Poetry anyone?

[Lance Icarus]

I'm more of a short story guy, but I wrote a poem for my Senior English class that eventually got published in a local compilation. Enjoy.

Where I'm From by Lance Icarus

I am from the Middle Class, who?s richer than the poor, but twice as angry at the world.

I am from Saint George?s Place, where an armchair rests in my Grandfather?s yard and a fence no higher than my knee keeps me safe from all my troubles.

I am from video games, where millions of pixels come together to form an image realer than life itself.

I am from baseball games, where the smell of the grass and a hint of peanuts take me back to the better days of now.

I?m from the world we know and the world I dream of.

Both of which are always out of my reach.

I am from the present, but I?m always called the future.

I am from politics, which holds an olive branch in one hand and a dagger behind its back.

I am from technology. Created to be superior, but soon becomes inferior.

I am from family, where judgments are made and quickly become irrelevant.

I am from humor, where offense and taboo lose all meaning with a single chuckle. Used as both an elixir for joy and a poison for spite.

I am from conformity, where existence is relative with so many alike.

I am from music, where expression is the vain of the old and the path of the new. My songs vary from the man next to me, who might not even exist with so many alike.

I am from nowhere while remaining in-between.

Where am I from? I?m from myself.

 

[ilves7]

As a rule of thumb I refrain from writing about anything that I can't put into graph form, so I'll instead regurgitate a poem from one of my favourite poets, writing a eulogy for another one of my favourite poets.

In Memory of W.B. Yeats

Here's my favorite Yeats poem:

When you are old:

Whrn you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

 

[Alotak]

The Cake is a lie

you been playing portal mate ?

 

[TheKnifeJuggler]

I'm not sure I'm a cynic, exactly, since I do hold out hope there is a virtuous core to the soul that mankind will one day embrace. It's just so far, like Diogenes with a lantern, I keep running into a disappointing lack of proof it's true.

Your a cynic, because deep down, you know, you search in vain.

I had a blind date once where forty-five minutes in, the guy I was with exclaimed "my God, you're the only optimistic cynic I have ever met!"

I think he probably hit the nail on the head with that one.

Oh well, here's another awful poem!

Mary had a little lamb.
Its fleece was white as snow,
And everywhere that Mary went,
The lamb was sure to go.

It followed her to school one day,
Though she did not see,
But she thought it quite delish,
When served with mint jelly.

On learning of her lamb's sad fate,
Turned Mary green about the gills,
But not so much as her parents,
Faced with years of therapy bills.

So this advice I leave in close,
Lest for tragic ends you be a glutton:
Always buy cute, playful pets,
Not destined to be mutton.

That is hilarious in a dark way.

Upon a house there laid a curse,
And those in the house it followed,
It caused not pain and misery,
But turned them into swallows.

The curse was kind though, in a way.
It often broke it's bond.
At that time the owners sold the house,
And lived like vagabonds.

 

[rayxofxsunshine]

While we slept,
you strapped your arm around
my chest like armor and possession,
like ?this one belongs to me.? Together, we are
teaching the things that haunt us
to lie down in their graves.

While we talked,
you said I was too beautiful
my eyes my lips enchanting and engaging,
mesmerized by the possibility of the bright
future together hand in hand

While we kissed,
you reached deep into my soul
pulling out my secrets and passions
making them yours to take and relieve. I let
you into my heart unconditionally
and returned your love unending.

 

[The Potato Lord]

The Cake is a lie

you been playing portal mate ?

Yep and that phrase just happens to be five syllables.

 

[wilsonscrazybed]

Ode to Joe

There once was a mod with great power,
who snuffed out every thread like a flower,
He waved the banhammer one day,
and thus he did slay trolls and bad; bad grammar?!

I've spent a great deal of time and thought on this poem. I hope you like it.

 

[jezz8me]

There seem to be some pretty good poets on these forums. I love poetry it is a little hard to choose the one to put up here so i will put up two of my latest. It is about my views of music and sound as art.

Raw emotion in perfect music. Perfection, essence that music brings.
Music has it's own conventions, still the non conformist sings.
But art is free from all conventions and when they're made they're soon to break
And sound is free and endless flowing.
To see the beauty in every shriek.

There is another one when i was feeling confused and ambivalent knowing my feelings but not knowing them, I was in a very paradoxical state of mind but somehow comfortable. (Is paradoxical even a word?)


When what i want to write is clear and how i feel i feel i do.
When naught is hidden naught is seen, naught explains and naught i do.
Determination reaps no results,
Procrastination becomes of me.
In doing nothing nothing comes,
in doing something i believe.
But what is it that i believe in?
Life, a meaning, a higher god?
What i crave and what i need,
The question is not who but what.

Though who can answer my dilemma when it lies with my heart?
And so when i see anyone i force them to inspire art.
The key lies in infatuation
But it is what i want to see.
So I break through any connection
to see what will become of me
If any further I persist,
The numbers branded on my wrist,
Tell me that my time has come.
I love the moon but need the sun.

But what if the sun wont take me and i have lost the lifeless moon?
There many stars and all of beauty
There is no who or why,
Just soon.

If you want to read more plese visit my deviantart: http://www.deviantart.com/jezz8me

 

[Jabez]

Alright, a forum for poems here! I'm a writer, but I moonlight with poetry. Not my main strength but I feel it will do.

