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!!
for whom do flowers grow?
surely not for themselves;
what selfish little creatures they are
to bloom in front of a blind man's eyes
@ubiquituous, what a lovely gem. It reminds me of my favorite Japanese and Korean poems -- something about the spareness, and focus on the beauty and mystery of life. A lot said in few words.
@Annie thank you ahhhh im just?? i was trying to communicate how unfair life is and the flower blooming was a metaphor for like things happening bc good things never happen for the purpose of being a good thing and people never even appreciate good things and idk
THANK YOU
No sleep could turn right,
I thought no one was on my own side,
The sun made me cry,
To the heart I thought once broke inside,
Everyone thought I went mad,
For the thoughts spinning in my head,
Till I knew why I was filled in fear,
You guided me from my foolish prison,
Were I used lay sad,
You were the one to show me the crimson,
I don't know to repay you,
But one thing I knew
That I had no debt or due.
- A POEM TO MY SISTER FOR BEING WITH ME IN MY DARK TIMES
Dear @ve99, what a beautiful and heartfelt tribute to your sister.
@ve99 beautiful! I am sure she will always cherish it.
I will love you forever don't ask me to stop
I will not stop even if you done me wrong
cuz moving on would be hard thing to do when you're not strong,
I will not let this go not for a long shot
so don't ask me to stop
cuz I can't , I won't, and that is that
Dear @pureatheart25,
I really like the last line. There's a wonderful staccato rhythm that gives punch to the message
Trigger warning: suicide, death, loss
STOP.
How do you make it stop.
How do you make your breathing stop.
How do you stop thinking.
How do you stop breathing.
How do you stop feeling.
How do you stop thinking about a person
that gave up giving a sh-t about you.
It's true what The Script says,
When a heart breaks it doesnt break even.
I'm unfortunately the weaker one, and so the bigger piece of the pain belongs to me.
How I wish it was equal.
How I wish it was mutual.
How I wish
I never found out that I was unwelcome,
or even accepted.
I dont even know why I bothered to ask,
or bothered to stay
or bothered to come back.
He kicked me out so many times
and I kept crawling, craving, wishing, hoping, expecting
his warm treatment was turning real.
Nice people scare me now...because they can be animals when they feel like it.
Kind people are suspicious now, because eventually their dark side shows up.
Where is safety, where is home?
Where do I go?
When will the tears stop?
When will my heart stop falling apart for the wrong people?
When will I stop living?
When will this all end?
Where is peace but in death?
Dear @weepingartist, ahhhh, the questions at the beginning and end are powerful. And in the middle, a line that really grabbed me was "Nice people scare me now." Also, I especially liked the alliteration in I kept crawling, craving combined with the string of present participles.
@Annie honestly....i think i was just lucky with all of how it got composted. i have no idea about alliteration and participles...hahaha! thank you so much
Zebra Blanket
The image remains
Large brown eyes,
Eyebrowless,
Peering from the blanket
On a cold winters night
Needy eyes, peering
Awaiting judgement
Above her crooked little nose
I stared back and stretched to her with my arms
But could not reach
Her special beauty
@2genpoet, I found myself imagining a baby girl wrapped in a blanket, waiting to see if she'll be picked up, and when her father reaches out his arms, he can lift her up but realizes he can never "reach her special beauty."
This touched my heart.
The pouring of rain
They're with me always
Life long companions
Telling stories of those dark days
Forcing me to share confessions
Blood red scars
Running all over my skin
Reminders of the many wars
I couldn't win
Momentary relief keeps us occupied
While we wipe away our tears
Yet eventually we must decide
No longer to run from our fears
Scars tell of a great pain
But also of wise lessons
Much like the pouring of rain
They wash away the deepest of repressions
Aren't we all scarred in some way
Some on the inside, others on the outside
Let's join and together we'll say
'I will no longer hide'
@Cheeney, Incredible, how the scars tell stories of the dark days, and, by their visibility, essentially force the person to explain and confess. So many feelings and experiences distilled into a powerful poem. And I loved the strong, confident final lines!
@Annie Thank you so much! I'm glad you liked it
@slayteralmighty Wow, the poems on this thread are stunning. Simply stunning.
My own contribution:
Maybe it's time
to realise that
I do not have
to search for love
elsewhere;
not when it's etched
into my being--
my identity.
Maybe it's time
to not salvage
that love for anyone,
but embracing it
for me.
(Written 16th May, 2015. Can also be found on [contact info edited by forum mentor annie]
Dear @WarmCaramel26, you've compressed so much into so few words! And the final line, for me, provide a succinct but moving conclusion.
@WarmCaramel267 cups
I have been wounded
I am wounded
often i feel here amplitudes of love cresting up
then down
ebbing like an ocean wave
leaving behind small sharp stones
that scrape at my scars
scars that wait
for the tide's return
@2genpoet ohhh!
Every day, he looks at her,
With sneaky eyes and a suggestive smirk.
Every day she glances at him,
He's already looking at her, well, this is confusing.
He turns away and pretends to be busy,
She affirms to herself all the flaws she's bearing.
To him, she is perfect; as beautiful as she can ever be,
To her, he is handsome; a boy way out of her league.
She overthinks about the aimless, endless possibilities,
Whilst he is thinking about slyly moving his next piece.
He is too nervous to speak up and
She is too shy to respond.
They are scared to admit, contemplating to confess.
This wretched innocent love,
And two hopeless romantics.
@proactiveDime3437 If only....