(Post Your) Incredible Poems (Here!)

[pollywog]

That's incredible. You are very good. I like this a lot.

[the Cow]

Thank you Mr. Wog.

[pollywog]

Please, call me Polly.

[Geek_Convention]

Ghosts screaming out your name,
Silent as they exclaim,
“It is you I still revere,
Everyday I shed a tear,
For every word you do not hear,
For every whisper in your ear,
A voice from history in your head,
Slumber on without me instead”.

Sleep is the half-brother of death,
So I mourn with every half-breath,
May your ashes come aflame,
May I love your name again,
Feel the fire of your embrace,
Once more gaze upon your face,
But I look from the past,
And much time has passed,
Will I never see you at last?


Sometimes I feel like writing something around a phrase I heard that caught my attention. Over time more and more get incorporated. I started writing this one thinking it would be something different. It was roughly meant to be a journey through time and through a relationship. Looking forwards at the end, enjoying the present in the middle and then the first paragraph of this poem is the relfection upon the past. I wrote the "third" part first, and then the "fourth" part was just on an impulse.

As to meaning I hope you find sense in it. I know what I was thinking about when I was writing it but I suppose it will reflect differently on other people.

Criticism is encouraged, so tell me if you know a change that you would think improve it. Some really great poems in this thread. Too many to pick from. Hope you liked reading mine.

[pxc]

I don't consider this a poem, but some people I've showed or read it to have called it one. I like it, so I'm posting it.

of Fire
I blow on the ashes to remember the flames
so why am I surprised when they burn me?

Sometimes I don't know what to do with inventions of antiquity--useless, really. A device beautiful and important in its own way, but entirely meaningless to me now. Strange that something once so necessary and precious, so relevant and integral is now boxed away to be revisited like a grave. The rusted engine, twisted gears and warped frame can hardly be considered safe, but I still need to turn the key. I can't help but want to rediscover the roar that hides in silence.

I blow on the ashes to remember the flames
so I can't act surprised when they burn me.

To anyone else, this creak is just another slouching floorboard, but I'm still in love with the sound. The peeling paint is rough and faint, but my eyes still see the world it colored for me. The raindrops trickle in to greet me from the roof above, but I can't fight my compulsion to stay: the words and wounds of this place will never leave it, but neither can I.

I blow on the ashes to remember the flames
because the memories are cold until they burn.

You can also find this "poem" on the interblagosphere.

A real poem:
The Greatest of These

A cloud crawled beneath the sun.
I watched the sidewalk shift to a darker dun
while I groped for words that finally slipped
between my fingers, and off of my lips.

Cold and distant, almost a whisper
I asked tentatively, "As in never?"

"Yes."

I wanted to speak, but instead just swallowed,
forcing down words--useless, dry, andhts wandered from nothing to obl hollow.

"I love you," you said, six long, painful seconds later.
You held my hand while I watched your words, warming air to vapor.
Desperately searching for a lie to hide the damage
a hesitant "Thanks" was all I could manage.

My thoughts wandered from nothing to oblivion to nowhere and
then back to our corporeal dominion.
In my heart and my peripheral vision
I noticed the gap you left with a gasp of confusion.

Where was the sun?

The pavement scuffed and scraped with twisted cadence
against the tires of the car.

"Faith has taken my hope and love," I said to no one.

I moved clumsily forward until I tripped and fell
a little further out of grace with God
and not far enough into sleep.

[d33p]

sonnet i

these Mirrorghosts who are my prior man
in legion - left behind with tribute smoke;
(the personalities of worship can
bely the most.) I were that sticks wish broke.
But still still fear, if wispy forms may leave,
creates the fast conspiracy of girls:
There are no shifty aces up my sleeve.
There are no swine to which I cast my pearls.
I am I are I bless so I can joke
yet haunts arrive in rarely,seldom,curls.

