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FilipeDumas

Poetry (post yours, if you wish)

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during the day when you hate to see the light because you know everything outside is bright and clear and beautiful but it feels like youre the only person who cant see it so you go inside and waste your time with the curtains drawn and hope someone can call you or see you and say the exact words you need to hear but nobody knows what to say except for trivial mutterings about superficial observations and you dont really care so you leave and wait until night under the cloak of blackness and think about every person youve ever let down and you cant quite sleep and all you want to do is get so high high high you cant feel anything anymore

 

on an unrelated note john frusciante is a genius.

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meanwhile in the deep yawning dark the strangers you used to know go about their business with smiles as wide as the ocean

the sun swallows the horizon and birds fly away like arrows piercing the skys blue flesh

it looks as though were in dire straits here. :LOL:

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@pandaman...you are a very interesting character ..heheh...

 

Burning Skies

 

In the darkness

of the broken shadows

in my heart

 

I find you

there,still,

all alone

 

Will there be

a way to take

you from my shadow,

a faded memory,

to make you real

again?

 

When I find

you these skies

will burn again

 

In this distance

I am alone

in the darkness

of the broken shadows

in my heart

 

Should we meet

I’d remember everything

once again

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Put your trust in my hands for a safe bet

And listen closely as I contantly fret that he cannot be you.

It's pointless hoping but i still do,

Its hopeless love but not for you, because i'll always appreciate you.

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In Your Soul

 

Turn to face the stars

see them come to life

 

You stole my soul,my spirit,my love for life.

Feel my fire and know my pain

I have inside

that you left behind

 

Say there’s still a place

for me inside your soul

then say no more

 

For there is no pain

for me like that

which you left behind

 

The kind that my shadow

bleeds,my mind refuses to forget

and my pounding heart who is ever

seeking revenge

 

Fall into the wind to hear my

voice cry in a whisper

without you there are no tears

there is no love

only this sad story

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You tried to start running before you could walk

and now you're back on your knees, crawling, praying,

seeking forgiveness in all the wrong places.

Soul-searching down all roads

but the one you ought to walk down.

 

I was told "take up thy bed and walk",

but it was bolted to the floor

Immovable, unshakeable, sturdy

like all things should be

like I should be

 

Take the wheel and steer yourself across the sea.

Maintain your mast, your sail. Keep your crew

close and your enemies in sight.

Watch out for rocks,

for creatures who'll aim

to tear a hole and make you sink to the ocean floor

 

I tried to live as a fisherman, held respect for the sea

and all its creatures. Watched as they'd swim en masse

to nets of men who fished for sport. Who left them

lying on the deck, gasping

for water in a sea of air,treated

with disdain.

men laughing as they caught fish

after fish while my net lay empty, and yet when the Leviathan

neared, and all set for shore as fast as the winds

could carry; it was I who was left with splintered

stern and singe-ed sail.

 

Go out across the desert, the barren

plains and steel yourself. A man

isn't a man until he goes out into the wilderness,

without tools and conquers

his surroundings. Until that point, the boy

remains a boy.

 

Jesus had it easy, here for 40 days.

Me? I've lived here for 20 years, scavenging

scraps that people leave behind. Reassuring words whistle

through the desert wind - dry, unnourishing;

"Things will be fine" - while the searing sun strips

and bleaches my bones to purest white.

"There's always a way out" my conscience says

but does its silhouette form wings or horns?

_________________

(basically, the creative writing course I'm applying to requires a 300 word fiction/poetry piece as a folio piece. Can be an extract from something longer (which this may well be, I literally started it about an hour and a half ago). Poetry usually is not my forté at all, but I just started this influenced by something I found out about 3 hrs ago and ended up in a groove

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@Ross..good job..it was thought provoking and I love the abstractness parts to it as well!

 

 

Ever So

 

 

Lost in a pool of dust,

looking up at this starving

moon as he hungers for his lost

tears that have become the stars.

 

In innocence I can find

a trace of heartache

and in wisdom I find

and abundance of dreams

filled with memories

of love.

 

Within this dark I

am standing in the truth

awaiting your cry.

 

When the sounds fill

me with your soul

I know then that we

are a part of the

angels’ sigh

forever seeking to pierce

the hearts of every man.

 

Still looking up

from my pool of dust,

in wisdom and innocence,

did I suddenly see

the moon smiling,ever so eloquently,

down at me.

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more normal ish poetry haha

its about a recent trip to seattle with a couple friends of mine.

 

enter skyline

buildings, traffic,

red sunset and

days that pass like

sand inside

an hourglass

but in my vision

just before this

is the person

i adore its

hard to tell

if im awake

weve had no sleep

for goodness sake

forgive me please

for so it seems

that i have strayed

into a dream

but if i die before i wake

i give this girl

my soul to take.

