a girl who has the power to resist.

 

She sound like a strong independent woman who don't need no man, you should get her in here to defend you the next time Steve has you bawling.

I'll keep that in mind next time I try and argue about the overall healthiness of the site, and as if this has anything to do with the topic at hand.

Okay I mean I guess if you wanted me to comment on the poem, the syllable count is all over the place, the rhyme is very loose and questionable, when it's there at all, and the rhythm is just...absent. Read the second stanza out loud, for example. None of it flows. You just found three words ending in -ist and called it a day.

As for content, it's about as deep as a sheet of paper lying flat on a board. There's no theme or alternate reading or irony or a twist, nothing transformative going on here and nothing in the structure or wording of the poem itself to be appealing in it's own right, it's just salt right out of the gate and 'bad people are bad' seems to be the deepest message it goes for.

Actually here, I distilled the entire poem down to haiku form:

Freeform, it's easy!
Bad people are bad, and dumb.
I like my girlfriend.


So in conclusion it's a pretty bad poem, but I decided to make a joke instead of just telling you that since I don't like to tear up people's poetry. Clearly kindness was once again a mistake.

Like I said, I wrote it in ten minutes. It's also my first foray into poetry. But I do appreciate the criticism, if I ever want to write more poetry I will definitely revisit this and learn from it.

Never thought I'd say this, but I agree with some of the points Mizal is making. It's freeform, so structure like syllable count and such don't matter that much, but the way the poem flows really jumps around. I think a bit more structured metre might have improved it.

As for the contents, I think the overall message of 'I like my girlfriend' is about what you'd expect from a love poem. There's not necessarily anything wrong with that, but it might have been a bit more touching if you actually compared her to people that are generally likeable. What your poem is now basically saying is that your girl is more flawless than anarchists, racists and sexists, who generally speaking don't really set a high bar for flawlessness. Though that's just my opinion of course. 

I'm touched.

I totes understand this. And yeah, I probably should've set the bar higher. I called her flawless, though.

 But, y'know, she liked it, so thats a big giant W for me.

she probably just likes you cause in truth the poem makes your butt look big.

What the hell is a bumbling sexist? Someone who goes to try to grab the girl’s ass, trips over his feet and only grabs her ankle instead?

Look man, I wrote it on the fly. I figured sexists usually are assholes with no real points as to why they think they're better, maybe bumbling racist would've made more sense.

Strange, I was relatively sure you were one of the pro-Trump site members. Anyhow, this is a terrible poem, but I've a soft spot for romance and writing poetry for a girl is adorable, so whatever, well done.

Tipping my fedora as I read this. I tipped too far, the fedora tipped back. 

Break this up into three lines and you have a more intriguing poem than the OP. It has multiple interpretations and makes u think.

What’s the definition of amateur?
People might think it’s the orange in the office,
Or maybe they think it's being incautious,
It could be the nature of the author, alleged "litterateur".

The floating beaver,
The stinging butterfly,
The bumbling sexist,

Some might say these sayings are wrong,
Words warped and dragged along
Through a poem written by a ding-dong

Maybe it’s the longest,
The most honest,
Or perhaps the authors' strongest

Body of work to be created,
Only now it's been deflated,
The poem hits the blacklist,
The author can hardly subsist,
Seems it was just a noob with the power to persist.

@Endmaster I nominate this for the special red text

Best of all possible burns, thread is over.

Yeah, I guess the poem is good enough for a commendation not just solely for the humor aspect.

In any case, if anyone else wants to submit poems for their crushes (or anything else I guess) this seems like the current thread to do it in.

I was just thinking that Romulus should make another poem thread. I actually had a couple I was hanging onto in case he ever did a free form theme again.

I kind of despise free form but they're not really free form I just call them that to excuse the fact I don't understand meter.

I'm a bit busy this semester, as I'm writing my thesis/going abroad/ and all that, so I've put most of my CYS things on hold. Of course, if you want to brag about your poetry, you could always make a thread of your own. 

End, for my *cough* crush I just told him a little Pokémon verse... 

*clears throat* Okay.. Here it goes. (It's shitty, but they liked it because they accepted me.) 

Charmander is red.

Squirtle is blue.

If you were a Pokémon... I would choose you! 

Also Ford why am I clicking the word BAR repeatedly and what is it doing

it's a dummy link, it means it attracts dummies.

never seen it work in the wild until now.

I think you're lying. I'm going to keep clicking as long as necessary, until something happens.

perhaps it works too well...

I figured out the secret. It was funny but it was a lot of clicks, I don't recommend anyone else bother.

I'll take my first jab at romance. No promises on quality.

I remember before I wanted...

Before I wanted to buy you food
Before I wanted to keep your good mood
Before I wanted to hold your hand in mine
Before I wanted to present myself genuine

Now all I could ever want is for you...

to sit and relax with me
to get things done with me
to slowly fall asleep with me
to just be there with me

I guess what I want is not powerful enough...

To ask if you feel the same
To ask if hearts heal the same
To ask if you'd want me like that
To ask if, in the future, I could say "we" like that

You are pretty good at these. Have you considered stapling a bunch of verses together into a storygame, in order to actually complete a storygame? Turned out to be a lot of fun when I did it...though that may be because I don't care when my poetry is bad...

