(Post Your) Incredible Poems (Here!)

[Beaniedude]

*cracks knuckles*
Ok, here we go!

Mario Kart

Hetic; Moving really fast.
All those hard corners to steer.
Cows and such whizzing past,
Whizzing right over your ear...
and by our karts.
By our karts they miss by centimetres,
We say "Damn that was close, got hit by peaches
with intent to kill. And homing too,
When I get one it is coming for you"

Hetic; Moving to and fro.
The first to cross the line will win.
But then again you never know,
someone might commit the cardinal sin
to stop and gloat.
To stop and rub it in our faces.
To say "When you finish all the places
will be taken up. I'll be first, you'll be last
and that is how it will come to pass"

But we, who are the righteous few,
continue, though we may not win.
We pause, pick up something blue.
It is the shell of a terrapin...
With wings attached.
Wings attached, A flying blue shell.
"Oh", we mutter, "This'll give you hell
and a thousand more!" as we let it fly
Flying, homing, whizzing by.

and as you get struck by that projectile
many more get sent to you.
POW block, Ink'd right in the eye,
lightning, shells and banana peels too,
no make that three
Three red shells, all heat seeking.
You shout "ARGH!" as the accelerator’s creaking
to actually start. Unfortunately for you
two more shells come, they are coloured blue.

And so we, the righteous ones
win the game, and come in first.
All the while we play for fun,
Satisfying our hunger, quenching our thirst
for something more.
Something more than repetition,
Some variety, oh this repetition
is such a bore. But the game has ended,
We shake hands, feuds are mended.

[Ren]

Here is a poem
About Sophie Germain and also all female mathematicians, scientists, and women who have broken down gender barriers before and since.

she keletons roared thundrous
as cross each apter they saw
a thought in telligent direction, go
far from the way it went before

she keletons roared furious
to hear her tell a graph
"i am a vector of flesh and bone,
why and ex acting,
i am fast as a particle
clear as any quation."

she keletons roared amorous
rumpled hell with their clamour and clatter
the fire has spoken: "I matter to the air,
I am athematical, analytical, algorithmical;
and I am here to stay."

she keletons roared sonorous
the paper had tamed them
she termined curses would keep more pain than ghosts
decided answers could be found
overturned then ormal ways
and she keletons roar thundrous
at the sound of her name

[Raptor Jesus]

Well, when I write poetry, it's erratic. I'll just get a line or two in my head and go from there. Once it's on paper I only make the smallest changes, feeling that changing too much would just be writing a new poem, but here I go

The Face Of Death

The face of death, an endless crime,
Done by a man who doth not rhyme.
His weapons, his horrible, horrible tools,
That took her life, no reguard to rules.

He tortured and killed for the pleasure,
He took away my precious treasure.

What kind of man could create this pain,
This vile pain, all, ALL in vain.
If I had not loved her like I had,
She would not have died just like a fad.

But I got her back in the end,
I killed the man who took her wind.

I found him and his death came quick,
His life extinguished like a candlewick.
I then turned the gun upon my face,
And met them all in that hellish place.

[HarleyQuinn]

Geetars
Pluck and
Drums beat
On, while
The bass
Strums loud.

Singer
Yells words
Of hate
Of love,
His voice
Loud, strong.

Lyric
Affect
My soul,
And leave
Me to
Want more.

Headphones
Vibrate
And tune
Grows loud,
The song
Ends now.

[neoliminal]

http://narchist.com/content/caffeine-my-love

Caffeine, my love.

It's the caffeine that keeps me up at night.
With rapid heart beats and with rambling thought
I will never regret in the morning light.
For the creative ideas that Morpheus brought

with rapid heart beats and with rambling thought.
My lover keeps the dust of sleep at bay
for the creative ideas that Morpheus brought
aren't lost. With caffeine's nervous delay

my lover keeps the dust of sleep at bay,
eventually. The beautiful hallucinations
aren't lost with caffeine's nervous delay
and fulfill even my expectations.

Eventually the beautiful hallucinations
give way. To loss of inhibition
and fulfill even my expectations
of any lover's forward ambition.

Give way to loss of inhibition!
Give way to nightly hours delight!
Of any lover's forward ambition,
it's the caffeine. That keeps me up at night.

