Post by: Coffee on December 11, 2017, 04:19:15 pm
Post by: Yertle the Turtle on December 11, 2017, 04:32:29 pm
I'll start this off. For Unit 2 English we had to write a WW1 poem as a creative SAC, so here's mine:
In Sludge and in Shade
‘Way back at home in his quiet home town,
The soldier’s dream world had begun to burn down.
His hopes had been buried in the wet, blood-red sludge
Of the trench-ridden fields he daily would trudge.
‘Til his life would be shortened by bullet or blade,
To lie among others, in sludge and in shade.
He once had a friend in the quiet home town,
Whose face, by the sun, had been slowly burned brown.
Together they once had shared a grand life,
But then they’d gone southward to join in the strife.
Their friendship was broken, shattered, repealed
The fragments were scattered upon the blood field.
The world was a chaos of noise and of pain.
But he was oblivious to all but the rain.
The shells beat down, like glowing red suns,
While bullets whined deathly, from the muzzles of guns.
But even with this, he only could know,
The cold of the wind and the cold of the snow.
Hades stalked stealthy in every dark hole,
And extinguished Life’s last lingering coal.
The black, cold fingers of death’s hard hand,
Crept amid the warriors of that dark land.
Many a man would curse the sad war,
The sorrow of death, these many, they bore.
The wind whipped his hair, the rain his face.
Up and down the wet, cramped ditch his feet began to pace.
The silence was heavy, death in the air,
While ‘way back at home, not many would care
If his life was cut short, by bullet or blade,
To lie among others, in sludge and in shade.
The soldier’s dream world had begun to burn down.
His hopes had been buried in the wet, blood-red sludge
Of the trench-ridden fields he daily would trudge.
‘Til his life would be shortened by bullet or blade,
To lie among others, in sludge and in shade.
He once had a friend in the quiet home town,
Whose face, by the sun, had been slowly burned brown.
Together they once had shared a grand life,
But then they’d gone southward to join in the strife.
Their friendship was broken, shattered, repealed
The fragments were scattered upon the blood field.
The world was a chaos of noise and of pain.
But he was oblivious to all but the rain.
The shells beat down, like glowing red suns,
While bullets whined deathly, from the muzzles of guns.
But even with this, he only could know,
The cold of the wind and the cold of the snow.
Hades stalked stealthy in every dark hole,
And extinguished Life’s last lingering coal.
The black, cold fingers of death’s hard hand,
Crept amid the warriors of that dark land.
Many a man would curse the sad war,
The sorrow of death, these many, they bore.
The wind whipped his hair, the rain his face.
Up and down the wet, cramped ditch his feet began to pace.
The silence was heavy, death in the air,
While ‘way back at home, not many would care
If his life was cut short, by bullet or blade,
To lie among others, in sludge and in shade.
Post by: Joseph41 on December 11, 2017, 04:37:08 pm
Do you also write for recreation?
Post by: Yertle the Turtle on December 11, 2017, 04:40:38 pm
^Really, really good. I enjoyed that, and read it multiple times. Thanks for sharing. :)A little bit, but not much anymore, as school is a higher priority. I'm too much of a perfectionist and therefore really dislike my own writing. :(
Do you also write for recreation?
Post by: Joseph41 on December 11, 2017, 04:46:05 pm
A little bit, but not much anymore, as school is a higher priority. I'm too much of a perfectionist and therefore really dislike my own writing. :(
Me too, which is why I'm really looking forward to this thread. Writing doesn't need to be perfect.
Case in point:
Spoiler
Alas!, a crashing on the rocks -
A tide of timing makes its play;
Through pain and heartache, numbing knocks,
It thunders in, through night and day.
A tide of timing makes its play -
Goliath’s spit is David’s rain -
It thunders in, through night and day,
And all you do is fake and feign.
Goliath’s spit is David’s rain -
When storms set in, they’re never brief.
And all you do is fake and feign,
Take refuge in misplaced belief.
When storms set in, they’re never brief;
You take the bruises undeserved,
Take refuge in misplaced belief,
And maintain hope, still unreserved.
You take the bruises underserved,
Through pain and heartache, numbing knocks,
And maintain hope, still unreserved -
Alas!, a crashing on the rocks.
A tide of timing makes its play;
Through pain and heartache, numbing knocks,
It thunders in, through night and day.
A tide of timing makes its play -
Goliath’s spit is David’s rain -
It thunders in, through night and day,
And all you do is fake and feign.
Goliath’s spit is David’s rain -
When storms set in, they’re never brief.
And all you do is fake and feign,
Take refuge in misplaced belief.
When storms set in, they’re never brief;
You take the bruises undeserved,
Take refuge in misplaced belief,
And maintain hope, still unreserved.
You take the bruises underserved,
Through pain and heartache, numbing knocks,
And maintain hope, still unreserved -
Alas!, a crashing on the rocks.
Post by: Coffee on December 11, 2017, 04:50:22 pm
Hi guys,
I'll start this off. For Unit 2 English we had to write a WW1 poem as a creative SAC, so here's mine:In Sludge and in Shade‘Way back at home in his quiet home town,
The soldier’s dream world had begun to burn down.
His hopes had been buried in the wet, blood-red sludge
Of the trench-ridden fields he daily would trudge.
‘Til his life would be shortened by bullet or blade,
To lie among others, in sludge and in shade.