[Hammer]

And it drifts into the sea
Into the light
Into the waves
And nothing will bring it back

It belongs to the ocean now
To the endless current that carries things from us
Will we or nil we

Don't strike out after it
We cannot swim in that stuff

Look instead on the beach for what it brought

[parkaboy]

Tribute and Tributary

soft sounds sail to me on digital winds
and light small fires in my heart
words like a solid secure shore
give a breathtaking view of a delta of creativity
small inspirations run into a river of ideas
and empty into seas of wonder where i stand
another breeze brushes my face and hair
as a blush blazes to life on my skin
from these rocks you've made for me to stand on
i can see the sparkling waves bringing bottle after bottle in
like fleets of ships returning home from the ocean
each carrying something precious from those waters
things to quiet the tempestuous winds in my soul
things to fuel the flames of thought in my mind
things to steel my resolve and push me onward
things to keep me floating where otherwise i might drown.

(now going back and reading Hammers poem its kinda weird, but competely unrelated. hehe ^_^)

[constant plotting]

i just been wondering how
contemplating it all
seeing the senselessness
of picking up your call


you took something huge
and made it real small
you took a standup guy
and convinced him to fall

your nonsensical explanations
are because your vision is blurred
i cant understand your conversations
the way your voice is being slurred

your dependancies have crippled
your ability to concieve
sinking you to all time lows
its past time for me to leave

reconciliation isnt possible
youve been cast out of the loop
crippling our perfect union
with your distortion of the truth

your perception is your reality
and your reality is skewed
ive wasted too much precious time
with these phantoms ive pursued

in every sense of the idea
ive outgrown these games
go back to your pills and cocaine
youll never hear me complain

fallen off the deep end
and youre unable to swim
the currency of my feelings,
youre not authorized to spend

i deny you the right
to make decisive proclamations
about myself and my partners
and our intense dedications

years from now ill see you around
on a crowded street, in our hometown
youll throw me eyes, try to give me a hug
youll be pushed away, we can never get down

ill throw up two fingers, just to show i care
but ill be cooling my heels, with the wind in my hair
its inconsequential anymore, i wont be there
to give you all i have, for what we used to share

no animosity, no joke, no lies
im not mad anymore and i dont despise
merely disappointed in your equivocation
and the sum product of whats inside

[constant plotting]

loyal unto death
regardless of separation
tireless without rest
iron will and dedication

the reasons arent important
untangibles cast into the wind
dangers are rendered impotent
there is no end i didnt begin

x's on a treasure map
spot out the obvious gems
completely here without lack
tooth and nail, with all my limbs

born lover turned fighter
knight in rusted armor
enlightened concience higher
swords to plowshares for the farmer

the fight is never over
but without striking anyone
ive found a lucky four-leaf clover
and seen the eclipse of my sun

[Lumpy]

An Awful Experience of Edward Allen

It happened on a bright and sunny Sunday,
the warmest on record in the month of May.
It had rained the day before, but for the most part the street was dry.
The sky was nearly clear and blue, but numerous clouds obscured the sky.
I rushed home along the sidewalk, looking over my shoulder along the way.

I came to my apartment room with my heart racing,
my chest pounding from the figure that had been chasing.
I twisted the doorknob left and right;
I tugged on it with all my might.
I had caught but only a glimpse of the horror I had been facing.

I pounded my fists against the door.
I called for help and cried once more;
Had I seen the figure again?
The next inevitable encounter was but a matter of where and when.
I recollect having met the stalker twice before.

The stalker wore a hooded robe,
composed of patchwork black and mauve.
He wears no shoes, only muddy socks.
What I find most peculiar about him is the pigeon-toed way he walks.
I first saw him last week on the same street, in my car, whilst I drove.

The next time I ran across him, I was on my way home from work.
I was merely walking ahead of him, when he went berserk.
He withdrew a switchblade from his pocket,
He threw it at me and I avoided a direct hit to my eyesocket.
I ran the next half mile, worrying that around the next corner the fiend could lurk.

