OUR ORIGINAL POETRY: Share It Here
Hello there everyone!
If you're reading this it means that you probably are quite fond of poetry and writing it to. This is a thread to post all and any poetry that you may have, be it happy, sad, angry or just silly. All styles are welcome (free verse, couplets, slam) and it would be great to have at least one poem up a day for all of us to enjoy together!!
The Tree
We take them for granted.
They're the reason we breathe.
They're the reason we're relieved.
Yet we chop down their roots,
We take advantage of their fruits,
We destroy their fingery branches,
We ruin their lingery feel.
It takes a long time to realise,
But if you stare a little bit closer,
Take in a deep breath and let your mind evaporate into nothingness,
Feel it, don't you see the spirits of their veins?
Hold on to their reins, go on an adventure of realization
Look beyond their exterior,
Maybe you realise this beauty of nature feels so inferior.
Nobody deserves to feel this way,
Maybe you should be the first to say,
Be the first to stand up,
Be the first to acknowledge,
For this tree is the one that is always there for you,
The tree that cares for you,
The reason to breathe,
The one you get positively lost with,
Hurting them is a cost.
For this metaphor, is the one you love the most.
They are rooted in the grounds of your heart,
Just like a tree.
They never leave,
Just like a tree.
Yet, sometimes you can take one for granted,
Just like a tree.
Just stop a second,
Please, I beckon.
Clear your mind,
And then you will find,
Someone you've forgotten
In the mist of your thoughts,
The person you've blindly sought,
Some is there for you.
Believe it or not, you just have to open your eyes.
Someone loves you, and it is true.
@mangaka -- This poem is beautiful. I love trees, love walking in forests, love this poem!!
It started with the way you would talk.
The words that gently left your lips
because you were never really sure
when or what to say.
The jokes that always came a bit late.
The nervous laughs you gave as bait.
Then it was in the gestures,
the way you would rather
be put through pain
than to see me suffer.
I'm sure If I would've lost a limb
I could've easily got another.
(Or though it seemed.
I could never get past those
unreadable eyes)
It ended with a kiss that
I held back for so long
and a hand that shook
as I allowed it to slide
up my back to my neck.
It ended with a cruel smile
as I pulled away
because you began
to squeeze a bit too hard.
It ended when you
wanted more than an
innocent sweet kiss.
I can't believe I ever
thought of you as shy kid.
I can't believe I thought
about you and me ever.
Falling for you is something
I should've thought through
instead of going under.
-Ari
@arousedAlcoholic54, This poem comes across as very real, very honest. I think it took courage to write it. The last few lines could be interpreted in a number of ways, all of them regretful. And haunting. Amazing poem.
Every time I close my eyes, I still see her. The rosy, smiling cheeks, the raucous laughter, and the happiness that illuminates her eyes and soul. She stands so close, so close I can feel the faint flutter of her dark eye lashes. Yet I know that she may not be forgotten, yet she is gone. Torn away from the world in a dark cloud of self doubt and self hate. Ripped away from the life she once loved and the people who loved her. But in my memory, she stands so close. Her positivity palpably beautiful. Yet she is long gone, and can never come back. The girl that I used to be, is dead.
@PioneeringLime2229,
This poem is really touching. It speaks to me a lot. And I think that anyone who can write such beautiful things is very, very much alive.
Insomnia
I can't sleep
Somebody help me
I can't sleep
My boyfriend is sleeping,
He needs to rest.
I love him and he does his best.
But how can I do my keep,
if the way to get better is to sleep
And my brain wont allow me
to turn off the switch.
It's 5 am in my bed.
I miss him.
He sleeps in Saxony
So early at hour 23.
I talked to my journals
I played all the games
I'm infintely scrolling
on various webs.
Where do I go..
I'm really so tired
But the word
retire
Is out
of
my
mind.
