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!!
A hundred pretty coloured balls
High up in the air
And every time a ball falls
A heart breaks a bit somewhere
An uncoordinated klutz
I scramble to keep them mid air
And every ball a hope, a promise
Too heavy for me to bear
A helpless observer, I stay
As pretty balls drop and crack
A sorry, guilty bystander
As few million promises break
@heartfulMusic18 I love this! Nice imagery paired with great rhymes makes for good reading. 
@Cheeney yey! glad you liked it.
@heartfulMusic18 This is really beautiful. :) I completely empathize with the sentiment!
@straightforwardApricot7544 thank you <3
Dear @heartfulMusic18, I really like this. I read it over and over. I felt the striving and earnestness: "I scramble to keep them mid air /
And every ball a hope, a promise / Too heavy for me to bear." And the helplessness and sorrow at the eventual inability to keep all the balls in the air. Nice poem!
@Annie Thank You. I am glad you liked it. I confess I thought it sounded a little childish, I am thrilled by the responses. :)
(Trigger Warning: self-harm)
Stacks of Books
Stacks of books on my bedside table
The hands of the clock tell me
That time is reality.
The measure of time in my mind tells me
That time is an abstract.
Stacks of books and papers
on my bedside table
A toxic scent of cigarette puffs
With ashes piling like trashes.
Epicurus, Sophocles, Camus, and Nietzsche
Wouldn't beg me to stop.
Nor would they sing
Odes of happiness
Or act tragic plays of my demise.
Stacks of books, papers,
And empty cigarette boxes
On my bedside table
The sweet bait of alcohol lingers,
Hanging like dead fishes on a net.
When will wise men of classical literature
Tell me secrets of happiness?
Empty bottles roll down the floor
Under my bedside table.
Stacks of books, papers,
Empty cigarette boxes,
And countless liquor bottles
On my bedside table
Cold metal slashing my skin,
Moving back and forth like a saw.
If Juliet chooses to die without her beloved Romeo,
Must I choose the same?
If reason, rationality, and happiness
Left me on a whim,
What am I without it?
A mess of books, torn papers,
Empty cigarette boxes,
And sharp glass shards
On the wooden floor
The smell of death hovers
Like an ominous cloud.
If our crime for killing God
Cannot be pardoned,
Will I be pardoned by
Erasing the offspring of God's mistake?
If a cursed existence in itself is faulty,
Then shouldn't I be corrected?
Then with these final lines:
I say I forgive and forget myself
In the depths of Dante's fiery Hell.
@persistentWillow4292, this poem knocked me out. I, too, have sought answers to the age-old questions from the great philosophers. You have expressed the yearning for meaning poignantly. I especially like this line, which brings alive the books near the bed: "Epicurus, Sophocles, Camus, and Nietzsche / Wouldn't beg me to stop. / Nor would they sing / Odes of happiness / Or act tragic plays of my demise."
The last two lines are also amazing to me. The well known "forgive and forget" applied to oneself! And the last line has beautiful rhythm, lovely alliteration, another allusion to a great writer, and a powerful reference to hell. "say I forgive and forget myself / In the depths of Dante's fiery Hell." Yes! that last line is superb.
@Annie Thank you!
your arms
your arms kept me safe
they caused pain too
we planned our life together
now i got it without you
the door is black now
the draft of loneliness coming through
and i got to close it
the future is waiting
the fear is holding me back
you arms will always make me feel loved
i hope someones arms help you feel loved
@pinkPal6446 **i hope someones arms help you feel loved** <3 <3
my life isnt over
you side of the bed is cold now
i lie on it and remember our life
your stuff you left i hold dear
the smile you gave me i lost
i see you everywhere i go
i changed so have you by now
but i hold our memories close to my heart
one chapter of my life all gone
time to open the book again
Dear @pinkPal6446, this poem evokes memories for us, too. The bits and pieces that a person leaves behind, they -- have a kind of weight. This line is simply beautiful and for me exemplifies the loss pervading the entire poem: "And the smile you gave me i lost."
A long lost home
Dnieper.
Boiling.
Wheat stained with blood.
Soil drenched in blood.
We watched
the womb of our mother
being smeared across the plains.
The world
failed to hear her cries and we,
we looked away.
***
Dnieper.
Boiling.
Tend to your icons with religious fervor!
Lenin's picture
or the one of St. Yuri
yellowing in the cupboard,
dusted with reverence.