[ufomg]

impromptu haiku * 3

zombies eat the weak
my power is without bounds
no zombies eat me

the sky, possibility
unlimited fresh changes
why am I still here?

flight feathers unite
aerodynamic surface
maybe darwin's right

[zomgliekwtf]

I wrote a sonnet for my major work :3

---
Arrival

The incessant galloping did not soothe
Panicked thoughts of inescapable doom.
The rattling wheels upon pavement, unsmoothed,
Brought me closer and closer to my tomb.
So paralysed with fear, I did not see
Through the first four gates we had quickly flit
And though, to the last, there were only three,
We seemed forever racing towards it.
I step out into the pummeling rain.
Rodents rush past, the wind screams around me.
(Much too warm…) A clashing of loosened chains,
The doors start to open (I feel dizzy).
Though I quiver in dread and feel quite faint,
My first impression is? This place seems…quaint.
---

Yeah, totally failed at iambic pentameter...but I gave some artyfarty reason for that, saying it exemplified the girl's panic or something.

Also, it's meant to be performed...I'll post the mp3 when I feel less nervous and all .__. There're 3 more poems which follow this, but I'm too scared to post them. Hohoho *cringe*

[the tree]

National Poetry Day today, and the theme is Heroes and Heroines:

Heroes and Heroines is a fucking stupid topic
I can't do much better than to mock it
Or wonder why someone thought
That this would be
a sensible theme
for poetry
In 2009.
When the closest thing we have to heroes in this country
Is celebrity
based on reality
TV
and tabloid sensation
in this nation
with an unelected leadership
and our voting bodies so apathetic
We send our soldiers to fight other people's wars
Our youth are victims for nobody's cause
and our taxes are spent on clearing moats
Heroes? That's a fucking joke.

Tried to perform it, because I was already committed to, but oh my throat is so bad.

[scrt_rbt_agnt]

hrm.

i have some comments. a fellow forumite's father fights forest fires for a living. he is a hero. any emergency personnel who help save lives are heroes. cmon now, attacking american soldiers? seriously, what about comic book characters even?

also, your use of profanity is unnecessary* in your poem. it doesn't add anything to what you're trying to say. also WHAT are you doing with your use of capital letters at the beginning of your lines. sometimes you use it, sometimes you don't.... it's poetry! format is a quarter of the battle!


*as a side note i'd like to add that i'm not against using profanity in poetry since i do it all the time

[d33p]

In that case, robot, you might not like my cummings-esque poems AT ALL.

Code: Select all

untitled: again

taste of days  Mediterranean
riffs & subways saturaching
     ((tempted I take my own arm in
     my own arm

And on Tuesday, waking, find
 oilslick bruises or   time to explain -
 'Just around that corner,' yousay
         nothing softly;

salt the hours and crook their necks.
In
  a different room, we
  dream
of taller trees.

[scrt_rbt_agnt]

cummings always thought really hard about his formats. every one of them was on purpose. also, your poem is quite charming.

[littlebuddy]

flickering indigo flames melting black beeswax candles,
caput mortuum cloak concealing a copper chronometer with hands spiraling,
moon moonlight illuminating lavender leaves of a cherry tree,
that he stands beneath in tweed trousers and busy knitted socks,
digging deep into his damp leather pouch of geometric trinkets and charms,
searching for the amber hexagon pendant. it's missing.
wood sprite stop lulling that lyre and come down from the shadows this instant!

[modularblues]

Here is a poem
About Sophie Germain and also all female mathematicians, scientists, and women who have broken down gender barriers before and since.

she keletons roared thundrous
as cross each apter they saw
a thought in telligent direction, go
far from the way it went before

she keletons roared furious
to hear her tell a graph
"i am a vector of flesh and bone,
why and ex acting,
i am fast as a particle
clear as any quation."

she keletons roared amorous
rumpled hell with their clamour and clatter
the fire has spoken: "I matter to the air,
I am athematical, analytical, algorithmical;
and I am here to stay."

she keletons roared sonorous
the paper had tamed them
she termined curses would keep more pain than ghosts
decided answers could be found
overturned then ormal ways
and she keletons roar thundrous
at the sound of her name

I really like the semantic/syntactical metaphors here Densely-packed and intricate construction. Thanks for sharing!

[modularblues]

http://narchist.com/content/caffeine-my-love

Caffeine, my love.