It was on the third encounter that had minutes ago taken place,
that there had been a three mile-long dreadful chase.
It was when the wind along the way had blown down the villain's hood,
that there had been revealed a rainbow wig, a bulging glass eye, and an inch-long nose made of wood.
He held in his hand a butcher knife, with which he threatened to remove my face.

I combed through my belongings for the key to my apartment door.
I held a multitude of keys, and I failed to remember which I had used the night before.
Perhaps the one with the jagged edge,
or this one with the gnarled wedge?
I had no luck testing keys number three and four.

Quickly, quickly, I cried to myself,
Find it, find it! Calm yourself!
Awash in a sea of sudden dread,
with sweat drenching every inch of my head,
I realized I had left my key inside my room on the top bookshelf.

Familiar heavy breathing filled my ears,
stimulating and exacerbating my worst fears.
A shadow grew on the wall behind me,
as a lurching feeling grew inside me.
The stalker must be near.

I turned around and the man was unarmed;
with a calm demeanor, he told me he was glad to see me unharmed.
Feeling for the mace inside my pocket, I asked him to explain.
He replied, "Very well, but you might think I'm insane..."
With my back against the door, I disregarded being warned.

I already disbelieved in the man's sanity, so there wasn't much to lose.
Having been cornered, there were no options left to choose.
I stood and listened to his story,
his voice shaking with worry,
and when I asked him to stop, he would refuse.

"When I lower my head toward the flowers so I can hear their voices,
the plants can control all my actions and all my choices
I happen to be a florist, and this helps at work
But when I listen to a Venus Flytrap, well, I go berserk
When I tell it that I've killed a coworker, it rejoices."

"It started about two and a half years ago;
at first only I could hear the trees, but my ability began to grow.
For fear of being called crazy, I ignored it,
and when this became harder, I abhorred it.
Then I became more curious. Does the grass hate being mowed?"

"When I talked to the trees, I told them about disappearing forests,
and was interrupted by a protesting chorus,
'Why do you do this? None of us are weeds;
we give you food and shelter. We even help you breathe.'
Then the dandelions interrupted. Easily offended, these."

"I familiarized myself with all kinds of flowers,
sitting inside my garden, spending hours.
The roses were most beautiful, but dumb as dirt and vain;
the daisies were quite cheery. I knew each of them by name.
With more practice, I fine-tuned my powers."

"I spoke to the tomato plants, which took pride when I picked their fruit.
The apple trees wept, though, when I took their children as my loot.
I reassured them afterward that their seedlings would be safe and sound.
I returned a day later to plant them in the ground.
They still tried to argue, but I threatened to pour salt around their roots."

"I took a job at Victor's Flower Shop last May,
at first working part-time while another employee was away.
It was during this time that I figured out how to let it in my head;
I could peer into a plant's soul, or let it into mine instead.
I tried it with a tulip, a hyperactive one that loved to play."

"The first thing it did was practice conversing,
and quickly it turned toward cursing,
thanks to an impatient customer who had been rude,
in response to the tulips' comments toward his baldness, which he found quite crude.
The boss found the tulip, in my body, rehearsing."

"Meanwhile I was trying to get anyone to hear me speak.
I cried for help and wondered, would I always be a freak.
I stopped trying and faced futility,
missing my mobility,
To get back inside my body took a week."

"I was ordered to attend to the Venus Flytraps, which I thought were cool.
As I put a fly toward its mouth, I thought I could sense it drool.
It had a voice I could not help hearing,
loud, obnoxious, and domineering,
'Feed me...human...tool.'"

"As I fed the carnivorous plant the dead fly,
I stood back wincing, and covering my right eye.
Next thing I knew I was in a clay pot again;
the Flytrap ran out the door, and it was after hours when,
he came back bursting through the door with a severed human thigh."

"He approached me and offered me a bite,
clearly I said "No," but he insisted out of spite.
He stuck a small chunk near me,
and I bit his finger until he would hear me,
there would be no cannibalism tonight."