He once had a friend in the quiet home town,
Whose face, by the sun, had been slowly burned brown.
Together they once had shared a grand life,
But then they’d gone southward to join in the strife.
Their friendship was broken, shattered, repealed
The fragments were scattered upon the blood field.
The world was a chaos of noise and of pain.
But he was oblivious to all but the rain.
The shells beat down, like glowing red suns,
While bullets whined deathly, from the muzzles of guns.
But even with this, he only could know,
The cold of the wind and the cold of the snow.
Hades stalked stealthy in every dark hole,
And extinguished Life’s last lingering coal.
The black, cold fingers of death’s hard hand,
Crept amid the warriors of that dark land.
Many a man would curse the sad war,
The sorrow of death, these many, they bore.
The wind whipped his hair, the rain his face.
Up and down the wet, cramped ditch his feet began to pace.
The silence was heavy, death in the air,
While ‘way back at home, not many would care
If his life was cut short, by bullet or blade,
To lie among others, in sludge and in shade.
Thanks for starting us off, Marvin! This is really good, I'm impressed. :)
Me too, which is why I'm really looking forward to this thread. Writing doesn't need to be perfect.I really liked this too. Love the atmosphere. :)
Case in point:SpoilerAlas!, a crashing on the rocks -
A tide of timing makes its play;
Through pain and heartache, numbing knocks,
It thunders in, through night and day.
A tide of timing makes its play -
Goliath’s spit is David’s rain -
It thunders in, through night and day,
And all you do is fake and feign.
Goliath’s spit is David’s rain -
When storms set in, they’re never brief.
And all you do is fake and feign,
Take refuge in misplaced belief.
When storms set in, they’re never brief;
You take the bruises undeserved,
Take refuge in misplaced belief,
And maintain hope, still unreserved.
You take the bruises underserved,
Through pain and heartache, numbing knocks,
And maintain hope, still unreserved -
Alas!, a crashing on the rocks.
Out of curiosity, how do you guys go about writing poetry? I've only ever written prose, so all my attempts at writing poetry have failed and I don't really know where to start. :-\
Post by: Mada438 on December 11, 2017, 04:52:37 pm
Post by: Joseph41 on December 11, 2017, 04:53:30 pm
Out of curiosity, how do you guys go about writing poetry? I've only ever written prose, so all my attempts at writing poetry have failed and I don't really know where to start. :-\
I sit down at a café, and honestly just start writing shit. I'm nearing 1,000 poems according to Tumblr over the last few years. Basically all of those are just, like, word vomit or something at the time.
If you're struggling to start, though, I really recommend stealing somebody else's structure, and going from there. So like: "Okay, cool, they've started with six syllables here, with emphasis on the last syllable. I'll start with that."
Post by: Yertle the Turtle on December 11, 2017, 04:53:44 pm
Out of curiosity, how do you guys go about writing poetry? I've only ever written prose, so all my attempts at writing poetry have failed and I don't really know where to start. :-\You start with a general feeling and what you want to write about. You then find a metre that flows nicely and simply write. I know that it isn't that simple, but that is kinda how it seems to happen ;P
Post by: Mada438 on December 11, 2017, 05:20:00 pm
Post by: Calebark on February 23, 2018, 02:23:45 pm
Spoiler
Died have all the trees
The last rose has lost its leaves
Thorn and stem and coloured doubt
No more beauty to sing about
Nature has lost its breeze
Succumbed to disease
The last rose has lost its leaves
Thorn and stem and coloured doubt
No more beauty to sing about
Nature has lost its breeze
Succumbed to disease
Post by: Jada03 on March 24, 2018, 08:35:39 pm
A bright face, a happy smile
Laughing, caring all the whlie
Tall, strong, his straight brown hair
I can see him in my mind, but when I look, he's not there.
It was today, a bright Friday morning,
It all came without any warning,
"A car crash", "killed", that's all we know
But the Lord was there, and in time He will show.
He was ready, that's all we can say,
Ready for the Lord to come and take him away,
Away from us yes, but from the world too,
Away up to heaven, where all skies are blue.
He's now with the Lord, and with those that are already gone,
And yes, although our hearts are torn,
We know that one day we'll see him once more,
When we, with renewed strength, and wings as eagles soar.
So yeah...its not the greatest poem in the world...but just thought I'd share it :) No prizes for guessing that I'm a Christian either....hope that doesn't worry anyone! ;) :D
Post by: Yertle the Turtle on March 27, 2018, 09:15:55 am
snipThat's beautiful, really love it! I'm Christian too, and I love the spirituality of the poem. God bless you.
Post by: Joseph41 on March 27, 2018, 11:31:40 am
Ok so I've got one here....but I wrote it a few years back (when i was 12) so forgive me for its total lack of structure and everything else. It was just literally my thoughts flowing onto the paper. I wrote it the day that my 20 year old brother was killed in a car accident. At that point we had no further information and that was all we had been told by the police.....I went into my bedroom alone and put my pen to paper and this is what came out.....
A bright face, a happy smile
Laughing, caring all the whlie
Tall, strong, his straight brown hair
I can see him in my mind, but when I look, he's not there.
It was today, a bright Friday morning,
It all came without any warning,
"A car crash", "killed", that's all we know
But the Lord was there, and in time He will show.
He was ready, that's all we can say,
Ready for the Lord to come and take him away,
Away from us yes, but from the world too,
Away up to heaven, where all skies are blue.
