Any of you out there like poetry? If so, what kind? Do you write it? I enjoy writing short, free-verse poems. Seashore Waves crashing and rolling in the breeze. A pure, untouched fantasy. Creatures swimming, crawling harmoniously. So simple, but so complex. A place of beauty and calm; a place to escape to. The world is at peace and at rest. Winter All is quiet, not a single sound. The world is pure, crystalline and resting. God’s creatures sleep in the dead silence. It is a time of death, a time of goodbyes, a time of moving on. But it is also a time of cheer; people gather, laughing, giving. Celebrating Jesus Christ; remembering Israelites. The world is renewing, readying itself for a new year.
Very nice poems there, Winter Marine. I'm not much of a writer, but in my previous fandom I did actually write sonnets about the show and its characters. I also had a couple of unrelated ones. Unfortunately, pretty much all are gone. I did experiment about 3 years or so back with some poetry. However, as I said, it's pretty much all gone. I did manage to find one still on my hard drive though. It's been so long since I wrote poetry. So promise not to laugh at me. I know it's not great. I'm not a poet, but at least I tried. This one has my own rhyming scheme. I like things to rhyme, and I also like poems about nature. So, this one is just like that. So, without further adieu, I give you "Thundershower." According to my records, I wrote this back in September of 2008. "Thundershower" by ePONYmous. The sun beacons over the horizon into the sky, a circle begins its trek across the blue, it reaches its apex and bakes the land. The terrane starts to fry, an ingredient of the brew, She knows what is planned. Above are puffs of cotton, a sapphire becomes a pearl, now covering us in a quilt. Her power not forgotten, the winds whirl, a storm is being built. Light replaced by dark, noise turned to silence, temporarily serene. Here's where it chose to park, Nature breaks the absence, droplets make the scene. Life's liquid descends, penetrating the ground, through every pore. But the tranquility ends, suddenly a new sound, a rumble then a roar. Suddenly a bright flash, the stage full of turbulence, an example of power. A bolt strikes then a crash, signaling the oncoming violence, our very own thundershower. Leaves can't hold their place, timber poles begin to sway, creatures seek shelter. Its presence I embrace, for ameliorating the day, by interrupting the swelter. Electricity filling the air, such a gorgeous sight, many flickers I see. Through the pane I stare, the view growing ever bright, this is Nature's gift to me. For putting it together, I thank her for the storm, the weather I love. But the duration isn't forever, soon the air again will become warm, when sunshine reclaims the sky above. Until then I enjoy the show, providing me with pleasure, and admiration of the power. Because only Nature will know, when she'll revive a treasure, the next thundershower.
I wrote a poem in Chaucer's General prologue form.....It's a little silly, but I liked it. Spoiler: GRAAAAGGG!!! ZOMBIES!!!!! All is quiet and all down the street Are all the people I used to meet, But now my flesh they wish to eat, They stalk around seeking meat. The sky is black from atomic blasts, But those *squee!*ty doctors built their zombies to last. They’re covered in gore and they smell really bad, Not at all the smell the living had! Of all of St. Louis we’re the six who aren’t dead, So we sit on our roof and pop zombie heads! There is Alphonse the head of the house. He stayed with the Cook, his wedded spouse. His shoulders were strong and his arms were long, He’d hardly sweat to throw zombies where they belong. He would keep us in line when we squabbled For we’d stop in his presence or we knew we’d be hobbled. He carried a Bible all bound in black To the one True God he would not turn his back. Every once in a while he’d sing a hymn, Especially when things start to look grim. There’s Tony the sniper, His eyes are as sharp as the fangs of a viper. If he shot nine out of ten he’d say, “*squee!*! What a waste of a bullet!” He was limber and tall, if a little small, And he’d sit on his chimney away from us all. But when it was his turn to have his meal, He would stay a while and talk with zeal. But we’d plug our noses, because his feet gave A stench that can wake the grave. There’s Lucy, our cook. She knows the art better than a book. She’d cook us feasts from freeze dried meat And tin canned greens, but that cooking was mean and good to eat. She is old but nimble, And could cut down a zombie to fit in a thimble. She is smiley and round And spreads joy all around. She could sing a song to brighten a day, Her voice is so nice that the dead would sway! There’s Mary, now she’s hardcore She leaves shelter by day to go wage some war. She seeks out her foes to be made concave And many a zombie she’d send to the grave. She would come back to the house with her gun and her book And sit by the oven to talk with Lucy, our Cook. She has her own private wing of the building we keep Because she likes her own space and thinks that Tony’s a creep, But I think she’s just mad That they both share the same dad. Behind her tagged Lily, To judge her by her size would be silly. She strode through the town with pride and grace, And carried an axe to smash zombie face. The fact she loved books was too commonly known She would chew down a story straight to the bone. With her she kept two loyal hounds That came when she told them and made doggy sounds. She was kind with her dogs and kept them well fed, With pieces of meat, freshly shred. Tell me what you think......If this is the right kind of poetry for this thread, that is!
I write some poetry, a couple years ago wen i was in a bit of a depression, but i dunt find it any good really.
"Can I be useful, When others say I am not? Will you let me try?" A haiku I wrote. Nothing fancy and it's very emo, but whatevs...
Used to come up with poetry until it started becoming full on stories. Like my 33 page freelance story I have right now, please note has nothing to do with ponies and is not yet complete.
Bout half a year ago I went through a poetry-fenzy. Here's something I wrote then, translated from Dutch. Rainy Land I waited for the tide to retreat Until I could catch stars in my hand And the sea was my mother again And I found my rest in the sand Dreaming in the glimmerlight On the shores of my rainy land The original: Regenland En ik wachtte tot het tij zich terugtrok En ik sterren vangen kon in mijn hand Tot de zee opnieuw mijn moeder was En ik rust vond in het zand Dromend in het schemerlicht Aan de kusten van het Regenland
My Wind This wind on my face That soft rushing sound A special kind of grace That which all surrounds It carries the new And takes the old A different view A story not told And all of my good All the things I have sinned Will be understood I send it on wind.
I don't know how I did it or came up with it but if you look a my sig that is the amount of rhyming I can do.
I've been writing poetry roughly since I started highschool, never thought I had much talent for it beforehand. Let x=y and let love become hate Let x be the hunger that we cannot sate Let y be a miracle even though its a lie Let y be a martyr for whom we all cry Let x be a beggar A liar, a theif Let x be a monster with blood on its teeth claim that y is different say that x should die but you cannot kill x without killing y what if y=z would that make it right and if z was a spotlight to shine through the night but if z=x then who is the fool was it y for believing that z was x too It cannot be us for we didn't lie all that we did was let x=y If you liked that you can find heaps more of that here http://www.furaffinity.net/gallery/caberea/
To Arms my Bothers To arms my brothers and sisters Today we take up arms Be it against the darkness Or be it against the corrupt Take up your weapons and hold them high Give them your word until you die For even in death do we serve So take up arms this day May our enemy fear our numbers May our kin see the pride in our eyes For today we take up arms for those that dwell above Today we take up arms and tomorrow victory is ours!
First off, nice poems! I'm not much of a poet myself, but I LOVE Haikus; I was inspired by this one: Haiku of the Forsaken Hunter One against many, Alone he faces great odds, Bless his reckless soul. Anyway I wrote a couple myself (I don’t have any titles for them): The smoldering earth, Wind carries the ashes far, Carries them to me. * * * As the soul slips free, One thought echoes, unanswered, Will it return home? * * * When the last leaf falls, And life breathes its very last, Then the world may sleep.
