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Post your poems(Express your selves<3)
I love poems. Duh that's why I'm here I'm not very good at making them myself, but I know many other people are. Post you work of art here...happy sad or random.
have fun. and if u criticize do it right don't just say you hate it... tell them what u don't like about it or even like.. |
Here i'll start.
I'm not very good and i suck at spelling so ya ;p Just me the blood and the floor I need not to worry I need not to care cause soon I will die But apparently soon is not soon enough I feel lonely I feel Depressed I feel the hatred half untold My heart is burning and I am hating Every breathe Every word Every song the spills from thy lips Inflicting pain on oneself Lets you punish yourself? Lets you Distract the pain in one self? whatever it does... It makes me feel better It makes me feel at ease When my troubles are rolling down in the form of a red liquid substance.. I feel sleepy.. I feel weak.. I'm forgetting everything My troubles... My worries... My hatred.. My pain has gone numb I fall to the ground I fall very hard The liquid red substance surrounds me While I'm in a blur I close my eyes If I i could never wake up.... The pain I start inflicting myself again again Again and Again The salty wet tears aren't rolling no more I'm still there. Lying there on the floor My heart is not beating nor fast and nor slow the Breath that I loath so much is not coming in or out The songs I won't sing The words I won't say Just me the blood and the floor |
Its a good poem,
with good words. But why so much depression? |
What can I say i get depressed some times and need to take some of it out.. x]
thanks :) |
i use ot write for my schools whatmacall it, newspapaer, heres the first one they ever printed, its liek one of the most importnat htings that happened in my life
It's snowing, it's returning to a town Where, as I discover as I go through Empty streets I come upon by chance, I might have happily lived some other childhood. Beneath the snowflakes I notice façades More beautiful than anything in this world. Among us, only Alberti, then Sangallo, At San Biagio, in the most intense room That desire has ever built, have approached This perfection, this absence. And so I gaze avidly At these masses the snow hides from me. I seek, above all, in the wandering Whiteness, those pediments that rise To a higher level of appearance. They tear apart the mist, it is as though, With a hand freed from weight, The mortal architect had brought to life, In a single floral stroke, The form sought for centuries by The pain of being born into matter. And up there I cannot tell if it is still Life, or only joy, that stands out Against this sky no longer of our world. Oh you builders, Not so much of place as of renewed hope, What is there in the depths of these walls That open before me? What I see Along the walls are only empty niches, Partly stone, partly the absence of stone, From which, thanks to symmetry, The weight of being born into exile is lifted. But snow has gathered there, has piled up, I draw near to one of them, the lowest, I bring down a bit of its light And all at once it is the meadow I walked in at ten, The bees are buzzing, What I have in my hands, these flowers, these shadows, Is it almost honey, is it snow? And then I go on until I am beneath an archway, The snowflakes are swirling, blotting out The line between the outside and this room Where lamps are lit: these, too, A kind of snow, which hesitates Between the high and the low, in this night. It is as though I were at a second threshold. And beyond, the same sound of bees In the sound of the snow. What the countless Summer bees were saying Seems reflected in the infinite of the lamps. And I would like To run, as in the time of the bee, seeking With my foot the supple ball, for perhaps I am sleeping, and dreaming, and wandering along The paths of childhood. But what I am looking at is hardened snow, The flakes which have stolen onto the flagstones And piled up at the base of the columns Left and right, and far ahead in the dusk. Absurdly, my eyes can only see the arc That this mud draws on the stone. My only thought is for what has No name, no meaning. Oh my friends, Alberti, Brunelleschi, Sangallo, Palladio who beckons from the other shore, I do not betray you, I still go forward, The purest form is always the one Pierced by the mist that fades away, Trampled snow is the only rose. |
Both of the poems are very good.
:] |
I'll post a few of mine. ^^
They're all untitled. If only you knew, She said to the trees. 1 If only you knew, She said to the grass. If only you knew, She said to her house. If only you knew, They said back to She. But she knew. Oh yes she knew... How it felt to be chained, In a forever moving world. Heres another one. --She was a glittering soul, He beleived she was gold.-- Her dazzling smile took his breath away, but instead of giving it back... ...She kept it that day. He begged and begged for her to give back his share, but she just giggled and swept back that impossibly shiny hair. As his vision faded all he could see, was a shine, that dammed shine, that was only she. --She was a glittering soul, He beleived she was gold.-- If only his mother had told that poor sod, "All that Glitters Is Not Gold." |
I feel like posting mine, It's a bit shaky mind you. :P
The Last Day(It's called that since it was the last day off school when wrote) Don't you ever think I'm not there or that I never cared, it's just your tears that drove me away, they hurt so bad I stop and think for a few days. But I was still fighting by your side weather you where looking straight into my eyes or if I was waiting in the shadows never saying goodbye. Time goes fast so please don't blink I'll still be there when your about to sink, don't worry I promise we will fly someday. Going somewhere so far away living in a castle on top of the clouds we will be dreaming so loud the world will hear our cries, Even when were gone and died I swear I still will never lie. We take the breath from each other and allow it back keeping each other alive, even when our souls have left to the skies, theres no way heavens better than being held by you keeping me toghether through and through. While the world falls apart and hits the ground I still would never trade your smile for a crown, the day melts away just like my heart when you look at me with eyes so amazing that they couldn't see the happiness you give to me. |
this is a favorite of mine i had to write for english wen we had to have repition.. and since i have a love for hockey.. i mad this poem.... its more of a chant though.. but hey, she liked it =]:
Hockey Pass the ball Aim for the net Shoot for the goal There’s no regret We can win You wanna bet? Go! Go! There’s no regret Whack! Goes the ball Our goal is met We scored those goals There’s no regret |
Your gone
I can run into my room I can cry all of my tears But I cant bring you back Cant do anything But stand here thinking.. What did I do? I lost my love for god knows when I want to hear you say that you love me I want you to hold me I want to see you blush.. at every little thing I say I want to have those little 'I love you more' arguments Cant God see I miss you? Cant God bring you back? I feel like nothing without you you compleat me... You make me feel importent.. I make a fool outta myself every time I talk to you but you still love me... can you hear my heart breaking? bursting into peices? your gone... and I cant do a thing |
Heres a bad poem that i made randomly:
Tha cat ate the mouse in the sqaure little house The bat ate the rat On the little cats mat The the bat and the cat sat The bat flew away The cact ran into the hay For that was for play Oh what a wonderful day! |
An old poem.