He's now with the Lord, and with those that are already gone,
And yes, although our hearts are torn,
We know that one day we'll see him once more,
When we, with renewed strength, and wings as eagles soar.
So yeah...its not the greatest poem in the world...but just thought I'd share it :) No prizes for guessing that I'm a Christian either....hope that doesn't worry anyone! ;) :D
Really beautiful. Sorry to hear about your brother; that must have been so difficult to go through.
Thanks for sharing!
Post by: Poet on April 05, 2018, 07:43:39 pm
Thanks for the encouragement, Adam! <3
Spoiler
Love is just a word,
But a word with meaning.
Waves crashing on the rocks
Or hearts together, beating.
Love is pain
But also life
We carry on through all
But when we lose
The love of our lives
The end is within call.
What is love?
And why do we
Find it so important?
For love is joy
And love is pain
A paradoxical moment.
If love is 'just emotion',
Then how come I can feel it?
If love is 'superficial',
Then how am I meant to mean it?
To give my love is something strange,
To give it all away.
I try to hold on to the corner
But love is a gift,
Never trade.
For a trade is something we only give
To find a profitable return.
But when I give love,
I give it all,
And still I never learn.
For love is something special,
So tangible, so sweet.
But it is something fragile
So glass-like, so weak.
So easily snuffed out by a breath
Of another passing by.
What once was strong
Is now soon lost
Under marching feet in time.
But still we try
And we hold on
To the love found in our hearts.
And maybe one day
We will find
A heart that will love us.
But a word with meaning.
Waves crashing on the rocks
Or hearts together, beating.
Love is pain
But also life
We carry on through all
But when we lose
The love of our lives
The end is within call.
What is love?
And why do we
Find it so important?
For love is joy
And love is pain
A paradoxical moment.
If love is 'just emotion',
Then how come I can feel it?
If love is 'superficial',
Then how am I meant to mean it?
To give my love is something strange,
To give it all away.
I try to hold on to the corner
But love is a gift,
Never trade.
For a trade is something we only give
To find a profitable return.
But when I give love,
I give it all,
And still I never learn.
For love is something special,
So tangible, so sweet.
But it is something fragile
So glass-like, so weak.
So easily snuffed out by a breath
Of another passing by.
What once was strong
Is now soon lost
Under marching feet in time.
But still we try
And we hold on
To the love found in our hearts.
And maybe one day
We will find
A heart that will love us.
Post by: MissSmiley on April 05, 2018, 08:07:19 pm
Ok so I've got one here....but I wrote it a few years back (when i was 12) so forgive me for its total lack of structure and everything else. It was just literally my thoughts flowing onto the paper. I wrote it the day that my 20 year old brother was killed in a car accident. At that point we had no further information and that was all we had been told by the police.....I went into my bedroom alone and put my pen to paper and this is what came out.....Brought tears to my eyes. A really genuine and lovely poem. And a very brave poet behind it.
A bright face, a happy smile
Laughing, caring all the whlie
Tall, strong, his straight brown hair
I can see him in my mind, but when I look, he's not there.
It was today, a bright Friday morning,
It all came without any warning,
"A car crash", "killed", that's all we know
But the Lord was there, and in time He will show.
He was ready, that's all we can say,
Ready for the Lord to come and take him away,
Away from us yes, but from the world too,
Away up to heaven, where all skies are blue.
He's now with the Lord, and with those that are already gone,
And yes, although our hearts are torn,
We know that one day we'll see him once more,
When we, with renewed strength, and wings as eagles soar.
So yeah...its not the greatest poem in the world...but just thought I'd share it :) No prizes for guessing that I'm a Christian either....hope that doesn't worry anyone! ;) :D
God bless you and your family.
Post by: Poet on August 16, 2018, 09:40:05 pm
A friend suggested I post this with an explanation. It's been circulating in my head for a while tonight, and I hope you guys find it interesting:
Poem
Opened eyes, a bright and shining world
Where did the light go?
Days fly by,
Time march inexorably,
Reflections of souls in their bubbles.
To the mind's eye, is soul the truth?
Is skin all we see and know?
Clenched fists,
But an open heart,
The fight for honesty and love.
Such beauty and grace
In the iridescent reality.
Curled asleep,
Ignorance or arrogance
We'll never know the truth of a soul
Until it's gone.
Where did the light go?
Days fly by,
Time march inexorably,
Reflections of souls in their bubbles.
To the mind's eye, is soul the truth?
Is skin all we see and know?
Clenched fists,
But an open heart,
The fight for honesty and love.
Such beauty and grace
In the iridescent reality.
Curled asleep,
Ignorance or arrogance
We'll never know the truth of a soul
Until it's gone.
Explanation and existential thoughts
Opened eyes, a bright and shining world
Where did the light go?
Days fly by,
Time march inexorably,
Reflections of souls in their bubbles.
^ This is about getting older, and learning as we go. But it's also about the "bubbles" of everyone's lives. Like, we all have our personal perceptions based on our own experiences and stuff, right? Everything in the world comes back to us. Us in our bubbles.
To the mind's eye, is soul the truth?
Is skin all we see and know?
Clenched fists,
But an open heart,
The fight for honesty and love.
