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 Posted: Fri Apr 24, 2009 6:35 pm
I actually finish poetry, so I figured I'd start a thread where everyone can post their poetry if they want. If you want to rate it, that's fine, or if you just want to make random comments, that's fine too. mrgreen
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Posted: Fri Apr 24, 2009 6:41 pm
Storyteller
He was elated to have an audience.
Hundreds of stories did he have to share.
There were many tales that had long gone unheard.
He spoke of each leaf and branch as he passed.
He produced the smells of countless entities:
The aroma of the brackish water,
The perfume of dried needles, soaking in the sun,
He brought me the breath of the soil.
He offered me myriad sounds:
The distant call of a lone bird,
The gentle thrum of a diligent bee,
He gave me the rhythm of the waves upon the shore.
It had been many years since I had stopped to listen.
I heard the wind.
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Posted: Fri Apr 24, 2009 10:13 pm
Excellent imagery, and wonderful ending. Most people don't seem to appreciate those little things any more, even when the breeze presents it to them.
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Posted: Fri Apr 24, 2009 11:55 pm
Angel's Tears
Where do angels turn when they need guardians to keep them flying?
What secret haven can you find to keep your broken heart trying?
The end has come, Heaven trembles at the world's most sorrowful fate.
Mortals cry, love drifts away disappearing in clouds of hate.
When friends turn to foes before you and the Angels shed their tears,
Where do you turn when angels cry over hopes they lost for new fears?
Where do angels turn when they need guardians to keep them flying?
What secret haven can you find to keep your broken heart trying?
When nothing seems alright to you, And you are left without a prayer
What secret haven can you find do lost dreams still linger there?
Even the Angels need to fly to find a place to hide their face
when their friends turn and they lose faith where can they run in this cruel place?
Where do angels turn when they need guardians to keep them flying?
What secret haven can you find to keep your broken heart trying?
When the shadows darken, someone's willing to sooth your aching heart
to dry away your falling tears you're not alone, although apart.
Hold onto faith until the end whatever hardship falls your way
There will be a hand to guide you to help you on your winding way.
Where do angels turn when they need guardians to keep them flying?
What secret haven can you find to keep your broken heart trying?
This is Copyright Patrick Thunstrom 2005
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Man-Hungry Conversationalist
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Man-Hungry Conversationalist
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Posted: Fri Apr 24, 2009 11:57 pm
Eirlys: Holy crap. I'm a bit bugged by the meter. . . but otherwise. . . nice images. . . reminds me of why I listen to the wind.
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Posted: Sat Apr 25, 2009 6:25 am
Eirlys: That's such a nice, friendly image of the wind. The wind I usually get is more the violent, howling kind that reminds me of the end of Dr. Zhivago - wolves at the door. Punk: Is this poem related to your story? Anyway, the repeated lines give it a feeling of song lyrics. Needs some chillout trance music. ninja Yeah, I've never really studied poetry, although I write it occasionally, so I may not be any good at feedback. XD But here's one of mine that I thought turned out well: Song of Jenny; Memento MoriEvery rose has its thorn; Jenny has a million Pierced embrace, blood swells thick. She tells us we're forgiven. If love is called a muse, sowing grace and beauty Then Jenny plays the harpie's place. Her lies are selfish duty. High-priced happiness - billed it to her friends. Camera cracks, pages burn. This is how the story ends...
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Man-Hungry Conversationalist
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Posted: Sat Apr 25, 2009 8:38 am
Da Flea Punk: Is this poem related to your story? Anyway, the repeated lines give it a feeling of song lyrics. Needs some chillout trance music. ninja Not related. I use the angel symbolism in anything that has a 'meaning' behind it. Basically, if there's angels, it's allegory. As for the refrain, it should have the feel of a song or hymn. Was the intention. Da Flea Yeah, I've never really studied poetry, although I write it occasionally, so I may not be any good at feedback. XD But here's one of mine that I thought turned out well: Song of Jenny; Memento MoriEvery rose has its thorn; Jenny has a million Pierced embrace, blood swells thick. She tells us we're forgiven. If love is called a muse, sowing grace and beauty Then Jenny plays the harpie's place. Her lies are selfish duty. High-priced happiness - billed it to her friends. Camera cracks, pages burn. This is how the story ends... Honestly not sure what to think of that one. . .
