[Official] Share and discuss your amateur poetry and stories.
I recently wanted to challenge myself, so I decided to try my hand at poetry. Since I’ve written a few poems, I’ve really wanted to get some kind of feedback, I’m not sure if they suck or not. So I’m creating this discussion in the hopes people will share their amateur poetry and stories. Only constructive criticisms guys, not everyone is literary genius. I’ll share a poem, if you want to here another of mine, just ask.
An Explorers Ode to Earth
As I see her from afar,
I obtain an inkling of who we are,
Here I sit in this frigid waste,
As if running from her warm embrace,
Just as children must move from home,
Here we travel deep into the unknown.
@danfontaine, I wouldnt call that zeitgeist, and i wrote that in about 30 seconds. Thats how it flows outta my head. It may have some sort of political ring since I read a lot about that kind of stuff and actually love the zeitgeist movies. But yea first time so Im sure if you have written before you would know whatever is on your mind is what comes out and thinking about society and government a lot will bring that sort of tone out. Thanks for the input bro.
(Explosive musical intro) (Guttural): RUNNNN! (Scream): she’s right behind you, RUNNNN! he’s right behind you, RUNNNN! Startinggg to seeee, this is going be bad (Guttural): DAY!
it all started at a quarter past three as i zipped up my pants after a successful pee, dribbled a few drops with the zip of the fly, master of the toilet lacking a need to try,
smiling as i knew my day was set when a scream in my face is how i am met, by the neighbor lady eyes full of fear, so smiling with confident i asked, ‘wats da matter dear?’
but it was not me that she came to see, inside right past me she continued flee, the back door shattered as it expressed her urgency, leaving me alone to puzzle, ‘waats da emergency?’
sighing, darkened with a sudden annoyance, my pride of toilet mastery started lacking flamboyance, as i turned to close the front door my eyes did see, my mom and dad coming home, which made a happy me,
as i bounded out to greet them so vigorously, i realized their expression set cold, rigorously, then came the sight that made the neighbor run, as my father lifted a detached arm and chewed it for fun
(Guttural): RUNNNN! (Scream): she’s right behind you, RUNNNN! he’s right behind you, RUNNNN! Startinggg to seeee, this is going be bad (Guttural): DAY!
O roots, O these dirty roots
That have shaped and impressed me
Until I sprouted, adolescent.
I will try, try to forget thee.
O light, o unburdening warmth
How I love the company of Worms.
Will I grow? Will I ever grow?
And how can I now transform?
O what, o what need we to do?
Do you wish to live in a shoe?
Our skin has grown hard, and matured?
Darkened by the world’s piercing probe?
One of curiousity and of envy
That reaches deep into one’s soul
“Sit down now children, close the door
And leave your minds, moor your souls,
I give you numbers. Break and bend
Your hearts to my piping tune.”
A disturbance from behind,
(They will talk of some frivolous distress
And they shall digress some trivial digression),
It is always there,
Perhaps for treatment, mild,
Born out of some envy
Of the wayward skies.
It is there now,
In a hundred darkened rooms.
A transparent blackness,
Some visibly invisible thing.
And now, a lamplight,
The hands of Athena?
Hands, unconstituted by rocks nor dirt,
The matter from which they came,
But the hands of Kalypso,
By her darkened heart did not wish to set you free.
But suffer on, linger furthermore,
A heavy head and heavy heart,
Weighed by your journey’s harrowing roads.
“Speak more! Think more! Be more!”
@danfontaine, Great message there but it is lost in a world of abstraction. I would call it self indulgent, I’m not trying to put you down here, I just mean that poetry (or any art form for that matter) should be all about what the reader gets out of it. Still very good, just a little rough around the edges. Thanks for sharing.
Beneath, an Open Shutter, Fragilely, a cold Shudder.
The wintery, Late November gusts are not my enemy.
I, would, befriend the frozen callous, but not now.