^ This is about the perception of beauty - judging the outside before we dare to look in. Sometimes, what's on the outside is not in line with a person's heart, and we can misjudge people unfairly and cruelly from this, or make mistakes and lend our trust to someone who will break it.
Such beauty and grace
In the iridescent reality.
Curled asleep,
Ignorance or arrogance
We'll never know the truth of a soul
Until it's gone.
^ The first lines refer back to the sheen of a bubble - rainbow reflection, twisting, iridescent. Every person's life is individual and beautiful in some way or another, but all too often all we know of their story is the beauty after they're gone.
Where did the light go?
Days fly by,
Time march inexorably,
Reflections of souls in their bubbles.
^ This is about getting older, and learning as we go. But it's also about the "bubbles" of everyone's lives. Like, we all have our personal perceptions based on our own experiences and stuff, right? Everything in the world comes back to us. Us in our bubbles.
To the mind's eye, is soul the truth?
Is skin all we see and know?
Clenched fists,
But an open heart,
The fight for honesty and love.
^ This is about the perception of beauty - judging the outside before we dare to look in. Sometimes, what's on the outside is not in line with a person's heart, and we can misjudge people unfairly and cruelly from this, or make mistakes and lend our trust to someone who will break it.
Such beauty and grace
In the iridescent reality.
Curled asleep,
Ignorance or arrogance
We'll never know the truth of a soul
Until it's gone.
^ The first lines refer back to the sheen of a bubble - rainbow reflection, twisting, iridescent. Every person's life is individual and beautiful in some way or another, but all too often all we know of their story is the beauty after they're gone.
I wrote this because I was thinking a lot. About people. And what we care about. And why we care about it. Perceptions and individual realities. You know how comics and shows have theories on diverging realities out there? Well, what if there are already ones, right here? Everyone sees the world differently. That's a divergence. Everyone lives in their little circles of family, friendship, work, compassion, ignorance. Our bubbles, because our perceptions have roofs and floors as well as horizontal boundaries.
Post by: Mada438 on September 24, 2018, 05:26:37 pm
Truly all life is,
is just a constant struggle
From one moment to another
From one moment of true happiness
And beauty
to another
Surviving everything in between
All the struggle, the heartbreak
and the negativity
The seemingly never ending cycle-
of life
and the way it drains you.
But we live for those rare moments
when we forget everything
and we feel truly alive
Find those moments
and hold them,
treasure them
Because that is what we live for
The meaning of life
Post by: melberry on January 13, 2019, 08:31:37 pm
Under the willow tree
I am here folding paper cranes
Each crease a memory
First step, second, third then pause -
unfold and realign -
Flatten the accidental crease
With hope it will be fine
Tuck it under stacks of books
Press it 'tween some things
But even if its head's in place
It still has broken wings
Where are you now? I am here,
Flightless bird in my hand
My dear dreams, why have you flown
When I am still on land?
Post by: Poet on January 13, 2019, 08:42:51 pm
Where are you now? I am hereyou read my mind on bumping this thread haha
Under the willow tree
I am here folding paper cranes
Each crease a memory
First step, second, third then pause -
unfold and realign -
Flatten the accidental crease
With hope it will be fine
Tuck it under stacks of books
Press it 'tween some things
But even if its head's in place
It still has broken wings
Where are you now? I am here,
Flightless bird in my hand
My dear dreams, why have you flown
When I am still on land?
This is beautiful.
the imagery is vibrant and I absolutely love the metaphorical weight of a paper crane.
If it's not personal, what's the inspiration? :)
Post by: melberry on January 13, 2019, 08:54:15 pm
you read my mind on bumping this thread haha
This is beautiful.
the imagery is vibrant and I absolutely love the metaphorical weight of a paper crane.
If it's not personal, what's the inspiration? :)
Haha thank you! I love writing poetry so I'll happily bump this thread ^^
I write a lot of metaphorical poetry, especially to address little thoughts in my mind :) This particular one was inspired by the gradual cynicism that comes with growing up, where dreams of doing the impossible were reduced to "the impossible". Dreams get narrower and narrower until one day you realise that you can't pinpoint any of the dreams you once had or would like to have. Without a goal in mind, we complete small tasks to pass the time - in this case folding paper cranes. There is a legend that if you fold 1000 paper cranes you will be granted a wish, and I saw the folding of a single crane as a step towards finding your dreams again.
I really like your poems as well! Your username is certainly fitting ;)
Post by: mango8 on January 27, 2019, 04:24:38 pm
Where are you now? I am here
Under the willow tree
I am here folding paper cranes
Each crease a memory
First step, second, third then pause -
unfold and realign -
Flatten the accidental crease
With hope it will be fine
Tuck it under stacks of books
Press it 'tween some things
But even if its head's in place
It still has broken wings
Where are you now? I am here,
Flightless bird in my hand
My dear dreams, why have you flown
When I am still on land?
After reading this, I had to say it was simply sublime. I felt it was almost ethereal, the way you portrayed this metaphorical poetry. I loved reading the meaning behind it, and also using poetry to express what we can't in any other way is something I resonate with. Reading it gave me a sense of inner peace and I thank you for sharing your beautiful talent, please do share more of your prose!
Post by: Joseph41 on January 27, 2019, 04:27:28 pm
Poems written since 2016: ~5.