It's the caffeine that keeps me up at night.
With rapid heart beats and with rambling thought
I will never regret in the morning light.
For the creative ideas that Morpheus brought

with rapid heart beats and with rambling thought.
My lover keeps the dust of sleep at bay
for the creative ideas that Morpheus brought
aren't lost. With caffeine's nervous delay

my lover keeps the dust of sleep at bay,
eventually. The beautiful hallucinations
aren't lost with caffeine's nervous delay
and fulfill even my expectations.

Eventually the beautiful hallucinations
give way. To loss of inhibition
and fulfill even my expectations
of any lover's forward ambition.

Give way to loss of inhibition!
Give way to nightly hours delight!
Of any lover's forward ambition,
it's the caffeine. That keeps me up at night.

Really liked the rhymes

[modularblues]

"Number Game"

Code: Select all

so you ask me to play
  the number game with
                    you.
                     it'll
                    be
    reciprocal, you say,
   with an
  irrational
  glint in
   your eyes. should i let 
     myself become numb,

           

          and
        number,
          and
          slide
along the asymptote of
ignorant bliss? you don't
         need
          the
        answer
          right



   away. after all, the
half-life is long and we'll
                         have
                        plenty
                      of bases
                   to cover.
          from binary to
        hexadecimal.
     we've
  beaten
   the odds, but even that,
    nothing comes out even.
     nothing seems to add up.





you have the freedom to say
that two plus two makes four,


but do you have the freedom
to say two plus two makes five?






   uncertainty comes full circle. how
  fast does the area of doubt
increase
with
respect
  to time?
  haha, you laugh, can't know
  the momentum and the position
                      simultaneously.
                       at least there's
                    enough resistance
               for us to approach a
     terminal velocity. so we don't
   hurtle through space forever.
although that does have an





                  eerie appeal to it.
            so i try to           reduce the
         two-body                 problem down
       to a one-                      body problem
     in order to                      solve it exactly.
                                        but as i work on
                                      it, more variables
                                     keep surfacing.
                                 then i can't solve
                             it exactly anymore.
                           it becomes an
                       N-body problem
                        where N is 
                     greater than 2.
                     all semblance
                     of symmetry
                     breaks down.
                     but who cares
                        about

 
                    symmetry, you
                  say. Asymmetry is
                  so much more fun.
                   especially out of
                    context. hmm.





                 what
             an out-
         of-phase   
       concept.
         needs 
           some
             filtering.       
               turn up the                 
                      frequency
                               while     
                             you're         
                           at it.     
                   let them
            all oscillate
               in sync.
                  time to
                    get numb
                 and number
              and slide
           along the
               asymptote
                  of ignorant bliss.


[modularblues]

Emotions


A simple definition of what makes us human...
Anger pushing us towards the breaking point.
Pushing, pushing towards the inevitable snap.
Causing a flood of what we have long kept hidden...
For fear of becoming prey.
The flood washes over everything,
Leaving destruction in its wake.
When the anger passes,
We are left standing...
Amidst the watery ruins empty and alone...

But what if the emotions never were?
If, contradictory to human nature,
We didn't feel at all.
When death's found all around us,
Both near and far away,
And we don't shed a tear,
We aren't shaken at all...
How can we tell we are human?

I like the implications of the second stanza, and would be curious about developing it further. It would be nice to compare/contrast a few different emotions as well - nice read, thanks for sharing

[Christo]

Love Lessons of Leonard Cohen
It's true,
that I came to you,
after laughing lovers threw
fresh produce at my retreating form.
and now,
'eneath a dying owl,
I shiver wondering how,
embraces so tight could be so unwarm.
It doesn't matter,
your mind is shattered,
or that your flesh is tattered,
your virgin gown lies about you torn,
and thankfully,
you cannot see,
you'd turn your bare back on me,
leaving me forgettably forlorn.

For this guise,
I won't apologize,
feigning possession of loving eyes
but I grew weary of all the "can't"s
and that is not all,
while at your ball,
I perched myself in a hidden hall,
memorizing each step to your dance.
I would steal delight,
if you just might,
come home with me this tired night,
you could give a tired man a tired chance,
and
I don't care whether,
I can measure,
up to other nights of pleasure,
long as I can fall into your pants

[JayDee]

Here is a poem
About Sophie Germain and also all female mathematicians, scientists, and women who have broken down gender barriers before and since.

