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!!
@pikachu12398, these poems are so sad and dark. I hope you're okay. There are a lot of really nice listeners here if you want to talk with someone. Your poems are eloquent, they really are, but I want you to know that life can and will get better. Please believe that.
Conversation With A Racist:
I hold in my hand a white crayon
You hold in yours a black.
Mine represents a white man
And yours cannot be taken back.
I give you a blank sheet of paper
The color of which is dark.
I take upon a light layer
In which I make a mark.
The mark seems invisible
Having no impact or stain.
I guess with my same color
All of my actions are vain.
How about we switch colors?
Maybe it will appear.
Oh, look at that, I wonder
Why life is not this clear.
Without one another,
Whether we are black or are white,
Our impacts would be covered,
And with ourselves we would fight.
Why do you not see this?
The importance of each other.
Our lives truly are an abyss,
In which color defines a brother.
Now do you understand
The importance of these lessons?
Will you please lend us a hand
And put down your weapons?
This needs to be reposted a hundred times over
@MidniteAngel Aw thank you! I wrote this a while ago as a project for my English class haha 😄
I Drew a City
I drew a city,
That was busy today,
With a lot of buildings,
Tall and grey.
It had lots of cars,
New and old,
Buses and taxis,
Green, black, and gold.
It had apartments,
Red and made of brick.
With window boxes,
And a door that sticks.
It had a pond and a bridge,
And a family of ducks.
A gas station with tickets,
To try out your luck.
It had Germany and India,
China, France, and Thailand.
Along with a food bank,
Where people can lend a hand.
It had a few gardens,
Filled with flowers and herbs,
And everyone on picnics,
Fed their crust to the birds.
It had a park full of dogs,
And beautiful fountains.
In the background,
Is a view of the mountains.
It had banks and a park,
And skies that were blue.
There were lots of people,
Even a face that looked a little like you.
@wingsbro137 I really like your poem, "I Drew A City." The words you choose really painted a picture for me. Thank you.
TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide, Violence, Self harm
Trying to explain my mind to myself
(Spoken word poem aka slam poem)
I can't hide it anymore.
They've been begging to meet you.
Question! Who?
Well, I don't really know myself.
They're a part of me that tried to escape,I know that much.
There were more. Ones I named: Flawveus and Lilley. Oh, they were nice, I liked them.
They're dead now.
I tried to kill myself but they took the fall. Now all I have left are the unnamed. Because to name them would be to accept them and I won't, can't accept them.
They stop me from so many things. Making me procrastinate, and if I do something they don't like, they cause depression to come down on me, inflict pain on my wrist. Pressing hot metal against my flesh, carving lines into my arms. Forcing pills down my throat.
One time I got the courage to ask them to stop. They sliced the word NEVER into my upper arm.
I cover myself in bio oil Trying frantically to reduce the scars.
But I should consider myself lucky....
Only the good ones were awake that day.
Now I drew one little butterfly
modest little thing
On my wrist.
Now it had tiny wings and a huge loud voice
And it was like my disguise
You see
My butterfly didn't have a pretty home
You see
My butterfly was drawn over jagged scars
But it was drawn by you
It was sealed with a kiss on my cheek
And whispers in the roaring silence
Darling.
You are not your scars
These ugly lines,
They're not who you are.
@NewRomantic677
Love this. Especially the last three lines . . . .
⚫🔹THESE ENDLESS WARS🔹⚫
These wars they fight
For so their so called born right!
These sufferings they cause
With their never ending wars
Engulf us all, no discrimination
No matter the nation.
These wars sucks us in
With no guarantee of a win
We sink in deep..
With every step a soul we reap
No mercy no fear ,
Screaming it out with no one to hear.
These wars take hostages
Like uncivilized savages
No remorse ever felt
While captives are held
Where is God in all of this?
Where is he when we're sinking in abyss!
Too many questions ponder
How it'll all end I can only wonder.
These Endless Wars that have no end,
Now hold captive a very dear friend.....
⚫ A piece I wrote a while back for a dear friend who did a Syria tour and came back a different person and my heart goes out to him ♥
Fighting over lines, non stop no just fighting over lies
Awesome writing my friend, I hope your friend is well
I've lived this night for a thousand years
Feels vaguely familiar
Yet tastes new every time
A sense of revelation
On a sphere that long since shed
Its classified crust
The blank space holds, ever firm
The lemon bastion bloodies the paw
And the furnished boulevard
Knows no terminus
The solution lies not within the question
Nor within the benevolence of the cobalt palace
And to this day its true location
Remains uncharted
Unearthing these secrets
Night after night
While the dawning of dusk
Happened eras ago
Still, a beacon of rectitude
Finds itself hunting revenants
Let me sleep
Gosh, it's not often I have to look up a word, but I did! It turns out that the word "revenant" has appeared in books, films, and an episode of Dr. Who.
Interesting poem!
