Official Poetry Thread

[Ben_Jamin]

Another soul lost
in this worlds chaotic invitation
floats in the atmosphere
guided by the wind

In a fire
an old photoalbum resides
it's pictures replaced by stencils
drawn by a childs desire

Pleasantly devouring
meaningful memories
ordinarily stumbling in a stupor
hands placed across the faces
shattered across the floor
holographic blood-stains move in rhytmn to his heart
gradually it's tempo increases.

[ogrejedi]

I wrote this with the character in mind as a 65 year old man.




He frowns slightly at the wall from his seat
Fixes his jacket and lights a cigar
Normally this might be rude
But he's the only one here
Apart from the waitress who weighs the situation
Blinks and checks the time

His glass is full, but he'll order another anyway
He leans back and to the right
Because the dancer just came back out
She's not very pretty
But that's not why he's here

The bread plate will do for an ashtray
And this girl will do for the job
He rubs his right eye and looks surprised
Then focuses on the dancer's sway and motion
And for a moment he forgets himself
And forgets why
But it was always this way

He is restless
But he has taught himself to wait
He winks at the girl and she smiles
As he lifts his glass to her
And sips with firm resolve
And his eyes are lost in the stage as he smiles himself
And his body heaves with a chuckle
Like he just remembered something funny

He leans forward and adjusts himself
Then leans right back and the smile fades
His eyes are still lost in the stage
And he's not really looking at anything at all
His eyebrows furrow slightly
And his eyes just look and stare
And he just stays that way

And it's okay
He knows

Hey, this is good--largely free of cliche and an interesting narrative. But I don't think it's really a poem--more like a good story with line breaks. There's just not a whole lot of subtext to it; that is, meaning beyond the words on the page. I think you could re-work it as a story and it would be a good one.

[ogrejedi]

like film the night
we fucked in the apple orchard
leaves cracking under our bodies
plays in my head
i can still smell
yellow delicious
you

[sonatafanica]

I wrote this with the character in mind as a 65 year old man.




He frowns slightly at the wall from his seat
Fixes his jacket and lights a cigar
Normally this might be rude
But he's the only one here
Apart from the waitress who weighs the situation
Blinks and checks the time

His glass is full, but he'll order another anyway
He leans back and to the right
Because the dancer just came back out
She's not very pretty
But that's not why he's here

The bread plate will do for an ashtray
And this girl will do for the job
He rubs his right eye and looks surprised
Then focuses on the dancer's sway and motion
And for a moment he forgets himself
And forgets why
But it was always this way

He is restless
But he has taught himself to wait
He winks at the girl and she smiles
As he lifts his glass to her
And sips with firm resolve
And his eyes are lost in the stage as he smiles himself
And his body heaves with a chuckle
Like he just remembered something funny

He leans forward and adjusts himself
Then leans right back and the smile fades
His eyes are still lost in the stage
And he's not really looking at anything at all
His eyebrows furrow slightly
And his eyes just look and stare
And he just stays that way

And it's okay
He knows

Hey, this is good--largely free of cliche and an interesting narrative. But I don't think it's really a poem--more like a good story with line breaks. There's just not a whole lot of subtext to it; that is, meaning beyond the words on the page. I think you could re-work it as a story and it would be a good one.

Thanks! My favorite poet is Charles Bukowski, and I take a lot of influence from him.

[sonatafanica]

I am no more than seven
And every other day is blurred out
By what I've seen

It could only happen by chance
It seems
That she would forget to close the blinds
Every bit of seventeen in her figure
Light brown hair that feathered on the shoulders of her shirt
Her expression is concern as she steps to the center
And I stand still in my fear

I can hear her music lightly across the side yard
But I can't hear her steps
Her room is a silent stage
My face is hot and my heart beats quickly
I shouldn't

She lowers her gaze to just above the floor
And absentmindedly begins
My head is pulsing in time
I've never thought of girls this way
But her face is something precious
She is beautiful in so many ways
But I should not

In one moment I almost turn away
But her hands have moved
And removed
And my eyes are still and unblinking
While she still looks down
Her shirt is gone
But her parts are still covered
And below me something stirs
This blood is all I am
Filling everything in me
And making it harder for me to see

She unzips herself
And bends
A clumsy show of grace
As her legs bend and reach and stand again
Her hair hiding her face

Her legs are long and slender
But full and strong and smooth
And they lead to a place
That just like her face
Is covered
And hidden from my view
This blood is all I am
My blood is all through me
I am blood and blood is everything

She reaches behind her back with care
And struggles for a few moments
I know what will happen
I know
And I don't know if I want to know
But she's there and she's her
And the cover is gone
And the blood in my body has been overdrawn
And before I can think
The rest is uncovered

And it's everything
And it's right there
And I pulse from the way that they shake
And it's beautiful
And it's terrible
And I'm scared by the wonder it makes
Because I'm fragile
And I'm seven
And a boy like me makes mistakes

It could only happen by chance
It seems
That she could make a boy blind
Every bit of herself and her figure
Is burned into my eyes

[icysk8r]

Very nice poem.  Love it.  Keep it up.  Although I did chuckle at these parts:

My head is pulsing

This blood is all I am
Filling everything in me
And making it harder


Sorry 

[sonatafanica]

That's kind of what I was getting at   

I'm sure you can imagine.

