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Poetry Club
Poetry Club
This is the official Poetry Club page! I really can't wait to start reading your poems. Here are some things you should know.
1. Only Poetry Club members can post on here. As a reminder, here is a list of the people who have signed up:
Everinne
Maggie
Theo W.
Blonde Heroines Rule
Ruby M.
Corina
Red
S.E
Teresa
Tovah. L
~Blue Fairy~
Ria
Abigail A.
Violet
me (Nina)
2. Poem themes will be changed every Sunday. When themes are posted, please write a poem related to the theme.
3. Since school is starting up soon, I will be super busy with eveything. So I probably won't be able to write my poems or critique your poems. I'll still be posting themes though.
That's all! As soon as this gets posted I'll post the first theme. If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask! Happy writing! :)
submitted by Nina , age 11, Florida
(January 5, 2014 - 11:45 am)
(January 5, 2014 - 11:45 am)
That't not really a landscape, though, but I guess it will do. It depends on how your poem is written.
(January 14, 2014 - 8:22 pm)
Hey Nina, could I join the club?
(January 14, 2014 - 8:47 pm)
Sorry, SC! I would love to have you in the club, but due to the popularity and how many people are signing up, I have already limited the club size to 15 members only. I might create another Poetry Club next month, but otherwise, please feel free to create your own!
(January 15, 2014 - 12:54 pm)
there are miles
and miles
of shelves
shelves stuffed
with books,
friends for the girl who just walked in
a tiny café in the corner
and years’ worth of reading
on the second floor
(the first floor is full of how-to books)
the girl walks in,
and the stress slides off
of her shoulders,
and slinks off to the corner.
she walks up the stairs
and buries herself
in a million pages
a million worlds
a million futures.
(January 14, 2014 - 8:49 pm)
@ Nora
I was going to do a poem about a stsage.
(January 15, 2014 - 6:48 am)
Oh... You can still do one!
(January 19, 2014 - 11:33 am)
On top of the mountain,
I watch the sun rise.
Sunlight, golden
Faries in disguse.
From what I can see,
On this lonely, oversized rock,
Is tiny, minute, free.
I am not.
I am a prisoner of this view,
Watching over this valley,
This piece of mind,
This prospect,
For you.
Okay, thats not really a landscape poem, and its not really good. So Nina, if you want me to write another poem, I can:)
(January 16, 2014 - 7:47 am)
I actually found two poems I wrote last year. So here they are:
Invisible Girl
In the darkness of night,
She creeps, out of sight,
Haunting the dollhouse she lives in.
She's three inches tall,
That is rather small,
But it helps her to sneak,
Through the rooms.
The Invisible Gardener
From the dollhouse last night,
Where she crept,
Out of sight,
Haunting her dollhouse again.
She snuck through the door,
Tip-Toed on the floor,
And she crept outside to the garden.
The tulips had bloomed,
And the roses were pruned,
When the family awoke,
The next,
Morning.
(January 16, 2014 - 1:53 pm)
Violet: I like those poems! Very descriptive with a little hint of scary. Great job!
(January 18, 2014 - 8:42 am)
@Nina: Thanks! I'm thinking I want to make them into a series in a book, but haven't started yet...
(January 19, 2014 - 1:41 pm)
@ Nina and SC:
I am resigning from the Poetry Club. A, my poetry stinks. B, I don't have the patience to make it not stink. C, I have a limited time online anyway, so my CB time is cut to the minimum.
So if SC wants to take my spot, she can.
Sorry, Nina, no offence to you--I have a slight hang-up with poetry in general; I just wanted to join at first for fun.
(January 16, 2014 - 8:13 pm)
Everinne: OK, thanks for telling me Everinne! I enjoyed having you in my Poetry Club.
SC: If you would like to take Everinne's spot, you can if you want!
(January 18, 2014 - 8:39 am)
I really love the poems this week, so I will now completely mess up the lovely arrangement of poetry with this thing.
Message
If you were to come to the seaside today, you would see
A quiet town going about its life as an impersonal thing.
There would be a small quiet black chapel where a tired person could lay down her head and rest.
If you were to come, you would see
The ocean spreading out and in and out and in, over and over like a heartbeat
And the sea birds fly above like they own the world.
You would see the beach sprawling like a neverending life
And perhaps you would see me.
I'm not where you left me and I don't think I'm what you left.
Something's left me and I don't know if it's you or not or both.
I've changed my name and my look and my heart.
If you were to come to the seaside today, you would see
My little glass bottle with my message for the ocean.
The ocean's heartbeat pumps in and out, in and out
Giving and taking, giving and taking.
They took you, so maybe my little glass bottle and my regret message can bring you back.
If you were to come to the seaside today, you would see
A girl you once might have known when we were young suddenly leap up and become happy again.
(January 18, 2014 - 9:12 pm)
Wow. This is impressive.
(January 19, 2014 - 8:20 pm)
Pretend I wrote this last week. And Maggie, don't compliment Ruby too much. It makes him have a swelled head. Plus, it's only a mothy fanfic and fanfics are boring and unoriginal. Which is why I'm writing the response poem!
Response
My travels carried me on and on across the dark, dark seas.
I saw lights and shadows and songs of the dead and lost.
Along the way, I met an old painter
Who dipped a brush into a bucket of paint filled with sorrows and happiness and painted pictures.
"Paint me a picture of the past," I told him
And he filled his brush with the griefs of a country long ago.
The painting he made was full of sorrow.
A girl had killed many people
And sinned many times.
The blood of her victims dripped down through time
And the tears of the ones left behind dripped down through time
And she paid by having her only loved one lost.
I told the painter this story was too sad.
"Paint me a picture of the present," I told him
And he filled his brush with the story of a town by the sea.
The painting he made was full of regret.
An old, old woman lived in a temple by the sea.
She cared for orphans who loved her and didn't understand her secret sadness.
When her time came to die, all she asked was for a response to a message she sent a long, long time ago.
She wanted to free herself from the chains of blood and tears.
She wanted to know that she was remembered well.
How did she not notice that her simple kindess helped them?
How did she not love the ones who loved her?
I told the painter this story was also too sad.
"Paint me a picture of the future," I told him
And he filled his brush with mists of a distant time
When the chains of blood and tears broke and a boy could be reborn,
When a girl could finish waiting for her response,
When they could be happy again and wait together for the end.
I thanked the painter for his paintings and continued on my journeys,
Waiting for my chains to break,
Waiting for our sins to dissolve and for us to be one again.
(January 19, 2014 - 11:05 pm)