I thought it might be nice to have a place where members can post up some examples of their poetry. Usual rules apply, no flaming, no spam etc. I would also ask, if you're going to comment on a poem, not to just do a one line reply, along the lines of, "yeah, thats cool." Nothing is more soul destroying than putting up a piece of yourself, and then getting a response with no thought behind it. Anyway, this is one I wrote a couple of months ago, and with the departure of Sinder today, I'd like to post this up as it sums up my feelings quite accurately.

As you leave
the birds, who've been patiently perched on my window sill
fly up in unison
heading towards the sunset
heralding the darkness to come.
Golden shades of summer start to fade
as the night sneaks in
stripping my colour away.

And so I sit here.
Lit in a room of false hope.
The light of a smoke, burning into ash.
The glow of a screen, showing words in black and white.
Choking on my tears.
We've lost some of our sparkle
with one less star glinting in the sky.

Some of mine, not that good: Rain falling, coming down


Making puddles, on the ground
Windshield wipers, trying to resist
And what is my fondest wish?
To stand out here in the pouring rain,
Feeling no pleasure, feeling no pain






Happiness, it comes and goes
Life, it has its highs and lows
Sadness, it won’t stay,
No matter the month, no matter the day
Nothing will last forever
No matter your feelings, no matter the weather


Clouds filling up the sky
On my bed I lie
Looking up towards plaster and wood
If I only could, maybe I should
Take flight, into the air
Watching below, taking care
Lights burning far below
How would anyone ever know?
So many things people never see,
Lucky, lucky, fortunate me
But now I fear I must retire
Back to my land of wood and wires



Howling at the midnight moon
Others will join us soon
Blood and flesh is what we seek
Strong and powerful, never weak
They’ll run and scream and cower in fear
And we won’t shed a single tear


Walking the streets at night
Lights in lampposts, burning bright
Streets cracked, pavement broken
The salt of the earth, just awoken
They roam the streets, in search of sin
What they’ll find is uncertain
Life hidden behind a curtain

Wow thats really good, I don't know much about poetry but each of those poems tells a story of it's own to me. Good job guys. Sorry my comments are so short but that's all I wanted to say.

Thanks for the nice commetns, Kiln.

My poetry ?? Meh, I burned it down when I was 15 sorry

p.s.: Good one Star, really decent one :jona:

Thanks !

Running, running, ever faster
Sprinting farther, from disaster
What’s behind me, I don’t know
I feel the wind behind me blow
Must keep going, I cannot stop
All my possessions, I have dropped
Survival is my only thought
I’m almost there, almost safe
Stay with me, keep the faith

Well done indeed, that last poem reminds me of my RP character fleeing from the Imperial legion.

<--- three happy smileys for you

Thanks.

Some more.








Edit: Some more.

Why should you care
it's just a rip, just a tear
Millions upon millions die
and yet every evening, there you lie
self satisfied and contented
Why should you care?
they don't deserve a passing stare
just a bum upon the street
don't let him get in the way of your feet
begging for a piece of food to eat
just a bum upon the street
Why should you care?
Starving, starving ribs shone through the skin
the way they live is a sin
but you go by, on your way
just another sunny day


I’ve fought many wars
And paid many whores*
You could say I’ve lived a full life
Outlived my child and my wife
I’ve killed too many to remember
I’ve seen villages burning in embers
Blood dripping from swords
Horses and footmen charging in hordes
Bodies stacked up, in great piles
Each killed in one unique style
A stab to the stomach
A cut to the throat
A whack with my axe
These are the facts
I’ve lived a warrior’s life
Wielded a sword, a pen and a knife

*=Burntsierra said that this was all right to post, so if there are any complaints about this, foward them to him.


Edit: Some more from Bongos and Berets:


Sky darkened, turned to black
What does this day lack?
Her, gone away, to never return
For this I mourn
Why did she leave?
To make me grieve?
To hurt me, make me regret?
The trap is set, she has suceeded
For it is her that I most needed
Empty, all alone, what am I to do?
Perhaps shove this dagger through.....