Autumn The Autumn winds blow on the dried up trees. The leaves turn brown as mud --- fall to the ground --- spinning their way down. Seeds open up to the dead wind --- brush against the sky. Clouds form into gray muck. Bugs make notes in the night grass. Timid mice run out to find food. Wolves hunt the wicked forest of night --- their howling deafens mice scurrying into small holes. The night breeze calms down and goes away. Branches fall to wet land, splashing --- mist touches small feet --- branches creak under their hooves. The air smells of wild flowers in the night breeze --- the owl’s hoot echoes through the woods --- dies away and there is no other sound. |
I have a poem...
I wrote it when i was very upset with my mother... I seem to only get good poems when i am... so here it is... ------------------------------------------------------ Time I have this hate inside And it is eating at my heart This hate that is inside of me Is ripping me apart I know you want to be close to me As should a mothers' heart But could you understand with me We can't have every part Some times i love you so much With all that is my heart But when you push too close to me It's just too much, we part The closer you try to push yourself Tighter in my space I feel i have to push you back To keep my own "Self Space" When you cried, it made me hate Myself so much it hurt Then when you yelled and screamed at me All my self-hate grew worse You need to understand with me That love's a complex art But yours and mine are far too strong To be held in just one cart When you tried to make it right It worsened, sad but true You needed to let me find myself So I wasn't so mad at you you must understand, this day and age Teens must feel self sufficient And mothers must relax their grips To make this plan proficient I know you love me with all your heart You told me when you'd cry But if you don't step back a bit My part of the live shall die This fragile glass relationship Is hanging above sharp rocks You must learn to hold back a bit Before the damn thing drops Hanging by a tattered thread That was torn up my self hate I need some time away from you To get some emotion off my plate I'm sorry if i hurt you And even that you'd cried I wasn't trying to hurt you dear But me, I was hurting inside NO, you cannot help me with this one It is mine and mine alone I need some time to help myself And crush my large hate stone Eventually I'll get over this Don't worry I'll be fine And in a while, you wait and see All i need is time ------------------------------------------------------ Yeah i know it is long... >.< but this is how i vent :evil: |
Quote:
Hehe... this one is quite fun, but you should check for spelling errors before you post... just a helpful hint ^_^ |
@ vamp - yeah it was fun xD had to read it twice.
@ stasianime - not good? How on earth do you get your poems so long O.o I struggle to make a 10 line poem. >.< --- Here's one I wrote a couple months ago: *scrounges around for a non-depressing poem* Cookies and Milk Cups greet the counter as they sit down loudly, The milk carton drools on each cup equally, The cookie army marches to a doom that is guaranteed, Click clack, they march on, Click clack they are near, Click clack crunch! |
As Children Together
Under the sloped snow pinned all winter with Christmas lights, we waited for your father to whittle his soap cakes away, finish the whisky, your mother carry her coffee from room to room closing lights cubed in the snow at our feet. Holding each other’s coat sleeves we slid down the roads in our tight black dresses, past crystal swamps and the death face of each dark house, over the golden ice of tobacco spit, the blue quiet of ponds, with town glowing behind the blind white hills and a scant snow ticking in the stars. You hummed blanche comme la neige and spoke of Montreal where a québecoise could sing, take any man’s face to her unfastened blouse and wake to wine on the bedside table. I always believed this, Victoria, that there might be a way to get out. You were ashamed of that house, its round tins of surplus flour, chipped beef and white beans, relief checks and winter trips that always ended in deer tied stiff to the car rack, the accordion breath of your uncles down from the north, and what you called the stupidity of the Michigan French. Your mirror grew ringed with photos of servicemen who had taken your breasts in their hands, the buttons of your blouses in their teeth, who had given you the silk tassels of their graduation, jackets embroidered with dragons from the Far East. You kept the corks that had fired from bottles over their beds their letters with each city blackened, envelopes of hair from their shaved heads. I am going to have it, you said. Flowers wrapped in paper from carts in Montreal, a plane lifting out of Detroit, a satin bed, a table cluttered with bottles of scent. So standing in a platter of ice outside a Catholic dance hall you took their collars in your fine chilled hands and lied your age to adulthood. I did not then have breasts of my own, nor any letters from bootcamp and when one of the men who had gathered around you took my mouth to his own there was nothing other than the dance hall music rising to the arms of iced trees. I don’t know where you are now, Victoria. They say you have children, a trailer in the snow near our town, and the husband you found as a girl returned from the Far East broken cursing holy blood at the table where nightly a pile of white shavings is paid from the edge of his knife. |
I Know I Must Have Hurt You, Caused You Pain I know I must have hurt you, caused you pain. More, I know that I have lost your trust. I wish I had that moment back again To pulverize my carelessness and lust. Sometimes we have to lose what we most cherish To understand how much we are in need. We play with life until we nearly perish To dare the darkness, though within we bleed. I need you as the sun must have a rose To turn its empty radiance to glory, Or as a nation needs someone who knows The secrets of its long-forgotten story. I know my need of you more than before; Thus for my trespass you may trust me more. |
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