"As soon as I was inside my body, I heard someone come through the revolving door.
I slinked along the wall toward the exit, crawling along the floor.
I knocked the intruder unconscious, by punching him in the face.
Sirens were in the distance blaring, and my heart began to race.
Knowing human flesh might be inside my stomach sickened me to the core."

I asked the stranger why he wore a wooden nose and a rainbow wig.
He shrugged his shoulders and began laughing, snorting like a pig.
"After I saw myself on the local news, I pulled out a disguise.
It might seem rather stupid, but no one's gotten wise."
I put my hand inside my pocket, and I began to dig.

I found another key there, and ran inside my room.
I called 911 while the crazy person stood outside, threatening my doom.
Over the phone I tried not to panic,
but apparently I still sounded manic,
as I was cut off after being called a loon.

[Edit0r]

An old Colonel of the name Mustard,
Came out of a brothel quite flustered
"Those whores I detest,
denied my request
for pretty girls covered in custard!"

[Jesse]

Oh man guys, I miss the Limerick thread. Someone bring that back to life.

[blackeye]

gripe is the shadow under the tree
that steals all the hope from our marrow
The price we paid is not free
toil is the word that uncoils the fall
as our hands slide down halls so narrow
and with that ball that our son used to gravitate to
I trip down the stairs and roll like a barrel
the barrel of a gun, that is made for me
the hot trigger flash, bam, pow, stopper
forget that we are not the world spinning
we are not the palm opening
we are nothing unless we make
something of ourselves, something to take
Mom's apple pie came out of the oven
smelling sweeter than roses in june
and my God, Tip me, so lovely
My heart might just expload all over you

[Lumpy]

My odious object of poisoned perfection
My resplendent towering tainted confection
I'll bake a cake, and what a cake I'll bake!
I'll deck it out with all the frosting
And all the plastic figures, I'll meticulously adorn
I'll craft it all with malicious intention costing
the lives of the ill-mannered people that show me scorn
I'll decorate it in a manner showing such affection
that such a malevolent act won't be in their perception.
I'll flee through the window imperceptibly,
having finished the act so reprehensibly.
I won't be found here afterward,
For they would have me hanged.
As they gorge themselves, I'll look onward!
They won't suspect a thing!

[i like pi]

well...
not exactly a poem....
its actually a beginning to a book im currently writing
(YES, i realize it has no beginning or end, but you will see it in store in maybe a year, that is if i can impress geniuses such as yourselves.)


I ran, as fast as my feet would carry me. Away from the terrors, away from the tower, I fled. The tower’s beasts would probably pursue, but I didn’t look back to check, for my eyes would see the tower once more. When I grew tired I rested inside a fissure, hoping that the Hell Spawn would not find me there. I felt something touch my leg. I spun around to catch a glimpse of a creature so horrible that if I described it, you would go deaf, and if you saw it you would go blind, and if I spoke of it, I would go mute. I fled out of the cave and the beasts of the tower caught sight of me. Once again I run. Running, running, running, no matter how fast I scurry, the beasts are quicker. I trip and fall, and can only await my death. But I felt something. It was cold and hard. I felt around and cut myself on something. The beasts were only a few feet away. I thought of what this object might be. The beasts are coming. It was a sword. The beasts are coming. I grabbed for the hilt. The beasts are here. I lunge with the sword, and a bolt of lightning strikes the demon. I look up and I saw a look of fear on the hell spawn. I get up and take my stance. The monsters begin to retreat. I run after them. The hunter becomes the hunted.

EDIT: looks like i have ten posts.
time to post links!
yes it is idiotic at times, but i would like to remind you all of why you read xkcd comics
http://xkcd.com/10/
and
http://xkcd.com/18/
and
http://xkcd.com/37/
edit2: i used idiotic for lack of a better word.

[morag]

Just to drag the standard down a bit...

