[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.
@dawnistoday, The last line was great. It gave me chills. :)
I’m usually much too shy for stuff like this. Oh well.
It’s nice not to wake up
From a song rising above the shower
Your voice weaving through steam
Spilling a song I never liked
I enjoy the taste of coffee
When I have the first and last cup
There’s no one here to lecture me
On why Calvin needed Hobbes
I never dream about your hands
Like I did when you’d be late to bed
And without your absence wrapped around me
I’ve never been so warm
And when people ask how life is
It is the only haunting reminder
That you are not in my shower
At my kitchen table
Or between my sheets
Because I have removed you every way I could
But you are still in
@arenotlost, LOVE IT!
Hmm… So hard to pick just one poem.
I’m a teacher, I’m also a student
I’m a philosopher and I consider it prudent
I care about science cause others abuse it
and I rhyme to time so we can hear true shit
drop me a line, I might wanna use it
don’t say goodbye, unless you lose it
and you can get high, and I won’t give two shits
I might be a guy, but I’ve got two hips
Call me lazy… my brain; I use it.
Ask for help, and I’ll help prove it
Contagious: we spread across this nation
and what I’m droppin’ is inspiration,
so technically… I breathe creation.
Uttering words long spent unspoken
we are revolutionaries awoken
rhyme to time leave false idols broken
make moves don’t live life simply hopin
from a young age I took to the page
wrote rhymes to explain the times
it was always the abstract that consumed me
and the good times ate my soul, doomed me
A constant search for love landed me
looking through memories for a glimpse of happiness
As I filled the whole with sex, drugs, and uncertainty
I grasped for a glimpse of greatness
You must realize you are your own creator limited only by that which you accept as reality and finality will follow.
Us humans are hollow and by nature fill the holes with goals, ideas, and hobbies.
Whether you choose drinking or thinking,
what to do is up to you.
There is only one moment, and it is NOW, and it is eternity.
This is the start of something I wrote a while ago. It’s also the end, because I never got any further.
Draconion, the Great lizard king of the north, would always wear his favourite red hat on days that were below five degrees. It was made for him twenty-five years ago by an army of dwarves from Hellfire, and although Draconion would have you believe it was a gift given out of admiration and respect, the dwarves would tell you it was the thing that he demanded to be given in return for not destroying their homes.
As Draconion the great lizard king (I say he’s a king, because he says he’s a king. I suppose technically he is, but that’s due to the simple fact that he is the only Great lizard in Northern Fenra, his homeland.) is absolutely enormous it took two hundred dwarves seventy-six days to design the hat, argue about the colour, demand a pay rise, go on strike, get replaced by young gnomes from the eastern borders of Slavia for less pay, go to war with Slavia, take back the hat, and finish making it for the same pay they started out on. The hat is approximately half the size of Draconions’ head, so I’m sure you can picture just how huge it was.
He had other hats. Lots of them, and although Draconion himself would have you believe he was renowned for being a vicious killing machine, truth is he was far better known across Arcadia for his collection of bright and cheerful hats. (And his love of bird watching)
I mustn’t downplay his ability as a killer of course. In his day he certainly was quite the ferocious killing beast (although he preferred to accept bribes not to kill, wherever possible, but threatening to kill was a great way of getting new hats, and whatever else he might need) but during the last twenty years he had made only one kill, and that was an accident.
That night, long ago, as Draconion was sleeping peacefully after a hard day of trying to see the rare long-eared pigeon through his brand new binoculars that were given to him as a gift, (by Rygell, king of the elves, who from that day never let his daughter out of his sight again) a curious and light fingered gnome was sneaking around his cave. Draconion as he often did, began to talk in his sleep. This startled the gnome, who, thinking he had been caught and was about to become dinner, jumped and accidently shot himself in the foot. It made such a racket that it roused the lizard king, who, half asleep, rolled over to see what the commotion was about, and squashed the unfortunate gnome under his back. Draco to this day is blissfully unaware of that kill. All he knew was that the noise had stopped and it must have been something in his dream.
That flattened gnome was stuck to his back for at least three months before all of the blood, bones and clothes finally fell off.
Like a drug that courses through my veins
Like a bug that eats away the pain
You are the soul I keep so dear
The love which gives me peace
Like the tender spark of fire
You’re all I ever desire
If the world I need to conquer
For one moment longer
I shall throw myself into the sky
And hope to fall between your arms
A kiss so tender
That makes me wonder
What I have done to be the one
So blessed to hold so close the sun.
BENEATH THE WEEPING WILLOW
I peeked out of my window
And I saw, silhouetted in twilight, a weeping willow
Beneath the huge leafy bunch
I saw a couple sitting on a bench
There was a basket of strawberries beside them
And a lot of feelings spurring inside them
He had brought her flowers
Bright and white little moonflowers
Soon the tree was lit in the starlight
And they bade good night.
In my head Memories flooded in
Anything I would give to be there now
When he spoke to me, it sounded like a hymn
Is there a way back? How?
We used to stand under the tree, oblivious
Deep in love, ‘twas obvious.