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Posted: Sat Apr 25, 2009 8:33 pm
This is a poem I wrote seven years ago this October. 3nodding
Do you ever get that feeling?
Do you ever get that feeling that someone whom you’ve always listened to and always cared for doesn’t want to talk?
Do you ever get that feeling that you’re all alone in this world? That no one really understands you?
Do you ever get that feeling that someone is mad at you, but they don’t want to say it?
Do you ever get that feeling that everyone has someone to lean on, but you?
Do you ever get that feeling that you’ve grown up way too fast and now you’re a kid trapped in an adult’s body?
Do you ever get that feeling that some days you just want to cringe and hide in a corner for no real reason?
Do you ever get that feeling that you want to talk for no reason at all?
Do you ever get that feeling that you just want to cry for no reason?
Do you ever get that feeling that someone is always there for you?
Do you ever get that feeling that some days you just want to laugh for no reason?
Do you ever get that feeling that a friendship is drifting apart?
Do you ever get that feeling that a friendship is forming?
Do you ever get that feeling that says “I love you” even though no one is around?
Do you ever get that feeling that someone is rambling on?
Do you ever get that feeling that I am right there with you?
Do you ever get that feeling that you never know what you want to say, but someone understands you completely?
Do you ever get that feeling that someone understands you more than you ever knew possible?
Do you ever get that feeling that someone doesn’t know when to shut-up?
Do you ever get that feeling that I will be there for you no matter what?
Do you ever get that feeling that some just doesn’t care any more?
Do you ever get that feeling that puts a damper on the rest of your day? Afternoon? Evening?
Do you ever get that feeling that life is ...
Going
Down
Hill?
Do
You
Ever
Get
Feelings
Like
That?
(c) Christy Smigin October 2002
By the way, just for everyone's information I'm not depressed now nor am I suicidial; and the formating didn't quite work the way I had planned.
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Posted: Sat Apr 25, 2009 9:26 pm
Wow. It humbles to be reading such good poetic works. I was once told that the art of the word is dying. I am not so sure. All poems posted so far have been wonderful. I've enjoyed the picture painted by each. And so I humbly offer my own writing. This poem was one that I wrote on a lark. One of my best friends at the time had been told she needed to write a poem for school and couldn't think of one. So I told her to write a poem about not being able to write a poem. And this is what I ended up writing that night. Writer’s Block - December 2001
copyright to Stacey Smethurst
It is a poem I need to write!
I sit and think with all my might.
But, even though I think so hard,
The rhyme and rhythm still is scarred
By pen cross-outs and slashes ‘til
No poem is left! My inner will
Keeps slowly at it. By and by
Will no poem come though hard I try?
I cannot sit here all the day!
Before the noon I must away!
There is too much else I must do!
This writer’s block has got me blue!
I gnash my teeth and pull my hair
But still there is no poem in there!
I do a dance all about
Then I sit down and scream and shout.
No matter what, my brains won’t work!
My other duties I do shirk!
The hours tick by upon my clock.
I think my wits are on a walk!
I wish they would get back in here
My teacher will be mad, I fear!
If I’ve no poem to hand him in
You’d best inform my next of kin!
For, sure as I am sitting now,
I’ll die of fright! I don’t see how
My classmates I could ever face
If of a poem I have no trace!
I fling my paper on the floor
And then, outraged, stomp out the door.
When halfway through my chores I find
A poem comes easily to mind!
I scramble to grab hold of pen
And paper; like scratches from a hen,
I write it down as fast I can.
And wonder why, to mind of man
Or woman inspiration only
Comes to those who’s minds are wholly
Engaged in other tasks at hand?
I really do not understand!
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Posted: Sat Apr 25, 2009 9:34 pm
harmonynote Wow. It humbles to be reading such good poetic works. I was once told that the art of the word is dying. I am not so sure. All poems posted so far have been wonderful. I've enjoyed the picture painted by each. And so I humbly offer my own writing. This poem was one that I wrote on a lark. One of my best friends at the time had been told she needed to write a poem for school and couldn't think of one. So I told her to write a poem about not being able to write a poem. And this is what I ended up writing that night. Writer’s Block - December 2001
copyright to Stacey Smethurst
It is a poem I need to write!
