Official Poetry Critique Topic- Now Public to anyone!

[Dr_Twist]

a new poem!!!

Nature!

from the wind blowing,
to the grass growing.
the thunder booming,
and a flower blossoming.

the tree's rocking,
the lightining flashing.
nature is a beautiful thing,
expecially in the seasong of spring.

 

[Gustauve Drakenhime]

Danke fer der respondzen.

I thank you - for replying to my poem, as well as correcting my grammatical errors. I sincerely mean it when I say that your feedback helps me. I feel exhubirent in knowing that you enjoyed it.

Yes, I am from Germany; more specifically, the town of Oberweißbach, located in the county of Unterwellenborn, in the district of Saalfeld-Rudolstadt, of the free state of Thuringia.
My family owns a large sum of land along the Saale river - it has been that way for as far as anyone can remember. The town itself is lovely; it was never touched by any of the wars of Germany's past. All but two of the streets in the town have remained the same for 600 years, and many of the houses date back to the reformation (Martin Luther actually stayed in one of them for 5 months while in exile). It also has several fine churches, many of substantial size; I attend the Presbyterian church - as my grandfather preaches there.
The whole poem is based upon years of growing up there, and everything I wrote is there.
The Thüringer Wald, a massive evergreen forest, surrounds the town; itself being situated on a group of hills we call the drakentooth mounds. If heaven were to look like anything, it would look like this.

I very much like each of your poems. They help to me think in new ways, and to express in new medians. Thank you.

 

[OnYourMark]

I befriended you
When you were left so lonely.
Now I am disowned:
You’ve deserted me so harshly
And have left me so alone.

I weep for you now.
But why? You’ve withheld the truth,
You’ve never thanked me,
You weren’t there when I sought you,
When I needed you, you fled.

I wish you’d tell me
You’ll remove your fallacy.
I wish that you would
Love me truly, honestly,
Only as a brother could.

 

[GanondorftheXXVI]

Here's one from my poetry portfolio, my final project from my creative writing class.

Burdened Glance

Ill deserving of my skin and bones
I tread the earth’s too-traveled zones

And lead my stagnant, morbid pace
Where vain endeavors leave no trace.

Like an ancient troubadour
I lead my never-ending tour

Of places, people all the same
Whether common or of fame.

The fallen tree, the wilted flower
The eerie gloom of yester-power;

Reminiscence, deadly sweet,
A blissful lotus flower treat.

An age of wonder, far behind
A looming future sure to grind.

Ah! Where’s the glory, where’s the bliss?
When will reality and desire kiss?

An unlikely meeting, if e’er it chance
But, oh! What graceful happenstance!

Till then, there’s naught to do but wait;
Slouch on in this ungainly gait.

And with but little hope await
The crowning of my hard-knocked fate.

 

[XS3]

Um, here's one I did for English. Feedback greatly appreciated.

I Confess

There are so many things I need to get off of my mind
Maybe when I let myself show
You can see what I really am

The dark ways we've come to terms with
The restless conflicts creating our battle scars
The collective agreement that people like us
Need immediate termination

Plagued with problems that leave us in the arms of angst
We've been rehashed for their amusement
While the others simply scoff at our misery

Whatever happened to our state of solace?
Has it been taken from us just like our rights?
Has it been torn into pieces and thrown at our feet?

I want to know why we've been locked up
The door slammed shut
The blinds closed
The key thrown away

I CONFESS

I confess that I've thought of you lately
I confess that I want you as my only
I confess that this world has filled me with sorrow
But seeing your face makes me forget

Forget about the malice
Forget about the violence
Forget about the hate

The world will show it's true colors one day
And when they do
The sun will shine for you

 

[Venom Dream]

'Sup.

I wrote this a minute ago.

You say the word ‘anything’ so ominously,
I get scared and want to go out drinking.
God said down upon everybody,
“Be otherworldly,
Lose all animal feelings,
And stop reproducing,
You lusty fucks.”

