POETRY - Can you write a Poem?

[Kulindahr]

They've all gone away
not one would stay
they're not very kind
those voices in my mind!

 

[DonQuixote]

Kuli,
I would think quite contraire,
mon frer.

It's a grand thing, indeed,
That your voices could read
and the signs on the highway, heed.

Disconcerting, perhaps,
That they took all your maps,
including the new world
where flames are hurled
against foes of chitin
that would eat your writin'.

 

[Lefty]

As the goblins of the night

gnaw at your very soul

And he that offered light

has now regained his hole

now you writhe in holy hell

the bones of your being bare

finger stabbing at the dead call bell

just as though someone would care

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

Good night dear god
in that sky
bless the mother
and then help me'

welcome an angel,
teach him to fly
ease these hurts
and let me see'

please staunch these tears
that now I cry
or at least hold my child
dearer to thee

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

clouds are scudding in the sky
on this day I choose to die

not all pain just goes away
some hurt more by light of day

The sun was up and it was bright
but I can't be here for this night

vitriol and hate with all that was said
as from your house I weeping fled

to this green hilltop I made a run
a happy space where we'd had fun

before we said what all we said
my heart and me now are dead.

----------

Fill the room with
doom and gloom
grab the sad
snag the bad
make it smell
just like hell
close the door
go in no more

--------

all right enough for now.......maybe later

 

[DonQuixote]

Lefty,
Powerful Verse,
and Melancholy,
Is there no
Ivy and Holly?

This weekend speaks
to our fallen men
and ladies, too
Who gave their all,
and then

Were called on up
to St. Peter's Gate,
for their appointment with God
they were not Late.

He wrapped them in
His All-Powerful Embrace,
And wiped the pain
From their bodies and Face.

He cleanse their souls
of any iniquity,
And showed them their loved ones,
Safe because they did not flee.

But, rather, answered,
When they were called,
To serve their country
and their God.

In the fight against Hatred
and oppression,
Around the globe,
Calling to Him, always,
their Confessions

Of times they were not perfect
In the Lord's eyes,
Their minor sins
Went up on their cries.

But He washed them clean
And made them Pure,
Gave them place at table
of High Honour, Sure.

 

[Lefty]

Ivy and Holly
Were once my folly

They would reverse
And be so perverse

I let them play with my penis
praying no one had seen us

My morals I did spurn
Now in hell I will burn

This sad story ends....
Oh look, here's all my friends
--------------------
that cheerfuller Mr. Blizz?
--------------------

I eye it like I see it
Some days it's beauty
Other days its shit

I tell it like I hear it
Some days it's rock on
Other days I sit

I taste it like I smell it
Some days it's heaven
Other days a pit.

I love it or I hate it
Some days it's so sweet
Other days hind tit
-------------

Schmile, may the farce be with you

To your own jones you gotta be true

It is better to wade through the crap

than swim in it for even a lap.

If I don't get et by a gator,,,

I'll be back just a little later

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


i

 

[DonQuixote]

The verse,
perverse.

The Poet
doth know it.

 

[Lefty]

Does that mean

you've had your fill

of my somewhat less

than consumate skill?

 

[DonQuixote]

Currently on PBS - wrapping up the special w/ Medley of Service Songs - you were up first.

And, as for the above, Hell, no.
Just had to come up with something to reply - brain cells are firing on low power tonight. A lot to think about has been on the air tonight.

 

[wenchine-mahtapasikan]

Isms: Three

"Don't give anything you're not prepared to lose."

"What do you want from me?"
"What I gave you then. Nothing now."

"I gots my own and you can't have none. Not like you'd want any."

 

[Lefty]

Isms at dusk or maybe it was dawn...
read them now before they are gone.

I can't take what you haven't got
Wisdom is earned...never bought

He who gives all freely
gets all even more freely.

After one day an old man and socks stink...
Then its time for them to hit the sink.

After three days the old man and his underwear reek
Is that to much of the wisdom you say that you seek?

No, I ain't one to riff...am I? If it feels good I'll probably
try it.....well, once at least.

Try RiffTrax, its good for a laugh


Hey Chuckie, this is my post 27,000 and you got it....

 

[DonQuixote]

Congratulations are called for, indeed.
For our "crotchety" creator of cognitive cockles
Has reached a milestone of colloquialisms.

Many of them, pertaining to jisms,
And what could be better for this forum of hisms?


Felicitations, Leftykins!!!
​

 

[Eon458]

Reality (Two Lovers)

Only in a dream would you find a velvet rose.
Tiny shards of cloth fitting in the grooves of your fingertips
As you hand it to her.

She looks up at you
Lemon scented sun bouncing off her chocolate eyes
Mouth slowly opens
Longing, yearning for the cherry flavored lips

But not even in a dream can you escape the dress
Bound to your breast like you were as a child

And as you wake up, you wonder
“Who is this man laying next to me?”
Reeking of death, sweat and garbage

You say only in a nightmare
Would you be married to this man
But this is not a nightmare
This is reality
And your diamond ring and insufferable breasts are all his

Because you only live in your nightmares
But only in a dream are you really you.

 

[DonQuixote]

Eon,
An interesting verse,
For Better . . . Or Worse.

I see you are a man of infrequent Post,
Powerfully felt, to warrant more than most.

 

[Lefty]

A multitude of thanks for that gracious post Donnie.

Quite the nicest I've received in my 27,000 posts.

