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!!
@HauntingFeelings00
Beautifully said, and very true.
They're monsters n her closet
Who only come out at night
They tease her and make fun of her
Through out the night
She breathes quietly
Afraid they'll get her
But once she looked in the closet
They were no where to be in sight
She heard them behind her
Believing the monster were inside her
But really
The monster were her fear.
Dear @FindingAWay5011, Although a little fear can help keep us safe, sometimes a fear can be so powerful it paralyzes us -- keeps us from living fully.
Your poem highlights how fear can have a terrible grip on us . . . .
I've always
listened
to your secrets,
but you've never
wanted
to listen
to mine.
Dear @piunpeun, This gentle statement is very short and simple, but it carries a world of hurt, I think. That kind of imbalance of generosity -- it tells us a great deal about a relationship, doesn't it?
TRIGGER WARNING: Child Sexual Abuse
who are we?
we are the pain seeping through us every day
leaking into our blood
poisoning our core
eroding our essence
locking us inside the pieces of a home we never really knew
i am a wounded heart
a body scarred
fear digs into me deeply
embedded in my mind and flesh
an eternal mark, saying:
I am wreckage. Do not salvage me.
she is
a smile painted on
a disgraceful face rearranged
into ‘why would he?
‘how could they not?
words unspoken
and tears that fall heavily
onto quivering lips no longer pure
twisting her into painful waves
trembling in the feelings
of memories that chain me forever
who are we?
she was a good time
a good girl
all the right body parts to satisfy you
and i am worthless trash
dispose of me
you say I have no feelings
you are our every nightmare
but we are your life
what your best dreams are made of
we are parts of you
who are we?
we are hands that harm us
holding us down in unison
words like weapons, warning us
this is our little game
we are secrets that silence us
the voice of darkness that whispers
he loves me in the dead of night
we are
the breath of life
bleeding out beneath you
we are the rising sun of daylight
where no reassurance is offered
where no comfort lives
only more hurt
a pressure for perfection
a promise for silence
that is painful to the touch
we are tangled up in your obsession
living the lie is killing us
we are the lack of love
a soul feeling broken
while he is masquerading
with a perfect façade
underneath it all
we are an empty blackness
under the weight of the world
she is lifeless
dying from the thirst
and i am drowning beneath the waves
fighting to stay alive
there is no one paying attention
why doesnt anyone care?
who are we?
we are their daughter
terrified and trapped
all alone
we are nobody
we are nameless
Dear @unsinkableSpirit312, It hurt to read this poem -- the child's emotions are so real and so intensely painful. You eloquently portray the confusion and feelings of having little intrinsic worth. (deep sigh) Thank you for having the courage to share it with us.
@Annie, thank you. It's so frightening to share your most vulnerable emotions for everyone to read, but I feel it's also liberating in a way. Though it upsets me that anyone understands these same feelings and can empathize with this kind of pain, it makes me feel better that I'm not alone. Thank you for reading my poem and responding. I appreciate it a lot.
Why do you hate me?
Why do you bash me so?
I've always tried to respect you,
and be my best. though,
It's never enough.
Never good enough for you.
I do my best to help,
to succumb what is left.
I'm stuck cleaning,
this beaten down nest.
So why do you hate me?
Why do you push me down?
It seems to me my head is buried
deep
under
ground
*Hugs* Don't worry about the haters, the fakers, the two-faced manipulators. You are stronger, braver, and better than any of them could ever dream of being. Here, you are one of us. Someone who wears shining armor is a man or woman who hasn't put their metal to use. Have pride in your battles and victories. You are a survivor. And we will always be here for you.
Some creative ways to create a poem
Newspaper blackout poems - where you colour in a newspaper page with black, and only leave key words in to complete your peom.
The Unwanted Friend
If period is alive,
If period is a person,
If period is here,
I would hurt period,
And there will be no more period.
Period.
- A poem dedicated to all the young girls and women in midst of their monthly visit.