 

[Crystallion]

Okay now, this is one of my first English poems, and it was written rather quickly in one of my English classes, but for me it is very important to write with your heart and mind, so maybe my English isn't the best (you might've noticed that it isn't my first language). Also I guess this poem is rather freestyle, it has not much of a rhyme scheme and sometimes the rhythm is off. I know this could have been much better, but I want to know what you think. I admit, I was a bit turned off at first, everyone writes so much better than me, yet they receive a lot of criticism (although they are very constructive and well thought-out), but I guess if I want to be better, I'd better be it now and ask for help.
And after this long rant finally comes my poem:

Modern Society

In this world, people are bad to the bone,
In this world you'll feel alone.
In this world you'll seek bliss
But people are often as cold as stone.


Sharing the same tears
The people live in fear,
And when the moment of truth appears
They get to see their own worst fears.


The cause of all the misery lies in the past
Where men battled to the very last.
To gather a union and friendships to gain
To remain our world is our task.


The only thing that matters
Is the love that never shatters.
But even sadness
Isn't madness...


You don't have to grieve
All the time over something lost.
In your life you must achieve
Your dreams at any cost.

 

[joshisrad]

Neat anaphora in the beginning - can I give you a writing exercise to do with this?

Remove all idioms, and even slightly idiomatic statements, from every line of your poem. "bad to the bone" "love that never shatters" etc.
Replace those with what they actually mean.
Take out the rhyme scheme and change the wording around so that it's college essay level appropriate.
Create a character in your mind - give him a past, present, future, and anything else that makes him himself. This is you. You are the one preaching your poem, so be sure the personality you gave him is in coordinance with it.
Create another character - it doesn't have to be so specific as the previous one - and relate this character to your own. Is it his mother? Cousin? Dog? Friend? Boss? Rival?
Now reanimate the text you've written as though your character is having a one-sided conversation with the related character.

Please consider doing this and reposting. I'd like to see how it turns out!

 

[Jam Stunna]

This is the only good poem I've ever written. I'd like to try to write another good one, so comments/criticisms are greatly appreciated.

Virginia (I Miss You)
© Jamil Ragland, 2005. All rights reserved.

Days warmed by the Southern sun
After lunch, finished eating buttery, salty corn on the cob
Not too full to run and dance, laughing
In the emerald green fields, dotted with dandelions and
Encrusted with dry dirt, cracked underneath our footsteps
Last one to the old pine tree was the loser
Lying in the shadows of the eternally green
Elbows covered with dust, hair matted over sweaty, bright faces.

Creeks and brooks trickled
Endlessly, leading into the new and unexplored
Clear water reflected our smiles, yellow globs stuck between teeth
In the thick cover of branches and moss, the
Lost sounds of crickets and sparrows lead us back.

When the sun set, we held hands
Only after darkness set, to avoid their stares and snickers
Night sky above us, a heavy, sleepy head on my shoulder,
Greasy fingers slipping in between each other.

 

[AAbatterie]

Wow Jam Stunna nice poem. I notcied some symbolization in there, which is only what I really focus on in poems.

Love how the "creeks and brooks trickled endlessly," which I assume means how you moved on from that life. The empty sound of crickets led you back to your memories of Virginia (which I assume since it's in the title). I can already tell there is some more stuff, but I can't decipher it .

Anyways, nice poem.

 

[Jam Stunna]

Wow Jam Stunna nice poem. I notcied some symbolization in there, which is only what I really focus on in poems.

Love how the "creeks and brooks trickled endlessly," which I assume means how you moved on from that life. The empty sound of crickets led you back to your memories of Virginia (which I assume since it's in the title). I can already tell there is some more stuff, but I can't decipher it .

Anyways, nice poem.

Thanks for the review, it's greatly appreciated.

 

[greenblob]

OK, so I found my 8th grade English portfolio, and wow, this takes me back. I have three poems in here, and I'd like to share you two of them (the third one's too horrible to post). Keep in mind that these are original copies of my middle school work, so they're not the best in quality.