"A revenant is a visible ghost or animated corpse that was believed to return from the grave to terrorize the living. The word revenant is derived from the Latin word reveniens, "returning" and is related to the French verb revenir, meaning "to come back."
A new moment squeezes into my mind
building on itself in minuscule proportions
Seconds clumping together
taking in their girth strangers crammed together
I am humbled in the sense of a shared shelter
in the vastness of time
Suddenly my story doesn't weigh as heavily on me anymore
as it gets lost in hundreds of stories weaving in and out
Immersed in a mix of scents
this instant spills out knocking onto a swarm of canopies
A seemingly enlightened sense takes over
I see myself in every page of the unending book of life
Until a stream of thoughts jolt me back into myself
and once again I am contained in a limited essence of me
Hi,
I just wanted to add that I wrote this in response to an image contest. I was unable to add the right picture here. If you can please, let me know how can I add the image here that will be very helpful.
Thanks!
My favorite poem out of the ones I read today! You really managed to sketch the illusion brilliantly, whilst perfectly shattering it at the end. Well done!
@listener1216, I love the hope this poem conveys, and the reality of how quickly and easy it is to be sucked back into our own limited perspective of our lives, losing the bigger picture. the image makes sense with it too. thanks for sharing :)
Thanks a lot, I just saw your kind response. You read it right, and I appreciate it.
My personal demon
You're in every scar on my body
In every tear in my eye
Every scream from my lips
You're a part of me in the worst ways
However
You're the oxygen that I need
The water that I crave
The food that I want
I'm addicted to you
You're my strength when I'm weak
You're my voice when I can't speak
You're my courage when I'm afraid
You're my personal demon
* Trigger Warning *
Looks like I wrote two tonight, so here, have another!
This vessel, though another spirit
Witnessed your briny beads drenching its bedstead
A frustrated and fatigued phantom
Stared through your despair
And washed his hands
It peered at agony it could not grasp
Bound by blood to other banshees
Blessed by blissful ignorance
Denying and defying
The destiny it dared not dance
Lacking light, there lives no shadow
Though without shade, light still can glow
At long last, the demon exorcised
Yet on its path, it took your body
And Mary chose to bloody me
@overdrive, this one shook me.
I didn't understand every phrase, but the parts I did understand are amazing.
I love the condensed, concentrated language and the rich, layered metaphors.
@Annie : Thank you! The beautiful thing about poetry is that you don't have to understand every part in the same way the author meant it. If you read it and create a completely different explanation around it, it's just as valid an interpretation as the one the author had in mind :)
On another note: A trigger warning got added to my message. I'd add them in the future myself, but I thought they only applied to mentions of suicide or self-harm. Can anyone tell me what the warning is about, so I can avoid not putting one in the future?
@Overdrive, trigger warnings are added for a variety of reasons although discussion of suicide and self-harm are probably the most common. It may be that the trigger warning on this poem doesn't belong there -- if you'll click on my name below and send me a message, we can figure that out. (And it can be taken off.)
I thought you were the one.
The one who stole my love.
Who said you'd never hurt me.
Who said it couldn't be undone.
The truth is you were lying.
Making more of nothing true.
Trying to hide the monster,
Hidden inside of you.
We all have the monster hiding.
Most people keep it suppressed.
Yours comes from self loathing.
It should be kept at rest.
Now it's sad but finished.
You say it can't be true.
Your threats are like ammunition.
We're at war, do not misconstrue.
When the heart is done, it's done.
Best hope for no hatred or disdain.
A wish to keep memories intact.
Full of love and absent from pain
@Englandlove11 Your poem is beautiful...thank you for sharing it with us here.
this is a beautiful poem, a very sad story. but the last paragraph is filled with love and grace, and void of bitterness. I liked this poem a lot, thank you for sharing :)
Whenever you're alone or feeling scared.
Look out at the moon, because I see it too.
If the moon's not there, and you find the rain.
Go out and feel it. Because I feel it too.
But if instead the sun is out, and you can feel its warmth.
Smile.
Because of your smile, I feel it too.
Yet if the sun's too hot, or the rains too cold, and if the moon just wont show.
Then look in the mirror, and Love who you see.
Because I Love her too.
@Seany7411 Your poem conveys so much, and made me smile. Thank you.
I really enjoyed your poem. I've felt like that before about seeing the same moon.
Thank you for the kind comments :) I wrote this to her just before she died a few years ago, and she loved it. now when I read it, I feel as if she's saying it to me instead. and that gives me some measure of peace. thank you for reading :)
My musical therapy
When ever I'm in pain
I put down the razors
And plug in my ear phones
I sing along to your wisdom
I let my eyes drift close
I let your notes wrap around my scars
You make me feel better
In ways humans can't
Your my musical therapist
Her laughs turned into cries.
Those were cries of pain.
Her friends asked
what was wrong and
she whispered to them
"Depression is like wind.
It blows out people's happiness and
my flame
just went out
by the wind."