What are some examples for narrative poems?

Answer 1

Here is one that I wrote with a friend, and it is still unfinished:

Introduction:


I quickly flip the page in my book. My nose is buried in the depths of time. You see, I've bought many books on time. I'm, in fact, what many would call obsessed. I hear a bell ring and I reluctantly pull myself up.

I hurry out into the hallway of Harvard University. There are many students bustling around me and I have to shove through the crowd to get to my science class. I enter into a room full of many desks, books, and testing areas. I glance around and see a small rat, who we successfully trained to go through a maze. I quickly walk in and take my seat. A few seconds later many students pile in through the door and sit at what are hopefully their assigned seats. A middle aged woman with bouncing chocolate curls walks in.

"Good day class," she tells us.

"Good day, Dr. Raner," we all reply back to her in an almost tuned voice.

"Today's subject will be the time space continuum," she tells us, going up to the blackboard and writing it in big, underlined letters.

I sit up in anticipation. I wonder what her point of view on time is. Does she really think there is a present? Is time even a thing?

"Who would like to start us out on time?" she asks, looking around the classroom, her dark eyes piercing at all the students.

Without missing a beat I throw my hand up into the air.

"Cairo Garnett?" she calls on me with raised eyebrows.

I speak slowly and clearly so everyone can understand me easier.

"Well, my opinion on time is that it may not even be a thing at all. It really all makes very little sense. One could question if there really is a past, present, and future, or if we just label it all that because it makes more sense. You see, the words I speak now could be called the present at that time I say the words now, just to make things easier, but it could also be labeled as past if we want to get technical. The tiniest fraction of a second ago is the past. But where does that end? One can always make a tinier fraction of a second, therefore it is infinite. I mean, time is just so... unreal. This can bring up an interesting question: is time actually real? Or, is time simply an illusion that we are all imagining? How we imagine without time, I don't know, but it makes more sense than some force creating time, like a Godly power or the Big Bang. If the latter case would turn out to be true, then the question is who or what created that force, then who or what created the creator, and so on. In other words, how can time be real if something was there to create time before it actually started?"

I look around and notice all of the students are staring at me in wonder, so I continue.

"So, if life is an illusion, then who am I? Am I simply a figment of someone else's imagination, or am I something totally different? How can I be real if time is not? Or is time just a paradox that is real, but for some strange reason, for the billions of years time has gone on, the reason for time remains undiscovered? If that is the case, then that means if one of us could work really hard to discover what time really is, it is possible to find out!"

As I finish, the students start to applaud and I smile back to them. I am relieved to know they were able to understand what I said. I had been waiting a long time to finally express my opinions on time in the classroom, as I had studied it since I was a little boy.

"Well, you're just going to have to discover that, aren't you, Cairo?" Dr. Raner tells me, awe in her voice.

Then without warning, everything disappears, Dr. Raner, my co-students, the whole school of Harvard. I am left standing alone in an empty room. It is large and white and filled with clocks. There must be hundreds of them, all ticking in unison. Every "tick" is sustained in the room for over ten seconds. I call out, "Dr. Raner!" but the sound of my voice is drowned out by the sound of all the clocks. The only reply I hear is my own faint echo. I shake because I am scared. I don't know what will happen. Suddenly, the ticks begin to get louder.
"Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock!

Chapter 1:



My eyes quickly snap open. I realize that I'm sweating. I rub my temples, trying to clear my head of the good old days, because those days are gone now.

Knowing now that all that was only a dream, I get up out of bed and go get a drink. As I walk on the cold yellow tiles of my small kitchen floor I think about the first part of my dream. If only life could be that easy again, people assuming everything I did would be spectacular and impressive. Maybe all those people's expectations were too high. I used to think I was the center of the universe, where nothing but praise revolved around me. I thought I could do anything I wanted to, from the simplest things to the most highly improbable of things. I was an eccentric young man with potential to be something great.
And I was. I used to be something great; I used to be a genius. Now I'm a black hole of a man, who can only suck in humiliation and non-constructive criticism. If only I could go back in...time. Oh, why can't I stop muttering that word, time? That horrible word. It brings nothing but confusion and the many painful, haunting memories of my unsuccessful attempts to discover what time really is.

I am devoted to discovering what time is and proving my (what many people call "crazy") theories. I vowed I would never stop trying and I will stick to my vow. Forty years have passed since my wonderful education at Harvard and the public who believed in me lost hope in my discovery of time. They all turned their backs on me. Being shunned is a dreadful experience no one should have to go through. They believe now I'm nothing but a mad scientist, trying to discover the undiscoverable.

They are wrong. They must be wrong. Time must be discovered. By me. I can't give up now, not after all these years of searching and searching for the answer. With every criticism, my obsession grows. I will continue to search until the day I die. I will discover time. I will. I have to... but first for that drink.