I, could, interpret the brush, as a stroke of life.
I, should, retract a quilt to my chin, and rest.
Here’s a little poem i wrote. mix and match the comma sections to create a new meaning
Problems in America:
We have room for a Venture
No room for adventure
They say sit down shut up and learn about these centers
Societal pillars of invention and creation, Rome and Greece
The lies about the birth of civilization,
that’s all bogged up in the story of adam and the snake man.
Bake a fuckin cake…Man
that’s woman’s work
But You said you were down to fuck, that’s a woman’s hurt.
love is just a game and everyone plays,
I’ve never won,
and my feelings always change
Honestly though it’s not about the wicked or the grim
Shit i’m american, it’s about big macs but staying Slim
if that’s not counterproductive, i don’t know what is
except for Sue-Bob,
She fucks her brother Jim
and they had two sons called Mike and Tim,
Jim taught them about niggers and spics
and they teach their kids, to ride in the front of the bus
Even though Tim wonders, ” Why Andre can’t sit with us.”
Crows on the wall, ceiling, and the flow
Everyone knows there’s places colored can’t go
Afros and chink eyes,
but hell we in the same sink line,
Don’t be so lethargic, and read between the bleak lines.
Harsh solar wind, stars for a stare
I am all here but I am not there
Ransacked intentions and giggling blame
I sleep, breathe, and run the same
Put my mind on hiatus, send it away packing
then perhaps the spirit will find what’s lacking.
Nebulae stretching in smiling repose
Neither night nor day come to a close
Unrelentingly relevant and practically insignificant
Assign and confine, space remains indifferent.
“The self is the only prison that can ever bind the soul”
Its beauty crippled by an illusory role
With unabashed vulnerability I’ll bring yours out
and identity-less we will dance and shout!
My heart may stop, the world will turn
Stoic as the fire of the flux does burn
Disintegrating, sinking back into the earth
as these atoms patiently await rebirth.
Okay I got like 24 bars
Feeling like a real mission to mars
Just woke up, haven’t even toked up
Broke, in the gutter hungry, sundering
colonel mustard style,
haven’t ate frozen custard for a while *sigh*
I lay dying on this diet, why oh why
did I cast my smiles to the pile
Guess I got a lotta guile
Guess my convictions defeat the scheming henchmen
lurking inside my headspins
Feeling sorta fenced in, hence these expressions
I wanna be legitimate, don’t wanna be the demon hell’s angels conscripted to deliver from belligerence
Fingers sifting through atlas sands, time coming apart in my own hands
Hand stands til the last dance that’s what I’m on about, man.
Days shared with the fam before I kick the can.
Nightmare aware so Death can’t maintain his steady stare
It’s all fair but it’s no circus, my work is bridging circuits
first kid on the bus dutifully serving a higher purpose
@tangledupinplaid21, You’re as good at this as you are at painting!
I’m not too secret about my poetry. I like to drunk text people my poetry at 4 A.M.
Danfontaine, he do it all day as they say
Nike just do it, do it to like I bullet proofed it
Got these shoes up on my feet like i’m bound to be on a fleet, flight
Soon i’ll be by the by, watching time zip zoom dive, by my drive-
Way, Today is the day I give two fucks, not one, now two,
Three 4, time to soar, above all yall’ ,
Shit, they got me up against a wall
Fuck is up , got this egg nog in my cup
Tis the season, for some reason so lets say we’re blessed and get merry with the rest
I wrote this after having a little cry and realizing I think about a poem about crying could be a good thing.
When we cry,
the world crashes,
for a time, everything you know,
like a biting wind
at your back.
Breath heaves, weighted
by the suffering known
too well, thoughts emblazoned
by the subtle mastering
of sadness within.
True tears fall lonely,
while tears true to the heart,
always bring friends.
We become weakness
and strength simultaneous,
as an emotion explosion
is fueled by the consumption
of our deepest pains.