[Official] Share and discuss your amateur poetry and stories.

 Anonymous (@)9 years, 2 months ago

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.

By- imhotep

June 2, 2012 at 3:41 pm
Jack M (12) (@jackpunch) 8 years, 5 months ago ago

Hello! This is a poem that I started writing, and was finished with the assistance of my best friend.

– Captive and Captivated —

When I came before you
So tenderly
I opened up your door just to
Peak in and see
Crept back into the darkness
If only just to breathe
And that’s when I heard her say
You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen

Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo-Doo

Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo-Doo

Some said you were a fortress
I could never breach
Your voice said something much different
Which lead me to believe
– That I’d been cast out to the sea
Wrapped in a wind that nuzzled me
And how those wild, fleeting curls
Are what finally set me free

Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo-Doo

Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo-Doo

I felt you inside
My little heart
You toyed with my strings
Until I fell apart
Watching and wanting
I let you get the best of me
Why are we waiting
I can’t seem to believe
You’re not next to me!

Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo-Doo

Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo
Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo, Doo-Doo-Doo

Growing old at last
I felt you pass by me
Oh, and at last
I know your secret
From when we were kids
You dealt your last hand
And you knew I wouldn’t miss it

I found you
I felt true
I was so in love with you

I found you
I felt true
I was so in love with you

Fountain of youth
Your gift is unnecessary here
I thought I made myself clear
I let her get the best of me

[Hidden]
Gustave Mans (0) (@gustmans) 8 years, 5 months ago ago

Hey Folks just need soem criticism on these poems I´ve been writing…

A late autumn day we strolled around a stolid park,
We walked past the bar-but had no courage-
And yet it was broad daytime the clouds bedimmed
The dreamy path lustfully laid for us.
(speak or die for a monster pries all through)

The time has come when I must go,
For winter soon shall bathe with snow
The leafy beds on which we laid
Dreams never made for the light of day.

My arms all around a lifeless moon
Familiar with my hopeless doom…

¨I must return for dreams are frail
But words are weak for such a wail
Try and forget this ever was
In spite of usour time will press
Be still, be quiet you need not say¨
(Our love never depended upon our will)

Then halt awhile, regard me not;
Wince from me, desperately sure,
Benumbed and frozen, baffled in distress.
Smother me with passionate tenderness.
Oh! but don´t forget me, keep me, cherish me
Don´t forget me, no, not even for the brief moment
Between one heart-beat and another
For us my dear, is all we have.

Gustave Mans

Thank you all…

[Hidden]
NayNay (1) (@jackbearbaby) 8 years, 5 months ago ago

BLEEDING HEART

Sometimes I feel numb
You know the reason why.
I think my heart is bleeding
Away I want to fly.
Far and distant sounds
Are ringing in my ears.
I think I hear them calling
Or is it just hot tears
Running down my face?
I can’t tell which is which
Or which way I am going
Or is it just a cinch
To find my way back
Through this darkness and pain?
Please tell me where I come from.
Is that a blood stain
Falling from my heart?
I’m being ripped into
Feelings, where do they come from?
What do I feel for you?
Taking back the pieces
That were taken from me
NO! You can’t have them!
I just want to be free!
Free from everything,
Free from everyone,
I’ll not be able to stop
Until my heart is done
Growing into me
Into what I’ve become.
When will I know what that is?
Right now I’m still numb….

[Hidden]
Eagle Vega (8) (@eaglevega) 8 years, 4 months ago ago

Meditation has been discovered to be the missing link between mind and spirit
The dusty dirt road that connects
urban sprawl so full of silence in a sea of noise
to hidden falls where sunsets paint azure revelations in fractal languages across the sky
but too many people take the highways nowadays
too many people ignore that dirt road
too many ignore the portal to their soul
and the overwhelming pull of the black hole located directly in the center of their forehead

now I know the step into darkness has never been easy for anyone
but I have made that journey tiptoeing the fine line between
rhythm and chaos at a speed of 77 beats per minute
spun upside down by the heavenly connection
I ascended the interdimensional ladder of time
and each rung quieted the clocks until there was silence.
And finally, I could hear the harmony as the trinity of time
drew their bows across the fabric of the universe
I listened as past and present and future all joined in the joy
for the treasure of timelessness
I was baptized in the milky way and ascended to orbit the Sun
and we danced and we danced and we danced until the moon came up

and here I stood at the cross points of time with pirouettes lingering in my toes
and sighs stuck in my throat as I watched the history of the world unfold
because I watched them stumble and then mumble and then stumble again
in shoes too big for their souls
they tried to put on their Daddy’s shoes before they were full grown children
of the infinite

and so they stumbled

but all I wanted to do was to teach them to dance.
All I wanted to do was to hold their hands
as they crossed the lines of insanity into fetal infinity
to become still born children of enlightenment
drowning in sanity
living in light
and dying in
OMMMMMMMMM