"Yoda" (Yes, I cheated... I get to speak like Yoda so I can play with word order) 8th grade
Master Yoda I am, and this tale, I speak.
Long ago, I tried to reach the peak
Of high places, but my height would not permit
Me to reach over five feet, even just a little bit.
To get taller, I would try
With steroids, stretches, and reaching high.
But in vain, all this was.
I was doomed for shortness, and this the cause:
Caffeinated drinks as a lad I drank.
Coffee and cola...I was a caffeine bank!
My growth it stunted, I could not get
Any taller, my body, it would not let.
Thrown into despair I was, so deep,
I saw friends reach four, five, six feet!
Anguish and terror I could taste.
Soon I became a piece of waste.
TO do anything, I was much too short.
Insults I heard, and jeers of all sort.
For their respect, a Jedi I chose to become,
And after many years I turned into one.
Of all sadness and fear, I let go.
A master I became, and no longer for show.
Considered wise, I now am,
But after 800 years, be a wise person, anyone can.
And now I am the most respected
Jedi master, this honor I never expected.
To me people come, when I speak, they linger,
"Be brave, for fear leads to anger,
Anger leads to hate, the path to the dark side...
In the light, must you confide."
Although short am I, I have much honor.
Strong is the force, and give it you, it may, power.


"Spring's Wonders" (7th grade poetry competition submission)

The wondrous weather
Of spring outside.
This new beginning
Pushes winter's sleep aside.

The birds are singing;
The air is fresh...
Ow! A mosquito
Just bit into my flesh!

Microscopic insects
Swarm the air,
And poison ivy
Is growing everywhere.

Yellow fuzz is all 'round me;
I feel like I'm gonna sneeze...
Pollen swarms all around
Along with giant killer bees.

I've had enough!
There's no season dumber
Than spring, so
Let's move onto summer!

 

[PurpleStuff]

Young at Heart

Bold new hues
Crimson greens and emerald blues
A million different violet golds to choose
And I'd not lose a single drop to rain
Where carven giants scoop down mud and earth
To form old nooks and berths
Where creatures large and beautiful remain
Sleeping in the gutters of the ancients and their ways
Immortalized in stones that look like teeth
And grimaces and other nasty things
That peer down myriad halls and avenues
Where flightless birds and limbless creatures cruise
Painted in the ancient hues

Ancient tongues speak green as green
And blue is blue and violet still is seen
For violet stays in place
And crimsons all belong to one side of the brush
Emeralds all are herded in one bunch
And of golds, what shall I say?
Golds are dwindling down but still remain
As golds

And black and white, they have no place
But dark and light, being different shades
Are welcomed still, by dusk and dawn
Each has its place beneath the yawn
Of men and Mars both alike
Of little boys and girls
Who, though sharing breath, see different worlds
Browns and grays and shades of tan
Are spotted here and when they can
They leak out from a mix of things
An ugly blotch where birds would sing

And what of all those winged bright yellows?
Flitting through the trees and hollows
Dancing like the rays they are
Piercing heart and toil and tar
They soar above, and do not mix
With duller shades, where sands are quick
They have the space, so let them pick

But still, the world is always getting old
Age piles high, and burdens yet untold
Are made to weigh the more on summered backs
Where grimaces and smiles are known to crack
Like wrinkles in a widow's fading face
Like folds that lie upon the father's hand
Like rifts that mark the empty eyes of Man

So find the old and ancients paths
Travel down them, while they last
For fairy-tales are wrote from end to start
So that we each may play in them our part
And while its true that we have seen the end
It's always nice to stop and start again
So when you see that dash of red
And splash of blue and yellow spread
Remember they've been seen before
But start again like they are new and more

 

[Falco&Victory]

Here's a cheesy one I made for a contest
Oooh, purplestuff yours was nice. I liked how the story wasn't really explained until the end of it, the rest of the poem was a real clinger

Who is he who lives for gain,
Who dies for none,
Who fights for pain?
Rare shall he be seen by men
for there is only one

Strong is he who kills for fun,
Amid the void, the rapid run
For when all is lost,
and death is near,
where are those who fought in tears?