Haha. :(
Post by: melberry on January 29, 2019, 02:58:29 pm
After reading this, I had to say it was simply sublime. I felt it was almost ethereal, the way you portrayed this metaphorical poetry. I loved reading the meaning behind it, and also using poetry to express what we can't in any other way is something I resonate with. Reading it gave me a sense of inner peace and I thank you for sharing your beautiful talent, please do share more of your prose!
Thank you so much! I'll definitely post more before exams kick in xD
On a side note, and just to start general discussion for the poets out there, what is your favourite style of poetry to write and to read?
I personally love writing poems that follow a rhyming pattern because it challenges me to convey my thoughts within a certain number of syllables and following a certain rhythm. I do also however love limericks and prose poetry ^_^
In terms of reading, I like long prose. Especially metaphorical/modernist poetry, because it's interesting to interpret and visualise.
Post by: mango8 on January 29, 2019, 06:07:53 pm
Thank you so much! I'll definitely post more before exams kick in xD
Please do!! My poetry is typically free verse, although occasionally they may be haikus or sonnets too and I love prose as well. Also, I enjoy using rhyme as well, because like you said, it becomes a challenge to express my thoughts in an articulate manner with a rhyming pattern. Honestly, I love reading any form of poetry. I think this beautiful article sums up why perfectly :)
https://www.huffingtonpost.com/dan-chelotti-/why-read-poetry_b_5227554.html
Post by: PhoenixxFire on January 29, 2019, 06:16:50 pm
Poems written between 2011 and 2016: ~950.Sounds like it's time for an accountability thread ;)
Poems written since 2016: ~5.
Haha. :(
Post by: Joseph41 on January 30, 2019, 12:33:59 pm
Sounds like it's time for an accountability thread ;)
My daily sketching one is going super well, so I don't see why a poetry one wouldn't! Haha.
Post by: whys on February 13, 2019, 06:02:39 pm
Even after the earth is no more than dust
And the stars we have wished upon have disappeared
Into a well of blackness
Do you remember the times we had together
Filling each other’s minds
With thoughts I wish to have forever.
I hope
When you are gone
Faraway, distant, in another world,
You look back just once,
Remember the face that loved you so much
And even loves you now.
Look back at the memories
We had
Of us
When we were happy.
I close my eyes
And wonder
Where are you now?
What are you doing?
Are you alive? Are you dead?
I will never know
Because you are a million lifetimes away
Far away from the reach of my hand,
Too far, I cannot reach-
I stumble forward,
The image of you is gone
As I gaze into the blackness
Of reality.
I do not want this-
But you are gone.
Forever.
I will remember you.
Will you remember me?
Post by: walkmik on February 25, 2019, 02:29:54 pm
I'm so sorry for your-
I'm at a-
loss.
I can't imagine how you-
I cannot-
feel.
If there's anything
you-
(I need her back)
- let me know.
She was-
Don't say was
- a fine girl.
She is.
She
Is
Post by: caffinatedloz on June 22, 2019, 08:16:09 am
For my Extension 2 Major Project
I'm so sorry for your-
I'm at a-
loss.
I can't imagine how you-
I cannot-
feel.
If there's anything
you-
(I need her back)
- let me know.
She was-
Don't say was
- a fine girl.
She is.
She
Is
Beautiful! ;D
Post by: Poet on June 22, 2019, 10:02:51 am
I wrote this while I was sick a while back. It's very simple, short, and not as free-flowing as it could be - on purpose (or at least that's what I like to tell myself) - to reflect the topic at hand, which is casual existentialism. I mean, existentialism isn't naturally casual but I think about it so much it might as well be for me. It was to try and cheer myself up a little. Remind me of the happy things because life isn't fun when you feel like you're already dead haha.
Spoiler
Isn't it funny
How life brings you back
To the same places,
Further down the track.
Isn't it funny
How people carry on.
The same old habits,
Obscurity, phenomenon.
Isn't it funny
And funny as in strange,
How amusement turns to sorrow
The more and more we age.
Simplicity
Eccentricity
Poetry
Goes round
The circle of life might be pointless
But it never loses
Its ability
To astound.
How life brings you back
To the same places,
Further down the track.
Isn't it funny
How people carry on.
The same old habits,
Obscurity, phenomenon.
Isn't it funny
And funny as in strange,
How amusement turns to sorrow
The more and more we age.
Simplicity
Eccentricity
Poetry
Goes round
The circle of life might be pointless
But it never loses
Its ability
To astound.
Post by: Bri MT on June 22, 2019, 12:04:48 pm
way out there for me
Boundless waves of life
teeming in the sea
Every step I'm closer
and the distance is more than I knew
many years between
me and my ocean of blue
Yet I can wait with patience
for although I didn't know
I have another ocean of blue
one that helps me grow
It doesn't have water or salt
this ocean of blue I see
it's made of threads and posts
and people dear to me
There's oceans of blue they're waiting
and I'll be ready when I'm there
For I've found another
and both can hold my care
Post by: caffinatedloz on June 25, 2019, 07:05:41 pm
Feminism is equality.
We will never not need equality,
In a world,
Where girls are too scared,
To speak their truth.
And when we are taught,
You can only be smart
Or pretty,
But never both,
Our need for equality,
Will always be there.
Break down barriers,
Until everything is fair.
Eating disorders,
On the rise,
And suicide rates,
At an all time high.
In a world,
Where caring isn’t cool,
We need feminism,
So every girl knows,
She is more than her looks.