Yep, I won't be posting anything in the creative corner anymore. I'd rather not be the laughingstock of CYS.

Oh, it was already far too late for that.

Your post came off as much pettier before you edited in the second sentence though, I should have locked it before I replied to Ford. Lesson learned.

Alright, here's my analysis of this obscure, seemingly trashy poem that I have found whilst traipsing about in the forums of CYStia. 

Oddly, the speaker of this poem starts with a rhetorical question, representing his uncertainty about perfection. The reader imagines the speaker lying placidly and meditating in a bed or under a tree. The speaker emphasizes the solitary setting by mentioning "the purity of solace." However, the word 'flawless' becomes a mask for a strange new world of thought which blooms in the speaker's mind while he lies in repose. The speaker refers to "the orange in the office," a jarring combination of the biological and the clinical. The speaker contrasts everyday life experience with an everyday object to introduce the absurd. Suddenly, though, the reader realizes that an orange in office is a perfectly normal phenomenon: employees bring oranges to lunch on in their offices all the time. This, truly, is the "nature of the [lawless] beast": the transition from reality to daydreams in the wink of an eye, the wild promise of adventure in the everyday.

The speaker then brings up imperfect examples of flawlessness. Of course the reader does not expect the anarchist, bigot, or sexist to be flawless. The word 'bumbling' emphasizes the pathetic nature of these characters. However, by doing so, he distorts the arbitrary definition of a word. Again, he asks, what's the definition of flawless? They are flawless in that they are the pure, distilled form of an idea. Complete anarchists do not exist in real life; only people who believe in anarchist ideals exist, and even they do not reject order all the time. The speaker emphasizes this flawless uniformity with redundant words of 'bigoted' before 'racist' and 'lawless' before 'anarchist.'

The next paragraph introduces an element of whimsy on behalf of the speaker, for he toys with these fake, non-human entities, these ideas. Of course ideas do not have jaws, nor brains, nor even balls! They reject all carnality even though they are flawless. However, he follows those examples with even more ideal characters: the tallest, honest, and loyal. However, even they are not truly human: they are ideas, just like the whimsical antagonists of the previous paragraphs.

The final paragraph is truly a work of art. The speaker rejects others' notions of flawless in the form of the ideal. He stands up and cries out to anyone who will listen, even to uncultured plebeians on the internet, his own definition of perfection. He includes anaphora with the word 'or' and repeats the characters of the previous paragraph to emphasize the defiant, entire rejection of the residing definition. The speaker thus elevates the drama of the poem until he voices, finally, the answer to that question that has hung over the heads of both the reader and writer. The speaker breathes out the last line with a satisfied resolution - the girl he loves is not an idea but just a girl, a girl with the power to resist. The reader asks, what is she resisting? Now, if she resisted something, she would turn into an idea; she would become not much more than the sexist who opposes women. This girl simply has the ability to resist the static state of a universe that flows and changes; she has the power to question and defy the standard definitions. She breaks beyond the typical definition of flawless and becomes a wild, adventurous spirit with no chains to hold her down

For that girl whom he admires, the speaker steps beyond reality once again and into the great mystery of life and of love, never to chain himself down again. 

Thank you, Regal Ghost, for this masterpiece. Amen. 

GCSE English A* worthy.

Might I compare thee to a summer's day?

Because with you, I like to sit around

And ponder the important quandaries

That have empondered man for centuries.

When you are with me, I ask myself, "What is perfection?"

Is it flawlessness? For surely that's boring, and a flaw in itself. Is it fantabulousness? For in fantabulousness there are flaws, however minor, that rob it of perfection. Should perfection even be chased? What would we do if we had it? What is perfection?

"What is love?" A confuzzulary that has oft dethoughted my fellow men of thought for the decades that civilization has existed. One may as well ask "What is existence?" Or "What is the meaning of meaning?"

Well, some believe they have found an answer.

Some say that love is positive vibes, or magical threads that tie the world together, or the act of a baby not to hurt me. But personally, I believe in the words of my philosoforefathers-

In the words of Aristotle:

"Man's purpose is like Chipotle:

To be rational in the face of all things

Including questions that don't make any sense

Like 'Love'"

Because Love is not a question to be answered

Love is the answer, much like violence is never

And therefore I will answer the fuck out of all your questions

Because I love you

With a love as deep and as vast as my brain

If my brain isn't just a simulation

And if you are not just Bigfoot, being cleverly disguised by the reptiloids, to keep Humanity from knowing the truth:

That they are not the only mammals in the universe

Because I know I'm not

I will never be lonely, because I know I have you AND bigfoot,

And I know you have me and the reptiloids, who we must band together and destroy before they brainwash us all in a psychic death orgy

And brainwashing is bad, for it removes our depth

And your third eye is almost as deep as mine, so that we may philosophically stimulate the smartest and wisest of thinkages in one another and bring enlightenment through love

I only hope that your vagina

Is not as deep, nor as vast, as your thinky thoughts

Because in the words of Nietchze, "God made you perfect, then we killed him."

Beautiful. I teared up a little.

Wow, she's really going to think about how thoughtful you are while the football team is running a train on her

Do you need a Snickers?