In loss and in pain,
Among the rain,
There stands he who fought for gain
In glory and valor,
The final prowler
The one for whom the thunder tolls...

Tall he stands, and pride he holds
In the brutal hots, and the harshest colds
Basking in a victory all his own,
Across the battlefield for which he's known...

With fiery eyes he stands in light
Eager for the final fight!
When all is death, and none is life
Who is he who stood for strife?!

The sound of death is finally rung
The eerie call of death's return,
Who is he who stands?!
"Ridley, Ridley, Ridley!" sounds
and nevermore shall pain be felt...

 

[OddCrow]

The Solemn Trail

So hop on down the Solemn Trail
Filled with death, despair, and ail
Though you try you're sure to fail
Just follow the road and not the rail

Take a stroll on down the lane
Agony ensues with close pal pain
A tree erect with many years
Bears a message of many fears

"Turn and look with blissful glee
A fright whose fright is not but she
The girl with hair down to her knees
Her pretty face seems but to plea"

"Follow her and tend her whims
Beware of trees with darkened limbs
She follows the rail down by the creek
You must help her, her future is bleak"

So run along to the mystery lass
Pray to be bronze in the dull brass
Where lyrics do fail and rhyme does not
Remember she has a sinister plot

Go up to the house and knock 3 times
Listen for screams and eerie bone-chimes
Open the door and proceed with caution
Now you lay dying in a velvet coffin

Scream as you might your doom is sure
The pretty girl was not but a lure
As you lay there you hear yet again
The words that haunt your eminent end

You followed the rail and now you must die
The girl with the hair has lead you awry
The tree old in age tricked the stupid male
Cause instead of the road you followed the rail

 

[Akiak]

Here is a videogame one. Unluckily my poems are quite hard to understand and sometimes say things with almost no sense. But thats my style.

A Smasher's Destiny


Where am I?
I feel so cold,
This is so odd,
None has been told.

This place is big,
The croud drinks beer,
I'm in a stadium,
But why am i here?

I'm in a queue,
Waiting to see,
Whatever is,
My destiny.

I see strange creatures,
What are they doing?
I think I know,
They are duelling.

Each creature is,
So strange and strong,
The queue is moving,
It is quite long.

I'm so amazed,
This is so rare,
Oh finally,
I'm almost there.

Its late and dark,
I look into the night,
Now's my turn,
My turn to FIGHT


Please someone rate it. I know its not that good.

 

[Nedech]

my turn!

-

Thoughts of suicide
Idle in my mind
As I contemplate
Why I hesitate

To confess I feel
This love is surreal
A love deaf and blind
Make believe I am fine

But saddened words
Are never heard
Those lost words unspoken
Dreams long left broken

For this dream I lay down my spleen
On a gilded guillotine
To see if love you do possess
Over which I did obsess

I hope you always remember me
As the one who always did love thee
My last thought as I fall before the knife
I hope I had some impact on your life

-

 

[PurpleStuff]

Instead-

For all these things I cannot tell your face
So I will tell your little box, instead
Where you can listen, pause, stop and erase
My echoed voice resounding in your head

For my two hands that cannot hold your own
So I will grasp your memories, instead
Little keepsakes, stolen, kept, and loaned
From time of older happiness, now fled

For every time I see you in the crowd
So I will look at ground or sky, instead
Avert my eyes to stone, or leaf, or cloud
To keep my sight from soaring where you tread

But not to me would your eyes ever slide
Your gentle hands will never braid my own
Sweet laughter aimed for others passes by
Your buoyant love away, has winter blown

For all these words I've written down in vain
Keep company to others you have scorned
I've tried my best to keep them straight and plain
But the glaze of love, your eyes have never worn

 

[Kimosabae]

Coin Toss​

I've commenced a dispensation of evenhanded sympathies/ Due to a tugging of the extremities, which has calloused me/ Travesty of reason holds easement over a pristine mold to those ignoble/ Tents fold from faulty supportives, yet your camp continues courting these abortives (why?).