Tears that stain upon my face,
A promising life, now a waste
So many opportunities,
All lost in one final breeze

Years have passed, and here I sit
A victim of my own sharp wit
Perhaps If I had not spoken,
the Dragon of wrath I would not have awoken



Not very good....

Spring, spring, spring!!
Finally it has come at last,
bringing back memories from many years past

Trips into uncharted lands
stepping on uncertain sands
Sipping jugs of lemonade,
working with a garden spade

These joys of spring
make dreams take wing

Once again, not very good.


An eagle soars through the skies,
everything seen, through it's eyes
The poor, the rich, the middle class
The eagle gives them all a pass

Undjudging, unbias, without prejudice
The Eagle has but one wish
to fly free and soar above
to feel no hatred, to feel no love

Crisp autumn day,
perfect in every single way
leaves falling from the trees
Listening as the animals sneeze

Rooms in hotels
and the stories that they tell
Stories of cheer, fear, death and joy
Stories of young children fighting over a toy
The depressed teenager, the abused wife
the aged grandfather, at the end of his life
The optimistic mother, the newborn baby
Another child on the way, this time a boy, maybe
Stains on the floor, so far gone in the sands of time
the stains of tears, the stains of crimes
Joy, love, cheer
these are things we all hold dear
Hate, anger, envy
these are things of which we try to steer clear
Rooms in hotels



Stars shining, bright in the sky
I ask myself why
Feeling so sad, what to do?
Everything's old, nothing is new
So exhausted, so worn out
Feeling like a dirty, pouting lout
so upset, so depressed
all because she wasn't impressed

Walking on a forest path
victim's off nature's love and nature's wrath
Trees like giant guardians, watching over me
Feel so open, so unrestricted, so free
I gaze up at the sky
as upon this grassy path I lie

Wait, I think I hear a deer
Wonder if it will come near
I promise I won't frighten it
for this path is well lit

So it approaches
so it encroaches
coming closer, closer still
of it's own accord, it's own free will

Wait, now there it goes
I'm sure it knows
Running faster, faster still
like a hunter, after a kill

I rise to my feet,
no one to greet
no one to impress
to no one's level, must I digress
No judgement passed
No supporting cast

Freedom, freedom, free at last
Something never in my past



He speaks with a kind word and a grin
But follow and he will lead you to sin
His words, silky and smooth
You try to leave, but you can't move
You've dug your grave, it's too late
His eyes, once full of love, and trust, now full of hate

Fire, fire, burning bright
Sacrficial light, burning deep into the night
Lighting the path ahead
Illuminating the bodies of the dead
Fire, fire, burning bright
Follow the path, follow the light

Arrows fly through the air
landing somewhere, everywhere
hitting rich men, poor men too
hitting me and hitting you
the bow has no eyes, cannot see
it can strike you or me

Walking, destination unsure
Just know to get out of here
Out of hope, out of fear
Sun shining, far away
the only light I've seen today
Being able to move freely,
my expression still steely
Wondering what the next corner will bring
A man with a knife, or a bird that sings?
Unsure, unconfirmed, unworried

City of a thousand lights, bright as the sun
Walking in Times Square, you see her, could she be the one?
In New York, anything is possible
In New York, you feel unstoppable

Up to Brooklyn, or maybe Queens
Travel by any means,
Cabs, buses, subway
One thing for sure, I'm here to stay

New York City, town I adore
Your thirst is not whetted, you need more
Exotic cities, Paris, London or Berlin
Nothing can match this city of love, this city of sin

Walking, destination unsure
Just know to get out of here
Out of hope, out of fear
Sun shining, far away
the only light I've seen today
Being able to move freely,
my expression still steely
Wondering what the next corner will bring
A man with a knife, or a bird that sings?
Unsure, unconfirmed, unworried

Bones rattle, underfoot
bodies covered in layers of soot
puddles of blood, on the floor
trying to get toward the door
A few more steps, almost there
You're close, beware


Whew, all done.