I sit and think with all my might.
But, even though I think so hard,
The rhyme and rhythm still is scarred
By pen cross-outs and slashes ‘til
No poem is left! My inner will
Keeps slowly at it. By and by
Will no poem come though hard I try?
I cannot sit here all the day!
Before the noon I must away!
There is too much else I must do!
This writer’s block has got me blue!
I gnash my teeth and pull my hair
But still there is no poem in there!
I do a dance all about
Then I sit down and scream and shout.
No matter what, my brains won’t work!
My other duties I do shirk!
The hours tick by upon my clock.
I think my wits are on a walk!
I wish they would get back in here
My teacher will be mad, I fear!
If I’ve no poem to hand him in
You’d best inform my next of kin!
For, sure as I am sitting now,
I’ll die of fright! I don’t see how
My classmates I could ever face
If of a poem I have no trace!
I fling my paper on the floor
And then, outraged, stomp out the door.
When halfway through my chores I find
A poem comes easily to mind!
I scramble to grab hold of pen
And paper; like scratches from a hen,
I write it down as fast I can.
And wonder why, to mind of man
Or woman inspiration only
Comes to those who’s minds are wholly
Engaged in other tasks at hand?
I really do not understand! <3 Meter, omnomnom.
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Man-Hungry Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Apr 26, 2009 12:48 pm
Thanks for the critiques guys! I was having trouble deciding what to post first. My poetry can all be classified as either nature based or kinda emo. I guess I really only write about things that move me in one way or another. I figured I shouldn't start off with the emo stuff though since I didn't want to scare anybody off.
twisted
I love everyone else's works too! You guys are all extrememly creative people, and I am very proud of being in a guild with such talented people. Keep up the good work everyone! xd
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Posted: Sun Jun 21, 2009 10:02 am
One with Nature
I thought I might go out and enjoy the world today.
To see what all nature has in store for me and lay
Beside the brooks that are babbling,
Some time just to relax and do some dabbling
in things I had long forgotten.
A photography session with nature and all its spelendor.
I had no idea what would await me outside my home's door.
Such beauty and elegance galore!
I could ask for nothing more,
Except maybe just some more time to enjoy and adore --
It seems like such a simple request and so I implore
Could I stay just a little more?
Taking nothing but a photo with me,
And leaving nothing but my footprints upon the coast of the sea,
I returned to my home promising myself I would return one day to thee.
© Christy Smigin June 21, 2009
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Posted: Sun Jan 03, 2010 5:57 am
In a dark room, we embrace each other.
I think to myself; I don’t want any other.
Looking at me with those lonely eyes,
I just don’t want all the other guys.
I still like you lots, and I know you love me...
You’ll find someone better, I guarantee.
As you let my hand go, you fake a smile for me.
I see tears in your eyes, you say; “Why can’t you be with me?”
I’m reaching for your hands; we embrace in a kiss...
And then you say, in tears; “You’re the only one I will miss…”
Outside in the snow, we look at the stars,
you look so thoughtful, and you light up one of your cigars.
I look at you and say, “happy new year..”
And I know that it will happen. The night will end in tears.
As you let my hand go, you fake a smile for me.
I see tears in your eyes, you say; “Why can’t you be with me?”
I’m reaching for your hands; we embrace in a kiss...
And then you say, in tears; “You’re the only one I will miss…”
Made my me.
Copyright Tirill. <_<
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Posted: Sun Jan 03, 2010 8:44 pm
I know I always ask this, but poetry is a spy glass into the heart of the writer- was this piece inspired by personal events Tirill? The poem is bitter sweet, I suppose reading it I was a little lost why the two characters couldn't stay together- does that make me cheesy? Very good.
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Posted: Mon Jan 04, 2010 8:29 am
AntoniaMerEnfant I know I always ask this, but poetry is a spy glass into the heart of the writer- was this piece inspired by personal events Tirill? The poem is bitter sweet, I suppose reading it I was a little lost why the two characters couldn't stay together- does that make me cheesy? Very good. yes. my ex boyfriend left the country to go back to his home country, it made me sad, and i made a poem of it. x_x and it doesn't make you cheesy.
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