[icysk8r]

That's kind of what I was getting at   

I'm sure you can imagine.

hahaha you mean during the head is pulsing part you really meant...

[sonatafanica]

Well, not that much 

But you know....that fear and arousal and confusion you get as a little kid from stuff like that where it seems like there is so much blood in your body and it's moving to fast and so full in your veins that you might burst.

[icysk8r]

Well, not that much 

But you know....that fear and arousal and confusion you get as a little kid from stuff like that where it seems like there is so much blood in your body and it's moving to fast and so full in your veins that you might burst.

It's the feeling I got when I first laid eyes on you.

 

[sonatafanica]

....wait, I can't make gay innuendos with you 

[icysk8r]

hahahaha.  No homo. 

[Portrucci]

Well written poem! Though the subject matter is a bit creepy. Why would a chick do that to a 7 year old? Quite odd. I wouldn't have minded it though 

[sonatafanica]

If it was not clear: the seven year old character is watching her from his window.

[icysk8r]

If it was not clear: the seven year old character is watching her from his window.

I figured he was peeking through a doorway.  Didn't know it was a window.

[sonatafanica]

It could only happen by chance
It seems
That she would forget to close the blinds

edit:

I want to rewrite the beginning, it really sucks tailpipe.

[sonatafanica]

Sleepy Air Conditioners


I can feel you here
And it's bad
And it's bad, I know
You make your comments
And I smile
Because I know you
Just because I know you

My mind thinks you're here
And it's wrong
And it's wrong to know
But it's not wrong to care
Then you smile
And I wont see that
I wont see you
Ever again

But it's what you want
And it's fine
And it's fine by me

Hard work will prove my worth
Not to you
But to myself
So that I can be someone
That someone would want to be
And it's fine by me

[icysk8r]

Sleepy Air Conditioners


I can feel you here
And it's bad
And it's bad, I know
You make your comments
And I smile
Because I know you
Just because I know you

My mind thinks you're here
And it's wrong
And it's wrong to know
But it's not wrong to care
Then you smile
And I wont see that
I wont see you
Ever again

But it's what you want
And it's fine
And it's fine by me

Hard work will prove my worth
Not to you
But to myself
So that I can be someone
That someone would want to be
And it's fine by me

While I don't understand the title (probably something personal that had to deal with this situation), I can relate to this poem a lot.  The feeling of someone leaving you, or unrequited love, and having a feeling of low self-worth.  You have to prove to yourself that you are a good enough person for someone else.

At least that's what I got from it.
I also love how you repeated sentences and added to the ends, such as
"And it's fine.
and it's fine by me"
It makes it sound like someone is struggling to say it.  Like they're finally coming to a realization and taking a pause to cry or recollect their thoughts as they add to their last sentiment.


Maybe I'm over-analyzing all of this, but I love it.

[sonatafanica]

Thank you very much 

[sonatafanica]

kindness


If I can ask one kindness of you
don't hold me in the same humanity
as the slavers
the serial killers
the lazy-willed who wander through life
knowing there is something beyond themselves
but never caring enough
to look for it
the sad, sleepy souls
who never really tried
or the aging men
who see waiting as waste
I refuse to be regarded among these

and fuck,
I can tell you I'm the worst of them

[Perpetual Change]

My legs lunge like a falling tree
meandering drunk whose vision blurred
crashing, lumbering, to his knees
what revolting, stilted, lovesick stagger!

[ogrejedi]

Flannery's

Saw you eating at our restaurant.
You ordered a sandwich; I knew it was serious.
Mustered this threat before leaving the place:
“Don't buy entrees you can't pay for.”

I put everything I could offer in front of you,
but you left at night on Thursday,
leaving ketchup stains at bedside,
gone like the sandwich at Flannery's pub.

[sonatafanica]

Terminal 4


she watches a toddler
from a monochrome armrest
little shoelaces tied and clean
her hair framing her face
forest green
terrible green eyes
they seem to just stop
and follow passersby

She lifts her head
to better frame her view
the toddler notices with
those terrible greens at the ready
sleepy as they are

she only looks
reciprocated
provoked, but reserved
petty only if spoken
a drab half-thought
she'll be prettier than me some day

[Crazy4DT]

To my love

Our love is like a stagnant pond
Pungent perfumes of water lilies fill the senses
As they rot over a film of scum

Our love is like a blossom, frozen in the first frost
Brilliant colours and delicate form preserved in ice
Until the sun comes out

Our love is like a marble crypt
Encasing within it
The remains of us.

