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Dude! I loooovveee your poem! Humm... Kidalanna shall try and interpret! Is it... about a girl who gets stabbed by some dude, then is all thinking, 'ZWOMG, I'm bleedin'!' but then the ambulance comes and picks her up, taking her to the hospital where they manage to save her life? And the people sighing are like, her family and friends, possibly? Whispering and holding her hand, The cold, dead hand of her daughter, Her throat feels full of sand, As a choking sob and tears overcome her. A long beep from nearby, Rings loud and clear, She can't help but cry, As she whispers, "I love you, dear." |
hm. to me this seems to be about a mugging or some other attack to a girl who thought she would die and then woke up in the hospital.
mine: Brillient, how it hurts my eyes! It glares, it burns with too much clean. It's stark and burns deep down inside, like colorless fire burning. I see it on the walls- normal, perfect- but all I see is pain! all this cololess world around me, sometimes I just wish for a little black. Red, pink, Just something other than this. okay, this might be too hard, I think even I lost what it was about.... edit: phoo, someone responded while i was typing! |
For some reason, I saw a person in an insane asylum (because everything there is supposed to be white)
The white around me, Whispered calls, But all I see Are hallowed halls. I hug myself, I can't let go, They question my health, But all I hear is Snow. Im lying down, And cant get up, I look around, Growling like a newborn cub. I finally notice, But it is too late, For this final sentence, Is left to fate. |
You seemed to follow the Asylum theme with your poem, and that's what I thought of.
Ever-falling, breath of white Swallowed over crooked teeth tearing twain from single vein becoming torrid, pounding spout Shimmer out, creeping flow Placid above, danger below. |
cool. reminds me of cutting for some reason... and so here's mine:
Sunlight glints off the beautiful surface; Dancing on the hallowed stage. A constant ringing reflecting in my ears, Commanding my attention. I reach out towards my caller. My fingertip caresses the holder of light; Color explodes from that solitary place. In complete curiosity I watch that life Silently permeating its dull surroundings, Then all becomes dark, and I stand in awe Of that hauntingly beautiful blade. |
A person performing self-mutiliation, fascinated by his or her tool and what it can do.
balanced hands, poised contemplating design tracing flesh precise hands, cut lines that look almost accidental slicing flesh am i a murderer. no, i hold too much skill; my hand does not tremble with uncertainty am i a healer. no, i hold too much shame; my hand does not steady with confidence these hands these precise, precise hands they smell of medicine, of chemicals, and cleanness. they can heal me. these hands these precise, precise hands they smell of fear, of cowards, and death. i can kill me. |
The poem reminds me of an insane surgeon, just because of the cleanliness smell part.
Pick an instrument Find the tool Tell the surgeon That he's cruel No anesthesia Nothing to numb A greedy smile What's he become? Tied to a table Stare in the light He giggles aloud With pure delight Nothing to fix Nothing to cure This surgeon craves Something pure Scapel to flesh Scapel to heart Cutting carefully Like it's his art Screaming doesn't Make him stop Screaming only Makes him hop Excited with my fear He finds my heart I say goodbye And then depart He doesn't care To sew me shut He only cares To make the cut With my heart He goes away Leaves my body To slowly gray Sorry that was long. D: |
Oh goodness!
A serial killer who collects hearts as his spoil? Winter has come, And the skies haved grayed, The bare trees tremble, In the wind they sway. Deep in the forest, Where all is forgotten, The trees hold secrets, Until fallen and rotten. Under the leaves, Crisp and brown, Lies a gray corpse, A girl in her prom gown. And this poor girl, Will never be found, The trees won't speak, Or utter a sound. They won't call out, To the hunter who wanders, Or the uninspired poet, With muses and ponders. So forever will the body, Of the young queen, Lay forever under foilage, Never to be seen. |
Wow.. It kinda reminds me of 'The corpse bride'.... or an unfortunate teen that died of hypothermia...
A poor drunken stupor The Prom Queen gained, Traipsing still farther, Her senses had waned. She stopped for a moment, And leaned against a tree, Her memory a fragment Her sight started to flee. Falling on snow, Darkness creeps in, Fingers, blue yellow, Her blood starts to thin. The snow started to flurry, Breath nearly gone, Heart stops beating feebly, For deaths finally won |
Crusade's Poem for Let's Play a Game. A Poetry Game
I believe this poem explains about the hardships of women from the birth cycle till death do them part from the world. I think it starts with the teenage years where you think you will never die, till your golden years, and death is upon you maybe too soon, and the snow probally represents how you always die alone, and someone can't technically die for you. I hope you understand where i'm going with this. It's the best i can describe it for now.