My flames...melt the ambivalent chain-links in your fences, drenches bigots in their trenches and ignites the dormant wicks within my hibernating brethren/ Continue teetering atop your faulty premise...All the King's horses, All the King's Men...not a one could reconstitute the glass-coated enamel your heart's encased in.

The brazen disinterment of Moon on your horizon, comprises a contrast of, solar deposits to your opposite, and by the grace of my opulent populace of cops and robbers in armistice, I swear, by the ambiguous nature of my grimace, you'll learn to embrace their differences.

Charlatan turns sapient, turns freedom fighter with sagacious wit, turns terrorist following expressions of desire/ Fire in abundance, but Ice abides until the sunset and survives with equipotent applications of destruction/ Choose your weapon with discretion and your function/ Is your method just? Is your punishment just? Or are you just a...slave to these employables? Loyalty to coyness is deplorable in the face of inquisition/ I muckrake with duct tape over your visions.


-SynikaL

 

[McCloud]

Dash

one hundred,
fifty,
twenty-five,
Finish Line; killing myself
just to look at the stars again.

 

[Lesheik]

*Revising*

 

[antimatter]

a limerick
there was a great big dragon
who spotted a traveling wagon
he gave them a scare
tossed it in the air
and drank the remains from a flagon

 

[joshisrad]

Limericks usually have twists on the last line. Some awkward spondis and such too.

 

[CHAOSDRAGON88]

a limerick
there was a great big dragon
who spotted a traveling wagon
he gave them a scare
tossed it in the air
and drank the remains from a flagon

It was funny though, kinda reminds me of hooktail from papermario ttyd.

 

[antimatter]

thank you for the comments, and im glad someone liked it.

 

[Crimson King]

I'm in Creative Writing: Poetry right now. Yesterday, I had a session with my teacher who's the department head, poet-in-residence, either THE state poet or a high ranking one, and a published poet here as well. The teacher said I was the best poet in class and gave me the highest grade: B+. (he doesn't give As for the first conference because everyone needs improvements at that point) Alright all that is dated now.

I am posting in here because I'll never post in here otherwise, I have to make my revisions later and add the other poems including the two that sent the class in an uproar. I walked away with an A and some magazine suggestions to get published in. I think I will post the ones I will try to get published within the next few days. So tell me what you think. This is the first 5 of the twenty. I reposted it here because the topic died down and I wanted more advice.

Note: I haven't done my 3 or 4th revisions, yet since the conference. Give me feedback.

1. The Old Man

There he has stood the tests and trials of time,
Never showing age; looking never young.
His arms may be covered with slimy grime,
Yet kids love him; from his branches they’ve swung.

In awe I stand asking what he’s seen,
I crane my neck to see beyond his head,
But all, I can see above me is green,
And in the fall, hair will turn brown and red.

He stands strong, tall, proud, worry-free, and brave,
But windy days makes him fall, killing him.
His body made of that, which termites crave,
And man will strip him, ripping limb from limb.

At his stump counting his rings, part by part,
One hundred years, gone, for a new Wal-Mart.
​

2. She Dances with the Wind - Restrictions: English Sonnet

The wind takes hold of her body, tightly,
I feel deeply envious of its prize.
Held by air, her feet skim the ground lightly,
Tears begin flowing from her dirt brown eyes.
How can I get my love from air’s embrace?
How can I hope to fight that without shape?
Will I ever be able to see her face?
Am I to die alone on this shore’s Cape?
For her I admit my wrongdoing
She cries leaving me alone. Solitude.
She decides to leave me of her choosing.
And she will be free, the girl I once wooed.
For the ghost I battled was not a wind,
But jealousy I had when she spoke to my friend.
​

3. Civilization Lost - I posted this one but added to it.

We killed life as we knew it
With our destructive ways.
The earth gave up on us,
And then she turned against man.
Now we are alone with our depravity,
Never going back to what we were.