Feel the neoprene on your skin as the water seeps in
The rubber on your face as the mask slides into place
Slip the reg into your mouth, spit the water out
Take a breath, check your air, it's time to go down there

We're on a wavelength underneath the waves
If it weren't for the air we could stay here for days
Watching the fish as they swim through our hair
Unlike above, down here are no cares

Thoughts drift in and out my head as I reach the seabed
Get the buoyancy control, floating is our goal
I feel a strange new calm, is this narcosis?
Or maybe just a prelude to psychosis

As we ascend once more to reach the surface, boat and shore
Will we still feel as we do, scuba lovers two?
With a perspex filtered gaze through the underwater haze
You signal ok and hold my hand, we'll be fine on dry land.

Mòrag

[i like pi]

hmm....... I failed to interpret that poem


next post will say *insert insult to my intelligence here*

[morag]

i like pi,
to which post do you refer?

[Droooo]

Was bored and thought I'd write a poem. Tis not long but this is what I came up with:


Silent music crashes rounds my vacant ears
As my heart slowly shivers.
“Where are you?” I whisper.
The mirror lies empty.


Criticism welcome.

[blackeye]

Cymbal.crash()
Snow and roses
lights from balconies hung over
our heads as the music dreams and drops
chains will snap, were free from locks
and bonds, made complex by the reality
that thing we think so menacing filled with totality
marks and missing arrows derail intention
as we pay our complete attention
to the what we were meant to be
and whom with we were meant to drink tea
and by drinking tea I mean sex
until we view that elliptical circumflex
browsing the horizon like a shopper with turrets
his eyes are blue, and his thoughts undressed
he's thinking of you, a silhouette laid out on his bed
now a neurasthenic cow, morning arises on this thought of sow
rubber arms wrap around, he's one happy hound
no thought nor sound now
just what poets call love and the world spinning round

[Lit_Rat]

alright here's mine

There are the shiny bright city lights
That show me the way to the future
But now in these bright shining lights
I can't see the beacon to find my way through life

And the shining bright city lights
Leave nothing in cold mysterious darkness
No alley unturned
No street corner unexplored
Nothing left to find
Nothing left to see
Except the lights
And the people who gather in hordes like desperate pale moths around them.

And now that I'm not in the dark
I can't see the stars
I can't think of anything, feel anything, know anything
There is nothing to find except well lit familiar alleys.

(please be nice)

[Phentos]

http://www.esnips.com/web/phentos-poetry

They're all recorded.

IF anyone wants a text version I'll edit this post.

[grubznug]

harmonics
cut the world in half with harmonics
a buzzing floating symphony of harmonics
the music you imagine as you look into orange glowing clouds
when the ground falls beneath your feet, and you hang still in the sky
the clouds grow larger, not larger, closer
not still, flying
not orange, but a colour never seen
a vision never dreamt
now the clouds fall beneath your feet
and the sound grows in power
resonating against your very thoughts
your blood swaying with the waves
sound in a higher dimension of perception
as the clouds fade and spheres of light appear
surfaces lit by pinholes in a dark fabric
louder, full, and overbearing
a foretelling of a brilliant crash
boiling and distant
the driving force of life and power
the fabric is pierced by the sound of wonder
it leaks into the void, through your eyes and thoughts
now there is only blinding light around you
unbelievable music plays through the texture of the universe
building to a climactic realization
pulsing through your veins
completely overbearing
you blink to refresh your senses
your eyes open
and there is silence
blackness
stillness
never again

[Jesse]

Hours arrayed against us as barbed wire.
Machine-gun minutes, manned by seconds;
soldiers.
We, brave children boldened by love,
fight for our final freedom.
We will live life, not in the hour or day;
But in the milli, the micro, the pico-second.

[parkaboy]

Whisper soft words in glowing streams
silent as clouds and deep as electric oceans.
They sail to you through storms of syllables and sentences
carried on tumultuous waves
but aimed directly at the intended destination

Stain paper with black and blue -
a clean surface marred by linguistic bruises.
Our message carriers take too long,
while our invisible bottles have already reached the other's circuitboard shore.
but, anyway, there is a tangible rememberance
of things we never said to each other every night.