It lasted for a small time
But I have it all secured in my mind
I won’t find anyone like him in a lifetime
Because he was one of a kind
Oh dear weeping willow,
You see couples come and go,
Wouldn’t you like to run?
And find the one¬?
I mean, your soul mate,
The one destined by fate…
A convenient one a.m. love poem…
Dear fellow, look back in time and what do you see?
I gasp with memories clear as blue, against a rusty sea,
It is not so harsh, but brilliant among an unhooking eye,
With your face I have seen a day, among the most unique in any way,
Your vision interprets our feeling, and knows best among others,
I’m wishing we can escape dusk and find the moons pull,
Milky Way haze in twilight of unfiltered energy and light,
I am desperate to seek with another a time of no movement but delight,
An unbound world, against the odds of our behavior we survive,
As I pick you, reaching my hand out in a steady strive,
I take your choices of words, and promise to my life,
This is conformation for the air, water, and sun,
For you and I are something unforeseen that has begun,
If our meek doubts overturn faith, then we have known what has won,
But if a healthy mind can perpetuate a stead fast song the time is ours,
As we will be one from two untamed flowers,
And the love we have will not be quoted among others,
Because reality is any persons game, but our love feathers into inconsistent reign,
And the sunrise paint will be only something of ours to share,
As the opaque midnight will be ours to color and tare,
Our muse is not a London cityscape or late morning poetic coffee trite,
But a majestic scenery daring enough for no ones trendy fight,
Enough to say, but not enough words to see or feel,
That is where eternity poses to show what is real.
I never shared before, so please some feedback or rating because I honestly have no clue! This poem is about my boyfriend who got hit by a car, and no one knows that it was because i’m poison in his life.. even though i’m completely loyal and in love. just a liiittle background though check it out :)
Heartache, weed, and hospital doors
Ephemeral honesty- your fleeting ghost
A barren sky, there’s nothing more
But I swear I’ll always love you most.
Is it enough,
to make me beg you for your life
is it enough
to make me swallow all my pride?
Asphyxiate that last glimmer in her eyes?
Lover, are you satisfied?
I can admit nothings ever mine.
And I’ll wake up tonight. To the sound of your pain.
And I’ll go outside and scream,
beg the sky for rain.
You, you, who could run for days and expect the world to change when you get back.
And you, passion pulses through your veins.
And it’s beautiful and red and blue all at the same time,
Nullified by an immovable sorrow that will never let you trust me,
me. Who hasn’t an interpretation of destination.
Just a quick old existence. Enough reason to love you love you love you
I miss that oxygen that filled my heart with time, and assurance.
Because that was mine.
I’ll forever breathe guilt and spite.
Love. Are you satisfied?
one more why not ^.^ it’s about the moon.
The moon looked insane tonight
Moving light behind clouds
A most unusual sight
I had this haunting feeling it could see my life-
minus the time
knew more about me,
than i fathomed myself
and it was laughing at our fate
like the world was a plate
and it picked up the knife
hacked and sliced
Darling, you haven’t a clue what its like
to sit in the sky watching everybody die
You left me here
My turgid affair
We used to laugh and joke
But now we sit in
Even though you’re a
Please hold me close
If you kiss my lips
I’ll close my eyes
And ignore the taste
of a sad goodbye
To the waking mind
Please collect your time
Lock it away for a
When your words are
The Hands That Know
The new rain washes the cobble stones.
Light from a window on a traffic cone.
Gurgles, gargles, grumbles and garbles,
Discover courage and search for marbles.
Running dry and cold to men,
Burning damp for warmth again.
Late night bars, hired cars, to the street,
A panning siren and a sound so sweet.
With a passing, under and out to home,
A bed for sleep and a refusing groan.
Should I stop, observe through a gate?
No! rush, rush, rush, I am late.
Late for what?
Observe the coming and the going of the day.
Late for the coming and the going of the day.
Awake now. what?
The dream is gone but the fear remains,
And I can’t help ask; is this hall the same?
The same as what?
The same as every hall.
Give me open air and market stalls.
Let me pass by the gate
To enjoy footpath tables and dinner plates.
Dirty knees for the winner,
The clock strikes six for dinner.
A minute, chiming for reflection,
Ringing in the news, for direction.
Scurrying cats too are late
For heat from under and through the grate.
Ticking stops as time is stilled
For a world that died, but was not killed.
Born again. “but when? but when?”
After bed for dirty knees again.
We pray, one and all,
To stop the hands.
To change their ticks
And mend their tocks.
Bring back bells and beds and dirty knees,
Gates and dreamfear and dinner plates,
Gurgles and garbles and groans.
Alas, all that’s left, the hands that know.
The knowing, o the knowing,
Which we may never know.
Our days eroded by endless cycles
Until the final ticks and final tocks.
Curse these hands.
Damn these hands that know.
Your hands have stopped, but mine have not
Tick tock, tick –
Once upon a time
the facebook blooms so fine
Your profile stays on my mind
and the user were so kind
Once upon a click
add as friend made me a kick
Notification waits and felt me sick
but a confirmation appears like a magic
Once upon a share
I asked your phone number
The chance posted so unfair
few hours ago got me dare
Once upon a facebook
I met you and had to look
Your smile makes me hook
and you finally tag my heart
just like a little thing called FACEBOOK.