What caused the end of society?
We can’t even recall.
We swim through downtown Los Angeles.
Hunt deer on New Orleans’ streets.
Washington D.C. overran with bears.
We lost our edge when the technology fell.

Running wild and free,
The animals we feared.
Manhattan is but a savannah,
And Queens like the ocean.
Society is undone and there is no turning back,
In our Ford caves, we kill for electricity with anything but a gun.

There is no good and evil,
Black nor white. The world is now gray.
​

4. A Beautiful Tragedy - Restrictions: Italian Sonnet

Silently she whimpered, holding a rose.
No matter how much she tried, her eyes flow
With tears. Her life is always filled with woe
And heartache, but onward with life she goes.
Guided by her heart, love’s the oar with she rows
No matter, she will always love him so.
When he’s home, oaks will have a yellow bow.
And life will return to normal, she knows.

But for now, she is like a furled mast.
Everyday she cries out, “I cannot last.”
No matter her trust, angry thoughts still rend
Her fragile heart. She has no thoughts to lend
Because her pain is too great for her heart
Thinking of her and her man now apart.
​

5. Plant Sestina - I did this one on my own without a restriction

On a table, I sit in a glass vase.
In this white room, I sit; Alone. Just me.
I wonder when he’ll be home; soon I hope.
For as bad as it sounds, I want water.
Almost a week and no drop, “Look my leaves
Are drooping!” One more day and I may crash…

Then at once, I hear a sudden noise – Crash!
If I were a turtle, I’d hide in my vase.
The stranger stays a short while then leaves,
In a rush. I wonder if he’d give me
A drink. I beg, “Just something, sir! Water?”
But no, he goes leaving me with no hope.

But wait! A woman comes and there is hope.
She walks with a glass and falls with a crash
To the couch. I ask, “where is my water?”
Can’t she see me? I have a pretty vase.
What to do to get her to notice me?
Will she not see my sagging, wilting leaves?

She’s getting up. Can I wiggle my leaves?
Is this my shot? Could it be my last hope?
But I don’t think she even can see me.
I guess I’m invisible; my hopes crash.
Why is she ignoring my pretty vase?
Does she understand I need some water?

What’s coming from her eye? Is it water?
Did she finally see my tattering leaves?
The benefit of my plight is my vase;
A beautiful coffin. It’s my last hope.
I had a long life, but it’s soon to crash
With me wishing my owner had loved me..

I am here to die without him: just me.
The world’s most abundant resource, water,
I get none. What’d she say about a crash?
I wonder if he’ll ever see my leaves.
His crying mother says there is no hope,
While his father walks over to my vase.

He takes a long, hard, sad look at me,
At last he gives me a bit of water.
They bring me to their son, dead from a crash.
​

I forgot to add in the changes as I said, but there are a few lines I plan to rework. Thanks...

 

[McCloud]

First poem in months that's been longer than 4-5 lines.

Farside

We are the brilliance gone to waste,
Who are the shadows with time’s haste,
The feeling that I cannot get,
You are my six string guitar frets.

Softly but I cannot stay for long,
Who’s to say this feels so wrong,
Skins of apples that itch my throat
You are my allergy; I cope.

We are the world’s bitter face,
The faded lustre of their place,
I hate the nature of our bets,
You are my lovely little debt.

 

[Kaddy]

My haiku for English class:

My heart burns strongly
Deep pain rubs against my chest
I reach for my tums

 

[OnYourMark]

Kaddy, i don't know if you meant for that to be funny, but it was. quite humorous.

i would have changed the second line to read as follows:
My heart burns strongly
A great fire in my bosom
I reach for my Tums

that way, up until the last line, the reader/listener thinks that the writer/speaker has a passionate burning in their heart. but when that last line comes, it's revealed that the flame in the chest is actually a medical condition.

