I wrote this yesterday. I'm thinking I might actually try to do a poem a day, it might help me exercise my "poet's muscles".

Untitled

rainfall, skyfall

feet splash

tears splash

water fountain

feelings. look up at the sky and tell me: will it be okay? the clouds are so grey tonight. please

come and let me know when it stops raining,

because i'm too scared to come out when the sky is

crying. like me.

rainfall, skyfall

feet splash

tears splash

water fountain

feelings. the sky is falling,

isn't it. don't lie to me because i'll know.

i always know

why is the world so twisted? i

can't see the blue of the sky because there's too much smoke 

too much smoke.

rainfall, skyfall. 

On-the-spot writing:

Too Many Rereads

I have one book

Only one

So I read it

And it is amazing

And then I reread it

Reread?

Reread!

Reread;

Reread:

Reread&what?

Reread/why?

There's just no point

After 6six rereads in a row

The book

Becomes

Empty

[                           ]

That

Is what the book

Feels like

To me

---

I might write a sequel to this tomorrow.

untitled: 

empty holes can't be filled

with concrete; soil erodes underneath 

our feet, blowing dust away with memories

eventually we all forget; let's not 

waste our minds once set in stone

we promise we'll never forget but

promises are empty,

e m p t y  

~~~~~

I don't know if I should extend this. . . thoughts?  

Am I allowed to join this? I wasn't here before, but it looks really cool, and I love poetry.

Here's one for two days ago, inspired by this line from one of my old poems, /know that insignificance is our downfall/. 

downfall

i have been told that my problems are

insignificant in the eyes of the universe, i

am a fleck of gold dust, a

remnant of the cosmos and the

aftermath of an explosion, one skeleton out of

seven billion, words drifting out into

space and forgotten over time

i am small, and i know that;

i will be gone,

the fates will cute my string

in my millisecond lifetime i will love what

is insignificant, i will not let the

wildflowers go unnoticed, not a single

starry night will pass me by

i am insignificant but this will not be my downfall 

And for yesterday: I tried to follow the empty theme, I promise, but I got so sidetracked and wrote a really long poem. The full thing will be posted on the other poetry thread, here's just the first part, which kind of follows the theme, I guess...

characters 

i. bound by electrical tape, century-old

ink in her veins, xylem turned

black like her dollar-store lipstick, she

is the absence of

color and every corroded tombstone

she tastes like metal and  

spits out blood, she is the feeling of

an empty parking lots, an empty overpass,  

an empty soul

CD shards in darkened alleyways

she will take a life before eighteen 

This poem is for the punctuation theme.

Fine Print 

Lottery

I spend $$ & $$ & $$ & $$ & $$

But still

My chance of winning is about

0.000000005% 

But 

Somehow

¿¿¿¿HOW???? 

I win

The information simply says

If your number is 8-9-17-8-9-17

You've won

But then

I see

(the fine print) 

(To be paid out in 50 pieces of $500 each. Not including tax. May not count for people of certain races.)

What?

{reread{Not including people of certain races}reread}

I suppose I won't get any money then

I hate (the fine print)