POETRY - Can you write a Poem?

[DonQuixote]

SkinnyBoi,
Your verse is powerful. The loss of a loved one is a hard thing to bear.
I've not lost my life-partner.
I have lost grandparents, which is to be expected.
But a cousin of 9 so many years ago?
My aunt was devastated, and still, to this day, she misses him.

My wife lost her mom shortly after they vacationed with us several years back - it was a first day of school - she was relatively young. She was more than her mom, she was her best friend. I know she still misses her terribly. Her dad passed away a little more recently, but he was a hollow shell of himself after she went to the great beyond.

My emotional turmoil of loss is much more self-inflicted from the infatuation with which I set the hook - it was only supposed to be light-hearted friends, not total emotional commitment.

Life does get better. It takes time. It took me a very long time, and he's still alive.

Face the day. Be brave, but not too brave. Be willing to put yourself out there, and feel again.
If the number on the end of your name means what I think it does, you are far too young not to keep up the good fight. He would want you to - he told you to.

Thank you for sharing this powerful poem with us.

 

[wyndhampaul]

Comparisons

Here’s a tale about dear Betty, who with sister Hetty on the jetty,
Caused a scandal that their Mother wished to cover up, you know.
Because the tale regarding Hetty, was really silly and quite petty;
And darling Betty on the jetty was the only witness that it was so.

The problem that faced dear Betty, propelling pooch along the jetty,
Was the vision of naughty cousin; twas that rascal Frankie Joe.
Behind the booth upon the jetty, he was engaging sister Hetty
With a stance unknown to Betty. Shaking her from head to toe.

This odd pose confronting Betty, with Cousin Joe and sister Hetty,
Revealed great curiosity of nature! Of what and where it can endow.
And why the booth upon the jetty, concealing Frankie Joe from Betty,
Was built in such a fashion; twas to hide all sneaky kisses boys bestow.

Then running home, dear Betty, dragging poor poodle from the jetty,
Reported to her Mother, about Hetty’s hanky pank with Frankie Joe.
Behind the booth they were comparing, Hetty’s obvious lack of jetty,
To the generous handy gadget that had been supplied to Frankie Joe.

The Mother of dear Hetty, hearing these tales from sibling Betty,
Assumed the worst about the jetty, and naughty cousin, Frankie Joe.
Comparisons upon the jetty twix Frankie Joe and daughter Hetty,
Were hereon, strictly forbidden. Even little Betty copped a blow.

Fifteen years have passed, and Betty’s now bridesmaid to Hetty
At the booth upon the jetty; of course the groom is Frankie Joe.
Their Mother looking pretty, Gazing fondly at dearest Hetty,
Concluded that, that evening, comparisons would be all the go.

© Wyndham Paul 23/5/2007

 

[DonQuixote]

WyndhamPaul,
Glad to have you join in the mirth of our collective verse!
I haven't seen you post in a bit - we must be travelling different threads of this wit.

 

[inthecloset]

Well I have two poems to post. The first one I wrote just before I started coming out to my friends. It's every unanswered question that was buzzing around in my head driving me insane. When I finally couldn't take anymore, I wrote them all down and this is how it turned out.

The Unspoken

I look in the mirror and see a stranger,
Someone that isn’t me.
What am I supposed to do?
Who am I supposed to be?

If I go down the road less taken,
What happens to the path I was on?
Does it become less traveled then?
Or is it simply gone?

Am I even on the right path?
To what future does it lead?
Is there a way for me to know?
Isn't there a map I can read?

Why am I so unfortunate,
To not know who I should be?
What of those who do know?
Are they any better off than me?

I hold tightly to those who wish to leave
And I become left behind.
Am I meant to follow them?
Or am I a prisoner of my own mind?

Avoidant, uncertain, and fearful of unknown.
Is that who I really became?
Is there someone else inside of me?
Or are we both the same?

I wish I could know what lies ahead,
What surprises lie in wait.
But since these questions remain unanswered,
So does the question of my fate...

* * *

This poem I wrote not too long ago, when I finally got over a guy I had been in love with for years. When I finally got the courage to tell him, we had a night of exploration with each other and then he completely ignored my existence for months and made me feel like the world's biggest failure.

I Don't Miss You Anymore

I knock on your door, but you don't answer.
You ignore the fact that I'm there.
So now I'm writing down these words,
For I've got a conscious to bear.

You let me see a side of you,
that I wish I could forget,
And even though the thought of you makes me ill,
I'm forever in your debt.

For you see, now that I know the truth
I can finally let you go.
After the way you let me down,
when I finally let you know.