 

[Kaddy]

That's what I was trying to get across when I started, but I was in a rush. Thanks, though.

 

[lordofwarzz]

one of mine

i had to write an ode for my creative writing class so i wrote this one but my teacher wouldn't accept it because i swear in it once. i want to see what some people think about it, i thought it was good but i'm really new to write and i want to get a lot better. sorry for the bad punctuation i'm really bad at that. thank you for reading it


“shattered dreamer”

oh to you the shattered dreamer
you have been forced awake;
to come back to this world
that you have tried so hard to escape;

this waking world is hell;
you have lost so much here,
and every time your forced to live
you shed another tear;

you can not stand it!
Why can't they understand;
they try to make it better,
they lend a helping hand;

but each moment your awake
you go through so much pain;
your face is covered in
a mask of scarlet rain;

you try to go on back
to your sugar coated dream
but you can't, not yet
first you have to SCREAM!



i hate the last line if you have a suggestion please tell me. thank you

 

[Cyphus]

this isn't a poem..i don't know what you would call it..i just wrote some intellectual/philosophical babble while listening to random amateur trance artists...so yea. its basically a free-form rant.

Fish Poop
I wonder what weak fabrications or laws contain our conscience identities from spilling into each other. Attempts to step back to get that illusioned "open-minded" perception are still choices alone, moving forward that continue to condition us into an infinitely-increasing bias of our own experiences; and what of logic? Is it not influenced sherely from that very emotion of desire wanting knowledge? Emotion. Inside a box of dimensions turned inside out, it seems beyond our sincerest attempts we remain fragments of a snowball just rolling down a hill. How we neglect the hill though! Stirred around in this robotic world of reality soup, you emerge drying off with the paradigm of some apparent enlightenment that somehow gives you that luxury of a less faded spectrum. But in the end, you're not any different...you just as soulless and neglible as every thing and non-thing. A possible thought from an insect...that didn't happen. So I come to terms with my own trance...knowing to doubt the motives and functions of my beliefs. Whats left? To enjoy the ride I'm not sure I'm even on? We may choose to allow ourselves that...euphemism of a memory. A warm bath of nostalgia and ignorance. Oh, scrub it on me good! Take me back to not knowing. Isn't that where I started? I think my journey to where I came is the same, and at the same time- nothing like, everyone else's journey. Different themes of wind sharing that same bitter, granular texture that your brain tastes forever...the breeze always has a little debris in it, afterall. At least we have our subtleties. Or maybe that conformed collective interpretation, a single entity of the universe, instead? That always sounds nice. Its arrogant to toy with concepts when we can't muster the pixels of causality that brace the source. Its hard to intellectualize the idea of a maze when you're the rat inside (or at least you think). But its not all bad. There is cheese at the end. Isn't there? Maybe that is the best solution to unvoid lack of purpose. Sprinkle that extra layer of ice on a dying tree just to complete the picture. Our contribution and last breathe to artificially elementize the world. Lightly brush our finishing futile touches to what originally, and is doomed to remain, a lifeless canvas. An abstract tool for what? You have to marvel at the convenience of obliviousness. I sometimes envy that simple fancy. Its something you lose as you gain (what seems to be) intelligence. Knowledge is power?..Innocence dies every passing second and i regret learning that...owch, it just died a little again.

 

[Seison]

Heya. I dunno if anyone looks at this part of the board anymore, but I figured I'd contribute something; I don't usually post creative writing so this is new for me. Let me know what you think.

I don't know what I would call this - a poem i guess . Just started writing and this is what I ended up with.

Reflection

Ambling light, drifting like gossamer, lucid against the twilight, lucent to all else. Inside, a stopwatch, enumerating the moments, until they're gone. He anticipates, but disquietude is layed bare by his resolve; one final night to subsist, shared only with the resonant pane, personized by reflection. This night the consummation of a delicate catenation, whose rudiments have long since ebbed into obscurity. But origins are of paltry consequence to the foreknowing; the awaiting and the awaited. They both know this. With this sentiment the prosecution advances, to the juncture wherein all chronicled crumbs culminate into exploit.