[BRGM]

Once upon a time
there was a little boy
called Mathew!!
Mathew was a rich boy.

[Jamesman42]

My Ruin

Left in the dust
My iron bones rot
They turn to rust

Jolting this life
Running too fast
Wasting my life

Electrical waves
My nerves on the edge
They're smooth and depraved

I hit the last wall
How high did I go?
How hard did I fall?

[mainframe004]

Wow, I can't believe I found this thread only now. Count me in. Here's a sonnet I wrote around last year for my English poetry class.

Never Again

Lone wolves together in the dead of night,
Both unaware of how they are feeling.
Confessions they howl as they feel no fright,
Their desires fulfilled with them reeling.

Their love for each other, they have revealed;
All their feelings, they no longer withhold.
The holes in their hearts are finally healed;
Only the chill of the night leaves them cold.

But as they were enjoying each other,
They both woke up from their bittersweet dream.
As if Fate himself said, "do not bother".
Needless to say, their hopes just burst a seam.

Life goes on without the revelation,
As the wolves submit to evolution.

[Rina]

In The Rain...

She stands in the rain...
Desperately falling from above...
Waiting for someone to find her...
Waiting for someone to love.

How much time had passed...
She wasn't sure.
Always alone...
Will no one find her?

She stands in the rain,
Gazing up above.
Waiting for someone to find her...
Waiting for someone to love...

The clear drops...
Continue falling...
They try to comfort...
The girl who's calling.

She calls the one...
To be her lover.
She calls for warmth,
She calls for cover.

She wants to be held...
She wants to feel love...
But all she feels are,
The tears from above.

No one is coming,
She's waited so long,
New tears are forming,
All hope is gone.

She cries in the rain,
Forever falling from above,
There's no one to find her,
There's no one to love...

Her form is fading,
Becoming like the mist...
She'll never be loved...
She'll never be kissed...

Her soul then quavers...
And suddenly becomes strong.
She's found her love...
He was there all along.

Suddenly she knew...
It was he that she missed
His lips that she....
Always wanted to kiss...

He gave her warmth,
And he gave her cover.
He held her firm,
Because he loved her...

The pain was gone...
For he washed it from her soul.
She was finally happy,
She was finally whole.

Forever and always,
Her soul will remain.
Forever and always,
It will live in the rain.

[ogrejedi]

William Blake was a Youthful Harlot

A tawaif, a call girl
in Mughal India,
would recite a ghazel before
lying down with her John.

The women called geisha
were the best poets
and highest-class hookers
of isolated Nippon.

Poetry and prostitution
are old lovers,
even if you can't get
a suck & sonnet anymore.

So shut the fuck up
about “Great Art”;
you're really
just a glorified whore.

[Jarlaxle]

I have some poems/riddles that I wrote way back in 8th grade. If I find them I will share

[FinkPloyd]

This is the song I wrote. There is a line that may remind you Scarred but it's not about it.   


Break Free


I woke up yestarday, trying to figure out what happened to me,
For the last days of my life, nothing goes how it I wanted to be,
I suppose that's the life we all live.

Me, taking away the passion from my soul,
You, never being sick and tired to fight again,
Me, giving up,
No this is an everlasting war,
I want to break free.

Destroyed lifes that I've taken lessons,
Purpose on living without any reasons,
Promise,
I'll set up with the dawn,
And when I see the sun,
I will want to break free.

Expectional but suprisingly dead feellings rise,
By the people who want me to break free.

Then I close the senses, waiting for the last sign,
Death will take over me,
Or me, smashing it's face,
Still stand by the corner of the world,
Numb, deaf and blind,
How can I break free?

Tell me the goodness still goes on,
I wanna feel but the man shows up,
Dressed black, stranger, eyes shines,
Tell me the lightness still goes on,
I wanna notice but the man shows up,
He said, I will make you break free.

Me, still keeping all my hopes to rise,
Even my body would pass away,
I know, my soul will be free,
So I'm free.

Believe me, my emotions and my passions always strong!

[True Death of Life]

My Ruin

Left in the dust
My iron bones rot
They turn to rust

Jolting this life
Running too fast
Wasting my life

Electrical waves
My nerves on the edge
They're smooth and depraved

I hit the last wall
How high did I go?
How hard did I fall?

This is beautiful...there are a few rhymes that seem out-of-place for some reason, but I love it.

[BRGM]

I'm sitting on the stairs
licking my chests hairs
I see a star falling
The lizards will start crawling
Tomorrow is a new day
Yesterday was another day
I feel happy now
Everone can say cow

[sonatafanica]

 

[BRGM]

whaa'?