We can look forward,
To a future,
Where showing off her assets,
Means her brains and her talents.
Aspire for a world,
Where no girl is taken advantage of.
Where poverty,
Doesn’t limit her education.
We won’t stop,
Until girls and boys,
Are treated the same.
Same rights,
Same opportunity.
We look forward,
To a time.
When she can stand tall,
For everything she believes.
And she can be proud,
Of all who came before her.
Post by: Snow Leopard on September 28, 2019, 11:06:40 pm
Four Seasons
When there is a breeze
as calm and blissful as the mountain mist,
that blows over me any day
I take that chance to whistle
and break the silence of that tedious day.
I stand firm on the ground
and soften when the clouds decide to cry.
Making beams of sunlight shine on my leaves
making them look as radiant as emerald jewels
But when autumn comes,
I have this change of personality,
and become quite dark,
with a shadow that’s as dim as death himself.
Rapidly I am hushed by the sturdy wind of winter.
Isolated and bullied by the snow.
Thrusted and pulled by the strength of rain,
oh how dreadful and appalling winter is.
As I feel the chances of seeing the bright sun drain,
I lose all hope.
But even when little hope can be found
I spot a beam of sunlight.
And shortly after I am singing and crying for joy,
when I am dressed in my delightful leaves yet again.
Fully recovered from the winter,
I feel as radiant as the sun’s face.
Standing proud and loud to all those who seek
my shelter and comfort from beneath the fertile soil.
Where my roots will develop with ease of royalty.
Oh the radiant sun,
how I will embrace what occurs now
Let this moment be a wonderful memory to me
For what evil awaits me
when the next winter occurs
as calm and blissful as the mountain mist,
that blows over me any day
I take that chance to whistle
and break the silence of that tedious day.
I stand firm on the ground
and soften when the clouds decide to cry.
Making beams of sunlight shine on my leaves
making them look as radiant as emerald jewels
But when autumn comes,
I have this change of personality,
and become quite dark,
with a shadow that’s as dim as death himself.
Rapidly I am hushed by the sturdy wind of winter.
Isolated and bullied by the snow.
Thrusted and pulled by the strength of rain,
oh how dreadful and appalling winter is.
As I feel the chances of seeing the bright sun drain,
I lose all hope.
But even when little hope can be found
I spot a beam of sunlight.
And shortly after I am singing and crying for joy,
when I am dressed in my delightful leaves yet again.
Fully recovered from the winter,
I feel as radiant as the sun’s face.
Standing proud and loud to all those who seek
my shelter and comfort from beneath the fertile soil.
Where my roots will develop with ease of royalty.
Oh the radiant sun,
how I will embrace what occurs now
Let this moment be a wonderful memory to me
For what evil awaits me
when the next winter occurs
Post by: gab.r_se on September 29, 2019, 10:13:09 am
So, this is a poem which I wrote a few years ago but I've edited it a bit coz the lines were originally wayyyy toooo longWhat do you guys think of it? (Be honest plz)Four SeasonsWhen there is a breeze
as calm and blissful as the mountain mist,
that blows over me any day
I take that chance to whistle
and break the silence of that tedious day.
I stand firm on the ground
and soften when the clouds decide to cry.
Making beams of sunlight shine on my leaves
making them look as radiant as emerald jewels
But when autumn comes,
I have this change of personality,
and become quite dark,
with a shadow that’s as dim as death himself.
Rapidly I am hushed by the sturdy wind of winter.
Isolated and bullied by the snow.
Thrusted and pulled by the strength of rain,
oh how dreadful and appalling winter is.
As I feel the chances of seeing the bright sun drain,
I lose all hope.
But even when little hope can be found
I spot a beam of sunlight.
And shortly after I am singing and crying for joy,
when I am dressed in my delightful leaves yet again.
Fully recovered from the winter,
I feel as radiant as the sun’s face.
Standing proud and loud to all those who seek
my shelter and comfort from beneath the fertile soil.
Where my roots will develop with ease of royalty.
Oh the radiant sun,
how I will embrace what occurs now
Let this moment be a wonderful memory to me
For what evil awaits me
when the next winter occurs
Post by: Snow Leopard on September 29, 2019, 02:46:00 pm
I love your poem. Very beautiful imagery.Your too kind :)
Post by: Einstein_Reborn_97 on May 17, 2020, 08:54:05 pm
I wrote this for a writing competition last year...
The Truth About War
Few things have existed since the origins of mankind,
Good and evil, love and hate, joy and sorrow, peace and war.
For almost as long as there has been life, war has been part of it.
Humans have always waged war among themselves…
Despite the cataclysmic certainty of compounding calamities.
Some people just want to watch the world burn…others want to light the match.
Brave soldiers are forced to lay their lives on the line,
To adopt the persona of a merciless brute…for the “greater good” of their nation.
The truth is…many of these lionhearted warriors will die, allies and enemies alike
Each with someone, who can only cross their fingers in anxious anticipation,
Praying for their hero to survive.
You see, war is not really a game of strategy,
But of which side sustains the least casualties,
And the winning side celebrates their monumental victory…with those that are left.
The truth is…their triumph was superficial, a costly consolation,
Because the only true victor in war is Death.
Few things have existed since the origins of mankind,
Good and evil, love and hate, joy and sorrow, peace and war.
For almost as long as there has been life, war has been part of it.