@weepingartist
You've really captured the essence of insomnia, your struggle and fight is really coming through. It's great for people like me who don't have insomnia to be able to put ourselves in your shoes. You're really opening our eyes to this silent world.
aw gee thank you very much! i've been suffering it since i was young...it got more frequent when i get older...actually it's only recently that i'm discovering things about me...i normally just thought "ah well tomorrow i'll be tired enough to rest" but it never happens. hehe.
an old one that i originally wrote for a dear friend of mine (hence the positivity at the end haha), but that also corresponds a lot to my own current feelings of isolation and desolation
you were born to be a rainstorm
to send your voice throughout the night
to sing your song with falling raindrops
to break the darkness with your light
you were born to show raw beauty
to wash the dirt out from their eyes
but the whole world ran for cover
when you opened up your skies
so you silenced your thundery cries
and learnt to fight back your rainy tears
you gave them what they thought they wanted
you gave them life with endless sun
but as they watched their lives grow weak
and watched their leaves grow brown and dry
they'd wished they hadn't taken for granted
your booming presence in the sky
you were born to be a rainstorm
to be loud, chaotic and bold
to show that there's beauty in the knowledge
that you cannot be controlled
because you might think that you're not needed
life without you would be the same
but nothing beautiful would ever grow
if it wasn't washed with your rain
Dear @FunnyMango399, I LOVE this poem. The rhymes and rhythms are beautiful, and the marvelous extended metaphor is amazing! I love the idea of the storm's value (or the stormy person's value?) and the undesirability of all sunny days. And the theme of being true to yourself is important, universal. Plus, the repeated line, "you were born to be a rainstorm," is striking, with its internal rhyme (near-rhyme) and sense of destiny. AWESOME!!
wow @Annie, thank you so much for this response. honestly, i never even noticed the near rhyme of the repeated line haha, it just, it sounded nice to me and it was very applicable to, indeed, the stormy person that experiences everything in more extreme ways. thank you so so so so much, you have no idea of the smile it brought to my face just now, while i was having one of the shittiest days in a long time. thank you. i love you.
I had a dream probably not even 20 minutes ago. I was finally getting some fillings removed and I knew those teeth had to go. But somehow ended up with half of the wrong one missing,two old friends in the room.2 random dentists and an old teacher asking me if I want a whiskey. All the while I was spitting into the sink. Then I woke up.
@KnighTerrAin - That's not even poetry but it is clearly the best post on here I've read so far haha
Maybe we should have a share a dream thread somewhere?
@NataliaNectarine i love that idea... tag me if you end up creating a thread for dreams!!! also lol @MidniteAngel agreed XDDD
@NataliaNectarine - I think one has already been created actually. If I find it I'll be sure to tag you in it
Trigger Warning: Self Harm
Red tears leave my skin
I don't want to let anyone in
Blow the clouds in a puff of smoke
Holding back the words makes me want to choke
Its been to long
That you control
My every deep thought Its time for you to leave
Set me free
I want to remember what it's like to be me
The metal that shines in the light
Never looked quite so dark
Get away and let me breath
I'd rather fill my lungs with burning green
Than to fill my flesh with your curse
Dear @DirgesNewSong, I found this poem difficult to read from an emotional point of view, I must admit. But it is well written, strong and compelling!
I think I figured out why I'm so intrigued by someone, for once they are the mystery to me. An actual mystery. I have no idea what parts of time go where no idea what space is meant
4am I sit here in the quiet of the night
At the mercy of the creatures of tonight.
Before the horizon a bustling building,
I have my back turned on those asleep.
In the many years of watching the seed
Grow, like a rosebud swaying in spring,
The tree never fully blossomed,
For they all succumbed to greed.
"To each man his own."
The wisest say.
The elders seek respect for their age,
As though begging for a penny
Without a bowl, self appointed sages,
They demand for us to fall on both knees.
They must have forgotten about their plight
During their prime. Their attempt for flight
With no less than weak clipped wings,
And a gagged mouth which stank
Of decomposed meat.
Who are they to finger the pages
Of our lives by locking us in baseless cages,
for they themselves have felt the torrid wind
devouring their flesh during the fall
Into the spaces between dreams and actuality?
@asiancookie85, This poem is powerful. The first half has amazing images while the second part scorns elders in a strong voice. The energy is palpable.
I've lost my soul so many times. Or it has been broken in and away through chips and chimes.
Tipped off cliffs and snatched by mimes. Blitz in s--t and hit through bricks.
Drained by ticks and left for pains to pick.
Unchosen and hosed down by beeches and clothed clowns.
Dragged by the tide and no longer at my side.
Crashed against rocks and pulled past the stop.
Cracked through mistakes and fallen to plots to undertake.
Wanted by hell and flaunted from heaven.