[Hidden]
L (10) (@larromba) 8 years, 4 months ago ago
[Hidden]
Jordamundo (0) (@igauna199) 8 years, 4 months ago ago

I wrote this ages ago and not sure about it anymore:

Behold! The mighty crow,
Feasting on your dead foe,
Where it’s from matters, not,
Whether from battle or silent cot.

The crow will feast all night long,
Then after, sing his eerie song,
Echoing throughout for all to hear,
Summoning images of our worst fears.

Flying through the night sky,
The crow waits for its meal to die,
Ruthless thoughts pacing through your mind,
Fear placing you deeper inside a ruthless bind

The crow, ruler of the night
Power so great no need to fight,
Ruling the dark with an iron claw,
The final noise of the night always its caw.

[Hidden]
Anonymous (2) (@) 8 years, 4 months ago ago

I’d always been interested in the universe
The way you and I could be standing
underneath the same sky
But never dare to cross the same paths
but instead a nervous glance
And the stars couldn’t care to look for us
but they would shoot against each other
to reach a destination
to infinity and beyond
I would only imagine why
the light in your eyes seemed to fade
when you spoke to me those nights
But the stars would shine brighter when
I would think of you
I could only imagine why the earth
didn’t fall out of place
and brush past the planets
we’d always be searching for
and into the warmth of the sun
And I could only imagine why
you couldn’t fall into me the same way
and burn my skin
with the warmth
I’d been
searching
for

so cheesy, so cheesy haha.

[Hidden]
Danji (4) (@openings) 8 years, 4 months ago ago

The other night four friends and myself went to Alex Grey’s Equinox Celebration, but beforehand we stopped at a diner and had the most surreal experience.

All of us are writing of our experience there in our own way and combining it into a short story.

This is my take on the evening.