17 November, 1980

I was six when I lost my cousin
in the city of my birth.
They walked on
never pausing, never slowing.
Their eyes remaining fixed ahead.
Not once did they glance across.
No tiny flicker of acknowledgement.
All the time she lay there
face against the concrete.
Whilst their feet stepped around her.
Later they expressed their shock,
their outrage against the monster.
In the stories they'd sold to the tabloids.
Delighting in the details.
Her eyes stabbed out.
The back of her head caved in
where he'd smashed her with the hammer.
A ball-pein hammer to be precise
as the newspapers delighted in reporting.
My parents never told me that detail,
it was years till I found that out.
The seventeenth of November
1980.
I was six when I lost my cousin
in the city of my birth.

Wow. That was just...wow......That was good. WOW.

I told you on the chat yesterday what my feelings are....so no need telling here.....You are a gifted poet Burntsierra, the more I read the more I wish to read.

I hope you will be ok soon, and my thought are with you....all the time

This is good stuff lads.. Very nice..!

I have to agree. thats some really good stuff. i havent got the foggiest idea how to do it so i wont. Some powerful stuff there Jon

I can't top Sierra's, but here's something I whipped up:



Heart, as chill and cold as stone
White, empty the texture of bone
How can you live this way?
Torturing yourself, every day
Feeling no emotion, feeling no love
Feeling like a caged bird, a dove
Freedom is what you seek
So much you can barely speak
Trying to break out of your prison with no bars
Your only question "How far?"

She sits in her car,
As it passes me by
I raise my hand,
In a feeble farewell
She doesn’t see me,
Just him
Once we were so in love
Like two children,
Infants at best
I remember her so well,
The curves of her breast
her touch, her caress
How I miss her,
So many years past
The final time
I’ll see her
The final, the last

City of dreams,
City of schemes
City of my birth
City of my mirth
A thousand eyes follow you
One of the Christian,
One of the Jew
Many races, all together
Through the storms,
Through the weather
Bound by pain
Bound by passion
City of dreams

Tears,
Streaming down my face
Feelings are empty,
Emotions a waste
What is the point
In love anymore,
I always end up,
Behind a door
Locked out from human emotions
Locked away from human commotions
My heart, it burns, for love and compassion
All I receive is hate and scorn
Perhaps this is what makes me forlorn

Orphaned Son

Left all alone,
By parents unknown
Left like a stray,
Alone in the street
Caught in the rush,
Of three thousand feet
So here I sit, on a stoop
Watching the pigeons,
Dive and swoop
No one loves me,
And I love no one
Life devoid of happiness,
Joy and fun

Now I don't normally care for poetry but this is actually quite good and each poem tells a story of it's own. Some are sad and some are happy but each one is good in it's own way. Thanks for sharing guys.

Looking to the stars,
The pain creeps through me.
A phantom blade slides,
I wake to the cold.
She was there,
Alive in my dreams.
Creating an ache,
That only i can see.

What is life if you have no other?
The flow of breath, useless.
The light ahead is dimming,
Losing the fight against the darkness.
A flash of memory,
A twisting memory.
The pain of memory.
Dark enough to smother.

Why love. Why love?

Nice, Darkiwng. :goodjob:

Indeed, and may I say how nice it is to see you posting some of it. Why you are so shy when it comes to poetry, I'll never know. Its good stuff mate. Now, seeing as you've posted one poem, you've whetted my appetite for more. In case you missed it, that was an unsubtle hint

I would post my own, but it doesn't exist. Unfortunately I can neither write nor truly appreciate poetry, and I don't have any desire to do either. As far as I'm concerned, my life will now remain completely free of poetry forever now that my english exams are over.

The first in a series of poems:

To see you, standing there
Hand in hand with him
It felt so sad, so unfair
Betrayal doesn’t begin
To describe
This unforgivable sin
What makes him,
Better than I?
Does he not bleed when pricked?
Does he not feel,
When he is kicked?
Is he more of a man?
Does he not care,
Not give a damn?


Could I have some feedback?

Wow... I know someone that have felt that one before, it's very good and actually true when it comes what you think if you see someone you love with another guy..

Great Gazey! Wonderful and beautiful..

yes I agree. i only have a problem with the line "When is kicked" just doesn't seem to fit in, drop the is or ad something in O.o

Thanks . As I said, it's the first in a series.




I don't know why that is in there. Let me go and edit it.

This is one I wrote a couple of years ago. It is "about" something Jonajosa and anyone else who lives down South will recognize.