I wrote a poem to preface a Philosophy of Science essay, about resistance to new ideas and new theories. But I think it's probably about that a little too, now that I'm finished* it.

The faces of the crowd are focused on
her lively racing pen upon the board.
With symbols from that pen a light is shone
into the cluttered mindset of the horde.
And as her hands these arcane patterns trace
a murmur from the crowd begins to rise.
They start to notice what they'll have to face,
and anger sparks and flashes in their eyes.
The knowledge that they hold in high esteem -
the formulae and facts explaining all -
once firm and strong as marble, now is steam
compared to what is written on the wall.
But while they should be thankful for this proof,
their hatred shows just how much they love truth.

*Well, I'm still not happy with that last couplet / line.

[mightygoose]

hey i float in and out of here and many other places on the internet.... i have some poetry.... i thought it might be cool to share.... you guys seem really committed, and i seem to find you can always tell when poetry is written by a scientist/engineer/mathematician/philosopher.... something just tends to give it away... not that that is a bad thing.... just that it is there, your work, is, well fantastic, i'm impressed, moving forward into the meat of the post.... my poem,

i have a liking for complex patterning so in this one.... try to let the last line of each verse flow into the first line of the next....

Can you hear me?

Are you near me?
I’m taught, lost, can you hear me?
Trapped inner space, voiden, no light,
Darkness shrouds my confinement,
Fools would fight.

Blinded in the hole,
Glaring, pealing, a lost and lonely soul,
Inches might be miles, boundless yet bound,
My cell, my soil, no portals,
I’m lost but found,

They know I’m here,
Put me in this, yet I do not fear,
Unclouded my mind, get out,
My endeavours up still futile,
Looking hidden route,

Uncaused cause, no regard,
This solemn, isolated bard
Ponders his entrapment,
Why am I here?
No one to hold to my resentment,

Come on, no stress,
But just one crack, sliver unto impress
My will, my need to slip away,
I know not how long I’ve here;
I can almost forget the day.



....................................



Hours, days, weeks hence,
Unflinching barren ambience,
Only the rising taste of soil
As I scavenge rotten morsels from amongst
My bodies, same foods, toil,

I was at home,
Ungrateful I was free to roam,
Now a somewhat fresh perspective,
Invalid in all dimensions,
Senses null and unselective,

My constitution failing,
My ambitious lust curtailing,
Itself alone is torture,
Made more arduous by circumstance,
An ossuary; not so pure.



..................................



How now? Not long,
This tepid static throng,
I lay still a while with cloudy mind,
Drawn on and out, floor faecal, inedible,
Just another nameless corpse for someone, somewhen to find.....


anyway, ill let you mull over this one before i post any more.... this one is part of my latest cycle... i tend to write poems is triplets.... i have two completed cycles and three under construction....

anyway peace


EDIT}}}} oh jaydee, instead of

But while they should be thankful for this proof,
their hatred shows just how much they love truth.

howsabout.....

but while they should be thanking proof,
their hatred shows their love of truth,

thoughts

[Skythe]

For Japanese Class (Haiku of the Week):

Ugh, I don't feel well
I think I have the swine flu
DAMN YOU MISS PIGGY

---
For Sophomore history a few years ago:

Great Depression

We were the forgotten ones
The giants from the land of the free
Induced in our own despair
Left to rot on the street next to our own economy
Violence soon erupts
The streets were strewn with blood money
People were shocked than, when people were murdered
Panic, anger, and desperation are the lint at the bottom of this giant’s well worn pockets
Patches sewn with the smallest amount of hope cover this frail hand
If United we stand, than United we fall
This once glamorous diamond of a town fallen to ruins
Paper money the antagonist
Government the author
Publishing date unknown
Eager fans pounding at the publisher’s gates
Demanding a glance at this award winning novel
Sign just stares blankly back at the crowd addressing it’s closed
Guess we’ll have to wait because we are the forgotten ones
We used to believe in our nation
All we believe in now is that our children will not live to see tomorrow
Today is all we can give them
One youngster brought the strongest image in the simplest words
My dad was the strongest man I knew but the Depression brought him to his knees

[modularblues]

@Skythe:

That haiku is hilarious (other than that it's no fun getting sick )

[thicknavyrain]

This seems like a good a place as any,
To bring my rhyming post count up to many,
It's funny how nothing quite passes time,
As investing skill and dedication to rhyme,
While sometimes it may bring people joy,
Other times, all it seems to do is annoy
Still, the style holds a special place in the hole,
Now filled with obsidian, and once with a soul,
Rhyme encompasses itself in endeavours artistic,
Even when it's overused and comes out ballistic,
It gets a point across in a memorable way,
Which is often the only interesting part of my day,
So though I may have to think very hard,
Until the workings of my mind begin to retard,
I still enjoy letting a few rhymes unfurl,
To remind myself there is still fun in the world.

[henryatkinson]

it isn't hugely worked over but i don't think it's bad ,(its a bit depressing byt at least try to read all of it)

like rats they huddled together,
sheltering,
from the tordry greyness of thier existance.

like rats they huddled together
trying with vigor to forget their predicament
thier predicament was not the rats they were
merely they did not know through thier human eyes
of thier tails and fur

like rats they huddled together
blissfully aware of thier actions
presented in a technicolour relief
iris becomes black and swollen

like rats they huddled together
the auspicious venus de milo
wanted yet tragically the claims unfounded
the willing the world is truely thiers
and all thats in it
the meek condemed to lie and lay forever

like rats they huddled together
no philistines they were nor the whores of baylon
simply and inevitabably the children of israel
just add moss and masticate

like rats they huddled together
the crucifix clutched in hier claws
no pause for the flaws
they squeaked and pawed
not the cross but perhaps the hangman's noose
will constrict around thier necks
or will thier jaws open
and later each obsevrve the inner applause

like rats they huddled together
actions mean nothing so far as reactions occur
reality no longer under lamplight
impression is thier shining light
impression quite litereally everything (as always)
repression round the corner and over the cliff
but for now they are amazed to fall
and fall they do as thier lips scold
and thier fingers bite oneanother as they fall gripping together in the darkness

but i am not the rats nor the meek
for i do not presume to come to your table oh lord
for i am not the living nor the breathing
nor the sweating.not the loving or the loathing
i am neither the dafodil that bravely grows in the ditch
or the oaken rooted deeply in the concious
do not let me be humbert but neither candide
i am not.

[StickFigureLover69]

This is a poem I wrote about my little sister for my English II class. My friend persuaded me to create a deviantart after I showed her, so I'm posting to shamelessly advertise and get feedback on my writing.

"Chayce Olivia"
Rise and shine little one,
The sun approaches from the east.
Baby seed rooted in the ground,
First stem rising like yeast.

So long it seems since the day,
You emerged from Earth's womb,
So hard to believe, my little sister,
How soon you'll be in bloom.

If I knew just what the future held,
I'd know just what you'd be.
Right now you're like an empty book,
And only through time we'll see.

Still I wonder of you,
What will lay ahead?
What bud will you have formed,
On your pretty little head.

You could be the reddest rose,
Without a single thorn.
Or the brightest daisy,
To comfort those who mourn.

Could you be the lonely violet,
Who holds the deepest hue?
Maybe you're the dandellion,
That makes our dreams come true.

We'll never know for certain,
Until that time comes near.
So stay put in your garden,
My tender little dear.

I'll nurture you and tend to you,
Until your growing's complete,
My perfect little sister,
My little flower seed.

http://exoticmailbox.deviantart.com/

[modularblues]

@thicknavyrain:
The couplets have a nice rhythm and rhyme, and it rheads nicely for some rheason. I like the obsidian.

@henryatkinson:
Powerful imagery, especially with the repeated opening line of each stanza. (Minor misspellings like "their" and "existence")

@StickFigureLover69:
[See your deviantART page]

[henryatkinson]

stick figure lover69
nice but a little cliche and expected, but the context explains that
didnt really think the line:
What bud will you have formed,
On your pretty little head.
really worked but nevermind

[Freiberg]

My sister made this poem, and, to be honest, is as good or better at it than I am. Well, once I showed her how to use rhymezone, of course. It is for her English class, so I naturally suggested that she write the poem about writing a poem. She loved the idea.

Sing, o muse, a glorious tune
of rhyme and sweat, and grades and doom
for if I don't recite this soon
I'll be here all afternoon.