The urge to write has been making itself known for quite some time now, but I am finally listening to the voice telling me to do so. I was researching Troodons and Merkabah Mysticism when it hit me like an asteroid. The room I am sitting in has a very bright green light emanating from the center, and it is casting some of the most interesting shadows. I can’t breathe. I only hear clogged sinuses with every inhalation.
Your “God” has been giving me signs and guiding me along the way. Well, not exactly guiding me, but offering suggestions and occasionally tugging me in a certain direction. It can get very difficult to explain. These words never do it justice. Let’s think back.
Two nights ago I found myself in a diner in some small village in the southern part of New York. Wappinger Falls to be exact. It was a silver diner, with plenty of neon lights. From the back of the wagon I caught mention of desserts. “Okay, that sounds pretty good” I thought to myself, and quickly said aloud. I began to think of ice cream.
+Driving
+Brownies
+Driving
+Chocolate Chip Cookies
+Still driving
Damn it! This plant has warped my perception of time and made this road quite difficult to navigate, especially when my mind is fixated on these delicious treats.
Okay.
We are there.
We walk in and the five of us glance around and lock eyes. “Oh fuck. I can’t believe this.” I think to myself. “Five please” I hear her say. I look at her, with my eyes bulging and smile. The way she approaches anybody under any given circumstance is something that blows my mind. Her smile disarms every stranger she comes in contact with, and her laugh brings them down a level, and then sends them up five more.
I hear static and blurs of conversations surrounding us. I am glancing around the whole place. I see desserts everywhere. Pies, cookies, cakes, everything you can imagine. We are sat at a circular table and we all stare at one another. We are all confused, thinking similar thoughts, or at least in my mind we are. Five cups of water are placed on the table without anybody mentioning anything. I make eye contact with Carnigan and Bonesaw and we give one another a steady, confused, and somehow pleased look. The two girls order coffee. I cannot stop thinking about how I am not sure if I should drink this water. I want to write. I need to write. I ask Rachel if she has a pen, and she does not. I think of running back out into the sleet to grab one, but decide to wait it out and see what unfolds.
“Hey there, how are you guys doing tonight?” I hear ihn a thick New York accent from behind me. There he was, standing over us all by a good foot and a half. Michaels. This confusing mess of a grey man is asking us what we want. I hate this. He is not our servant. I’m beginning to grow very uncomfortable at the thought of being in a restaurant. We all talk to him cheerfully. He walks away and all of our eyes scan the diner.
Chandeliers dangle from the ceiling as if it were a five star hotel, but I did not notice these until far later into the experience. There is a fish tank filled with species that I never actually got to examine. A fancy bar is smashed up against the wall with countless bottles, and a reflective glass behind it. None of these fit together. The entire place was uneasy. It was as if the atmosphere was filled with Nitrogen, Sulfur, floating particles of Silver, and a single lung’s worth of Oxygen. None of it made sense. It couldn’t make sense.
“Are you sure you only want a milkshake man?” I heard from behind me. I watched Carnigan repeatedly tell the man that he was indeed sure that he only wanted a milkshake. I cannot stop giggling at this point. I heard suggestions of coleslaw and macaroni salad and many other false side dishes, but he adamantly declined them all. Carnigan has a way of dealing with people that drives me crazy. I cannot help but to laugh uncontrollably every single time I see him talk to anybody. It isn’t because he is socially awkward; in fact he is a great speaker. His words are so blunt and always filled with certainty, and I love it. The manner in which he carries himself is so amusing. Just thinking about him ordering that milkshake so matter-of-factly still cracks me up.
I started thinking that my bladder was nearing the point of eruption, so I looked around. Bathrooms are always a place of solace for me. I need to find them, examine them and make peace with myself upon entering any establishment. I rose from this lower than average chair and walked through narrow passages between benches, stools, and emotionless faces. The corridor before the bathroom was full of mirrors. This created a fractal illusion and only mesmerized me further. I stopped in the hallway and stared into infinity for a lifetime. Suddenly I am on the phone with my mother. I can’t make sense of this. I tell her of our surroundings and she gives me the usual rundown of everything. Describes her day, tells me to travel safely, and then we part with our “Iloveyous.” My mother and I have a very confusing relationship. I cannot help but to continue staring into the mirrors, pondering about how things became this way. Thinking about how fast we grow, and how life takes us away from our parents and throws us into these crazy places with these crazy people.
Bonesaw has walked past me by this point and we exchange our stares and point a finger at one another, implying that we better watch out. We have a certain way of communicating. He and I have been going at it for the past fifteen years or so. There is no bond like this. Words absolutely will not work when it comes to describing him. Imagine the first memory that you have with your first best friend. Now imagine having that feeling every single day that you have lived ever since you gained the ability to remember. That is Bonesaw. Sometimes I feel as if I have made him up in my mind, just to help me though this crazy adventure. Other times I feel that we have all made each other up. After all, we are just the manifested imaginations of one another. Are we who we are on the inside, or the external appearance that everybody sees? Our inner voice judges us in a way that others do not, so we all grow to despise ourselves in time, but do we have any good reasons to? These thoughts flood my mind and paralyze me temporarily.
I cannot recall what happened after this, I just know that I was at the table eating a Vegetable Panini, swallowing mouthfuls of peppers and water.
Her pancakes caught my eye. The way she smiles and continuously giggles as she dices them up neatly with her fork brings an unexplainable smile to my face. They begin discussing how when I was gone, Michaels came back and his character changed mid-sentence. Missing this moment created much confusion for me during the duration of our stay.
