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 Posted: Fri Sep 29, 2006 8:00 pm
~A Hunt's Different End~
Whispering through the square,
Through the still night air...
The cool wind hits your body,
As you hunt by the moonlight...
Warmth of life you feel,
The guardsmen standing near...
Two of them they stand,
Spears held tight in hand...
Clouds in the sky,
Hide the moon like a blanket...
The pale light on your visage,
Fades along with its provider...
Seek asylum while they can,
For your briskly on your way...
There 'tis, you see it,
A house on the corner...
You slip down the alley near,
Preparing for a bloody night...
Slip your hands on vines,
Vines that grow upon the walls...
Twisting, winding,
Looking through the window...
You see the candle light,
And a maiden oh so fair...
Her love comes up behind her,
A knife within his hands...
You realize now he means to kill her,
He's the vile kind of man...
With your feet you crash through the window,
And land onto the floor...
You try to warn the woman,
About the one she adores...
Too late her throat is slit,
Her body pushed to the bed...
She is bleeding out her life,
And soon she will be dead...
You whirl up to your feet,
And charge to make a strike...
The man falls before your might,
And you feast upon his flesh...
...So closes the night...
...And the hunt's different end...
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Posted: Sat Sep 30, 2006 6:03 pm
Wow...Just Wow. That's Beautiful, Crazy, Original. It's Just Great
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Posted: Thu Oct 05, 2006 7:15 pm
~PAIN~
Here I am,
Alone again...
Putting on a smile,
A lie for a while,
To keep them all happy...
Because they won't believe me,
When I tell them,
That something is terribly wrong...
What I hold inside will torture me forever,
Loneliness...aggravation...
A sense of being trapped...
I am trapped, trapped,
Dreadfully, dreadfully trapped,
And nobody seems to care,
At least, that's how it feels...
I know people care,
I just don't...
I don't know if people care,
A civil war inside of me,
People crying...
People dying...
Pools of blood...
Barren wastelands..
Frozen tundras...
Winter silverglades...
...Pain...
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Posted: Thu Oct 05, 2006 10:35 pm
Mountains and fish, they are here no more,
Instead taken away, replaced by Coffins and Pain,
I must confess, I miss these poems of yore,
Not that I mind poems of death and bloody rain,
This most recent work of art you have made,
It seems the pink bunnies have left you,
Is the cold darkness a worthy trade,
Are the happy moments worse than moods blue?
Of course it's your own place to decide,
Just wondering was I, about this choice,
Worrying too, what has changed inside,
Yet also seeing the change in your souls's voice.
If these poems a word I must give,
Coffin is of these fallen poems my chosen,
Pain, a reminder of I life I used to live,
Not as well worded, the words are all frozen.
A hunt's different end brought a story to mind,
A tale of a vampire who wished she wasn't alive,
But for all these poems a rating to find?
Coffin and hunt earn a four, while pain I give a two out of five.
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Posted: Fri Oct 06, 2006 9:37 pm
~Rain~
Trickling down...
Along the window pane...
Waiting for that someone...
To come home...
...Home to you...
Falling upon...
The now wet grass...
Bringing its life...
Into full bloom...
...Deep green...
Beautiful rain...
Falling down...
Soothing wounds...
Like a gentle stream...
...Waters gentle...
Waiting still...
For that someone to come...
And wrap you tight...
In their arms...
...Loving arms...
Eyes focused...
Raining outside...
Endless it seems...
That beautiful rain...
...Falling down...
Hours pass...
The grandfather ticks...
His pendulum paces...
Like a poet at work...
...Poet at work...
Trickling down...
Across your face...
Trickling down...
Down your cheeks...
...Trickling down...
Beautiful rain...
Ever falling...
Beautiful rain...
Ever lasting...
...Beautiful rain...
Standing up...
From the chair...
Perhaps they'll come...
Another day...
...Another day...
Drops trickling...
Trickling down...
Your pale longing face...
Beautiful rain...
...Tears are...
Trickling down...
The window pane...
Waiting for that someone...
To come home...
...Home to you...
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Posted: Sun Oct 08, 2006 3:45 pm
This will probably be my last poem ever...
...
I'm calling it Life...
Life will send,
You golden birds,
Pleasantries,
And loving words...
Life will send,
You flowers in May,
Give you all,
A brand new day...
But no more, of this,
It's time to go,
The days are over,
Feel the wind blow...
The grass it sways,
Through the days,
Rain comes and goes,
Seasons drift away...
Years slip past,
You're going to cry,
Eventually you,
Will say good bye...
Just like I,
Tell you now,
The time will come...
...
I can't even write this poem anymore,
I hate my life SO ******** MUCH!
This poem is stupid!
All of my work is ******** STUPID!
This world is stupid and everything I do and say is ******** STUPID TOO!
GOD!
I HATE THIS WORLD!
I HATE IT!
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Posted: Fri Oct 13, 2006 4:38 am
Some call her wierd
I call her different
Iwill steal her lips
Read n' Review please please!
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 10:35 am
~~Quoth The Raven~~
...Darkness...
...Death...
...Darkness...
...Death...
Quoth the Raven,
Nevermore,
Won't see again,
Whom you adore,
Rapping upon,
The chamber door,
Quoth the Raven,
Nevermore...
Tearing flesh,
Gnawing bone,
Eternally lost,
And alone,
Here the wind howl,
Here 't moan,
Agony pain,
All left now...
Bliss forgotten,
Darkness here,
Cold and shaking,
Filled with fear,
Rapping upon,
The chamber door,
Quoth the Raven,
Nevermore...
Whirling twirling,
Tried in vain,
Tried and tried,
To kill the pain,
No use no use,
'Tis far too late,
Soon you'll be,
At Hell's black gate...
Taking knife as Raven quothes,
There's the Raven,
How it loathes,
Ecstacy's bright nature,
Throw a tome,
Towards the bust,
What's done is done,
Fitted and fussed...
Take thy knife,
And with it's edge,
Gouge out thine eyes,
Bloody mess,
Rapping upon,
The chamber door,
Quoth the Raven,
Nevermore...
Sight is lost,
Though lost all along,
Something's terrible,
Something's wrong,
Damn the Raven,
At the door,
It quothes forever,
Nevermore!
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Posted: Sun Nov 19, 2006 9:28 pm
Indeed rain is pretty,
And beautiful as you say,
Though it's not quite a ditty,
Four out of five anyway.,
Quoth the raven is also nice,
Of "The Raven" by poe,
A good little slice,
4 of five, for mimicry y'know?
Life is not quite so dreary
As it's subtly painted here,
Not so weak nor weary,
But warmer and much more dear,
The poem itself is not poorly done,
I'll give it a point five out of one
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