In Dark of night I deeply wondered
As the sky around me thundered
because I knew if I had blundered,
My English grade would fall asunder.

I looked closely at each detail
knowing that were i to fail
my telling of this wondrous tale
would all have been of no avail.

I knew at once the task at hand
all my strength it would demand
so that my poem would expand
using all the words at hand.

This marvelous tale I hoped to write
instilled in me a deepest fright
my face soon turned a ghastly white
and then, there came a blinding light!

i realized what i must do
many words i must review
my lines must not be overdue
my random rhymes i must construe

My elder brother's aid I'd need
before I really could proceed
and when I asked him, he agreed
to help me make my rhyme succeed.

He showed me how to write it out
and how to make my poem sprout
and soon I lost all sense of doubt
of what my poem was about.

In Which I Encounter My Other Brother, Vincent, on a Strange, and Unidentified Errand

I moved at once unto my chair
and settled with the greatest care
I heard a squeaking on the stair,
my brother, creeping from his lair.

In the dark and gloom I waited
as time passed became sedated
and indeed i soon created
that poem i so surely hated.

Yet! my brother still was coming
soon there came a distinct humming
as of one serenely drumming
on the ancient basement plumbing

Indeed, ‘twas he! My old arch-foe!
His presence was a crushing blow
His timing was almost as though
My progress he had sought to slow

But soon he left my work to me
I stared forlornly at debris
of words, and hoped to some degree
to somehow make them all agree.

In Which I Battle Life, the Universe and everything

I typed down all that I could think
And still I teetered on the brink;
Before ablexxive thoughts could sink
I got my brain all back in sync.

My eyes indeed began to shine
for victory, at last, was mine
and thus i started to refine
the last, the greatest, final line.

But then! my laptop starkly crashed
all my hopes were cruelly slashed
as the hard drive weakly thrashed
all my lovely rhymes were trashed.

Thus i started up anew
to fix the rhymes that lay askew.
My lines would make their grand debut!
A brand new course i would pursue!

Once again i nearly ended.
In fact, my newer rhymes were splendid!
But somehow fate became offended
her evil hand she soon extended.

Then again 'twas in confusion.
Was this real, or just illusion?
Was i having strange delusions?
I could come to no conclusion.

The keyboard keys refused to work
as though their job they sought to shirk
and all this made me quite berserk
as i saw the desktop smirk.

I kicked the thing to make it run
by fate I would not be outdone.
My progress would be stopped by none:
the battle here had just begun!

In Which I am Tempted by Sleep

As the hours began to verge on dawn,
I found that all my strength was gone
and soon my mouth began to spawn
a terrible, and sleepy yawn.

For as I'm sure you quickly guessed
I was in sore a need of rest.
Although it would defeat my quest
I was unable to protest.

And finally my progress slowed
my previous exhaustion showed
until at last Dawn's light bestowed
her glow upon my small abode.

In Which I defeat My Enemy Sleep, and Finally Complete My Essay

But yet, i still had some strength left
of life i was not all bereft
and soon, by use of movements deft,
i added to my poem's heft

the printer soon came into play
it took it's time, to my dismay
i feared that it would print astray
or that the paper would decay

But finally it was complete
all printed out, the pages neat
with bursting pride i was replete
but kept my bounding joy discrete.

But still, to get to class in peace
my misfortunes would have to cease
and knowing of the fate's caprice
I thought my dangers would increase.

But i read my poem during class
I knew my grade would surely pass
and as i sit out on the grass
past heaven's gate, my joys surpass.



EDIT: She is now obsessing over this poem, and wants to know what you think of it. So if you have anything to say about the poem, please put it down. It would be appreciated.

[Skythe]

Some MORE!!

42

42
The answer to life
If only scientists could unlock the secrets
Of the mysterious 42
How great would life be
To know that the answer to life was 42, not 43
23 and 13 would be obsolete
Make way for the new king
Violence bow down
Money, take a knee
It’s the dawn of a new era
The era of our magnificent king
42 would never be wrong
Because 42 is the answer
From a cure for cancer
To ‘Will you marry me’
But alas
It cannot be
Because of course
Everyone knows
That the answer to life
Is really 43



----

If Every Wish

If every wish
Was granted by fish
The world might be nice
And maybe a little surreal
There’d be no more fish dishes
Or caviar on top of veal
We’d probably all be vegans
And kill bears and eagles
I guess that wouldn’t be that nice
But it sure would be surreal
I have faith in our fish friends
Who swim in the ocean
With such devotion
That they would grant my wish
What is my wish you ask
I’ll tell you without further adieu
My wish
To be granted by fish
Would be for me to be with you

[HarleyQuinn]

Spoiler'd for length, prose-ness, and depressing-ness.