I can only admire her as the words flow out of her mouth like the most elegant stream of wax. I feel that she has gone as completely mad as I have, yet she maintains her giddiness and sanity in the view of the public, and that’s why I connect with her in such an odd manner. She has shaped my life in so many ways, ways that I will never express to anybody, not even her. Everybody is aware though, or at least I feel that they are. They hear it. They hear it in the way my voice goes up in pitch when her name comes out my mouth. They hear the confidence in my voice when I share the stories about the journeys that she and I have gone on. They see my eyes become glossy when she explains how “language is preeeetty much the greatest thing ever.”
She speaks in a way that creates a longing in my chest. Her words are the songs sung by every bird in the forest. The composition flows seamlessly between the leaves from beginning to end. The clouds float along perfectly in rhythm with the chirps and tweets. From time to time she sings a melody or two in an odd time signature, and a little hint of insanity sparkles through, and nothing excites my soul quite like this.
Shady older men in floral shirts come to our table and ask us how everything was coming along. This is like a fucking Science-Fiction novel, I swear to you. I cannot take this much longer. This is so surreal. I just need to write. I cannot get this thought out of my head. We continue to glance around the table, all of us noticeably uncomfortable and confused by this place. There is something in the air. We all know it. Something is not right about this place, or maybe, it’s us. Maybe it is us.
My sister hands me a pineapple and apple mixed drink. I take a sip. I am not pleased with it. Alcohol and I have never had too great of a relationship. It just does not do it for me. My mind is incompatible with the liquid. I watch her eat a chicken wrap and laugh to myself. She is always enjoying that chicken. Just like Rachel, she also has a way of always bringing a smile to my mind, even when she tortures me with her piercing words.
“I still can’t believe this” I think to myself. This thought still will not leave my mind. We begin to discuss what excitements the art festival we are on the way to will hold. My sister is nervous and uncomfortable about it. It reminds me of my mother. I hope she relaxes someday. I hope that they both relax. It seems that she gets afraid of any new situation, which in turn causes her to immediately reject it. I know it can be a common occurrence for all of us, but it just really hits me hard when it happens to her. This is not something that I detest or judge her for; it is just something that I have picked up over the time that I have spent knowing her. I cannot recall if it has always been this way or not. I feel like it wasn’t, but I am not in the position to make these claims. Maybe I just never noticed, or maybe it could be I that has changed. Maybe I only notice because she has such a peculiar place in my heart that nobody is quite certain about. A place that causes confusion for the passerby, and a place that confuses me as well.
Memories slip past me. They fly in and out and I cannot make sense of any of this. Michaels is saying something about the weather and how he is tired of the snow, and “enough is enough!” The last part of his sentence started a fire inside of me. I find it so peculiar and quite sad actually how when we talk to strangers, we use the dullest topics to mask our true passions and feelings. We all say little snippets of truth, and let everything come out, even if only for a moment, in these casual, seemingly empty conversations with strangers, and nobody picks up on them. “Enough is enough!” was not directed towards the snow. There was too much emotion in it. I wanted to know this man’s life. He has had enough of something, but it certainly was not the snow. What was it? Was it the restaurant business? Was it the Don of the Mafia giving him grief? Was it his cheating husband or wife? Was it him not chasing his one true passion? Did he chase his passion? Who is this man? Where has he been? Where is he headed? How has he shaped my life so much? Why am I writing about him? Was that his purpose in my life? Will I ever see him again? Bonesaw is thinking the same things, and we both know it.
They all tell me I should be a writer, and that I need to write more. I have the passion for it. I feel it too. It has slipped under the rug during the past few years, but it is time to clean up, and throw this rug out.
This milkshake is delectable. Thank you, Carnigan.
Our check comes and I return to the bathroom twice. Rachel has already gone outside. Carnigan and I split the tab, and I walk outside as they go to the register. She is nowhere to be seen. She’s the only other seemingly independent one. Nobody disappears except her and I. That is something else that is uncanny about all of this. Maybe they do, and I just don’t notice. I am never quite certain about anything. I look around, and when I don’t see her I begin to write. I look up to the sky and notice these soft flakes falling everywhere. She appears from out of nowhere with a cigarette butt in her hand, and tosses it into the trash. She refused to flick it onto the asphalt like countless others would have done. I stare at the ground and begin to tremble. “Why am I shaking? What is this?” I think to myself. I try to tell her something, but my words cannot and will not take form. I can’t make sense of anything.
The remaining members come outside, and Carnigan gives Rachel the bill she left on the table. “We took care of it. Don’t worry about it, please.”
We’re in the wagon. We try to organize the back a little bit, and grab a pair of boots. It is total chaos. There is a gummy bear stuck to the back bumper, and it would not budge. To this day it remains there, in the same exact place that it was on that night.
Everybody is laughing and trying to shake off the frost, and the craziness that we just went through. Never in our lives have any of us gone through a dining experience anything like this. We are all trying to recollect what had just happened. It is unexplainable. Words can never describe the atmosphere of this place. A painting wouldn’t do it justice. A song would fall short. Even if you went there yourself, I don’t think it would be the same. It felt as if we were timeless, as if we were all floating in this insane, warped, hypnotic jelly-like state together, forever. It seemed like this was the place where dimensions interweaved. Maybe things weren’t nearly as strange as we had thought, or maybe they were much stranger than we were actually aware of.
Maybe it was just us.