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Haven't written proper poetry in a long time. I'm trying to get back into it (I'm more used to writing songs now) so here goes I suppose:

 

Natural Disaster

 

I am a baby

Protected in your cotton cradle

Your black bunker

Your voice puts my hurricane brain to sleep

 

If tempered I know you'll kill

To keep our umbilical cord perfect

Love - nature at it's best

The sunlight glistens from your darkness

 

Your lips lay on the innocence

Of newborn affection

Something Satan's son should not feel

When pushed to God

 

Your all-seeing eye pierces all I am

And I am paralysed

Wrap your arms around my neck

Please

 

Now

I am a man of broken wood

Surrounded by the splinters you have left behind

And I feel your earthquake

Inside of me

Growing

 

I literally just made this so I understand it will be very rough, constructive criticism is more than welcome :)

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We had to write a poem about a family member and use an extended metaphor and play with the structure.

 

A Sucker In The House

 

An unpleasant pest, my brother

Leeches and steals shamelessly

From me like a

Parasite. I avoid

Him, as he is

A diseased mosquito, a plague,

Contaminating every surface

With his greasy fingers.

He is an

Obnoxious

Meaningless

Buzzing noise that

Never leaves me alone

 

His sole purpose?

To suck away my happiness

And leave me with

Irritable bites that ruin my day.

One day,

 

I will swat him down.

 

 

 

:LOL::LOL::LOL:

I usually don't like writing poetry but that was rather fun.

Edited by zomuse
nose=noise

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Hi I'm new and nervous about sharing my poetry. I just started writing poems and find them fun! Anyway, here's my poem:

 

My favorite band

 

Muse,

You are my fuse.

When I play your songs I ignite like fireworks in the sky.

It takes me so high,

I feel like I can fly.

Your songs are so down to earth,

I'm glad your mothers' gave birth.

A great gift to woman and man

Thank you, I'll always be your fan!

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In my own ashes,

I bury the blame.

The every stricke,

I caused to myself.

That day I broke out,

when they said you are loved.

That day I fell down,

to my hatred, I'll drown.

To open skies,

I raise my eyes.

I whisper my wish,

the last I want to have.

And I cry.

Because I cry far too much.

And I feel like it's only thing alive.

And I want to die.

But even death doesn't care.

So I'm here.

In my own ashes I bury the blame.

I cover the mirror,

with dust from your bones.

And I will follow,

'cause thats how it goes,

you to the dark.

To return the light,

which my heart borrows.

 

If one dies, one dies,

they shall hope it's me.

No one misses, no one misses,

I'd be glad to leave.

If one dies, one dies,

they shall hope it's me.

I'm here, I'm here,

I've been made to please.

 

To my own ashes,

I bury the blame.

My thoughts,

I shout.

If one dies, if one dies,

they shall hope it's me.

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A long-abandoned village

falling into ruin

A house full of relics

devices that won't work

A bed, nicely made

with a stuffed bear on the pillow

still waiting for a hug

looking hopefully out the window

 

A store on the corner

filled with rotten goods

A garden in a front yard

overrun by weeds

A statue of a man

the founder of the town

with mold on his shoulders

and his finger on the ground

 

An old soccer field

all the grass grown three feet tall

An empty swimming pool

evaporated into mist

An old clock tower

all the gears long rusted

but the bells still ring

for the wind can reach them, the walls are busted

 

A church on a hill

all the glass shattered in pieces

A poster for a movie

long since faded by the sun

An old little playground

with see-saws, slides, and swings

and a tiny little birds' nest

dead eggs that will never spread their wings

 

 

 

I apologize, I write sad poetry when I'm sad

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Born and bound,

A pariah unseen in the foggy embankment of the river

It calls out my name

And snaps my chains

Unfettered in the mud and longing

For a crown that spins unbidden

Jewelled.

 

Creeping mud cloys my mouth

Supping unbidden at the water

Turned brackish and moulting

Rancid, rank, revolting

Taught to spin in a spider’s web

Caught and glistening

Jewelled.

 

Drained like an insect

Snapped up by a lizard

Sighing and moping

Filled with loathing

I grow like stone

And make bold

Jewelled.

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It first grabs a hold

Deep within the soul.

Seeks out to mold

Then promptly swallows whole.

 

With the power to render,

A body completely to waste.

Even a heart so tender,

Can often be misplaced.

 

A darkness solely within

Keeps good thoughts at bay.

As night envelops the skin

That what is left, dismay.

 

A yelp softly escapes your

Blistered salty lip.

Yet there is not an ear to lend nor,

Warmth for your longing grip.

 

The tears never proceed

To stop falling down your face.

But if thought was taken at heed

Perhaps life would change its pace.

 

Just when you think you're forgotten

Arms will open up wide again.

Things will take a suprizing turn,

And life will give to you what you truly yearn.