Spoiler:

He sat in the cold corner, the lack of heat chapping his lips and leaving them with fine lines of blood where they had cracked. His cheeks were hollowed and his skin jaundiced, taut over his zygomatics, bones protruding as if longing to break through his pale flesh.

His hands were clenching an old phone, scratched and worn and being held together only by the force he was applying to it. The phone was a mental placebo: it had no reception, no battery, no number. He was half conscious of these facts, but held it anyway, hoping to hear a joyous ditty emerge from the depths of the plastic.

His eyes were fixated on the world outside, though not focused on anything in particular. Simply watching the desolate wasteland he called home fly by the window as the bus teetered forward; a melancholy view of muted colors and barren trees, a lackluster, lifeless land that stole his soul. He had accepted it, he knew he did not deserve any better.

His ears were pounding as a bass strummed away in B flat minor, his favorite key. He attempted to focus on how the vocals harmonized, followed the lead from chord to chord, how the bass slowed while the last pluck on the guitar was left to fade, and how the singer ended the song with a raised 3rd step, a happy major. Alas, despite the volume causing his head to ache, he could hear them all whispering, talking about him.

He sat in the cold corner, watching the frost form on the window beside him, feeling naught pulse nor cold nor being; feeling nothing but eyes on his heartless shell of a body. His hands, his eyes, his ears were all busy doing.



His mind was busy wishing he were dead.

[0comment]

I wrote this for my ex, as we first fell in love, and though it feels a bit like doggerel, I still love it.

Oh, my beloved -
whither went thy smile?
That ruby horizon,
rising beneath the stars
Shining, twins of sapphire,
set so happily upon thy face
A countenance so bright,
angels pale
For surely God Himself,
hath touched thee

Oh, curse the night!
that deigns to separate thee
From me,
oh unhappy me
That dreadful sleep,
deceptively stealing
A single moment, a touch,
thy breath and kiss
Hope itself,
robbed so innocently

Oh! To dream,
bless my dreams!
I pray to see thee, meet thee,
rise above and greet thee
The darkness cast away
and beneath some glorious ray
Dare to speak the words
so freely said awake:
“I love thee,
Oh, I love thee!”

You smile at me!
a newborn light lay upon me
For this, the sacred morning hour
I humbly thank my living Maker
Time itself hath fought and failed,
to deceive me, for in every thought
Thou hast been with me,
oh, my beloved,
This moment so long awaited,
at last again, to see thy smile!

[thicknavyrain]

*cracks knuckles*
Ok, here we go!

Mario Kart

Haha! How did I miss that? Awesome poem. This is why I love poetry: bringing rhyme and dignity to everyday silly things.
Although anyone who has played Mario Kart a couple of times knows that it is a game of life, death and immense frustration.

[Fallen Angel]

Ten years ago I had a dream
The dream ended with a passion
The passion was tainted with love
The love ran into the embrace of the reaper
The reaper carries the love with its scythe

The reaper is my dream ten years later.

[Freiberg]

With all apologies to Robert Frost:

Some say it should be cooked with curry.
Some say "just rice".
And after giving both a flurry,
I favor those who favor curry.
But if I had to cook it twice,
I think I know enough of food
To say that when cooking, "just rice"
Is also good
And would suffice.

[hopesdead]

Burning Villages and Crashing Cars

A sensation rushed through my body
It gave way to existential heart beats
Telling me how to think and what to say
Controlling a mindset of freedom

I was questioning myself
This wasn’t how I wanted it to be
Somehow it turned out that way

Realizing that this was all familiar failure
Having created a collection of nothingness
Picking out all the bad without pointing out the good
Forced to work at a goal beyond success

Falling apart
Falling into pieces
I was questioning if this was what I wanted

Regrouping from difficult times
Speaking my mind to do one thing
Eliminate insecure communication

The man had robbed us of happiness
The man had robbed us of happiness
The man had given us sadness
So just write us off in history

None of this was what I signed up for
I expected fun and games
Not a single person controlling us
Controlling a mindset of freedom
Which gave us success

We search for a home
I see the light off in the distance
My own version of the North Star
At the end of the road we will reach the light
And shall we call it home?