[Hidden]
Anonymous (251) (@) 8 years, 4 months ago ago

Until miles move,
encourage.
Jump.
Play.
Be ready, and wild.
Build.
Create.
Brawl the real.
Walk miles,
until miles move.

[Hidden]
Jack M (12) (@jackpunch) 8 years, 4 months ago ago

– Sway —

In my time
I’ve found some imperfections
In your eyes
That’s my last confession
And I’ve said it too
I’ve just been wading out in the blue
When I laid my hands down
I knew I’d be coming for you

Sway back with time
Move them bones and listen close
Ideally I’m blind
So I can see it better
What an extraordinary find
You there in just my sweater
So comfy cozy, and awfully rosy
The excitement is killing me

I’ve whittled down
My senseless pride
To find I’m alone
At this baren oceanside
And I’ve said it too
I’ve just been wading out in the blue
When I laid you in bed
The warmth in my chest was from you

Sway back in time
Move them bones and listen close
Ideally I’m blind
So I can see it better
I just simply can’t unwind
You’ve got my mind in a whirl
Ultimately familiarized
Surprise, it had to be me
– –
Talking right to you
Not getting looked at, but through
Why such misfortune
I didn’t have a clue

Talking right to you
Not getting looked at, but through
Why such misfortune
I didn’t have a clue

They don’t understand
I had to stay my hand
I feel so ugly
I know I’m a better man

The sight of her virtue
I knew I had to pursue
My timing was deadly
But you know I’ll never hurt you
– –
When you drift down
From that spire only at night
I can’t see past the light
Burning in your eyes
And I’ve said it too
I’ve just been wading out in the blue
No, I don’t feel quite right
I couldn’t escape from the truth

Sway back with time
Move them bones and listen close
Ideally I’m blind
So I can see much better
Ordinarily confined
You are malign, I confess
I digress, I’m expressionless
You taught me all my finesse
– –
Talking right to you
Not getting looked at, but through
Why such misfortune
I never had a clue

Talking right to you
Not getting looked at, but through
Why such misfortune
I never had a clue
– –

[Hidden]
Jack M (12) (@jackpunch) 8 years, 4 months ago ago

@siantastic, I really liked that poem! :) Short, and to the point. My favorite line was, “Brawl the real”. I say well done!

[Hidden]
max (18) (@tothemax92) 8 years, 4 months ago ago

before the big bang etc etc there was “nothing” just an infinite puddle of possibility we sometimes call god or source or the original dimension etc. This original being was infinite and complete at the same time, It could not be added to, or taken away from nor manipulated in any way, there was nothing else outside of this singular infinite mass. At some point this being realised there were ways it could experience more than just infinite completeness, And BOOM!! the big bang exploded as an idea in the imagination within the mind of god, but god doest do thing one at a time, minute by minute, Our reality on earth along with every other possible existence were manifested in the “mind of god” as a dream, an intricate imagining, a grand harmonius scale of creation. And that is where we come in. Each human is god in physical incarnation, experienceing every possible facet of his being simultaniously. You are just one of gods infinite possibilities, looking out from an individual perspective with the goal of one day coming to the realisation, that this is what you, and everything really is, one of gods favourite dreams. Amen

[Hidden]
Eric (1,819)M (@blankey) 8 years, 4 months ago ago

This is untitled work of mine. Wrote it up in like 5ish minutes for a friend for her poetry class.

I walk outside and climb inside my mind,
Thoughts dipped in the inkwell of the night sky.
Trapped inside my mind I begin to breathe.
I feel my essence leave my body and enter my soul,
Expanding into infinity,
Grasping the whole.
Words cannot describe,
for they are inert.
Try to describe the color blue;
it won’t even work.
Strange this thing is,
we love to call life.
We all think we’re separate,
but together we work as one process.
Some think it’s a mess, how we ended up here.
But when I feel the Universe,
it all becomes clear.
As I drive down the road of life
I wonder which way to steer.
Am I even behind the wheel
or are we all driving in the rear?
Sometimes I feel like a slave to money
and dream of a free way to live.
I would give everything for it,
to live in a forest,
broken away from everything usual to today,
It may seem unusual the way I think,
to some-
But so is to me
the way we drink
to forget our problems
while walking past a bum.
On the cold streets some lay in defeat
as we walk so discreet
and never stop our own feet
to speak
to lift another person up,
it’s fucked up,
We suck up to teachers,
Listen to preachers,
Without a hint of skepticism.
I dream of the world my heart tells me is possible while I am stuck in this prison.

<3

[Hidden]
darryl (14) (@darryl) 8 years, 4 months ago ago

@imhotep,
Greeeaaat poems people. Beautiful!! Mad me dig this one out I wrote like11 years ago…..