Sanctuary (or Awakening Into a Nightmare on a Saturday Morning)
My bed, my sanctuary
Wrapped in comfort, I escape
In my dreams, I can start over
New possibilities exist
I'm no longer bound by my past decisions, mistakes or fears
But it's fleeting
The slightest sound - the bird chirping, the neighbors' voices, the dreaded alarm
Jolts me into reality where I am bound and trapped
In the stress spiral of my own creation
So I lay in my sanctuary
Dreading the first step into the field of life
Rigged with mental land mines of crippling fear
I lay hoping to doze off, once again
Into the land of infinite possibilities,
If only for a minute
Before I embark on another day in a hopeless reality
From which I cannot escape
Unmasked
All these changes, they're breaking me,
Piece by piece they're drowning me.
I don't know what to do,
I don't know where I am,
Is it a cul-de-sac or a metropolis that I glimpse?
A guiding light,
I desperately am in need,
Please tell me, where do I seek?
I strived to be perfect,
The person they wanted to see,
The individual I didn't want to be.
I tried to slip on a masquerade,
To create a flawless illusion,
To conceal the emotions,
And the truth that lied within;
But I guess that is stabbing me,
And my petty little conscience.
I just don't know what I should do,
I am lost for thoughts, words and deeds.
Do stay motionless?
Or stand up to the accusations?
A steady life I long for,
In this topsy turvy world of mine,
Oh what do I do? Maybe just sit here and whine?
I am afraid to raise my voice,
To unleash my identity,
I am not as ideal as they describe,
I've got my own differences to tackle when thrown aside,
It just gets exhausting, the more I try to suffice.
Oh, I want to stand up to the allegations,
And yes, I want to prove to them I'm right.
Sucking up to all the changes
And pretending that I'm fine?
That's not how I feel,
Oh you need to know what's on the inside.
Drowning in my fears,
Facing it all alone,
Will someone come to help me,
I can't do this on my own.
Distorted shapes and hooded figures
flitting in and out of my vision,
mocking me of my cowardice.
I shrank back into the comforts of oblivion,
refusing to acknowledge something
that isn't even there.
A scream pierces the silence of the deadly night
continued by convulsions raking my body.
I see figures surrounding me,
holding me down, drowning me in
a wave of emptiness.
a cool sensation spreads through my veins
as i effortlessly slip into the void.
will I ever rid myself of these
chains of a twisted mind?
How to cope.
(TW: Self-harm, trichotillomania)
This isn't the best poem I've written, I didn't edit it. Sorry!
I used to feel bad,
but that was a while ago.
I used to feel bad,
but I scratched lines, marked with red.
I used to feel bad,
but that subsided.
I feel bad again,
it's been going on a while.
I feel bad again,
it'll be bad to tell anyone.
I feel bad again,
it'll be nice to let those lines heal.
I feel bad again,
it'll be nice to...
Wait. Is this okay?
...Yes, it is.
I still feel bad,
I close the bathroom door.
I still feel bad,
I feel the hair on my head.
Thick hair.
It'd be a shame to ruin it...
...Screw that.
I'm starting to feel worse,
My hands go to my head.
I'm starting to feel worse,
I begin to pull.
One more...
one more...
one more...
Just make it stop...
Too late.
@Monarda, I've missed you. Very much. (This poem is heart breaking. But I'm glad to see you again!! I hope you're okay.)
Hi, @Annie! I'm fine but I was doing really badly when I first wrote the poem down. I guess I posted it to show my raw emotions and thoughts when I start to remember certain things. Also, I'm glad that you welcomed me back, so thank you!
Currently Untitled
Why do I do this to myself? This constant corruption of who I am for the sake of a moment lived in shadows?
Why do I open my eyes to a face that cannot be mine when the sun rises?
As haunted as my dreams are every waking moment is spent waiting, longing to return to them.
Because she will be there. She is always there. Even when she wasn't here.
I can have her in my dreams completely, without hesitation or question. In my dreams the possiblities are endless.
In the night I can have almost everything, but I must give her to the morning.
I don't want to. She doesn't want to.
Why do I feel what should be pain but feel it only as desire? I should hurt but I just love her more.
Pain is gone, I gave at the office. Pain has been replaced by something greater, but why the --- can't I feel pain just one more time?
GODAMMIT I want my pain back!