Green Violence
Transplanted, as were our forebears
Finding new life in the red clay
A manic growth that holds us
In the summer heat
That draws us back when we wander

It softens and hides the shapes of
The hills, as our accent softens our words
And conceals the iron underneath
An explosion of green violence,
Overwhelming and unstoppable as our passions
Makes fantasy monsters of trees whose ancestors
Witnessed true monstrosity

It covers all equally-
The groundhog burrow and the slave shack
The Chevrolet Grandma and Grandpa drove to
Ringgold to get married
Not a native, yet inseparable from
Our image of ourselves
A part of us now,
That covers all, forgives all, grows as our
Children grow,
Not always as we wish, but as it must
Climbing too high, spreading too far, reaching through
The fences we build.

Nice work everyone.
Poetry isn't something I know well...but I like most of it here. You gotta be brave to throw your poetry out there, I commend you...it is wonderful work.

That's really good, Treydog.

Here's the second part in my series of poems:

This is how I am left
Devoid of emotion, bereft
Like an empty shell,
My own personal,
Empty, barren, hell
This is what you’ve created
Through your ignorance and hatred
Violence is not my way
But by my god, you will pay

I must say I am very impressed of all good poetry posted here.I´m not a poet myself, but I appreciate and recognise good poetry when I see one,,and I´ve seen quite a lot of it here already.

Keep your poems coming all you lovely poets out there...I read it all and enjoy it.

The Roses by ED 209

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden roses;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees, 5
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay: 10
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay, 15
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood, 20
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the roses.

Simply amazing ED 209 (pssst - try taking out the line numbers, it'll make it look more like you haven't copy+pasted it ).

No a serious poem now! It's about my life in the hoods of East Galway;

The Bad Life

I was walkin down the street
And I guy I did meet
Sold me some hash
In exchange for some cash
Me and Big Mike
Bet up a kid and then stole his bike
So we robbed the bank
And bought a tank
In the slums
There's lots of bums
Galway's a tough place
Just in case
You want to come here
You have lots to fear.


It just goes on like that.

Okay I have two poems, here's one:

For Tomorrow

Heaven is a struggle
A drop of your blood hitting pavement
A cramp from your shoulder’s burden
It’s when you cry for a dream
And hold on
It’s when you raise your fist
And say no.

Heaven is a place
A solitary grave in Nowhere
A giant globe on your back
You are its pedestal
You keep it mounted
Without your endurance
It would shatter.

Heaven is a sunset
Over a golden woods
From the eyes of your children
Watching with innocence
Birds chirping, deer dancing
Life breathing
Through the very lips
That holds your kiss.

Heaven is achieved
When you struggle
For a place
For your children.



And Poem nuymber 2

Divine Fall

Every line was checked and doubled
Every hook pulled and tightened
My equipment will cause no trouble
And yet I am severely frightened
My body’s tension is not subtle
And my heart beat quickly heightens
I only hope I have the mettle
I only hope my nerve won’t lighten

Eyes of mine watch the shadows
Graze upon the black abyss
Oh you sweet and gorgeous tableau
Oh you vixen, lay your kiss
May all my crude, blackened blood flow
May all my sounds be one queer hiss
May my true prideful spirit glow
And write its name upon Death’s list

Dive for treasure or for meaning
Fly for one last piece of hope
Dive forever and without reason
Fly so that I may float
Master fear and conquer treason
Of my body’s quaking coat
Lose the shackles, gain true freedom
Until the tension takes the rope

Not for now and never more
I will not end this at Ballade
It is my future I deplore
Oh Sir Time please send your nod
And freeze this place forevermore
Before my rope begins to prod
Please do not let me see the floor
Right now I’m busy touching God

Swords, Axes, Halberds And Bows!
All To Slaughter The Common Foes.
But Many Wizards Have Come To Find,
That The True Weapon Is In The Mind.



Words, Letters , Books, News,
Read, Burn, Learn What You Chose.
This Must Be Done, That Must Be Read!
Why Must We Do What Destiny Said?
Learning Can Be Such A Marvelous Tool,
Especially When Enforced By School.