Today I

Today I gave up the pursuit of perfection
Along with it all illusions and deception
Instead I strove with desire and zeal
For everything true, just and real
Hanging on to only the dreams that can be
I gave only what was best of me

Today I realized that life is beautiful
Riven in a challenge that is both exciting and unpredictable
With every twist and turn it leads somewhere
Every minute, taking us nearer there
So from my destiny I refuse to hide
But will enjoy the journey and relish the ride

Today I saw in everyone their beauty
In everything, just look and you’ll see
Not seeking what you’re seeking
Lest you miss their special something
So I’ll remove my blinkers as I walk around
Or I’ll never know what I may have found

Today I decided not to apologize for who I am
For I’m just like the other, trying to be what I can
Because life is not marked like some big test
There is no bonus for being better than the rest
So just to do, trust, feel and be
Is real and just, and good enough for me

Today I know, what I’ll do today
I’ll live it, my own special way
And I won’t let it pass just as another
As I shall treasure it like any other
To be myself I’ll never have to pretend
For then I will be happy, till the very end

[Hidden]
Ahmed (6) (@ahmedsmrt) 8 years, 4 months ago ago

These unquestioned chains,

that tether our thoughts

around and around

dark jaded hearts.

Floating in and out of

pity, sympathy, and failed attempts

of empathy, you realize as you get closer

burning through the layers atmosphere

that your thoughts are fake astronauts

led by the sight of what seemed to be,

just another trap for those who choose to think

but never see.

[Hidden]
bvchambers13 (168) (@bvchambers13) 8 years, 4 months ago ago

The Place Between Now and the Ever

Long shadows were cast from the back porch light into the field. The tall grass shimmered and shifted in the moonlight. The midnight breeze glided along, seaspray whispered in after it. The peepers fell into a lull allowing the faint static beat of the sea in. It called to us.
The gravel road crunched under our bare feet, the moon sailed across the distant water. We walked side by side silently, slipping away from the world into the calm embrace of the ever. The beach glimmered with each step, an explosion of light to rival the stars hanging overhead. The ancient, timeless roll of the waves continued. We sat side by side silently, twenty toes in the sand.
What we experienced had gone on since before there were words and will continue long after the last words are spoken.
You sighed contentedly next to me. Your dim silhouette was gently backlit by moon shine. Your soft brown curls were gently tousled by the same wind that mingled with your scent. Sand and salt and summer. Lilac and woodsmoke too. Your thin summer dress billowed out beneath you. A splendor in the sand. We sat; whispering quietly, as moments turned to memories and hours passed.
The ink of the eastern sky shifted slowly, passing through shades indescribable. The early morning glow revealed hidden details. The outlines of shells and the shapes of clouds, the lines on your face and the surf crashing onto a far off sandbar. Shades of black and grey slowly slid into a palette of colors.
Your pale blue dress matched the new sky. Your dark green eyes contained the same essence as the rolling sea. The morning light revealed the soft curve of your lips and gentle smile. Birds announced the dawn with a medley of songs as our little piece of the world began to wake.
If we get only one memory to carry with us as we pass into the ever then I claim this one. If I had only that one then it wouldn’t be spoiled by the memories that come after.
You left later that day while I was out. There was no warning, no rhyme or reason for it. I returned to our small rented place to find it empty. Not empty in the sense of things, but empty in the sense of you. The closet you had taken over was bare; the hangers still seemed to be swinging, mocking. There was a note tucked under the vase of flowers I had picked for you the day before. I sat and stared at it for hours as the clock on the bedside table ticked on and on and on.
I couldn’t look at that note, it would make everything real. If I read it the connection I still felt to you would be severed immediately. That day passed in a haze, I was trapped in that room, your note glaring at me.
The next day was much the same, though my numbness and shock was slowly replaced by a growing rage, born of confusion and loss.
The flowers were wilted and dry when I finally unfolded that scrap of paper. What it said makes no matter, all notes of that nature contain the same hollow platitudes.

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bpPK (1) (@psychedeliceclectic) 8 years, 3 months ago ago

@imhotep, I thoroughly appreciate and enjoy the thought from which this poem came:

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.

I have come to greatly enjoy the sensory symphony of words that truly flow. Should you care to increase your natural rhythm, notice words that can be removed (e.g., the last line could instead be, “Here we travel the deep unknown.”) This adds to the flow and the power of the final line. Also, I like the consonance of m’s during the 5th line. Overall, quite a good job.

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Boy Elroy (5) (@boy8elroy) 8 years, 3 months ago ago

Crashing past each moment with infinite presence, they weathered the storm of their own design. In the quiet churning of the mechanical universe they found each other, again and again. Together; they hurtling the world deep into the night and raising the sun out of the horizon. Their love would withstand.

