Make some poetry

[Firia]

I had really hard time tonight. Some pretty deep things that have been hounding me I think finally caught up with me at a karaoke bar, and my own insecurities in the social situation I found myself in (but not the singing- I sung Cake- Her Time of Need, and tore that up). I stormed out of the bar, the people that invited me out and then didn't talk to me isolating themselves away from me for half of the night. I fell asleep on the bus drunk and missed my stop. The loooong wet walk home (rain) gave me some time to think, and I drummed up some poetry. I'd like to hear yours.

The last time I cried
was the last time I almost died,

the path I tread
walks the line where I'm nearly dead,

a journey of power
I'm hollow still
when I'm without her,

just a broken doll
made up of all the wrong parts
I all I have are my skills
powered by the arts,

Who am I?

 

[Kaboose the Moose]

Red and blue fringed membranes
bleeding arteries of mandelbrot
bruise until it festers pattern, an ionic-iris
shredding my sphere like glittering ice

melt the snow between my ears
dissolve boundaries into singing ache
interstitial liquid, observing lunatic-cycle
viral coats like prisms, bend the fleshy light
make it wombs of oil

 

[GlorySeeker]

You come to the clearing,
Where you agreed to meet,
But it appears that your late,
And your Angel has been beat.

You react with passion,
Consumed by your blazing heart,
This is why you were beat,
Before the fight began to start.

You rush in, everything you've got,
He matches you, move for move,
You scream your defiance, yell out your rage,
His body a mimic, ever so smooth.

You continue your assault,
Your swords clashing, he takes a stance,
There's your opening, your only shot,
You make the move, your last chance.

Your nemesis slain,
You pull back his hood,
And what you see,
Was not understood.

How could this be?
You stare in horror, it cant be true,
Your greatest enemy all along,
Was you.

 

[Fetzenfisch]

o O o O o O o O o Oo oO OO
...
...
oooohh i see
..
-


nevermind.








(post dadaism ftw)

 

[jibbbman]

ill write a haiku,
that should be an easy way
to show my feelings...

 

[Firia]

I'm really pleased to see people making poetry. I didn't think people would. The thread isn't any Groupsex thread, or your avatar-is-now-you. It doesn't have that niche appeal.

 

[Dr.Susse]

The Kettle
Hello Mr. kettle
How are you today
I see you?re filled with water
And you?re boiling away

Without you my appliance friend
My tea would be cold
And my kitchen empty
Such too my soul.

I?d kiss you if you weren?t so hot
I?d hold if you wouldn?t give me burns
You and me together lets brew another pot
Because you are my kettle

You turn off when you?re ready
And the boiling has begun
Sometimes I cook eggs with you
When I?m looking for some fun.

I tied it with once with rice
But you didn?t work very well
It started a small fire
And it made a funny smell

Oh my kettle
My boiling best friend.
You are the one who makes my coffee for me
Oh my kettle
Your brand name is Breville
You make tea for me!

 

[TriggerHappyAngel]

Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Don't look into the mirror.
She will come for you.

 

[Wardnath]

Haikus are funny
Though, sometimes they don't make sense
Refridgerator.

 

[nuba km]

someone thought of the idea of having a minecraft mode were one night the moon would turn red and a million zombies that could break walls would spawn an I just ended up making this:

A final night

Those who built -
castles,hollow castles,
calm moats at night
will stand in-front of their windows
staring at the moon,
dreading,
fearing a colour
not because of what it is but what it will bring.
Standing.
Staring.
Waiting
for the time when the moon will run
red
with the blood
of those once dead,
a pulsing vein
about to be struck.

Every night treading
sitting on their throne of nothing,
ruling over a land that wants them dead.
Starring down an empty hall
torches blazing
his sword at his side.
A sword which is his,
dug out by his own hands
forged when his empire was small,
waiting for the time
when it will run red.
Sitting in this empty hall
a howl,
a gust of wind,
his torches once blazing now dead
only the moon is lighting his throne,
when he sees a red light.
A bloody full stop.

He looks down at his castle
as everything crumbles
as the land takes back what was once it's,
he waits.
and all he sees is the end.
He grabs his sword,
his only friend.
his door is knocking,
he knows his guest,
his end.
He fights the hoards of a mightier force,
every stroke only being a dent in a mountain.
His blade,
his hall,
his empire is running red
like the moon and the land.
His moat once a noble blue
is now a barbaric red.
He fights he sees a light,
a lining of his victory
but his once unbreakable friend
crumbles
as the hoards of the land take back what is theirs.