When I told you that you were in my heart,
and I begged you to stay.
You still threw it back in my face,
and told me to go away.

The pain stayed inside me for a while,
made me bitter, angry and cold.
But now that my heart has finally healed,
I'm stronger, wiser and bold.

I thought that you were perfect,
so I felt I was the one to blame.
But just like every other asshole,
You're no different... it's all the same.

You played my heart like it was poker,
and tossed my Ace to the ground.
But while I was down there all alone,
you'll never guess what I found.

Not truth, not forgiveness,
None of that cliché crap.
I found out that you were never perfect,
and you fell into my trap.

The trap that revealed who you really are,
Just another spineless puck.
So now after five months of missing you,
I finally don't give a fuck.

Goodbye old friend, I hope your conscious is as clear as mine!

 

[freefall]

Wow, a poetry thread in the gay stories thread! Maybe I'll give it a shot. I also post in my blog along with some other poems.

Black Rose

Tepid rays dissolved
Halted by the wraths

Thoughts diminished into the quiet

Unsounded dismay passed

Gleams blocked by unexpected obstacles

Lie, sick pearls of sloth
Their glows would soon be absorped
By evil omens

Bye, ill-fated gardens
Their beauty had scarred
The less fortunate

In the pots of sorrow
The foul black rose bloomed
Prickling the worms
Nursing the thorns

Flies losing wings
Falling apart into the traps
Cruelly twined away
Into piles of debris

Bind beyond...
Hurt, not heal...

Dwindled, viciously destroyed hope
Extinct dreams used to be woven
Be gone
And not long again
Mirage shall shatter
Picturing failure

Slay, unreal vandals
Their being sly foes
Exhausted strength and turned them weak
Consuming fear and doubt

Tortures scattered within the craters
Tired of blunders occurring already

Too late; inevitable

Regrets...

Guilt...

Laments...

Blamings...

Choices die away forcefully
Witnessed by the obscured

 

[DonQuixote]

ITC,
Your poems speak volumes. Your first foray, while centered on facing yourself in the mirror, is probably a common lament, and not just restricted to someone questioning their sexuality. A lot of us have had similar angst at sometime in our lives.

But, you did a wonderful job putting it in writing. Thank you for sharing it with us.

Your second poem, too, reflects a hurt many of us have faced - I'm sorry he was such a jerk - sounds similar to Neil's crush of so many years ago.

I glad you were able to look up and see him for what he was - a total fucknut.

Again, thank you for sharing.

---
Freefall,
You bring us a new level in your verse. Powerful, eclectic, dark. I think it's going to take my poor, tired mind awhile to process and adequately absorb the meaning in your work.

 

[ShihTzuTylenol]

The Sixth Sense

what color is the color of
tell me this, are we in love

some textures say, but not as much
those essence lay the trust of touch

the scents to take from candle gift
those drips awake the heart you lift

tasting words so scant and frail
a drift then merged on River Ale

surely when you hear my plea
a sixth verse due will come for thee


©2010 Dogpill Publishing

 

[DonQuixote]

Shih Tzu,
You are getting deep, perhaps transcendental, even.

My poor mind wants to wrap itself around the words and try to digest them, hear them, see them, feel them, taste them.

Alas the workaday beckons,
and fills my mind with slavish details mundane.

 

[ShihTzuTylenol]

Monsieur Quixote, your words never fail to warm this heart o mine I assure you. Bonjour mon ami.

 

[DonQuixote]

Bonjour, Monsieur Shiz Tzu.
Merci.

 

[ShihTzuTylenol]

My horoscope says it would be a good day to write poetry and work on my golf swing.

I don't golf, but I've already knocked out two Limericks and a haiku this morning. I'm on a roll!

 

[DonQuixote]

Best Friends Play Hard,
They Really Do,
And our Good Friend, Neil,
Has a pair of stories for you.

Marty and Kevin were boyhood chums,
But Kevin's dad and brother were real bums,
They up and moved the three of them at once
Till Kevin felt the only thing left was to join his mum's.

Well, a loud cry rang out from Neil's frantic fans,
And decried the original ending, they put out their passionate bans,
So Neil listened to our furtive pleas,
And rewrote the story about this pair of mans.

And after a hiatus of over a year,
Our Good Friend, Neil, has given up cause to raise a beer,
To toast his return from pain and no gain,
For he has brought back Marty and Kevin's story that we hold so dear.