[Blue_Aquila]

I just got interested in poetry a few months back, so I'm still working on the "style" that best suits my tastes, but here's a few that I've done so far. Comments/Criticism welcome. Spoiler tag added to shorten the length of the post when first viewed.*

Spoiler:

---A Dream I Once Had
As I slept, I dreamt a dream,
oddly colored, in shades of cream.
In the country-side I stood,
gazing intently, as anyone would,
at the gloriously lit city below,
watching as its lights continued to glow.
However, this city was to ruin doomed,
and whilst I gazed the skies boomed.
Before my eyes not one but three nukes did flash,
reducing the glory of this city to ash.
There were no survivors, no time to flee,
only roaring flames, and rustling trees.

---Arrakis
The sands of Dune,
In the blazing afternoon,
May be best described,
as barren and dry,
but containing many a boon.

---C'thulhu Haiku
Ph'nglui m'gwah
Rl'yeh C'thulhu ftagn,
A blasphemous phrase.

---The Lone Warrior
There is a scream in the night,
During that great absence of light,
Some unknown terror!
That I must stay!
Yet as I advance, a communiqué!
I stop for a moment, and hear it say:
"SYNTAX ERROR"
And the world falls away.

---The Zombie At My Door
There is a zombie at my door,
I do not know what for.
He just stands outside and moans,
in hollow, sepulchral tones.
If only he would go away,
Then I would not have to smell the stench of his decay.
Yet every time I express my disdain,
He merely requests that I give him my brain.
This I cannot do,
So once again I say to you:
There is a zombie at my door.

---The Filter
As I sit and put pen to paper,
And the ocean of my ideas turn to vapor,
It's as if my mind is a sieve,
Where the vaprous ideas must be fit to read.
For every thought it judges fit,
To the poem it does admit.
However there are other times,
Where I am at a loss for rhymes.
When suddenly the thoughts sound hardly right,
Too long, too short, or maybe too contrite.
These blocks in my mind,
Can last for hours at a time,
But once again the flow is restored,
And these new thoughts are fit for a lord.
If only such flows were not so fleeting,
Then at a lord's table I too, would be eating.

---Student Haiku (In German)
Die Hausaufgabe,
Kommt immer und hört nie auf,
wann wird es enden?

[Fallen Angel]

The stain of a century
could not
be not
repeated.

[Chuff]

I wrote some REALLY CRAPPY poetry.

This is based on a quote I found on twistori.

"I wish I had saved all the tears I've cried for you"
she says
or he
We cannot know.
Why does she wish it?
What help would it be?
Would it somehow console her?
We shall see
"So I could fucking drown you in them"
she says
or he
We cannot know.
Ah, there's the answer
On the net, it was found
So much emotion
So little sound.

Two poems that are pretty much jokes:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
This poem has precedent
but its now from me to you

Rowling wrote novels
about wizards and witches.
I could write books
about how my heart itches.
She gave Harry a cloak
for hiding and stealing.
I'd use such a cloak
to help hide my feelings.
But I have no such thing
I must let them flow
So I put pen to paper
And let my emotions show

[gistick]

The poems are both images as they were past webcomics (Electron Man) from a bunch of Wednesdays ago.

Spoiler:

Spoiler:

(yes I realize how hard it is to read that font...)

[Zapp]

Wings

Fluttering creature,
Wings small yet poised, colorful,
Ready to go; flight.

Steal wings of angels;
Pressed between pages, flowers
Sacred and profane.

Butterfly magic:
Free yet constrained, happy yet
Unable to laugh.

Butterfly wings pressed,
Stolen, against your sweet lips.
Sacred, not profane.

[Parrot]

A really short one by me.

If I told you
Everything,
How would you react?
How should you retract?
Exact
My lack
Of tact
In fact?
I take it back.

EDIT: I made it my signature... Which is going to look really odd for this post in particular.
EDIT (Again): Did this forum just automatically turn "Edit" into "Oops"? That is pretty funny.