I wanted to contribute, so I quickly did two. Stargazey had some excellent poems there.

Untitled

I sit here and look at you,
While you look back at me.
I wonder what you want;
You wonder what I see.

I let my imagination run,
Should I make the first move?
Will we turn out to be “friends”?
I’ve begun to hate that groove.

Sadly the time tics slowly by,
And you say that you must go.
I stay seated here still thinking:
Will true love ever be so?

Here's a ballad I wrote for school not too long ago,



The Molten Minotaur



In a land of forests, mountains and deer,
the towers constructed rise quite clear.
It is a place of all trade and constant farming,
but the local beasts are rather alarming.



Animals and beasts still roam the land,
Of which each must each be killed by hand.
Even local men-at-arms attempt their best,
but some of the beasts can be quite a test.



There was once a ranger named Heckalo,
Who was skilled with the spear and the bow.
His gold had accumulated by selling hides,
and the women would love the pride of his strides.



Heckalo was sure to be the best at his skills,
those who followed him hunting adored his kills.
But one monster was too tough for him to defeat,
the minotaur had a hard hide from its head to its feet.



Avoiding the minotaur was always a must,
or the foolish foe would be face-first dead in the dust.
But Heckalo had a plan to slay the strong beast,
he would use flaming arrows from the tower to the east.



It was months before the beast began its attack,
so Heckalo rushed in his chain mail suit of black.
He was fortunate; the minotaur was smashing the east gate,
Heckalo ran with a horse’s strength to avoid being late.






This ranger climbed the mighty gray tower,
then aimed with his bow and fired with all his power.
The fiery arrow struck the minotaur in its snout,
but the arrow did nothing but make the beast shout.



Frustrated with failure to kill the brown furred thing,
Heckalo sprinted to the gate to reach the west wing.
There he found pitch pots and piles of rough rope,
so Heckalo tied two pots together with one hope.



With all of Heckalo’s accuracy he swung the two jars,
and these swirling meteors spun like thick red bars.
Then the ranger released the fiery bombs down,
and so this beast became a fiery mixture of red and brown.



Heckalo rushed through the wing to the gate,
to see the beast howling and screaming with hate.
But it was not long before the beast could withstand it anymore,
So it collapsed on its back on the burnt dirt floor.



Every guard at the gate gasped at the sight,
A minotaur was never killed while still in the light.
Heckalo now the best and feared of all rangers,
was honored by every townsfolk and even strangers.



There were no beasts or monsters now to duel,
So now Heckalo spent his days on a bar stool.
He would wait for an opponent to come fight one day,
Or a beast like the minotaur to battle and slay.

Stargazey- Your poems are very... haunting. Something about them seems to just strike a note, ring a bell, in my head. I really don't know how to describe it better.

Make your own decision whether it is poetry or songs, or some disgusting form of sewer trash that should never have crawled from it's place.

"Change"

Everything is changing
but it stays the same,
Nothing ever changes
but the sounds and the names.
Rivers always flowing
but they stay the same.
Forests always growing
but they still look the same.
Everything is changing but
nothing has changed.
Everthing and everyone
still seems the same.
Life is always different
Life is always the same.
Different world, different names
but it's all the same.
The worlds always growing
always ever so small.
River's always flowing
the water still flows along.
Forests always growing but
still covered with trees.
Music's always different
but we still feel the beat.

"I am"

I am wrong, I am right.
I am black and I am white.
I am good and I am bad.
I am happy and I'm sad.
I am evil, I am good,
I am just misunderstood.
I am just like you,
I am all confused.
The world passed me by,
I once wondered why.
The world is a place,
Full of anger, hate and bias.
Hate because I'm black or white,
Hate because I'm wrong or right.
Hate for no reason at all,
Now they must take their fall.
Pride will kill them all.
Pride comes before a fall.
What comes before pride?
Washed out by the tide,
No one's along for the ride,
Now the arrow of fate will fly.
Time and time again,
It seems like it will never end.
I am evil, I am good.
I am just misunderstood.
I'm at both extremes,
I will never be between.
I'm alive and I am dead,
I'm the tail and I'm the head.
I am the cat and I'm the mouse,
I am in and I am out.
I am war and I am peace.
I am nowhere in between.
There are two for now. They aren't great, but they both evolved somewhat in the process of typing them out.