I am poimeless, philandering in a testosterone sea

of sensitivity. Mucho Grass man...mucho grassyass....

 

[DonQuixote]

There once was a sailor from San,
Who guarded the Coast from the can.

This Friscan was Friskey,
(Especially after Whiskey)

So he was oft in the Head,
With apprehensive dread,

Wondering if his friend
would e'er be able to bend

For he could fly the ship's flag
when he dressed in drag.

He longed for someone to hump,
A guy who'd prime his pump,
And set his cream a flowing
From the ministrations of blowing.

 

[angusa1989]

A Swelling (Poem)

Hi

I know there IS already a poetry thread on this site somewhere, but for the life of me I can't find it, so I'm posting it here in hopes that you guys will like it:

A Swelling

Lie back against the swaying reeds
(a mimicry of your form) and sigh:
A perfect ‘Y’
against a languorous, lucky sky.

Tease the dandelion, pick;
your fingers slick
with vital ooze.

Speed the seedlings softly, quick;
spread them thick
and shine your shoes.

 

[onetwothreefour]

Re: A Swelling (Poem)

I really like the last two stanzas a lot and the feeling of the imagery. I have more trouble understanding the first stanza. I am assuming this is referring to a human, and I am having trouble imagining a human leaning against reeds and figuring out what the Y shape is. I think I get the last two stanzas well, and I enjoyed them very much.

 

[freefall]

Selfportrait

I went into my estranged chamber
Locked the door and the windows shut
Then I took a bunch of curly tubes
Some dried brushes and a dirty pad
Swept dust off the white surface
Before I erected it straight on the easel
Mixed some stale oil with the old paints
Begin with rough charcoal sketchs
Perfecting it with additional strokes
And finish by applying dull colours
Above the creeky, folded, torn canvas
After these years, a selfportrait was done

The picture bordered in ebony black
Trapped within shiny polished glass
And hung on the empty living room
Leaning aside the burdened pillars
All alone, facing the solemn main door
Where no one passed through for a long time
And no one there to praise or criticise
The straight lowering look intended on
Down to the readily insulted viewers
And the uncovered aura of haughtiness
Even behind the lifeless fake layers
Still no sorrow or grief contained there

Selfportraits and mirrors are like twin brothers
Always on contrary: one is good, the other is evil
The reflections by light can never tell any lies
The opposite one, however, keeps on deceiving
They battle brutally, often without finish lines
Yet no one wins; both engulfed in the brisk flood
Of the debate between who is whom and who to blame
The sore intense tumult venomously burning blood

The rusty fireplace has been too long damp
And the wood piles have sprouted young leaves
Soot blankets thickly the forgotten chimney
The passage is completely obstructed
The couches are all soggy and mouldy
And the rooms are cold and deserted
So the whole house trembles in unease
Every time an oblivious soul steps into
The disheveled corridors devoid of cheer
But then he abandons thoroughly the past
The aged selfportrait cries in silence
When it realises that no one notices
Its elapsed violent upheaval of starvation
From owning everything to nothing precious
Why could I see not through the temperance?
Why could I heal not with the rich wisdom?
That remorse is of no use to redeem or cancel
Or to patron me to desired salvation

 

[SkinnyBoi87]

Fire to the Ice
5/31/11

The end of May is near and the sun is shining bright.
The warm breeze blows through my hair and the sun's rays warm my face.
But inside it feels as if ice has filled my veins and is slowly making it's way towards my heart.
With every new day I feel my heart growing colder within my chest.
It feels as if my insides are dying.
It is turning into Winter in my chest and my heart is turning into a living ice sculpture.
Every day when I open my eyes I feel like that day will be different.
I wake up feeling optimistic, like you will just find me out of the blue today.
But I am a fool and I go home feeling more disappointed than the day before.
Then I lie awake at night and I feel the ice flood me once more and I turn colder than the previous days.
I fall asleep with thoughts of you circling my mind, wishing you would find me so you can use your love.
Use your arms to hold me.
Use your lips to kiss me.
Strengthen me when I am weak.
But most importantly I wish you could find me so you can use your heart to love me, while melting mine.
Melt my heart so I can live again.
Melt my heart so I will no longer be so cold.
Melt my heart and remind me that I am still human, capable and worthy love your love.​

 

[Ambrocious]

May it be by power or force or nature or course, we are all becoming stupid.

By thought or craft or second hand chance, we are all becoming stupid.

Our minds are drifting, the food is lacking in nutrients to keep us wise.

Our master above looks down on us hard because we are the ones they despise.

We can't think with intellect as we once had strong and the burning of delusions have reached to us all.

If a moment of truth could appear and give wisdom, would we take it for granted and discard it at whim?

If the human race cannot progress into good, the cruel ones above might burn us like wood.

As crucial as thought is to critically think, our minds they melt and spill out like ink.

So brain dead and dreary we waddle along, knowing full well in this world that all things are wrong.

Knowing to yourself that darkness now lives does nothing to comfort me nor nothing with no good left to give.

As days pass by we fall out of mind, letting go of the wisdom and knowledge both kind.

A swan song our brains play as we feel so alone; the lights are out upstairs and no one will ever be home.



Written for the future generations to warn all that survive the coming years of brainless disarray. Be mindful of all things; learn all that you can, for the ruler of a wise man is a wiser man to stand. In a future of seeming mind blank zombies or pretty much near, it must be a question, “Who is not mentally vacant?”