For us, apparently,
oblivion is the cure.
@NataliaNectarine, I researched this incident after I read your poem. In the huge global turmoil of World War II, the horrible devastation caused by the exploded dam at Dnieper didn't get much attention, and was even subverted for public manipulation.
A damburst of this scale is an extraordinarly huge and destructive thing. I've read stories of the Johnstown flood and saw firsthand the scraped empty land left by the Sugar Creek disaster. The stories of the giant wall of water, filled with houses and people and little children -- whole communities -- is too terrible to think about. What happened at Dnieper -- how can human beings commit acts like this.
@Annie
Thank you, Annie, I'm surprised that you even managed to find material on this little known event. However, the poem was not only supposed to lamentate that tragedy, but to draw attention to what the country is experiencing during the past few years. Interestingly, the face of the disaster can change, but the mentality that caused it stays the same.
Your Best Friend
When you watch your best friend smile,
You feel warm
A smile worth a million dollars
The fire that keeps you going everyday.
When you watch your best friend smile,
She holds a tiny candle during the day.
Filled with wax of hope, love and trust
The fire that keeps you going everyday.
When you watch your best friend cry,
You automatically feel the pain seep into your skin
The automatic need to relight
The fire that keeps you going everyday
When you watch your best friend cry,
You see that the fire that once burnt
Was put out by a depressing rain
The fire that keeps you going everyday
Now, when you watch your best friend smile...
You feel like the fire she now bears
Is no longer as bright as
The fire that keeps you going everyday.
I made this when my best friend one day just broke down into tears after being so smiley for a long time. It's hard watching your best friend cry. Sometimes, you can't fix the problem but you can help them feel better. #BestFriends
@casi1i <3 glad your best friend has you. thank you for sharing.
February 9, 2016. 7:26am
*I don't like titling my poetry so I just go with when I wrote them, but this one is about falling out of love*
Hearing you say 'I love you more'
Never used to get to me.
Except now, when you say it
I begin to second guess what I feel.
And if it's true
That you love me
But from now on, I might not love you.
@Meganorgohome, the truth is stone cold sometimes. And sad in this case. The reality, the possibility, felt chilling in this poem.
You, you gave meaning to my life, when all seemed worthless and all I can think of is I deserve to be alone in this harsh harsh world.
You, you gave me another chance to believe once more, that love is what makes the world go round, when all else fails, when everything is lost.
You, you gave me the strength to pick my broken pieces, and made me whole, made me stand up once more and fight.
You, just you, is enough.
You, you gave new meaning to love, shattered what I used to know and believe in, tested my faith, and held on.
You, you make me love you more each day, no matter what you do, no matter what you say.
You. Just you. No fancy words. Just I love you.
(trigger warning on relationship abuse)
Waiting for the Chain to Break
I wake up.
It's afternoon again.
The laptop is dead.
Again.
It happened
again.
Replays of scenarios flash to my mind.
"I want you."
"I can't do this anymore."
"It's just sex, baby"
"I'm sick, I really don't want this."
"Haha, I don't believe you"
"But I mean it." "Sure......Okay, lol"
"Thanks..." "Wanna sleep baby?"
"...sure" "It does help you.....right?" "Yes....... i think it's comforting"
"You make me think of doing things to you"
"...me too" "mmmm...you naughty girl..." "I am bad...yes" "You are such a bad girl...... I want to ___"
Words....
Just words.
Just a face on the screen.
A voice on the other line.
A person I know so much
Yet still is a stranger.
It happened,
again.
I told him,
it's not me. I don't want this. This ruins me. You don't care about me after what you do to me!
He laughs. He says malicious, cruel things. He tells me to behave, or he'll delete me.
I shut up, acquesiece...apologize, agonize.
He smiles, he's suddenly gentle, caring, his mouth drips with honey. Slowly crawling....over me.
I do nothing, I believe what he says...I want this, it's just fun, there's no harm in it. It's not even real.
An illusion...
An illusion...
An illusion...
I wake up. I stare at my screen.
"Good morning dear.
Was very exciting last night, dont worry about it okay?
You are doing the right things."
Then why do I feel like ___ ?
(words redacted by forum mentor annie)
@weepingartist, you bring the emotions and events to life with harsh brilliant clarity. Amazing.
(And we don't have to wait for the chain to break. We can break it ourselves. We can.)
Focusing on positive things you do will give you peaceful mind and migrate your thinking from odds.