 

[Dr.Susse]

Another for no good reason.
A sponge can wash away anything but not bleeding heart
Well it can but I mean this metaphorically

Windex makes glass clean
But can it clean a slate
Again a metaphor my heart is hurt, how can I translate.

Paper towel breaks away in the hand much like my lost love
While the dust on the ceiling fan like you my sweet, hath descended from above.
Drain cleaner may unclog a drain
But can it numb the pain

I drink it now too forget you
If I inhale it that would probably still do
Steel wool represents our love with its usefulness in certain situations
Now it rests inside my heart, bringing on certain medical complications

Mr. Sheen is a knight in shining armour
I used to be yours but now alas;
I'm sitting here at the cupboard under the sink
Drinking liquids meant for cleaning glass.

Ohh our love is in many ways similar to
Stuff under the sink
Some smell great and seem to me more drinkable than warning labels lead you to think

Now the house is burning down and I've lost my dearest friend
And I guess your time has been wasted but don't you fear the poem is at its end.

 

[Redlin5_v1legacy]

Spoiler: A poem hey? I like writing those...

The way is clear, no where else to go;
the life I lived is no longer so.
Don't chase it, embrace it.

The van is packed, don't look back.

My story's moving on, the chapter done
The trip is long, I am his son.
Who am I now? Who will I be?

The van is packed, don't look back.

My family watch as I depart,
some smile, some feel it in their heart
I miss them so, my friends... I hope...

The van is packed, don't look back.

The mountains behind, the sea infront.
There's this beast in me I must confront.
I'm alone... I'm alone...

The van is gone, I haven't looked back.

Five months roll by, time does fly.
Our time was great but how long till our last goodbye?
I'm split.

Interpret this as you will, I know what it means to me.

 

[Prince Regent]

I once had a big red cat,
then a car drove it flat,
cause the driver was mad,
so now I own two fire breathing golden retrievers.

 

[Slash Dementia]

I wrote this just now, so... yeah.

Spoiler

I heard your tears from last night,
They cried for me
When I did.

I heard you fears from last night,
They feared for me
When I did not.

When you heard me at my lowest,
I no longer cared
If you heard me cry

Or if you heard me speak words
That distilled your gentle thoughts,
Until you begged me to stay.

I did not speak them to hurt you,
But, rather, to hurt myself
As I do when depression binds me.

But I thank you,
For being there
With me all night.

For being there until we reached the shore
Where our tears could dry,
And our fears would die.

I am sorry for hurting you
Through myself
When desperation's hand grips.

 

[Fetzenfisch]

Spoiler

o O o O o O o O o Oo oO OO
...
...
oooohh i see
..
-


nevermind.








(post dadaism ftw)[footnote]Moderator Edit: Please do not make low content or spam like posts on the forums. Thanks![/footnote]

Haha that made my day.
Serious offer, mod, gimme your address and i send you a nice book about dadaism.

 

[Furious Styles]

I never did get poetry
In classes when at school
The subtlety eluded me
And made me feel a fool

When my old teacher would bleat
Of the beauty of Byron and Keats
All I heard were irregular words
Said out of time to irregular beats

Wordsworth I could never like
No matter how hard I tried
Stories of Nutting and views from a bridge
And a young boy who called owls, who died

Poems always seemed odd to me
Half formed, ill conceived and strange
Like someone had take written a story
But all the words had been rearranged

That said, I do quite like Larkin
He's not so obscurantist as some
He had insight, wit and was mentally fit
Being straight forward without being dumb

No, i never did much like poetry
And I'm certainly not a poet
My rhyme scheme is wrong and its a little sing-song
I'm a hack, but at least I know it

 

[darthotaku]

a poem about anime

Spoiler

Would you, if I asked you to
Glomp me like I was Sesshomaru

My buster sword is ready to go
so ride me like a chokobo

suck on my neck like Moka and Tsukune
I'll be Tuxedo Mask you be Miku Hatsune

when your melancholy I'll fill you with joy
you be my fangirl I'll be your bishi boy

I look down and I notice, but I don't really care
that you wern't born with that bright fushia

I sink into oblivion, and as I do
it seems to me that the world ends with you

juggle my joystick and play my Atari
i'll get you stuck on my katamari

and after we're finished this desperate struggle
we'll put on some host club, lie down, and snuggle

 

[lvl9000_woot]

Angry and green
four legs and hissing

the side of your building
is now missing

 

[HardkorSB]

Life is shit and then you die.
So come on people - LET'S GET HIGH!!!