I want to know I can still feel the emptiness, the blackness. I want to know I can still feel human but try as I might I cannot make it happen. The pain won't come. Give me back my ----ing humanity! ---- you! I deserve to feel normal.
---- you? --- Me!
In those dreams, in those stolen moments of reality I feel only joy, only happiness. I only want them. But I deserve to feel the pain. Johnny Cash could Hurt, why can't I?
Why do I torture myself by wanting to feel pain when what's in front of me is a symphony? I hear Beethoven. Ode to Joy is in my soul but I want is Nine Inch Nails down my back and in my heart.
I want to rip my own heart out and watch it bleed as the life fades from my own eyes but I only feel it beating stronger with every moment she is in my arms. Who the ---- am I? Why is this my curse?
When the morning comes, I give her up. I should cry when she leaves. I don't. whatever. Why don't I beg "don't go! Stay with me now, forever. Untill the sun gives forth it's last burst of light and dies in the heavens leaving us to face the final moments of existence together"?
She is not the problem. I am the problem. I know now I always have been. What is pain to the world is joy to me. What is terror to some is pleasure to me. What villifies the damned sanctifies them in my eyes.
I live in Sweet Pain
expletives deleted by forum mentor Annie
@Rainking57 Very powerful poem. So much emotion has been conveyed by you in this. Thank you for sharing with us here.
Where it all started
I was eating my dinner with my mom
When we talked about something
That triggered my anxiety
She doesnt know
I kept on eating and saying
I want to throw up
I told myself long ago
Its already in the past
And I should let it go
But my wounds never scarred
They only scabbed
Dried up blood just waiting
For someone to peel them off
Its still clear to me
The pain of being replaced
Being second best
Being compared
I remember the look on their faces
The disappointment
When they found out
That I just came in second
And the way my old friends reacted
They cheered
They said i deserved it
Good for me
At last someone was better than me
They werent my friends at all
They never were
It is still fresh in my mind
The way I was asked why
Why cant I compete
I cannot because I never wanted to
It all started there didnt it
Why I became neurotic apologetic pessimistic
I always wanted to know
Why
Didnt
They
Understand
W h y
No Bacon for the Commoner:
A mark upon my skin
is a common sin.
However I am still able
to get a tattoo.
Wearing polyester
goes against God.
However I am still allowed
to wear it.
Having an abortion
is frowned upon by both
God and our society.
I can still do it.
Trimming a beard
Upsets God, but
our society thinks it is
weird to not shave.
Have you ever eaten
shellfish, rabbit, or a hamburger?
Well I bet you did not know that
you have angered our Lord.
Out of of all of these sins,
Why do we focus on same sex marriages?
The Bible does not agree with it,
But it does not agree with bacon, either.
So so unless you have
read the entire Bible
and meet all of the criteria,
I believe that your opinions are irrelevant.
PLEASE do not feel offended by this in any way. It was meant to be harsh, and in no way is your "opinion irrelevant." It was just a way to express my opinions on why same-sex marriages should not be forbidden and/or frowned upon, and that you can be straight AND still support those who are not (because really, there is no difference in who we are) :)
Thanks for the clarification about the line that the opinions of others are "irrelevant." I appreciate it.
When I disagree with others, I think it's good to be as understanding as possible of their cultural backgrounds and traditions. (Not accepting them, but seeking to understand . . . )
@AbbyCDEFG Preach it! Don't ever apologise for standing up for equality. Have pride in being yourself and supporting those who still feel chained by the beliefs of others. Religion and science have always been manipulated to exclude and oppress minorities - whether it be other races, religions, beliefs, genders, ages and now sexuality and gender identity.