Edited by naget4music

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At times is seems

Though ever present in my dreams

That I amnothing

the only one

 

Watching the world

Seemingly progress in a whirl

And here I amnothing

all the same

 

Flowers they blossom

While love's never lost them

But it never

comes my way

 

I pick and I prod

Think 'well maybe I'm odd'

For I am

not to change

 

At the end of the day

As things don't want to go my way

I accept it

At god's will

 

A catch what I am

I know that one day when bam

I will fall

into bliss

 

 

Lammmeee, but these now help me avoid ranting

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On Turning Ten written by Billy Collins

 

The whole idea of it makes me feel

like I'm coming down with something,

something worse than any stomach ache

or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--

a kind of measles of the spirit,

a mumps of the psyche,

a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

 

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,

but that is because you have forgotten

the perfect simplicity of being one

and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.

But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.

At four I was an Arabian wizard.

I could make myself invisible

by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.

At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

 

But now I am mostly at the window

watching the late afternoon light.

Back then it never fell so solemnly

against the side of my tree house,

and my bicycle never leaned against the garage

as it does today,

all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

 

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,

as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.

It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,

time to turn the first big number.

 

It seems only yesterday I used to believe

there was nothing under my skin but light.

If you cut me I could shine.

But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,

I skin my knees. I bleed.

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That was really pretty...

 

This may not really be a poem, I have more poetic stuff, but I like it, so:

 

Is it bad that I don't know how to tell the truth, just to lie repeatedly, unable to speak up, scared of the answers I may receive?

Am I spoiled for owning Photoshop Elements 10?

Does he like me?

Can I land my axel?

Does anyone care whether or not I land my axel?

Does anything I do matter to anyone?

How do other people truly think of me?

What if this whole world is all a dream, just a distraction from the dyspolitical world I live in?

Am I hyperamocial (madly in love)?

What if everything anyone has told me is a lie, and nobody loves me but the ones I've grown to hate?

Does anyone love me?

What does death feel like?

Am I emo?

Does he care about me, even if only as a distant friend?

Why couldn't I have gone to the dance?

Why can't I write anymore?

Do people lie out of politeness when they say I can sing, or do I just have higher standards after listening to Muse?

Am I any good at ice skating?

Am I any good at writing?

Am I any good at anything?

Why can't life teach you lessons before testing you?

Why always the tests and then the lessons?

What is the point in school when I learn nothing, and yet get good grades?

Why am I so good at piano without lessons?

Why am I so protective over the ten-year-old, beat-up keyboard sitting in the corner of my room?

Why do I not get rid of it?

Would he like me if he knew I could play piano without lessons?

Does he care about how well I can do anything?

Am I just a shadow?

Why have I grown sadder and lonelier with time?

Why am I such a shadow?

How have I become a shell of my former, fun-loving self?

What have I become?

Who am I?

Why did this have to happen to me?

Why did he have to happen to me?

Does he know I like him?

Does he care?

Does anyone care?

Or are my questions echoing alone in the dark vastness of my lonely universe...

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Playing about with concrete forms

____

 

Lone

 

liness

is such a terrible thing to endure

one can be intelligent

but it is not until much

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

much later that one develops

an standing of

under

 

s

p

a

c

e

 

to allow one's self worth to grow

until come the spring,

where the buds shall

 

blossom

 

and be

cast off

to others

 

while

march........the

constant............. cycle

....its.....continues

with

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My man lives far away and I have no say

in when he's gone and and when he's passed on.

I dread to think and my heart sinks

when I hear of what he's been doing.

What a waste.

don't give away a piece of me I gave it to you earnestly

threw causion to the wind that kicks my door through

I trusted you to keep it.

In honesty I love your spirit

every changing colour and mood, I see it

and I am bound to you.

Don't change yourself beyond repair.

Don't hurt yourself while I can't be there

to protect what I gave you.

I wish you would take care, you see blissfully unaware

Have you seen it? You make my heart flutter, my breath mutter

ashamed, at the effect you have.

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so....here is my poem...please tell me if it is terrible!...thanks....

 

 

A Scratch on the Surface

 

 

 

Falling into the sky

washing away the rain

as these cloudy days surround me

 

Show me what it is to feel again

 

It’s only a scratch on the surface

but I find you and wonder

 

Anticipating the inevitable

immediately wishing for you

to appear

 

A constant battle between

worlds seemed so reasonable

 

At the fighting end of the river

The water rose,took me under

and now I am drowning in you.

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so....here is my poem...please tell me if it is terrible!...thanks....

 

 

A Scratch on the Surface

 

 

 

Falling into the sky

washing away the rain

as these cloudy days surround me

 

Show me what it is to feel again

 

It’s only a scratch on the surface

but I find you and wonder

 

Anticipating the inevitable

immediately wishing for you

to appear

 

A constant battle between

worlds seemed so reasonable

 

At the fighting end of the river

The water rose,took me under

and now I am drowning in you.

 

It's intriguing, if a little confusing.

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