Places to Chat
Poetry!Becau
Chatterbox: Inkwell
Poetry!Becau
Poetry!
Because there isn't a still living one for me to invade!
Spur-of-the-moment, sweated over, polished, whatever. Post your poems here!
*
I've already posted this on a different thread, but this is version 2 (and therefore Better™):
Sunlight bubbles into the long dry grass
and gilds the whistling blades in shining gold.
Silver evaporates; crows scream in vile
disgust when fire bites at their ice-slicked wings.
Gold swords glitter, the ancient battlefield
awake once more to spill innocent blood.
Far away, the shrill slicing blades echo
as the crows begin their reconnoissance.
War-torn air seethes with harsh and bitter smoke.
Now the midday fire scorches the soldiers,
raining misery down on endless ranks.
Sharp blades sever stalks and hiss in the heat.
Blood-saturated, the fallen lay piled
together beneath the lowering sun.
Now-quiet blades gleam red in the twilight
and squalling crows alight on the rubble.
submitted by TNÖ, age Deep Space, 18
(September 12, 2011 - 1:01 am)
(September 12, 2011 - 1:01 am)
@Elizabeth and Poet: Thanks! It was originally just a short bit in another poem I had written that never got finished, but I liked that part, so I made it its own poem. It also used to rhyme...
(September 26, 2011 - 6:24 pm)
Some Hunger Games inspired poetry!
I can hear my heartbeat singing, singing,
singing of the life that dances through my veins.
I can hear the rumbling, rumbling, rumbling,
rumbling of my belly as I surely starve.
I can hear the crackle, crackle, crackle,
crackle of the flames as I slowly burn.
I can hear the silence, silence, silence,
silence of the very dead District 12.
I can hear the crying, crying, crying
crying as they move my bones to the Meadow.
I can hear the dancing, dancing, dancing,
dancing across the melted people's grave.
I can hear the singing, singing, singing,
singing that comes from the free children's hearts.
(September 28, 2011 - 7:01 pm)
That's so good! *SPOILER ALERT* Is it supposed to be Prim when she died at the Capitol?
(September 29, 2011 - 9:28 pm)
Merci for the help! I do not know why I decided to write "Thou art..."
@Edge- Tres jolie!
Thou art
the red rose
placed upon my coffin
the green grass
under my feet
the singing birds
in the trees
the shy deer
behind a bush
the warm glow
of a fire in the hearth
the soft touch
of running water
the shining sun
in the sky
the sweet taste
of juicy apples
the tantalizing smell
of homemade cake
the fresh kiss
on my lips.
Thou art
the thorn in my heart.
(September 30, 2011 - 7:38 am)
Thanks, Alexandra! It's just someone from District 12, not anybody specific.
An Aspiring Poet: I liked how you wrapped that up, with all the nice things, and then a thorn.
(September 30, 2011 - 6:49 pm)
The idea with District 12 is beautiful and sad. The repetitions of the verbs gives it a very nice rhythm.
(October 3, 2011 - 1:44 pm)
*poke* *poke* *pokepokepoke*
(October 12, 2011 - 11:07 pm)
I already posted this poem on a different thread, but I feel like this thread needs lightening up. Plus I revised it.
XxX
A Prehistoric Menace
There’s a prehistoric menace
tramping ’round my room today,
It has quite a lot of scales and spikes . . .
A Stegosaur, I think I’d say.
Or maybe it’s the Allosaur,
or possibly Triceratops,
potentially a Quetzalcoatl,
It’s annoying me a lot.
It quite possibly could be a duckbill,
Ultrasaurus, Pterodactyl,
Tyrannosaurus, Brontosaurus —
It’s certainly a puzzle for us.
Coelophysis, Troodon,
Baryonyx, Pteradon,
Micropachydephalosaurus,
Velociraptor, Seismosaurus!
Diplodocus!
Mosasaur!
Dromiceiomimus!
Ichthyosaur!
Mamenchisaurus,
Ankylosaurus,
Opthalmosaurus,
Plesiosaur.
The list is getting much too long,
and still, these names could all be wrong.
An Eoraptor, Sauropod,
Stupendemys? Iguanadon?
The dinosaurs, the scientists say,
were all killed off one fateful day
when asteroids hovered in the air
or volcanoes blew with great fanfare.
But humans now defenestrate
The theory that this dreadful fate
Did not occur at all. Indeed,
The evidence is in front of me!
Despite his jovial attitude,
It really, really is quite rude
to barge on in without permission
without seeking fair admission.
His giant feet are breaking things,
From side to side his tail still swings,
Cracking all my precious stuff,
I finally say, “I’ve had enough.”
I bid him a fond adieu,
As he forlornly plods off to
His fate, wherever that may be,
But it certainly doesn’t rest with me.
XxX
Sorry for ruining your gloomy atmosphere
(no offense intended. All the other poems were really good)
(July 6, 2012 - 10:54 am)