Now here's my poem. I sit on the bed my face pulled agape. A new adventure Onward! I just can't wait. The ships of pirates, and wings of belles. The warriors, the knights, the dungeons of yor. I sit here in the middle of this war, Unhurt physically for My adventure has ended for this night. Hopefully The next one will be amazing. Oh, Hello. Pardon My rambling. Your probally wondering who I am? Well let me introduce myself. My name is A. Book. And this is the story of my life for I am eternal. |
This poem is about a book and I really like how you give the book a personality. :)
Sitting, hiding alone in my nook, My nose buried in a book, I never look up, Nor left or right, I always keep my eyes on the prize in sight, I sigh at the wonders beheld, Enjoying the book's musty old smell, I sit there day and night until I grow weary, My eye sight has gone bleary, At last I turn the last page, To realize that I have turned old with age. |
I'm gonna guess it's about how our lives are our own stories.
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Note: Since Deebs didn't post a poem, I'm just gonna play using Bandit of Love's poem. :D
Obviously, as it was already stated by Bandit of Love, her poem is about loving books so much and enjoying others' lives (even if they're fictional) so much that their own life has slipped by without notice. Note: I assume whatever poem we use, it's one we've written ourselves? So, that's what I'll be doing. If I'm wrong, please correct me. Thank you!! I'm also writing my poem while listening to "Gaia - 4Elements", "Black Pearl - Java (Kim Svard Remix)" and "Andy Blueman & Reconceal - The World To Come (Onova Remix)" through The Trance Channel located in the iTunes radio under the category Electronica. :D Oh behold, There's an ancient tale of glory, And ones so bold. Captured within the paper, And bound together with a spine, The imagination spins a tale of intrigue and adventure So deep as to make one weep when hero meets The End. Another world, Another life, Another path, Another dream. Can't we all just see How this can never be real for us, Since we're each just a word of an unborn page? Something not my own, Something borrowed, I've taken another's life through stealing As I continue to read And finish at their end, While their peril is not my own And I might be safely snuggled in bed, Though slipping and falling into another I don't belong. My final wish, Their last breath; Out my window I see Only what will always remain a mundane world, While out their window they see Another timeless challenge setting them free, A love and friendship ever eternal and unbreakable. Show me the way, But there is none. Show me the fine things of our life, Why is there so little to behold? Show me the dreams to conquer our fears... But there I see only an overflowing box which continues to grow, The home to every dream eternally abandoned. My life is just another, My pain is just another, And my thoughts are still mine. Their life is one more to remember, Their toil to save for the right and good is their adventure, Their pain is something we never gather, And their thoughts are still theirs. A world of creation, Mine for the reading, Theirs for the living. A world of reality, Mine for the feeling, Troubles and aches they will never see, So different our realities have been and will always be. A world of fiction and fantasy, Showing only times of friends perhaps never lost, Such a contrast to the world of reality, So cautious of each other to the point of paranoia. So unreal is their happiness, Since for us harm is our reality, And now it may be our identity. This I see, This I feel, This I dream, Something for me to know, Something for them to never find out. Shh, it's our little secret, Our little treasure as the storybook characters Fall into the next childrens' beds. |
Well thats my poem, hope you like it. Maybe a bit wierd.
Take me away to another world, far, far away behind mountains and sea, Take me away to another life, far, far away in a little white house, Take me away in my dream, far far away from this rude world. |
The want to start over?
