Poems Written By Denis #
A collection of the poems I have written, or more appropriately doodled which I thought warranted at least putting them out there. A small info section is written bellow each poem if I have anything interesting to say about it.
Life of a Spud #
When you’re down there, try not to make a sound;
Don’t show yourself too much, lest you get found;
I hope you’re not claustraphobic, can’t move around:
This is your life as a spud, deep underground.
You better pray that they don’t find you,
cause if they do you’re screwed.
They’ll bag you up straight from the ground
I know, kind of rude!!!
You’re nothing to them,
Nothing but delicious food.
And they’re getting ready to put you
In the stew they brewed.
Or maybe put on a plate,
With a dressing endued,
Then by a critic reviewed.
Or maybe you’re used as an Hors d’oeuvres,
Thrown in a side dish with a bunch of herbs;
Maybe you become a traditional family meal,
Feeding generations of children in a way that’s quite real.
You won’t feel pain, or heatbreak, emotional distress;
You literally can’t get depressed or even have some slight stress,
I mean you can’t technically be happy, but nonetheless:
I see living as a spud as an absolute success.
Mashed, baked, fried, thrown in a sauté,
Any way you end up, you’re still gourmet.
This is what I say to all the haters:
You’re just jealous you can’t all be taters.
You may think life gets boring, can’t learn, love, or play.
But you get to be potato, so I think it’s all ok. :)
Additional Commentary
The flowers of a potato plant
Photographer: Didgeman from pixabay.com
This was a project for a highschool English class. I believe creating this poem may have been one of the crowning achievments of my life. I am quite fond of potatoes. Suggested supplementary reading related to my beloved frùỉt.
Wilt #
The many lives
I cannot count,
who wanted more
now lay spread out
they wished for hope
wished not for war;
now they wish
for nothing more
than to rest
like flowers;
wilted,
on the floor.
Additional Commentary
A trinity of trilliums, found on a walk
Photographer: Denis Khatnyuk
This poem was written as part of a simple escape room puzzle I was designing. The details have gone fuzzy on me, but from what I can recall, I had used a lot of different fonts on each of the words, and left a clue which would give the reader the hint to count flowers, which they could on a painting which was in the room, in order to reveal the passcode for a lockbox. The poem, although not adventorous in any sense, seemed pretty and cute enough to post for its own sake.
As We Fall #
Life, a journey with no end ever in sight
Our only fear: God won’t hold our favour
The world stricken down with unholy light
Civilization won’t have a savior
Rivers, mountains, and valleys fade away
All we love, vanished into thin air
Calm greens and deep blues turn to murky browns
It seems that our Earth, God thought to dismiss
The soil where we stand, beneath us breaks down
Now starts the fall, down the endless abyss
The choice is yours on how you shall spend
The silent moment right before the end.
Additional Commentary
A sunset over a cloudy sky, on a walk by Lake Ontario
Photographer: Denis Khatnyuk
Reading this poem back, wow is it edgy. I wrote it upon entering the 9th grade, and by its style, you can definetly tell. Thought it would be fun to keep it as a reference, since it is the oldest? piece of writing which I was able to find.