Available at my Blog, just CLICK HERE</a. Thank You.
here’s something i wrote a couple of weeks ago. it’s called ‘paper bird’.
i sent a postcard
from a deserted train car
but you threw it away and
wept over the way i wrote your name–
the last time you saw me
i was wearing a pink carnation
in a pin-striped suit
but i traded it on a cold night
nearly three years ago
for a swig of rotgut wine
–now i’m waiting for you
to turn into a paper bird
i’m a member of hellopoetry.com and have found the community quite rewarding! feel free to join, look up my work, or comment here. also, i’m new to this site so it’s nice to meet all of you.
Why do I search for the mountain blossom?
There are many blossoms more easily picked,
Blossoms both large and small,
Beautiful and exotic,
All growing together in a kaleidoscopic tapestry,
And yet there is the mountain blossom,
In the bleakness a solitary figure,
Spindly shoots creep from the barren soil,
Leading an ephemeral existence,
Waiting for the sun to peek over the clouds,
Its pale beauty made more so by its desolate environment,
Its subtle tenderness amplified by the hard facade of the mountain,
What it represents is reality,
A small ship on a cold sea,
A little blue speck amidst the galaxy,
Or maybe it’s more than that,
Maybe I want to feel like the sun,
And know it blossomed just for me.
@jhubelcanilanza, Clever take, I like it :D
by Christina Trouten ((aka, SunshineChristy))
I climbed into her pocket
While she cried herself dry
She seized her heart and locked it
But I knew I had to try
There were stars falling behind her
Just to be closer to her feet
She dragged the chains meant to bind her
Up and down her lonely street
She could not see the world aching
And trying to make her free
She could only feel her heart breaking
So that left it up to me
I crawled up on her shoulder
And whispered in her ear
As the stars began to smolder,
I prayed that she could hear
Climb up, not down
Get through, not around
And love yourself first.
You are lovely, you are brave
Princess, you will be saved
And make it through the worst
I disappeared from her, then
Just like a decent muse should
I rarely think of what could have been
But I know it would have been good.
I hear she smiles for herself now
Instead of for the thing itself
I hear that she has learned how
To keep tragedy on the shelf
@sunshinechristy, Thanks Christy..
yours too.. while reading it, I feel like I’m in the world of “Fairy tale”.. :)
“When LOVE Strikes”
by Jhubel Rubillos Canilanza
I wonder what
only one could touch these dreams at
the beauty of kind that would never forgot
like a willing heart that never knows but
I wonder when
only one could run this pen
the piece filled joy so then
like a clock that strikes at ten
I wonder why
only one could shine that stars in the sky
the rays tells no lie
like a burning flame that made us tie
I wonder how
only one could made me smile now
the dancing shimmers that made the ocean bow
like a breeze that sets out eternal vow
The crowning moment of ecstasy came in waves of intricate geometry
When I was sitting on a simple chair, drinking a simple beverage
What was then a thought, morphed into desire
That desire, humble in origin, said to me
“Love and live in your work, make life for others more bearable”
The smallest and most obvious truth, yet was elusive before
Conjuring a notepad, I began to pour the stream of consciousness
Into the cup of tea, and the notepad exploded with activity
Cubical, Circular, Pentagonal figures erupted in kaleidoscopic joy
These two dimensional beings jumped, somersaulted, parading
Feelings of being alive throughout the previously lonely pages
These pages received the new denizens with grand fanfare
Inspired by the limitless courage of the pioneers of the fantastic
Pages peeled back, revealing the hidden realm below
Majestic forests sprouted out of the ground, the newly awakened giants
Who while dormant in their sleep of nothingness, grew tall enough
To taste the star filled havens of the drifting nebulas
Feeling slowly traveled through their roots, while their branches
Stretched out to grasp the dust from whence they came
Two feelings traveled from the roots, reverence and grandeur
The tears poured down the trunk of the tree, released from beauty
From these teardrops, came dragons, griffins, creatures of imagination
Throughout the realm, beings poured up into the portals
Back to the real realm, the backwater pages of the typical notepad
I had seen these creatures before but where I haven’t the clearest idea
The creatures took residence in my book, the void now filled
Carry forth this message they clamored “Ye are all Gods, creators of imagination”
I wonder why
I will never be kissed
I guess I’m just remiss
Don’t have nobody
To call my own
But if it’s wind she craves
I’ll surely come home
To find her
I like to think one day
That I will be kissed
Those subtle vibes are there
But easy to miss
They said he fled
He took off
Instead he bled
From his heart
So what is this about
My little Miss
There you go landing yourself
On my list
I hope to know one day
That I will be your ‘his’
‘Cause as of right now
I’m not okay with
I wonder why I will never be kissed
I wonder why I will never be kissed
I hope to know that one day I will be kissed
I hope to know that one day I will be kissed
@jackpunch, I appresiate your poetry, and poetry in general, but I just like to remind people there is an official thread specifically for sharing and discussing poetry and stories. It’s no problem though, thanks. https://www.highexistence.com/topic/share-and-discuss-your-amateur-poetry-and-stories/