|
Poems ... ??? anyone (pg. 7)
|
View this Thread in Original format
| EvilTree |
| quote: | Originally posted by trancepixie17
**Speed**
The weightlessness from the speed
sends my mind into an endless pleasure you see
left to right and back again
All you can see is the tip and the end
the rhythm carries your body into a pulse
sends your mind up to heaven above
the roar of the crowd as your roll comes in
makes you move faster and faster again
the sweat rolling down your face, now so close
moves your hands as you become one with the band
the last notes come into place
as your body trembles, you've won the race
** for the love of my drums...i write this as a rule of thumb** |
Compare to
| quote: | The weightlessness from the speed
Sends my mind into an endless pleasure.
You see left to right and back again,
All you can see is the tip and the end.
The rhythm carries your body into
A pulse sends your mind up to heaven above.
The roar of the crowd as your roll comes in
Makes you move faster and faster again.
The sweat rolling down your face, now so close,
Moves your hands as you become one with the band
The last notes come into place as your body trembles,
You've won the race. |
Saying your works out loud would kinda help you note the rhythm of your poem.
Oh, punctuation helps too. :) |
|
|
| SuperFarStucker |
I write a fair bit of this poetry nonsense...
| quote: |
emotion runs thick through the veins
a molten toxin
of the broken; faltering
an endless loop
thirsting for the pain
screaming silently
thereafter nothing remains
a broken shell
agony, defeat, betrayal
hurtship...
they found ecstasy in loss
but me...
I am cursed with bitter, burning tears
|
| quote: |
a shaky bad feeling
it makes my head scream
"what the is wrong with me"
an akward displaced moment
"im just not that naive anymore"
looking at the world
through jade stained eyes
now it all should look yellow
but to me it's dripping red
and burning up
the tapestries of my sanity
what's the axiom?
is there no answer?
is there no basis?
the patterns only emerge
in my questions
which inevitably
fail to be answered
perhaps
im just asking the wrong ones...
|
and
| quote: |
Not all fences are built
with word, thought
not all spirits are slain
by sword, man
some are made of bricks
filled with envy
filled with desire
with failure;
others are chain-link
woven together
by the heat of anger
and forged
with the bitter cold
of isolation
others are made
from rebarred concrete
the stone crushed
by the weight of ignorance
what matter though
is the fence’s composition
they all are designed
to keep out one thing;
people
we no longer reach for the stars
we reach for the black dirt
with sparingly placed white sand
at all the vantage points
in that little box
of dirt.. and sand
painted in excess
in glory
but it’s still dirt
when you rub away the coloured acrylic
and, all we will get
is a mouth full of sand
and choke
if we’re lucky
we’ll die
at ease
and think
wouldn’t it be nice
... I don't taste anything
|
Anteceding one is actually taking a theme from another [famous] poem and putting my own twist on it. Kudos if you know which one, cause I sure as hell don't remember. Something by Robert Frost IIRC.
| quote: |
This is my million monkeys
On a typewriter
But they aren’t
Writing up the works of Shakespeare
They’re typing up
Words without the weight of meaning
Much like the aesthetic lack of elegance in opulence
as the homeless man’s "box" does
No
My words are crude
And they mean nothing at all
I don’t believe anymore
All roads herein lead inwards
Into the Heart
But, I don’t know where it is…
It’s just a million typewriters
Pounding away at monkeys
In my mind
I can almost picture their screams
|
one more of mine that I like
| quote: |
We are neurotic creatures
Forever captivated by –
Enraptured by –
Our dreams
We thirst, we hunger, we breath
It’s a creep so insidious
So thick, so overbearing
I can taste it
Like I can feel
The salt in my open wounds
In my dreams
And I can feel it
Like I can smell
The dank and decaying flesh
Of my soul
In my dreams
And I can sense it
That we are different
For we thirst not on the blood of our enemies
But their feeling of defeat
Their crumbling dreams
And this serves
To only make our passion stronger
Until somebody too, thirsts upon our soul – our dreams
Like a ravenous leach
|
My stuff lacks the flow or concentration of a good poem, but it makes me loosen up when I feel depressed if I write something. A form of self-expression I guess. |
|
|
| dj-sean |
Cool thread. I love poetry but have never written any myself (at least when not forced to or something).