It’s about the hands of a clock. They’re in love :)

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TheSkaFish (962)M (@theskafish) 8 years, 3 months ago ago

Bring back the guitars,
I say. The twangs and jangles,
The echoes and fuzz.

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TheSkaFish (962)M (@theskafish) 8 years, 3 months ago ago

Illinois State Limits

bitch rain
flips you off
car horn
a punch in the face
and
a shove to the curb
watered-down beer
and
stale-ass bread
and
a double-chin
a train that’s late
and
a convenience fee
white-hot sun
and
40 degrees
smug secondhand smoke
and
gentrified neurosis

we eat our own

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MisterCheese (24) (@mistercheese) 8 years, 3 months ago ago

Hey, Read a few poems on here and wow :) Its nice to see! I too tried my hand at a little poetry, its hard as fuck… :P haha! but heres one i liked…

Short and simple.

Come home and find yourself lost

Leave to find home and find home lost

Take a step, and leave one behind you.

And after each Breath lost find new life.

Leave home and find yourself lost

Find yourself, to be come lost and find home…

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Jack M (12) (@jackpunch) 8 years, 3 months ago ago

— To Me, She’s Just a Dream —

Some may say I’m a man
I just do what I can
So take hold of my hand
And I’ll make everything magic
And I’ll make everything magic

I just don’t understand
What you don’t understand
So I’ll take hold of your hand
And I’ll make everything magic
And I’ll make everything magic

I won’t stop it
I can’t get up or get off it
I wised up and told my feet to get walkin’ (2x)

If I’m gone in an hour
Don’t halt my source of power
Just disrupt this trickle-down worry
And promise you won’t be back for my heart

Sooner is not soon enough to see ya
Summer of ’07 was the last time I ever saw ya
I get so wild thinkin’ ’bout the last time I had my arms around ya
No, not a mild flavor
I’ll leave a spice on your lips

I still don’t understand
What you still don’t understand
So close your eyes, sit real still
And I’ll make everything magic
And I’ll make everything magic

You know I don’t like surprises
But then my eyes saw disguises
And now I hear the reprises
And I’ll make everything magic
And I’ll make everything magic

Back when I lost it
I heard my light say ‘exhausted’
I wised up and told my feet to get walkin’ (2x)

When I wake and you’re gone
I’ll have been so fond
Having spent the night with you
I promise I’ll be right back for your heart

Sooner is not soon enough to see ya
Summer of ’07 was the last time I ever saw ya
I get so wild thinkin’ ’bout the last time I had my arms around ya
No, not a mild flavor
I’ll leave a spice on your lips

I need to pause it
I can’t sit back and applause it
I’ll wise up, advise my feet to get walkin’ (2x)

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Satsuki (10) (@14sartu) 8 years, 3 months ago ago

This is a fairly rough, impromptu writing. Comments welcomed. Keep in mind, please, this is not a love story.

Him.
He stands with his hands firmly on your shoulders. His back is slightly stooped and his face downturned so he can stare into your eyes, and he stands not a foot from you, just looking like he’s trying to step through the reflection he sees on your irises. He looks at you like he doesn’t notice the flies buzzing around your head; like he doesn’t smell the stench puddling like oil in the air; like the stinging wind isn’t making his eyes water. He looks at you like you are the only thing he knows. He does know the flies, though. And he knows the stink and the wind, but he chooses to forget so all he has to think of is you. He fixes his eyes on yours like you are the last thing he’ll ever see. But all the effort he is wringing out of his straining self means nothing because he’s only trying, and trying is worthless if success forgets to show up. And even if he can forget everything but your face, and the assuring firmness of your shoulders beneath his hands, it means nothing because you can’t. All you can think about are the flies slicing across your vision like scissors cutting silk. All you can smell is the thick, fetid stink in the air; feel it sliding down your throat, coating your lungs like tar. All you can see is the nebulous blur that his face becomes as your eyes tear and well in protest to the biting wind that instead of blowing the flies away, only seems to make them more frenzied in their revolutions around your skull. So preoccupied are you with dispersing your bluebottle diadem that you don’t see his eyes drop away from your face. Your coughing obscures the rasp of the dust beneath his feet when he turns slowly away from you. You don’t notice him walk away. You are still batting away flies. In a moment of fleeting triumph the pestilent onslaught abates and you whirl around, a victorious gleam setting fire to your eyes, and you find yourself staring into the empty space he forgot to take with him when he left. All you can do is stare, uncomprehending, at the nothing he left behind. All you can do is look toward his distant, trudging form and try to grasp the absence of something so constant you’d forgotten it was there. And still you look, and as the terror begins to grasp at you, and a roaring panic begins to bloom deep in your chest, you feel a shift, and you latch onto it like a drowning man. The flies seem to have deserted you, and the foul odor in the air is carried away not by a gusting wind but by a gentle breeze. The air is quiet. Your eyes are clear and bright. You can finally see.
But the only thing worth seeing has left you far behind, with nothing but a set of footprints to remember him by.