Chapter 2:

My feet pad on the carpeted stairs. I flip on the light in my basement. It's completely normal (for an abnormal person). There's a small brown T.V., a maroon, leather couch, and a couple of chairs, but what I'm heading for is the bar that's positioned to the side.
I hurry over to the cabinet and search for the strongest liquor I can find. I choose Vodka and grab a shot glass violently. I need to clear my head. Right now all my thoughts are swirling around.
"Time, Time, Time…" is my recurrent thought.
"D*****!" I curse, holding my hands to my head. I need to get these thoughts out.
I pour my first shot and gulp it down in one drink. I feel the liquor burn my throat as it slides down. I quickly pour the next one. I gulp it down quickly too. Walking slowly across the brown carpeted floor I switch on the T.V., not because I want to watch anything, but so it breaks the silence. The leather couch looks quite inviting, so I sit down. I barely pay attention to the game on, not caring that my favorite team, the Eagles, are playing. Not that I ever have time to watch the Eagles since I'm so d*** busy always thinking about time. Aaarrggh!
I drink another shot before turning my head to the screen. There are eleven seconds left in the game, and the Eagles are on the fifteen yard line. I look up at the score and I see they're playing their rivals, the Giants and are down by six. I look back up at the clock... ten seconds. Why does that number seem familiar? All of a sudden it hits me. This has happened before. This exact situation. We had the ball on the fifteen. The score was 17-23, exactly like now. I looked over and saw DeSean Jackson at the right wide receiver. I can't believe it... back in high school I played a little football. I wasn't that great, but the coach game me a chance. I played wide receiver, so, I went over to the right. The cornerback was one of the best in the league, so I assumed I wouldn't get passed to, but I still ran my route. As I ran a million thoughts race through my mind. As I was running I saw the clock hit zero... that means if we don't score the game's over. I reached the end zone and turned. I saw the ball flying through the air. I leaped, the cornerback right on my tail. My fingers grasped the ball and I glanced down. I notice that I'm at the edge of the end zone and if I don't get my feet in it's not a touchdown. My feet point to the ground and then the cornerback hits me. I fly out of bounds and I look up at the board. It says "Final, 17-23."
I quickly turn my head back to the game as the ball is snapped. My eyes follow DeSean and he runs the exact same route I ran so long ago.
I hold my breath as he leaps, almost out of bounds. He's hit just as he grabs the ball. I groan as he flies out of bounds, clinching the game for the Giants. All of a sudden the officials get in a huddle. Then they announce that the play will be reviewed. I watch the play and I still don't see any reason why they would change it.
The head official walks back out onto the field and announces the results. "The play has been reversed..."
I drop my glass and I don't pay any attention as it shatters on the floor. The screen goes back to the replay and I notice DeSean is in the exact position I was in. The look of determination on his face reminds me of myself, and how I gave everything I did my all. Then the camera moves down and shows his two feet barely touching the ground. This time, instead of my shot glass, my jaw drops.
It's a sign.
A sign from time itself. A sign that shows there are always second chances.
The kicker comes on the field and puts the ball through the uprights. The scoreboard now shows, "Final, 24-23."
Time itself is telling me to come and find it.
And to take a second chance.





Chapter 3:

D*****! Why, after all these years of looking for it, has time decided to let me find it now, and not when I was younger? Life is not fair. But then again, I guess I wasn't ever expecting it to be.

Entropy fills my mind as a thousand questions swirl around in my head, like a giant traffic jam of thoughts. "Should I look for more signs from time? How? Should I look on the TV? Which channel? The same channel or a different one? Is time an illusion and I'm imagining this all, or is time real and actually sending me a message? How can it send a message? Does it have thoughts and feelings? Will it send me another message? How will I know if is time sending it?" The room seems to spin due to all of the excitement in it, even though it is all just produced by one person!

After all that has happened tonight, I'm feeling scared. I walk quickly to my bar and pour myself another shot. I lift it up and am about to drink it, when an invisible force stops me, and another thought comes in, as if it were thrown in my head and not actually thought up. It says, "What am I doing drinking at a time like this?" I realize because of the thought's strange entrance and because of the invisible force, it is another message from time, telling me not to drink. I slowly set down the glass, losing my desire to drink. This is strange. One moment I would kill for a drink, the next I'm realizing I don't… need it. For the first time in forty years, I don't need a drink to calm myself. I feel very peaceful, almost as if I'm being enlightened. Only time could do this, making sure I'm sober for my quest to find out what time really is. Goodness. For the first time tonight, my head feels clear.

Over the sound of the television, I can hear the ticking of the wooden clock above my TV. I glance at it. It reads 3:17. I sit down on my couch and grab the silver remote. I turn the television off. Whoa. Too quiet. I didn't realize the white noise made by the TV could be so comforting. I turn it back on.
The football game isn't on anymore, and I'm watching a giant walking into a city, devouring any double cheeseburgers he can find. Then a knight dressed up as a cheeseburger tries to slay the monster, but the giant eats the knight as well The giant then starts singing the jingle for
Jonny's Hamburgeria
They've always had weird marketing techniques. Another commercial pops up and I am now looking at a person sleeping comfortably on a soft bed. Then the numbers 259-1784 pop up on the screen underneath the words,
SleepTite Mattress Company.

Yet another commercial pops up on the screen, but I don't pay attention to it. I think of the person sleeping peacefully on their soft, warm bed and how that person could be me.

Is that another message from time, telling me to go to sleep and rest so I'll be prepared for the long journey ahead of me tomorrow?

Probably not.


But I better, just to make sure.

I trudge back up the stairs and open the door to my bedroom. I walk over to the mattress in the corner. When my tense body hits the soft bed, my eyes automatically shut, and in approximately 6 seconds, I am in a deep sleep.

Wow. That was an exciting night.




Copyright 2010

Answer 2

An example of narrative sketch writing is drawing three pictures that illustrate the beginning, the middle, and end of a short story. This helps the writer develop their story through a series of small sketches.

Answer 3

Two narrative poems written by William Shakespeare are "Venus and Adonis" and "The Rape of Lucrece." They were among the first works of Shakespeare to be published.

Answer 4

WikiAnswers won't write your essay for you - that would be cheating! Here's a link to a good website that can teach you how to write a narrative essay, though - it has an example to study.