I turned my face to yours
and I shouted my lungs out
but those words never reached you

Distance makes for hoarse throats and dry eyes,
echoing hearts and forever searching souls
worn soles and tired arms
ink scrawlings and dead trees
digital bottles in hypertext seas
floating in life rafts that bring our minds together
despite the miles of earth between our feet.

[Rex Idiotarum]

A sign I sought above the one one I ought to love of forth.
As I found that one aloud upon the thought about the thing I shout.
You wonder why I fought first and shot third, and didn't bother to talk.
I can ponder the puzzle until the morrow, and still no answer will arise,
But if you sit in my seat and think my thoughts, you'll be surprised.

Upon the alter of the storms I found a riddle on the shrine,
It worked my brain, and it drove me insane,
And now you see me here, where they say, "What, mutt,
Do you want? Shan't be glee, Grim Slim.
Suffer, muffer, so you sought to borrow my sorrow?
I'd gladly give it."

[Jesse]

I was accused of being emo by Tanya, and responded in the form of a poem.

Marmite of my Heart

I hurt myself today
No-one understands me
There is marmite on the floor
Of my heart.

Screw my arteries
They only bring me pain
Like my dead parents
Who also never understood me.

I try to scrape the sickness
From my soul
But it is like a marmite jar
Fucking impossible to get those last bits out of the corners

[Ren]

Awesome.

What can I say, Jesse? You've come from rhymes that came across as pompous, from the heart though they were, to this! Also from the heart, but wry, and funny, and *effective*.

Well done you!
*so proud*

[LE4dGOLEM]

I was accused of being emo by Tanya, and responded in the form of a poem.

\Smooth\.

[archagon]

"Escape velocity"

They say v­­e –
Escape velocity –
Is square two G
M over R;
The v, in other words,
An object needs
To reach infinity,
With zero energy,
Alone.

And, in a sense,
I wish I knew my own
Escape velocity;
The speed I need
To float away from this
Depressing atmosphere;
To break through clouds,
As flowers break through snow
At spring's emerging glaze;
To know my future
And my dreams
Forever
To be studded
In the sky.

Alas, root two M G
Divided by an R
Does not apply to things
That cannot fly.


"Pi"

We hoped, and kneeled, and prayed
That it would be exactly three,
Or maybe vingt-et-deux divided sept,
Or maybe point one four -- and that be it;

But order is usurped by chaos-play!
And though we tried and tried to make words fit,
Our ears were deaf to what they had to say.

Infinity confounds us to this day.


"Untitled"

For centuries, we hated nature
For providing birds with wings,
And us with mere imaginations;

Our kind did littler cliffside-bottoms
With their fragile, folded wings
And wept for all; for those that fell
Did truly know the purity
Of fall.

But arrogance gives wing-spans of its own;
And over time,
We buit our own:

Gave the gentle
Floating wings of every bird a gleaming
Metal glazure;
razed our rivets where their veins
Once pulsed and shone; the hum of engines
Where their hearts once pulped and stirred.

Look at us now!
Glance up above, and you will see
Us shear the sky
In metal cages never meant
To fly!

[funnyav]

Archagon, those are awesome!

(I wrote this right now, in the post. First poem in a LONG time )

I walk from the bus stop
The ground has frozen now
Admiring the frost
On almost everything
Winter has started
But not inside me

I walk onto the grounds
The pond still frozen now
Can it bear my weight?
I poke it with a stick
See old ice frozen into new
The air is cold, that is true

I walk through the door
People already here
But not you, not you
You come later than this
With your peach colored bag,
your coat, hood and belt
I pretend not to see
I cautiously watch the floor
I know you know I do.