So, I invite you to search out and read for perhaps the first time,
The original tale, so powerful and tragic, says the mime,
And then, after shedding a tear or two,
I invite you to explore the same title, "Redux"

Original: http://www.justusboys.com/forum/showthread.php?t=89842

Redux: http://www.justusboys.com/forum/showthread.php?t=223284

 

[Ambrocious]

PARABLE 001



The day has overgrown it's steps as the woods began their journey into caves made of cloth.

I asked you this question yet I was told a lie in response to the rain which halted our minds for moments of bliss.

Return now to the realm where our daily lives show us our past and ask yourself who has remained true and loyal to your heart.

Deny the starting point which has ended your dreams and pick up a new history which has been buried from your view that eyes cannot see yet minds cannot behold.

Always remember to bring your hat when the rain falls on you from on high; it starts with a wobble of faith and turns into a sizzle of grimacing faces that catch your balance, day in and day out.

Have you lost the ship of gifts that sailed into your port of thoughts? Disband your hatred for the one who see's you as a monster and your love will shine like the sun when the branches whisper to you in the weeks to come.

Never underestimate the companion of that which you do not see; always compensate for loss with filling and have hope instead of doubt to accomplish the rays of time.

Bountiful laughs create shards of memories which waft in and out of time which brings forth life that can heal a wounded foe and turn him to a friend who will no longer beguile your trust.

 

[DonQuixote]

Ambrocious,
Thank you for your thought provoking addition to the Poetry thread.
It's all too easy to get down in the dumps in our less than soaring economic times.

I know you've been on your own, personal journey. We've PM'd here and there.

I wasn't sure where your parable was going at first - it was fairly dark.
But then, the light started to shine from underneath the bushel basket.

I'm hoping this month is like that- the Sun shines brightly, showing us the way.

 

[EasyRory]

I love this thread.

Congrats to those who chose to write within the shackles of rhyme and meter. I think it's much harder.

I have rated it excellent as a thanks to all posters.

 

[Lefty]

Open up that cold cold heart

Give love a chance to start

If it has never been abused

Then it's never been used

Step out and take the chance

Give care and love time to enhance

A heart broken can be mended

Life for it has not yet ended

Care feel and learn to be

That will set you truly free

The heart that goes unused

Thats the one that is abused

Give love a chance to start.

Open up that cold cold heart



---------------------------------------------------------------------

Not one fucking nasty word or
dirty act in the whole damn thing
Going clean is a bitch

 

[DonQuixote]

Hi, Rory.
Your story is pretty good, too.

I'm a hack
but I try the tack
and I keep coming back
to see what's been pulled from the sack.

Your verse, while not in rhyme,
does require a bit of time
to put flesh to bone
not mere echoes from stone.

Your cast does roam
along the sea foam
from North to South
and to Mexico's mouth.

Eric is a boy turned man
whose life circumstances took a bit of a pan,
but his bootstraps he did cinch,
and of some salt he took a pinch,

to change his fortunes yet remain true
to his friends and his values he did sue.
and as a mensch he has no peer,
nor does he show to adversity, fear.

I've enjoyed your tale, so resolute
If I could, I'd play the flute
and give raise
to sound your praise.

 

[writerman45]

His tight shorts
Ride up the cleft of his bum
His fat nuts
Look heavy laden with cum
His bedroom eyes
Provoke a million desires
And when he smiles at me
I am lost, I have to give in
Ready to drown in a sea of semen
That he gives up so readily
I coat a sensitive nipple
In a few drops of my favourite tipple
And nurse until the cows come home
What joy it is to get him alone

He turns on his belly and pleads
For me to give him what he needs
I part his peachy smooth cheeks
And marvel at the beauty of his pucker
Then give it a quick kiss before
I plunge in, I am a lucky fucker
Oh the heat of his hole!
This joyous slippery ride
To ecstasy and beyond
As spent, we lie side by side

 

[DonQuixote]

Lefty,
My dear dear Lefty,
We ain't no saints,
but from your pallet of words
colourful pictures youse paints.

What would life be,
if all our tomes were tame,
we'd all be bored out of our gourds,
and that would get pretty lame.

So, while we don't want to you to rant
nor always rave,
your bit of spice we do crave.
We don't want the mods to show you their pants.

 

[Lefty]

OK Cuzin Dawn

Butt didjer lak it?

House about dissin....
-------------------------------------

The Jizz it was sticky and white

it shot forth with volume and might

But when it hit me in the eye

it made me fall down and made me cry.

or

The dick was long the hole was deep

A virgin was laying there half awake

The prize was mine make no mistake

And for the kids very very first time

That bell I would have to chime

And with joy we would weep.

or
***************************************************
OH MY GOD NO

sorry...at my age I can't come more than twice without a break

Catch you on the flip-flop