My latest, beautiful poem.

"If you"

If you sell pieces of your humanity
Pass them off as your currency
And rap them up for the black market
While the world sulks in a crude casket

If your fame is airborne on blazing wings
Rocketed out to space leaving smoke rings
That linger on to masticate the ozone
While you live up and above all alone

If you make people tremble in fear
Of losing their families and all they hold dear
Enslaving villages with the army of Nike
And with your axe try to strike at their psyche

If you breed death in your giant factories
While sitting down and sipping Peach daiquiris
Acting like you never did nothing wrong
Paying your parrots to keep singing that song

If you regret nothing and enjoy every ounce
Of pain you have caused so you can trounce
Then remember this one sole simple line
You are an enemy of mine

"Stranger in a Stranger Land"

Once found, twice lost,
thrice bathed in flame,
once again a sinner named,
the world does conspire
to take away your heart's true fire.

For living as you saw true
the punishment is this for you;
live your life in a land not your own,
the land of your birth
now tattered and torn.

Lost in a world far away,
why, I cannot truly say.
I ask this of those who mock,
which is worse, to live a lie
or just to give up and die?

Where is a place where the truth is told?
Where is a place for young and old?
Why do fools mock what they don't understand,
blasting hate and bias into the face
of the unknown?

Why are we punished when we don't agree
that a person is right and we're wrong?
Why are we punished for crimes we can't see,
And for not knowing what is too far gone?

Why are we not informed
when right and wrong do not apply?
Why are the few left alone,
while the majority are reformed
or left to die?

Why can we not have a place
and call it our own land?
Why do we have to deal with hate
and silently ignore the reprimands?

When did our conscience become of less import
than what a man puts in his head?
Why do they let morals die in courts?
Why do killers get their rights read?

"Poor"
The rich send the poor to do their bidding,
Fight their wars when they need winning.
Send the poor to terrorize
and when confronted shift their eyes.

Why should we fight your fight
when we don't believe it's right?
Since when did money make right
and make the poor make way?

Why can you not see the light?
The truth that's obvious to us all?
Why do you make us fight?
Why do you make us your thralls?

Both a little melodramatic, I know. By the way, that isn't the original peom poor, I rewrote part of it from memory. The original was much better, but I lost my only copy to a hard drive crash. Strange how my hard drive crashed whenever I write something personal and save it. I didn't think my poetry was that bad.

I'm too emotionless at this point of time, but I have come up with four lines that someone could use...

When I smile, humans make me frown.
When I frown, people make me smile.
Nothing but hate puts me down,
Life seems to crash in my aisle.


Sucks yes, but I am sad. Sad. Sad. Sad. Sad.

Why? Something bad happen?

As long as we're on sad poetry, here's a sad poem of my own.

"Life"

Life is just a state of blue
Tears overwhelming all,
Always ending, sad but true
Everything must fall.

Only dark clouds make me smile
Make me begin anew,
Only for a little while,
Till silver linings destroy the mood.

Life is short and bittersweet
Time always leaves its mark.
Now we know why in light we greet
but turn away in dark.

If life were longer it would be short
Death invites a welcome break.
God left us to hold down the fort
In retrospect, a grave mistake.

Life and death simply must
Go hand in hand for all.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Everything must fall.

Maybe, I do not feel like sharing.

Here's the only poetry I ever wrote. Angsty teenager stuff that's now many years old. Still, not recommended reading if you're already feeling a bit depressed. In patented Histor-o-Vision, including all the original grammatical and spelling errors!

http://www.ravensky.org/momaw/badpoems.txt

"Loneliness"

Loneliness is reality,
Friendship an illusion
Products of humanity
Resulting in confusion.

People are born,
They live and die,
Never to know another's mind.
And all we can ask is, "Why?"

Why do we pretend,
imagine we fit in?
Why do we call strangers friends
and reject others with a grin?

Pessimists are realists,
Optimists are blind.
Loneliness is reality,
Going back through all time.