- You've arrived.

- I have.

- I suppose this is it, then.

- It is.

- As always, you're a man of few words...

- Do you want--

- I'm prepared. It's been a long time. You've earned this right.

- very well.

Life slips away-- Quickly. Painlessly. But only for the dead. For the living it is stagnant. Creeping. Excruciating. Perpetual.

With a keen lament the burden is passed, the shattering of the glass attestant marks the end of reflection. The world below is needless of it anyway. Their tale begins and ends with a body--a moment. Relics are left to wane in termless twilight.

 

[Alphicans]

I wrote this poem about 1 month ago, I believe it to be my most meaningful poem, hope u guys like it


past the words, past the meanings
beyond the birth, beyond the beginings
waft away the ignorance, hold your breath through the thick smog
climb the mountain of the unknowleged
Plant your flag of victory
Take in the view of.....
Of what?
Grey skies, the sun barely shinning through
It is like looking through tissue paper
Confused and baffled
Bewildered and defeated
Head down the other side
With half the supplies

 

[M.K]

Eternity

Icy wasteland of beauty
Waking to find nothing, but yet something
Frozen perserverance floating down from the heavens
Making layers on the void
You sit, wait, look, stay
Eternity

Unsoaked Earth of serenity
Broken, cracked, by a star close
Desolate, yet prosperous; biodiverse
You wake, heave, sigh, stay
Eternity

Flaxen lover of liquid sunshine
The Earth speaks, a dull roar heard
Beside, an ocean of life and hope
You wade, dive, loose, stay
Eternity

Emptiness surpassing the clouds
The habitat of dreams and silence
Below, everything, Beside, desolation
You float, breath, cry, leave
Back...to Eternity


I hope you like it!

 

[Sandy]

Lowly Cherub

He comes in darkness
With the night
To rest his plague
On the human plight
Tugging strings
Playing notes
One shot from his arrow
And that’s all she wrote
Forever lost
To sanity and reason
His curse only brings
Betrayal and treason
Yet he is honored
Once a year
By those he controls
Who unknowingly hold him dear

 

[OnYourMark]

"Will You?" (4-5-5-4)

I have withheld
Nothing good from you,
And all that is mine
Is also yours.
Will you love me
If I tell you "No"?
And will you hate me
If I chide you?
I may think that
You will disappoint,
But that I may rest,
Say I am wrong.
If your heart cares
Then tell me it does,
And if you love me,
Say "Aishiteru."

 

[Repryx]

Your words can kill ones very psyche
And your demeanor can suck up ones very life
Your eyes can pierce a man’s soul
And in your hearts place is a black hole
Your speech makes sailors seem kind
And your insults can crush one’s mind
Your presence makes children cry
And your hospitality forces the sick to die
Your life is a blade that hurts and angers
And I am the sheath that loves this danger.



this poem was just for class but I figured meh.


-Ciao

 

[memphischains]

Uhm, why did I not know this section was here. This is awsome.
I was wondering how to be considered a smash writer, and I guess this is part of the whole thing.

There are some really talented writers. I can wait to get some feedback. Everyone I talk to about critiqing is like... cool? looks ok to me

So plz tear me to shreads. I want to feel like i should write peoty because it makes me write better. I will definantly critique these when i get some time!

 

[memphischains]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Shredded from the divine womb
Influenced not, by the real or the vague
Only to be cursed in hell
As they destroy the vessel which holds them
To defile your temple is to make it crumble
Among the debris lays incredible brilliance
Such beauty is admirable, I admire you
Living over the celestial womb
Dug into the fertile soil
Cleansed in the sovereign of light
Give your blessings to me
For I am your blood
And I’m chill’n on thy breast