I walk down the hallway
As my eyes adjust to the dark
All the lights still off
Everyone still on their way
Throw some heavy crap in my locker
Won't need it right away

I walk back down the hallway
Pretending to only care
About the revised schedules
Of class and self study time
Flickering on the monitor
Far away, must squint to see

I walk to the back
Of the darkish cafeteria
Two classmates already there
They just glance in my general direction
And continue conversation
Of shit seen on YouTube

I sit next to them
They still don't say hello
Or make a sign to show
That they would even notice
If I were to not show up

I walk back to the middle
Around the cash desk
Oh shit, you're here now
I turn around and pretend
To wonder what's on screen
Nothing new, I see. I stare a little more.

I sense you're at the lockers now
I turn around and look
I see you doing
What everyone does every day
You put your books away

You're done and you look up
First at something else, eventually at me
I turned back to the screen by now
You knew I was watching
You knew, I know how

That word is misunderstood,
I may use "infatuation" now instead
A feeling I know we share
I hope you know I do

The bell goes off
We walk our seperate ways
This is how it will be
For at least a few more days

[Jesse]

Awesome.

What can I say, Jesse? You've come from rhymes that came across as pompous, from the heart though they were, to this! Also from the heart, but wry, and funny, and *effective*.

Well done you!
*so proud*

Ren, you are quite clearly insane.

[Ren]

It's a distinct possibility. *wink*

Write more poems like that. Go. Do it now.

[blackeye]

Art is dead.
Is Art dead?
Dead is Art.
Art is dead.

[funnyav]

Art is dead.
Is Art dead?
Dead is Art.
Art is dead.

Clap clap clap.

[J Spade]

I tried to write some poetry,
but something went way wrong, you see...
I tried to make my stanzas rhyme,
but they did not agree with me.

I kept on writing anyway
(I was feeling rather good that day.)
And when I wrote a little more,
I just ran out of things to say.

I looked back on all that I wrote,
and had to take a mental note,
that it did not make sense to write
about a castle with no moat.

So I went back and changed some words,
made some up you've never heard,
and in the end my poetry
became just ramblings of a nerd.

I wanted to throw it away,
for reasons I don't have to say,
but then my poem, a girl found,
and my whole life was changed that day.

I wondered why she really cared
about my life (no one else dared).
She told me she had always been
too shy before- too scared.

My poem really spoke to her.
It opened a window, as it were,
into my heart, and mind, and soul,
and the real world became a blur.

I got to know this girl some more,
and something told me I was sure
that I did fall in love that day,
an ailment for which there's no cure.

We really did love one another.
It seemed we were made for each other.
But one day, she did break my heart.
She told me that she'd found some other.

I never wrote another line.
For if I tried, my loveless mind
would just drift to that girl again,
and how she had left me behind.

Over time my wounds did heal.
My pain was faint, almost not real.
My words were coming back to me,
And I could write of how I feel.

I tried to write some poetry,
but something went way wrong, you see...
I tried to make my stanzas rhyme,
but they did not agree with me.

It seemed without her love for me
I could not write, my soul not free.

[funnyav]

J Spade, that is a great poem.

Now write something happy.





Write.
Kite.
Sight.
Flight.
Might.
Pint.
Grind.
Crush.
Mush.
Broken glass.
Happy, crushed glass.
Joyous, broken glass.
Gleeful, exploded glass.
Tearing inside me, glass.
Diamond coated glass.
Shredding my soul.
Oh wait, those are hormones.
Rounded, soft, smooth glass.
Warm enough to shape.
Shaping molten glass.
Stupid retarded ape.
Most my poems grow like this.
Most of them annoying like piss.
Incredibly, excruciatingly hard to read.
And yet they fill up no need.
No reason to write, perhaps my ego?
A half Norwegian emu fetishist emo.
Tears his face away.
With broken glass.
Just to make time pass.
Just a little less fast.
Slows down more and more.
Time is no more.
Right down on the floor.
My cheeks kiss the dust.
End.

Lol, that was fun.

[blackeye]

I feel like Einstein staring at finite space for the first time.

[bbctol]

:shock: I feel like Einstein staring at finite space for the first time.

That made me crack up.