Humans have always waged war among themselves…
Despite the cataclysmic certainty of compounding calamities.
Some people just want to watch the world burn…others want to light the match.
Brave soldiers are forced to lay their lives on the line,
To adopt the persona of a merciless brute…for the “greater good” of their nation.
The truth is…many of these lionhearted warriors will die, allies and enemies alike
Each with someone, who can only cross their fingers in anxious anticipation,
Praying for their hero to survive.
You see, war is not really a game of strategy,
But of which side sustains the least casualties,
And the winning side celebrates their monumental victory…with those that are left.
The truth is…their triumph was superficial, a costly consolation,
Because the only true victor in war is Death.
Post by: angewina_naguen on May 18, 2020, 11:09:37 am
Tonic Key
I am from sewing machines
their sta. cca. to. pressing, the musical t r a i l and pricked pinkies left behind.
I am from clocks
empty of batteries, like silent metronomes that tick on.
I am from door slams
an unforgiving FORTE, followed by silence or my mother's FORTISSIMO uproar.
I am from the cobblestone tints
lines for melodies yet to be written on the floors by honky tonk footsteps.
I am from monkey bars
swinging eighths, paint climbing off in ramattazz.
I am from incense
snuffed only when I run out of song
when I choose to run out of song.
Post by: Einstein_Reborn_97 on May 22, 2020, 05:57:56 pm
Burn No More
Dancing and leaping, now searing and blazing,
Inviting and embracing, now blistering and consuming,
Whispering and hissing, now sizzling and roaring,
Flames once flickering, now fervid with fury.
The crisp “snip-snap-whoosh” of the raging flame,
As it hunts for poor souls to claim or maim.
Brave firefighters rendered tame and lame,
“Where is the rain?!” we desperately exclaim.
“Hotter than hell”, “The end of the world is near”
“Apocalyptic scenes”, “Screeching voices here and there”
Spreading like the blaze is the familiar face of Fear,
How much loss and sorrow can we really persevere?
Black and grey, yellow, red and orange,
Defining colours of this age, so strange.
Inferno! Firestorm! The flames derange,
Surely, this crisis will ignite some change...
To whom do we owe scorn for this perpetual blaze?
For the drought-defiant crops now lit and ablaze?
For over a billion animals now part of the smoke haze?
For the never-changing nature of our careless ways?
“God Bless Australia”, we sincerely implore,
Thirty torrid weeks, nothing left anymore,
Could this infernal ruin last forevermore?
For the sake of all that is good, burn no more!
Dancing and leaping, now searing and blazing,
Inviting and embracing, now blistering and consuming,
Whispering and hissing, now sizzling and roaring,
Flames once flickering, now fervid with fury.
The crisp “snip-snap-whoosh” of the raging flame,
As it hunts for poor souls to claim or maim.
Brave firefighters rendered tame and lame,
“Where is the rain?!” we desperately exclaim.
“Hotter than hell”, “The end of the world is near”
“Apocalyptic scenes”, “Screeching voices here and there”
Spreading like the blaze is the familiar face of Fear,
How much loss and sorrow can we really persevere?
Black and grey, yellow, red and orange,
Defining colours of this age, so strange.
Inferno! Firestorm! The flames derange,
Surely, this crisis will ignite some change...
To whom do we owe scorn for this perpetual blaze?
For the drought-defiant crops now lit and ablaze?
For over a billion animals now part of the smoke haze?
For the never-changing nature of our careless ways?
“God Bless Australia”, we sincerely implore,
Thirty torrid weeks, nothing left anymore,
Could this infernal ruin last forevermore?
For the sake of all that is good, burn no more!
Post by: Poet on September 14, 2020, 06:24:23 pm
A bit messy but it's an entry!
The Muse of the Day (that's not the poem's name it's literally just what I've been thinking about hehe
I watched
the morning break
today.
It came quietly.
like someone
who dies
in their sleep.
A wash of grey
no colours
no sound
and yet
the sun still came.
With the sun
came a song.
A chatter
a laugh
a life.
But my ears
only heard
the battering
of wooden planks
a captain's call
a flood of foam
and
she sinks.
His pride and joy
gone.
But only
in a dream.
.
I watched
the daylight flee
today.
A world, quieting
once again
almost as silent
as the dark depths
where she
my heart
lays broken.
This is not
thriving.
But it is
surviving.
A muted
battle.
A phantom
fight.
Who dares to sleep
while the darkness
can find you?
I do not sleep.
I live a life
within my mind
and wish
that my dreams
were my life
and that my life
was only
a nightmare.
the morning break
today.
It came quietly.
like someone
who dies
in their sleep.
A wash of grey
no colours
no sound
and yet
the sun still came.
With the sun
came a song.
A chatter
a laugh
a life.
But my ears
only heard
the battering
of wooden planks
a captain's call
a flood of foam
and
she sinks.
His pride and joy
gone.
But only
in a dream.
.
I watched
the daylight flee
today.
A world, quieting
once again
almost as silent
as the dark depths
where she
my heart
lays broken.
This is not
thriving.
But it is
surviving.
A muted
battle.
A phantom
fight.
Who dares to sleep
while the darkness
can find you?
I do not sleep.
I live a life
within my mind
and wish
that my dreams
were my life
and that my life
was only
a nightmare.