One day I'd really like to write lyrics that didn't suck though. |
|
|
| CynepMeH |
| quote: | Originally posted by dj-sean
Cool thread. I love poetry but have never written any myself (at least when not forced to or something).
One day I'd really like to write lyrics that didn't suck though. |
Try simple rhyming... Start out small... Here's how:
My lyrics swallow, they don't suck
I am a poet, not a duck :D |
|
|
| ))the source(( |
off to bed on this sweet night
to fly in dreams of beautiful sight
floating...fleeting on the white wing of dove
drifting over worlds, embraced in true love
shimmering gold holds an angelic white
in the calming darkness and mysterious light
a far off distance in a whisper, a name
in the soul ignites a flicker, a flame
soaring closer and close it becomes ever so clear
a familiar word that you softly hear
so whisping through valleys of beautiful things
between tales of happy ends and lovely beginnings
and finally a clearing amongst bright fields of gold
taking your breath is this place yet untold
arriving gently to such royalty gate
for you soaring widely and without wait
enter to a dreamers kingdom only to find
there is only beauty in your galaxy mind
clear blue oceans beaching endless air clouds
mile-high swing sets and vast lily crowds
blankets of streaming soft-silken thread
smooth velvet hillsides lay for your head
never there was anything so pristine
alas this the dreamers kingdom
and you...
the sleeping queen |
|
|
| trancepixie17 |
"The First Good-bye"
Let me take you back to seventh grade
When the tricks were played
And the prices paid
I was forced to leave, my life chose a path
Never to see my father happy again, I left it at that
The pain in his eyes, as natural as can be
He shed a tear, I had never once seen
The first good-bye was too painful for me
Let me take you back to seventh grade
The summer of good-byes and leaves blossomed all around
Unpleasant suprise you see
I was left to die eternally without my father near
The heartache tore me to lie by my grave
A tall figure stood before and lifted me off my feet
He took me close to his heart
but never to show the pain I would never see.
As my father laid me to rest I came back, one last breath.
I said "daddy I love you, please have no regrets."
Now I take you to the year of tenth grade
Decisions were reckoned and emotions put in flame
My life chose a path, and in the end had no return
There's nothing lying in my grave of me
for my father loved and saved me.
Written and Edited by Alyssa |
|
|
| dj-sean |
| quote: | Originally posted by CynepMeH
Try simple rhyming... Start out small... Here's how:
My lyrics swallow, they don't suck
I am a poet, not a duck :D |
Or maybe you'd prefer a limerick,
I could potentially make it my gimmick.
Trance with silly rhymes
All in four four time;
A new style that countless would mimic.
Or not :haha: |
|
|
| MysticStardust |
| quote: | Originally posted by DarkAngel
That is the complete opposite of what I wrote in this thread, but it is beautiful nonetheless. |
Thanx. Not really my style though, usually I write quite depressing or dark stuff, but I had to write a sonnet about love for my english class, so I came up with that. I don't like it at all because it totally doesn't show the way I feel...like there is no soul of mine in it. However, I do hope I'll get a good mark on it.:D |
|
|
| ))the source(( |
or how about...
I hear a noise over whispers of loathing
it is a faint tearful cry beneath sheets of pale clothing
an ivory girl that does not know what is wrong
a youthful child can not see inequity shone
the streaming of her face and so nothing contained
inside her soul it has dreadfully rained
casting a shadow on each she can see
casting her darkness and now upon me
her in her skin and her in her eyes
there exists no purity to her nothing demise
I hear a noise over whispers of an un-crowning
it is eyes turning away from a girl that is drowning |
|
|
| EvilTree |
Dark Seduction
Darkness comes, emptiness fill the void,
I fear the shadows of the night.
But a voice beckons me, enticing me, calling me.
Though I try, hard as I may, to reject the dark calling,
All in futile...
Falling free into the abyss,
Perhaps one day I shall see you again. |
|
|
| Boomer187 |
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
thank you |
|
|
| SmellsExcellent |
| quote: | Originally seen in the sig of Boomer187
it was oral sex, anyway, and i'm not even sure the chick was my sister... |
incredible.
m |
|
|
|
|
