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Poetry Thread!
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Poetry Thread!
Poetry Thread!
My poetry! It probably all sucks! But oh well!
This is just poetry that has been written by me in tha past few years. I've posted it on several writing websites and such, but it's not like it ever comes to anything. It's just kind of there. So, I've decided to give it a new life! Please critique and/or post your own poetry, I DON'T CARE.
A Muddy Clarity
It's a way of saying to me
The mirror hides hideous
Shows what is not meant to be
But we are oblivious
Lies pull you under
On your back, you finally see
No things go asunder
You didn't know what you meant to me
It's a muddy kind of clarity
See all, but not exact
Fractured lines, spare me
I know I can't take you back
When the wind blows, I think of you
Or I break my will and cry
But I know we have to pull through
You must always try
~
Eh. Sad, right?
Questions
I stand at my window
Gaze out at the landscape
Holds a blazing inferno
That wants to escape
Mist dusts the faces
Of conquerors, long dead
Who claimed all these places
Power goes to your head
A scarlet sun scorches
Old documents, paper curling
Lost songs, held to torches
Sad memories unfurling
A whisper calls out to me
Through years, don't know how
'Why forsake your history
For tarnished glory now?'
~
Snap... These two are some of m saddest- why did I do them first?
My sister is yelling at me to get off the computer.
Chickuu says eumt.
~Ash out~
submitted by Ash, age 13, A galaxy far away
(November 18, 2011 - 4:02 pm)
(November 18, 2011 - 4:02 pm)
Poetry. I like poetry.
Okay I know these are three long poems, but they are good (?). I wrote them last weekend when I was sick.
Aftermath
I can ponder of what aftermath means.
What good does it do?
It does not good.
Am I living in the aftermath now?
Yes; no.
You live in the aftermath
Of yesterday.
So bringforth!
Run across your well-paved bridges!
Some are flimsy,
Others we burn.
Keep your bridge, well-swept and fine!
The steel across the ocean.
Lavish in wonder--
Perish in pain.
There are prophecies that lie,
Morals to be gained.
Rhyme or rhyme not!--
I do not care for questions!
Tip-toe into midnight
Concede in the sun.
Look at other,
Look at one.
Repeat times two!
Shampoo in your hair.
Run across the ocean--
Ride across your steel!
Yet the time, it come at last--
You live within an aftermath.
Anger
I feel anger, much despite, at ordinary objects.
My pencil sharpener won’t sharpen my pencil right.
The stapler is out of staples, and I express my anger.
I am the storm before the calm when my pen runs out of ink.
Sometimes when my crayon breaks, I’ll break it more!
Dry-erase makers are just begging to be stopped on,
And most feverish feelings does a hole-puncher bring!
All in all, the world would be safer
If it didn’t have such anger provoking things!
Icarus
A smile on a star
as we shape our wings with seashells.
A secret close to heart
as they ask us of our desires.
A rhyme but not a rhyme
as you shed yourself with tears.
A hope is on a perilous journey
as I pivot on my heel.
A cry of love--not anger
as I fall out of life.
At the very least, I’ll promise you
I won’t fly too close to the sun again.
(January 31, 2013 - 5:50 pm)
poke
(February 2, 2013 - 4:57 pm)
Poetry on the spot! (I am feeling rather poetic)
Don't think these will be upbeat--they probably won't!
Fan fic poem I write 30 pages away from finishing ENDER'S GAME:
It wasn't
Just a game.
It wasn't
What he thought it was.
Manipulation.
No explaination.
Dying friendship
Lasting trust.
Hardcover.
Intense.
Crazy Tom.
What? I like Crazy Tom.
Poem inspired by the moment:
Car drives.
Night falls.
Dinner cooks.
Pecking on a keybord.
YouTube errors.
Smiles.
Minecraft.
Owls.
Home.
Okay, maybe a little more upbeat than I expected.
Do the Spafety Dance!
Cappie says "otot."
Is this a portent of doom?!
(No, these last 5 lines were NOT of poetry!)
(February 13, 2013 - 7:15 pm)
But they totally could be, you know.
(February 14, 2013 - 3:12 pm)
That's why that comment was totally .
I am sucking on a lollipop that smells sweet but it is sour!
Life is so unfair.
(February 14, 2013 - 5:01 pm)
I don't really do poems that much, but here are some I had on figment.
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Why am I writing a poem about tea?
Well, I asked you first, and then you ask me.
Tea is quite good, as the British do say.
But I've heard they disapprove of it iced.
Tea can be green (but never chartreuse)
Dying stained curtains is another good use.
Some like it with sugar, and some with cream,
But then it is much higher priced.
The English have it in the afternoon,
But usn's will have it very soon.
Some will add to their chai, (but most certainly not mine)
A mixture of spice, which they call latte.
Over all (I shall say)
That I like most tea just any old way.
Be it with lemon, honey or both,
I think I will have some tea today.
^^^
My brother is playing piano, I say!
The chords, they are thrumming,
I wish, oh I wish that he would not play
Quite so loudly, my eardrums are drumming.
A long with the ruckus he is tapping his foot.
As his baseball cap points down at the keys.
On my ears, some earplugs, I wish I could put.
Oh, please, please, please, please.
The whatchacallums, those chords!
Oh misery, these notes are not neat!
The pitches, they would cause hordes
To riot in the street.
One of my thoughts (which I will claim my own)
We are all glad he did not take up trombone.
^^^
My shoes do not snooze.
And that is all I will say.
My feet have fell asleep.
^^^
It is all unreal,
un-touchable,
non-existent,
invisible,
interesting,
manifesting in your mind.
Unfortuantly (and to my chagrin)
it is all but imagination's figment.
^^^
Hullabaloo,
Timbuktu,
Kalamazoo,
Witches Brew,
Have no clue,
Who made these words?
Was it you?
(February 14, 2013 - 5:20 pm)