Post by: The Cat In The Hat on September 14, 2020, 08:38:36 pm
Possible TW/CW: death, sadness.I read that and my immediate thought was, 'That is... powerful.' I don't even know why. That was just the word that summed it all up to me.
A bit messy but it's an entry!The Muse of the Day (that's not the poem's name it's literally just what I've been thinking about heheI watched
the morning break
today.
It came quietly.
like someone
who dies
in their sleep.
A wash of grey
no colours
no sound
and yet
the sun still came.
With the sun
came a song.
A chatter
a laugh
a life.
But my ears
only heard
the battering
of wooden planks
a captain's call
a flood of foam
and
she sinks.
His pride and joy
gone.
But only
in a dream.
.
I watched
the daylight flee
today.
A world, quieting
once again
almost as silent
as the dark depths
where she
my heart
lays broken.
This is not
thriving.
But it is
surviving.
A muted
battle.
A phantom
fight.
Who dares to sleep
while the darkness
can find you?
I do not sleep.
I live a life
within my mind
and wish
that my dreams
were my life
and that my life
was only
a nightmare.
And here is a poem I wrote immediately after, in response, you might say. No editing; don't judge it too harshly, I'm no poet :)
~
"A Day"
I saw the dawn break; soft pink streaks overlaid with gold
Gold like a coloured pencil, but so much better.
The gold faded and all that was left was grey
Why did the sun go away?
Then it came out again, bright, sharp, sparkling
Throwing every detail to relief
Then a storm came, and the grey turned the landscape gold
Curious gold, illuminating, lighting up
Dulling some yet brightening others.
Then after the storm came a gentle light,
Showing up green so very bright
The storm faded, the light was grey
The day tranquil, calm, such peace.
No trace of the storm past
But perhaps a lingering light
Luminescence that did not leave.
And then it was dark, the moon rode high
And the glorious day was done.
Post by: Poet on September 14, 2020, 09:11:13 pm
I read that and my immediate thought was, 'That is... powerful.' I don't even know why. That was just the word that summed it all up to me.This is beautiful - it reminds me of the days of creation in Genesis. The way you've described the day as a constant is reminiscent of the flow of time before time began. Not sure if that makes sense.
And here is a poem I wrote immediately after, in response, you might say. No editing; don't judge it too harshly, I'm no poet :)
-snip-
You are a poet! If you can write and feel rhythm in words, you're a poet. I would love to see any other ideas you may type up in future!
Post by: The Cat In The Hat on September 14, 2020, 09:19:48 pm
This is beautiful - it reminds me of the days of creation in Genesis. The way you've described the day as a constant is reminiscent of the flow of time before time began. Not sure if that makes sense.I see what you mean about Genesis - even though, oddly enough, it did not spring to mind when I wrote it. I wouldn't call myself a poet though - I but rarely write poetry, I more generally write novels. I try to make them a little closer to poetic - though I don't succeed very often :) Thank you though!
You are a poet! If you can write and feel rhythm in words, you're a poet. I would love to see any other ideas you may type up in future!
Post by: Joseph41 on October 23, 2020, 01:26:25 pm
Might try to start writing again.
Post by: The Cat In The Hat on May 05, 2021, 10:41:55 pm
I used to have a poetry Tumblr. Just looked at it now for the first time in literally four years. I'd posted 984 poems over the space of like five four or five years.You were so close to that magical thousand. Have you got the thousand yet??
Might try to start writing again.
~
Someone was talking about poetry today and I searched out my poem on this thread to show them. (The last line had lingered in my mind. I should probably make a copy of that, this's the only place it is.) So I figured I may as well write another and revive this thread. And if it's as disjointed to you as it is to me - well, blame uni.
Life
The rhythm of life
As simple as a beating heart
As steady as a ticking clock
As constant as a screaming child.
The circle of life
As wondrous as a whirling void
As lovely as a sandstone cave
As empty as a loveless gaze.
Life is empty
Unless we fill it
What's the point
Unless we fill it
Why're we here
Unless we fill it.
Chasing distractions, ignoring that cold feeling in our heart,
Just doesn't fill it.
A shell.
Looking for something to fill it
And finding nothing.
Find it
Why else are we here
But to find a purpose to our life
To see if anyone cares
- and they do.
Somebody cares, and after all
The Lion
Of the tribe of Judah
Has conquered.
Post by: The Cat In The Hat on May 10, 2021, 08:58:33 am
The Lion's Help
The Lion eyes him.
He doesn't meet his eyes.
He never does.
School embittered him;
She embittered him.
But the Lion's look
Is stern yet gentle
He looks up, slowly
He meets his eyes
The world's right now.
'Here is your brother. There is no need to fight over memories.'
Post by: The Cat In The Hat on May 11, 2021, 07:48:11 am
Getting up early isn't much fun;
Rubbing sleep out of your eyes,
Yawning
Never allowed to forget the day isn't yet dawning.
Off to wherever, the station, or school
Or work, or uni
- I feel like a fool.
Another yawn
Before the dawn
Still in the darkness of night
But lo! the morning
The morning - and I am still a Ghost
- And few understand what I mean.
Before the dawning the sky is lit up
A promise of things to come
And something like lightning across the sky
Before it bursts into golden flame
The clouds rippling like the wind-tossed strands of a Lion's mane
- Getting up isn't so bad after all.
(Note: I think I have Lewis on the brain. There's a brief reference in there to two of his works. Can anyone identify them? ;) )