That night they told me i should withdraw my application from the exchange student program even though i already passed the process
It's my fault because I never said anything
I never told you I was hurting
You never knew that it's the only thing I'm looking forward to
I thought it was going to be my salvation
But I was only getting my hopes up
It's my fault because I always think about myself
I can't sit for long at the dinner table because it's so damn hard
It's so damn hard to suck up my tears
I can't talk because I know I'll just break down
Nobody wants drama in this house
I don't want to give it to anyone of you
I don't want to be bothersome
But that's all I'll ever amount to
I'll never be enough
I know it's driving you crazy that I'm upset
Don't worry about me
I'm just trying to cope up with the pain
I'm not mad at you
Because no matter how much I wanted to
I cannot
Because it's the crappiest thing I could ever do
It's just not right
You could hate me all you want
It's okay
I hate myself too
I hate it very much
I believe I'm better off dead
Is love like this, or is this like love:
I feel a tingle in my tummy
Because you are just like honey
You are shining gold and sweet
You are everything I need
Im just so glad youre by my side
When you smile or scream or cry
Youre as beautiful as the bluest skies
You are cute
Yes, you are mine.
Luckily
We're not even close to perfection
When you're caught up in the moment
Not thinking, numb
You drink the poison
The pain, it stops
Your miseries have ended
Someone else's just started
You can hide, yet you will never be able to run from it
Don't fabricate
Don't be ashamed
Get help, we all need it.
i hope you guys like my poem and I hope I'm posting them correctly:p
In Pieces
TRIGGER WARNING: Child Sexual Abuse
you are a storm
tearing my skin
bruising my bones
breaking me down
penetrating me deeply
making me undesirable
spoiled and unwanted
the world does not need me
i am used up damaged goods
and i pay his price
now i am uninhabitable
a wasteland
made of ashen skin and tired bones
longing to run free
but i can hardly walk
i am the aftermath of a violent storm
the morning after
stern eyes are looking at me
silencing, condemning, shaming
through the thin veil of humanity
there is none
he's looking at the devastation
useless wreckage
broken parts that cannot be remedied
because you say i'm not worth the effort
of a meaningful "i love you"
and a willingness to stop
what does that even mean?
have you stripped it of its meaning?
define it for me
if home really is where the heart is
let her be your sanctuary
she will fill your soul with beauty
bless you with goodness and grace
give you every piece to show you we are worthy
we're one in the same, yet nothing alike
but you live inside us
you make us your home
now all of our constellations are your playground
in the world of never never land
we've never been so terrified
though we're not allowed to run away
this child cannot escape you
you stole her away with a smile
you said it was our special time
a secret relationship, a secret game
"if you really love me..."
we still love you
we have to make you happy
because we want to
we need to
because it hurts us when you're mad
because we have to obey you
we have to respect you
we cant ever say no
we never earned that right
i can't keep going on like this
i remember you said the stars aren't nearly as bright as my eyes
but there isn't any sparkle left
all our wishes were wasted on someone to save us
no one ever did
you killed our shining stars
you took away our hope
and i still believe you
after all these years
i breathe you in
like inhaled cigarettes
i'm wrought with guilt
buried in shame
drowning in despair
and i'm burning inside
i'm burning alive
i regret every day that i survive you
Breathtaking. Sad. Absolutely brilliant.
Thank you @braveSugar7964. I'm very glad you liked the poem and it resonated with you.
Thank @toughOak8715. I am honored that you like it so much and that these words resonated with you in some way.
There is only so much will in a person.
When the will is gone, there is no finding the way, anymore.
The way is blinded by the lack of will.
Since will is gone, they will soon be gone, blinded by will.
Sick of Me
If it's possible to be someone else, then may the stars align and let it happen.
If it's possible to cure the sickness of me, then let it be so.
I feel myself itching on the inside, waiting to jump out of my skin and into sanity.
I must be broken, and in my brokenness I must cut the feet that walk over my shattered pieces. And what use is something broken, unless you're willing to spend the time to help me back together again.
I'm screaming for someone to cure me of the miasma of me. I can feel the caustic bacteria festering in my brain, and eating at my heart.
I can feel my blood curdle, like milk, and just like curdled milk, it's useless, like me.
I'm too broken, and trodden, and disgusting for happiness to reach me. I guess it's hard to see me beneath my self prescribed mask of mud, or through the doctor-prescribed medicated silence.
Who can love an pen that's sick of its ink. Or a violin sick of its string?
I'm nothing more than a desperate raindrop, falling from a great height, wishing to wash back into the sea, and to become a new me.