Don't know if this counts, but oh well. Lucid Dreamer Lucid dreamer you made me proud. Lucid dreamer you broke the shroud. Lucid dreamer big and bad. Lucid dreamer you make me mad. You wreck this world I've created. You leave it broken and devastated. You think it's all fun and games. That's good, I think the same. You rest your head and try again. Now is when your time will end. You go to sleep one last time. you'll never wake, your now mine.
I know it's not ABOUT darkness and corruption, but by simply mentioning them I am intrigued. By continuing to tell of a battle (in a dark way) you earn my appreciation.
How about “No?” I hate rough drafts; I find them too damp. I write through my lips, I donate my chips, And I do it for not just you. May my words not be parted, My works be remembered. However, should we cross, You'll find I'm coldhearted. Again this was written without a rough draft, because I prefer to write with my lips and mind, not with paper and revision. I hope others feel the same.
not one I made up but I like it since I'm a 40k player. "Another day nearer the battle So drink up, lads and look brave. For another day nearer the battle Is another day nearer the grave."
I That's how I wrote the lucid dreamer. I just had it come into my head. Then I posted it. Huge success, yes? -- Sent from my Palm Pre using Forums
Very. Poems are supposed to be inspired, raw emotions. You can’t over think them, they need to reflect the moment in which they were created.
I like reading poetry. I've studied a lot of Spanish and English poets. By the way, understanding poems in English is a little bit hard
My Shady Grove Adrift at sea alone alone Adrift at sea for ever alone Will I find the one The one I seek To be with until death takes me Oh oh where is she the beacon I seek Oh where oh where Is my Shady Grove had to write this least I forget it.
I've always thought about a nice poem turned into a sweet hip hop song... In fact, there are a lot of songs of this kind
I had to write that down, I just got to thinking about it really hard last night. I had realized I have never had a girlfriend for the past nineteen years of my life, may as well say twenty, but it really doesn't faze me. I mean I have friends and that's all I need, if I get a girlfriend great if not I'm ok with that.
There are some impressive pieces here! It seems that we have some talent as a community. This gives me ideas for a potential poetry contest... Anyways, here are some of my pieces. I was published in my high school's literary magazine for a few years and then in some poetry magazine in New Jersey once. I think the only thing that I actually pride myself in is my poetry. Omertá The shepherd with a clock for a face And a matchstick crook Slowly ascends Jacob's ladder: A festering staircase Covered in decaying babe's Flesh, full of holes eaten by Twisted tongues that mutter Insurrections on twilight streets: Their distorted master's beckoned calling. Needle-tipped fingers Entangled in dreary gray cobwebs Slide. Grating granite pawns Scarring the finely crafted board. Then, the mockingbird sings its Occult song, releasing trapped Devils lost in old burial chambers From the nomadic tribes Of dust-filled beards and dirt-filled sandals To now, buried in honor. Announcements from the Town Crier Hear ye! Hear ye! Listen to today's news! The shadow named gloom hangs over our heads. Pregnant clouds rain sorrow upon faces With dejection in their eyes and no smile, Mixing with tears of grief, flowing, dripping. Men wander without aim on cobblestone Streets, groping before them with blind eyes, with hopeful Hands, for a reason to carry on in Our dreary town. It is unpleasant for Food to touch their bellies, containing Naught but water. Their sharp minds pierce the sheet Concealing God's secrets, whose knowledge makes One go mad with uncontrollable mourning. Mourning for the dead memories of happy Times, times without blindness, sorrow, or grief. So hear ye! Hear ye! Hear the words of the Town crier! The tales of brilliant men Who focus too often upon the gray sky. If you like them, I may post more...and maybe some prose!
Nice poems. If I am not wrong "Omertá" is a silence code belonging to the Italian Mafia's gangs Don't worry Rashall... your cupid girl will appear soon....
The Bloody Sire by Robinson Jeffers It is not bad, Let them play. Let the guns bark and the bombing-plane Speak his prodigious blasphemies. It is not bad, it is high time, Stark violence is still the sire of all the worlds values. What but the wolf's tooth whittled so fine The fleet limbs of the antelope? What but fear winged the bird, and hunger Jewelled with such eyes the great goshawk's head? Violence has been the sire of all the world's values. Who would remember helen's face Lacking the terrible halo of spears? Who formed Christ but Herod and Caesar, The cruel and bloody victories of Caesar? Violence, the bloody sire of all the world's values. Never weep, let them play, Old violence is not too old to beget new values. I love this poem