I've had a few poems published through poetry.com (doesn't seem like much, I know, but the fact it's out there is what's important to me), and I've attended a few 'open mic' events at my community college.

This one is more recent. It represents a sequence of words in chronological order using all twenty-six letters. There's a bit of a pattern to this; I'll let you figure it out. Anyway, I call this poem:

Alphabeta

Affective
Betwixt
Consoled
Drenching
Enema
Frivolous
Garlands
Hobbled
Indulging
Jades
Kismet
Lyres
Mellowed
Needling
Overture
Pundit
Quartet
Rumbled
Scorching
Tetra
Universe
Volcano
Warbled
Xisting
Yield
Zenith

 

[jezz8me]

I like that it is a nice concept you have and open to interpretation.

 

[Isaac Dodgson]

might as well...

Pretty Shade of Red

Should I smile through the punches, should I laugh as I say, "Hey,"
"That's a pretty shade of red that you've painted on my chest."
Will someone catch my lie, or will they all just look and say "Hey,"
"That's a charming work of art, you've got drawn next to your heart"
With my lips parted, and teeth shining I'll just shout back "Hey"
"Just ignore this splotch of red, that's been cut out from my chest"
I want to scream instead of laughing, I want to cry out and say "Hey!"
"Can't you tell that I am faking? Can't you see that I'm in pain?"
But I'll smile for you; I'll smile for all of you
Who think I'm doing just alright
And I'll laugh for you; I'll laugh for all of you
'Till there's nothing left but shaking
And my voice is all but faded
And the colors slip into white
So I'll smile through the punches, and I'll laugh as I say "Hey,"
"That's a pretty shade of red."
"That's a pretty shade of red."

 

[the_tralfalmadorian]

we had to write some poetry for my 12th grade english class, and i never really liked writing poetry, so i threw this little ditty together.

An assignment given in English class
And though what I say might be crass,
I haven't got a flippin' clue
Or a poem I could write for you.

In a way, I suppose that's how life goes
When dealing with all our sorrows and woes.
We work on things when we know naught,
And make the best of what we've got.

And when at last our end does come-
Ay, just the thought oft leaves us dumb-
That it be swift is our only prayer.
Oh, but Death rarely plays so fair

At the last we are all the same
When Death ends this so-long game
Man, beast, fowl or fish,
Not to die is our only wish!

But life affords us one more joke,
When at last we finally croak
Up to the afterlife, what kept us going
Was all the learning from never knowing.

 

[GenHellspawn]

The isty-bitsy spider when out to clean the vault
Out came the cops to clean the spider out
He pulled out his gun, and the bulletsdid rain
And the itsy-bitsy spider was never bothered again

 

[Danny Ocean]

Bumped so I can get my culture points. Also, a poem I wrote for a school task got published:

Gun.

Stacked neatly in a crate,
We await our purpose:
To kill- it's not so bad.

The light from above
Falls upon us
As you release us from our shackles.

The bonds are broken
Into noises of chaos
And slaughter, we go.

We are fed with
Searing powder and
Unthinking Metal.

They growl to us,
"Kill, kill, kill!"
They cry to be set loose.

We watch these death bringers
With unseeing eyes
Cold, calculating.

You raise us up,
Adjust our sites
check us over.

You wouldn't want to hurt us now,
Would you?
For we hold back the tide.

We are your life,
Protection, your pride,
Your soul.

You raise us up,
Cushion us against
Your breast.

And pull...

 

[Wanderer Of Days]

The Light I Chase


I have chased my way through the wind
And tried to catch that shining light
Running through the bitter, cold night

I have now found myself nowhere
That light, I cannot see it now
As I wander under the bright sun

I cannot help but wonder so,
That thing I chase so eagerly
Will I ever live to catch it?

That sun which hangs up so high
Why does it taunt me as it does
Blinding me from that light I chase?

The dream that I chase, I see it
Shining weakly through the tall trees
Letting me know it is still out there,

The sun shines high up in the sky
I look back and gasp at what I see
The thousands of miles I walked

I clasp my hands on that bright light
I have chased for so long, so far
And I know what those miles meant

I wander about in the daylight
Wondering, what will I do now
With no light to chase when night comes?

Though the night is dark, I see it
Another light, promising hope
A new warmth in the bitter cold

I will keep chasing through the night,
Because I know something waits
A new dream, a new height to reach.

 

[Mistah Kurtz]

Doug Stanhope said something insightful about poetry. Something about how poetry is like a child - it's very special and dear to whoever created it, but to everyone else it's annoying, stupid, and uninteresting.

 

[EeveeElectro]

I haven't written any in ages, but I remember laughing my arse off whilst writing this one

10 little chavs
Stood in a line
On got shot
Then there was 9

9 little chavs
Smoking at the school gates
One got knocked over
Then there was 8

8 little chavs
They don't go to heaven
One got stabbed
Then there was 7

7 little chavs
Attacking people with sticks
One fell down a hole
Then there was 6

6 little chavs
Went for a dive
One drowned in the pool
Then there was 5

5 little chavs
One was a whore
Got pregnant at 12
Then there was 4

4 little chavs
Went for a pee
One fell down the loo
Then there was 3

3 little chavs
We hate you too
One changed his ways
Then there was 2

2 little chavs
Both on the run
One was arrested
Then there was 1

1 little chav
Getting less gobby by the minute
Cos he's a scruffy chav
And he's by himslef
Innit

 

[Death Magnetic]

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Blah blah blah
I need a poo