Broken and beaten, I lay before you And yet, I still have nothing but adoration for you Blood drips down, from my wound so deep But yet you are the company I willingly keep My eyes have a dead shine Yet I smile because I know you're mine Please dont leave, I'm not done yet For if I dont say these words, it'll be my greatest regret You are the one that I desire My goth, my demon, my angel that inspires 1 4 3 I smile one last time as I let go of thee. |
I think perhapes someone in an abusive relationship,
that truly loves the person, and in the end dies from the beatings....i'm probaly being to literal could also be inner demons Chest on fire Soul aflame Disaster chosen or a savior faith? afraid to share the bond I desire a broken heart and stars that shine |
I'm going to go with a reluctant love, or perhaps an unrequited love
Be you weary fair child for all spirits hear be wild take you no part in our frivolous rounds and wander you not upon our beautiful grounds eat you no those luscious treats and take you no part in those alluring sweets and sing you not those haunting songs and join you not those convulsing throngs for remember fair human child every soul hear is wild |
I think dreams....of a kid who's stuck in a not so good situation, or is kept a sort of prisioner. ((As for my earlier poem...not even close, there's one word in there that should explain it all XD))
Bubble gum stains Shattered dreams fluffy clouds and angel's wings Broken bones and shattered minds a shadowed heart and now I cry |
I'm thinking of adolescence. Although it could be simply growing up. The wind rushing through |
hm, could be a journey. or travel. i pictured someone walking toward a sunset. though first i pictured someone standing cliff-side. my turn? gah. [had to dig this one up. i don't have the gift to write on the spot and most of my writings aren't about anything but nonsense, haha.] with sorrows retracted spoken lies spin on repeat and with every sparadic heartbeat lines from lips retreat and slither back to the depths of your mind in a desperate way that hope yearns to find a ground left for common growth a tune sung to an empty note with every prophetic word they wrote and every ignorant theoried vote stands back to watch it crumble to dust alone admist the rust broken castles stuck in the earth in the tattered ruins, glistening dirt the flattering ruins, shining with hurt the homeless words, quick, clipped and curt chasing your spirit along a beaten path whispered behind ears with historic wrath tendrils of raindrops from children's eyes tears from fallen wishes, grazing your mind something broken but having yet to find a secret spoken behind eyes fogged and blind lost to the winding mystery. |
Starts like an old batman movie......and so i liked it and ran...
Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moon light? partyed and delayed till we succumed to the plight? What the hell were we thinking when we gave in to thier might? Ever played games with the Reaper with the stakes geting steaper? I did it and i did not keep her, There are things that one does that are bad, things later on that can make you sad, what the fuc& i cant belive this crap its a fad! I have tryed many and most were not true, I learned the hard way before i came through, I found out what was realy true, i found it when i found i you, Listened to my problems and healed my pain, understood my dought with my family after you felt my the rain, You know my problems, and how i am no longer the same, A war with missguided purpose makes whos responsible twice to blame, PTSD increases pain as well as my shame, I saved my SGT.s life its true, but this was before i went Cuckoo. Love is hard somtimes but without her i would die, never met somebody more important than I. Love my wife, she heals my strife, Now please god let us make life, Trouble within her body, a Tumor that blocks my seed, Call it greed or call it need, My Beth is angelic compared to me, just let me be a better father than all i see. |
Oh god, that sounds so familiar, at least the last two lines, in fact all of it sounds familiar because it sounds like my friend in Germany. I cant only think of one thing to describe this poem- hurt and despair.
All alone I sit and wait For the moon brought this evil fate We are to fly across the seas And to massacre many without hearing their pleas What life am I to lead with this guilt in my heart? But my emperor gave blessing from the start. Here I sit in my fast little plane About ready to bomb, to cause terror and pain. I see my targets, tied in place And I begin to see the Navy's face. How I wonder why they named them the Arizona and such. But here I am with blade ready and about to touch Their fleet's heart with a single push Of a button and bomb does hush The sounds of the world Tonight, if I make it out alive I must ask Kami to forgive me and step aside And let me pass into the land of death With no evil in my soul And to let me die whole. But for now I sit here and fight For the Moon brought this plight. |
a war?
Hmmm... I'll whisper to you at the midnight hour My voice a tempting desire Beautiful the sound but know thy power For now my eyes are like fire Thirsting for crimson red Taken with a powerful kiss Your mind swims as it filled with dread Know that all this you will miss For it has come to your soul fast My first kiss will be you last. |
Vampire.
Fur an evil shade, eyes so pure The call of the wild, my haunting a lure. My pace is set, swift and sweet My claws dig into the ground under my feet Calls from my brethren I hear each night For every few days we dance our primal fight To eat, to sleep, to mate and more Cause we live on what the thunder hooves bore. |
A wolf
It cuts like a knife Into this heart that loved so free Dreams shattered to dust Leaving only these tears and me All the cherished dreams Gone in a second of time Never to become reality No more dreams that are mine There is nothing left No goals to reach This life has no more meaning It a sad bottomless pit of ruined dreams |
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