Taken from tenant and torqued from benevolence.
Past to present and penance to prevalent. Senement to sediment.
Cemented to pretentious pricks and credited to distasteful tricks.
Dragged from beneath me and pushed from above.
Stuck in a twisted turn and separated from trust. Always labeled as lust and had table turned on love. What such luck and everything gets f****d.
Then inspires envy whenever I get something good to remember which brings more awful attempts at payback and resent.
For when I get back on the horse it gets shot and breaks a leg. Yet I'm stuck to continue and mourn my fallen steed because all that happened to it was me.
Peeving to the deceiving so the make me grieve and spin.
Unil I'm nothing but splints. Bandage the gangrene called my heart and then continue to try and do my part. Only to be shot from a vantage and snarked at by b -----ds. They tried to cull my hardened soul and take whatever I behold.
But why? What have I done but denied to comply? Left incomplete and tainted by perpetual deceit. It appears it's left me weak but it's just that I don't speak.
They'd say I was meek but if I inherit the earth it shall burn. I'll create an ark for the covenant and put the snakes in an urn.
Throw it to the depths of the deep and won't mutter a peep. Instant corinthian will walk away and disintegrate whatever was so great.
Forge the pain into an armour and never burden it with my name.
Drop the weight of all shame and let it crack the earth and level plains.
Deter the tame and be wild with a smile. But nothing of sweetness it shall be an expression of defeat less banishment of all my human weakness.
For humanity and banished me. But I hold on because no one wants to find out what I'll become. Forget Satan spawn if I give in the devil will run
Nobody wants my soul. It's too brittle and old. The cracks leave shards and are sharp to the cold. If you wore it it would be awful it'd only bring pause to the portal.
It'd be like holding the pause button and watching the notification flicker and stutter. I've already sold it to everyone who would pay for it. But that was a wicked trick for they returned it to the one they thought earned it. Or stayed earnest and discarded it to passing winds only for it to find its way home and wick back and stick .
It always hurts.
I put it in a box with all my a drawbridge and moat.
Made it a castle and disregarded it's vote.
Nicknamed it the impalee and ignored it's decree.
Measured it to a degree and observed it's perpetual defeat.
But alas. It always. Cometh back. Out of the mystery and shrouded by smoke and bitter tingency. With a groan and a croak then a gasp leads me to poke. It whimpers and cinders. Like embers in a cold December. Then a puff and a crack. The fire comes back. I give it a smack and a pat on the back as I can't bear to see it seep through the vacuum.
The empty hole that is my cold dark bitter heart. Is always waiting to be reunited with the weight of it. That heavy burning melted weight that could cause the sun to deflate. Made of mistakes and made in mistake.
Blamed for the place and grained to the pace. If I were to hold it you would see it on my face.
But alas this burden to bear and endure is an honour, not a disgrace.
For who else would behoove with a soul that causes me to shoe wealth. It's a lonely feel felt. Knowing there's ways good reason for people to lose myself. But again I am caught in passed tense. I grow bitter and cynical of my soul that flickers then regains glow.
If you were to throw it to the wind or water it would only flow back and get caught up. In the mortar the pores up the awestruck loitering awn that falls from your yawn. It'd sneak back in that bleak crack. And you'd choke till the smoke stacks.
Ahh my soul, my brittle bitter withered soul. Why won't you just stay away. You only cause me pain and take my voice so I can't complain.
But alas you are my crash test dummy. To see if the cement is still runny. To see if my chosen tense is still funny and whether my jokes are still crummy.
I could smite you to crumble and throw in the air to be done with your fumble. But you'd only return with a mumble and break the ground with a stumble.
My airbag, my Nokia. I try to chew you off like a wolf looking at his leg like a sewn rag. But that only provides a pass for time and then a painful blowback that leaves me speaking incoherently in unavoidable mimed rhymes. If I were to actually find a new owner for you It'd make everyone feel bad.
But being left with you is like wearing nothing but landmines surrounded by hounds and forced to run blind with a timed switch. Hot potato with block of molten rock whilst deafened by beethoven
@KnighTerrAin, Wow! This is another poem where the words seem to split apart and cause explosions in every direction.
I'm seriously speechless at the talent in this post! Bravo!
That is amazing. My fellow writer I am truly inspired by this piece. I can relate to its meaning as well.