Her.
You wait for her to stop swatting flies and blinking away tears to look at you, repeatedly pushing down the rising impatience at her inattention because you know she can’t help it. You wait with your hands twitching to fend off the flies, your lungs yearning to cough and clear out the sludge carried in with the air you breath. Your eyes threaten to tear up and blur her face but you fight the urge to blink and you just keep watching. But she will not look. She just coughs and blinks and swats like she’s dancing some never ending dervish and you can’t wait forever. Finally, you slowly release your hands from her shoulders. She doesn’t notice. Slowly you turn away, with dwindling hope that she will rouse herself from her misery to see you, and not just see you but look at you like you looked at her for so long. But she doesn’t. So you walk away, all the time listening for her to call you back. Your feet sink into the dust and for the first time you let yourself cough. And you blink away the tears welling up against the wind that threatens to knock you off your feet. The farther you walk, the more the air stinks, the harder the wind blows, the faster the flies encircle your head. You can think of nothing else, and you didn’t hear her call you. She called you back, and her voice was strong and clear, and her eyes were clear and bright. She noticed nothing, not the flies nor the wind, nor the thickness in the air, nothing but you. And she waited; waited for you to hear and turn back just as you waited for her to stop you before you left her. But you didn’t hear her. You couldn’t hear her because the buzzing was too loud and your eyes were too wet and you were just too busy swatting at the flies buzzing around your head.

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KROPartizan (0) (@kropartizan) 8 years, 3 months ago ago

I wrote this when i split with one of my partners, i am not sure if it makes sense or if it is understandable, would like some constructive criticism please :)

I was the last of us to truly care
and now you are just left over there,
it hurts when things do not last
however we need to run off fast,
’cause what is the point in hanging around
when there is happiness to be found,
even though to me you was extraordinary
every still tells me how you are just ordinary,
it was not very long
but I felt very strong,
now we no longer stop to say hey
its like you are not even worth the time of day,
alone now I feel an emptiness
although its you I am now dismissing,
its time to start a new life chapter
and hear someone else’s laughter.

peace out.

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Amanda (19) (@amandafellman) 8 years, 3 months ago ago

I was sitting at my counter in my kitchen, and something came over me, grabbed a notebook and a pen and wrote this. Tell me what you think :)

My mind has been reborn.
Ecstasy consumes me.
Happiness is pouring out of my body,
seeping through my pores,
illuminating the air around me.
Inspiration is coursing through my bones.
I can feel my soul, it’s glowing inside of me.
There’s no going back.
I crave adventure, I crave light.
I want the love and the warmth that comes
with being comfortable in your own skin.
The trees and the air whisper to me.
They are telling me their secrets, confiding in me.
Even though I can’t tell what they’re saying,
I will one day learn their language.
Passion is flowing from me as I write this,
letting my mind take control,
and writing down what’s alive in my heart.
I have this yearning,
and it’s begging me to step out of my comfort zone.
To look fear in the eye and say, ” I DEFY YOU!”
And to gravitate towards confidence.
I was blind before.
How could I have been so blind as
To let the distractions and worries of this world shield my soul,
and my spirit from the Universe?
From this captivating,
illuminescent Universe.
All I know now is that I’m writing,
feeling,
opening up,
exploring,
letting out the deepest parts of me that I was so afraid of,
so ashamed of, that I felt I need to hide them.
Even from myself.
God is here, all around me.
I’m free, I’m free!
I tell you, there is no greater feeling
than this, from what I have yet experienced.
This hope, this bright,
vitalic future that me,
I, this spiritual being, has.
It’s almost as if someone has exposed me to the sunlight for the first time.
It was blinding, almost too much for me to handle.
Then, my eyes started to adjust.
The warmth gave me this spiraling energy,
and the light expanded me,
helping me to soar, to fly.
I have nowhere to go now but up.
Up, up and away.
All good, hearty, and mediocre things come in time.
But I have found this glorious, majestic, lifting, freeing spirit.
And because it’s a great thing,
It came in one powerful moment.

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