This is a poem I'm doing for school. We read "Of Mice and Men" by Steinbeck, and we're taking the final test now. We have to do three of nine creative writing assignments for the final part of the test. I chose were a poem (fifteen lines minimum) on one of the major themes of the book, but it doesn't have to be about the book itself, this poem, in fact. The other two are 1, a journal entry from one of the character's eyes (our choice, I chose Candy, the swamper) and 2, a response about why certain characters are lonely. (Slim, Curly's wife, Crooks, and Candy)

I finished the test, found out that I got a 95% on the first part of the test. (Multiple choice, fill in the blank, quote identification, and short response) Ironically, I finished the book the second day we got it (late september/early october, I think) and haven't looked at it since. The poem is done now, I finished it from memory. The only thing part I'm not sure of is the last line, it might have been a little different, but I know I got the gist of it here.

Far more depressing that what I usually turn in to be graded, but I wanted to see for once what kind of grades my actual writing style would earn me. I just hope my teacher doesn't make me read it aloud. She does that with a few of the better compositions from time to time, asks the author to read it aloud. I hope that either that poem is worse than it seems to me, or she doesn't like it, or someone else write something brilliant. Getting up and reading something I actually tried on, enjoyed writing, in front of a bunch of immature freshman (and one somophore) isn't my idea of fun.

Some freeform poetry, mushy stuff, and rather jumbled. I don't really know any poetry forms at all, so I just write whatever.

For once in life my love does strive,
I wish to hold you near.

Above the sea upon the ship,
Over frozen waters glossy glare,
You stand by me and hold me from the water’s rage,
But I can sense no less,
That death itself is coming near.

The water in its maddening state, lashes out to take you in.

Cruelly it swallows you,
And sends you to your grave

What might be done my dear,
That causes us such despair?

Alas my friend we cannot tell,
God above is sure to have a say.

This destiny, we cannot change, is meant to see us part today.

Oh lord, oh why,
Is it fate that one shall die?

No we shall both go,
So gingerly as I tiptoe to face the water’s roaring rage.

I shan’t look back
Just jump to meet my end,
Soon again I shall join my beloved friend.

And thence from the land of doctor Seuss
Where the hole meets the electric goose
There will you find the red spruce
And attempt to avoid the fatal noose.

As you can tell I am in no way a poet. That is my best work.

Since this is not TES I will post it here. Just remember this is my first poem and I don't care if it's written wrong, I didn't write it for that reason. I write this piece over something I've been thinking about tonight. It is now 4am where I live and I'm still wide awake.

The poem will reflect on something that happened to me last night. And there is a certain someone who might feel agitiated and offended by this. However, I assure you this is to the world in general, not a single person. It's just something I must get off my chest, and I figured what better way to do that than in a form of writing.


VENTING FRUSTRATION


I am not the person whom those may think
And if you’re confused let me give you a wink
I’ll enlighten you with a tale with no hint of glory
Then perhaps you’ll understand my story

For those who say I seek attention
Think again, that was never my intention
All this time I’ve lived the lie
Through the ideas and things I thought I could always hide

I dreamt of a world where life runs smooth
And everyones' words were meant to sooth
But I realize now that is the lie
Now I have to read the words I am now forced to abide

It is not anger that dances around my head
But rather baffling thoughts that I will forever dread
All I asked was a simple query
And in the end was given one big false theory

You say I’m a grumbler, but that is not case
Yet still you cut me down with a great deal of haste
I will not hold this against you, your hurtful words
I only wish it was the true meaning you had heard

The world breathes with those who sometimes misunderstand
And for that ignorance I must now take a stand
Heed my advice and use it well
Then all the angry words will finally melt

I will leave you now with this final note
One that burns me to the throat
It is not wise to speak with reparation
Please follow this message and rid me of my frustration

Hm, I was going to move this the poetry thread, but I went back I don't know how many pages and couldn't find it. Guess we haven't been posting much poetry up recently I may transfer this to that thread later... assuming I can find it.

Anyway, it's always difficult responding to a poem - especially one that's personal to the writer. So I'm not going to make suggestions. I'll simply say it's nice to see people expressing themselves through language.

Nice to see an example of your poetry Reds, and I hope writing your emotions down has helped you in some way