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who here is an poet? Goto Page: [] [<] 1 2

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ii-r-b e a s t

Desirable Lunatic

PostPosted: Fri Oct 15, 2010 4:35 pm


Composed this one around 3am-ish, thursday. Its about something that happened to me, and still haunts me. Be prepared, its not a happy one.

Insignificance


I hate the thoughts that fill my head,
Death might be my only friend.
I find I cant sleep at night,
Once great dreams now filled with fright.
You ruined my life that day,
You took all my innocence away.
Never thought to ask permission,
Guess you were on a mission.
Why must I pay,
When you’re the one who took it away?
I hate going to school anymore,
My friends left me for something more.
I refuse to cry a tear,
Since that horrid nights premier.
We were supposed to be friends,
But that’s at an end.
Why cant I forget,
The good times before the incident?
By all accounts you should be dead to me,
So why do you still breath?
Gods I wish I could cry,
Let loose the hurt gathered inside.
How could you do this to me,
Am I such a freak?
I need to get out,
Body, mind, town, and thought.
I hate this sick feeling I get,
When I see you in public.
It spreads over my skin like a disease,
Rashes spring up and panic seizes.
I want to go home and take a shower,
But my family wont answer when its most dire.
I rub my thighs and arms,
when worms feel like they crawl.
My panics at its worst,
I can’t breath for all I’m worth.
Bile rises in my throat,
Gods I’m going to choke.
He walks right by and doesn’t care,
How he put me in such disrepair.
Oh how I’ve been sunk so low,
I’m the scum on the bottoms of his boots, he treads on me as he goes.
My phone rings as if in the distance,
I answer it in an instance.
My moms on the other line,
She’s come to save me one last time.
She drives up to the school,
I act like I’m neutral.
No one knows unless I say,
How much I die inside each day.
I act ok when indeed I’m not,
I don’t want them to fret over nothing.
For that’s what I am,
Nothing more than a spec of sand.
Less insignificant then your very hand.
PostPosted: Fri Oct 15, 2010 4:37 pm


Wooops. sorry i didn't shorten it, i didn't read that we were supposed to 'til after. >.< You don't have to read it.

ii-r-b e a s t

Desirable Lunatic


Xervania

PostPosted: Tue Nov 30, 2010 5:29 pm


I admire poetry. I put mines on Art Arena. Just search the title "Uglies Deserve Respect" and "World Without Stereotypes."
PostPosted: Sat Jan 15, 2011 4:53 pm


((my newest poem, tis about me and my ancestors))
cherokee
cherokee tongue
My native tongue
My home's language
such from a descendent,
barely knowing about
the history fromt he past.

Feeling my ancestors pain
on the restless trail.
the trail of tears
the most painfullest trail
the cherokee taken from their
own home. My home

Reasons why i dont know me
own history. Hoping one day
the tribes will live on again.

hourses running wild, dears, buffalos, fire
crakling, dances all around

"Why oh, why did they not fight back?

iSkittleTime
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PostPosted: Sun Jan 16, 2011 11:32 pm


These are some really short (compared to the ones i usually write) random poems i wrote for school and stuff.

~(Best of Friends)~
Sometimes the best people on earth,
deserve to be punished,
even you,
my best friend,
for letting me wait for you,
for such a long time...

~(Must end)~
When the clock stops,
Time goes on,
When my heart stops,
My love will go on.


~(Suffer)~
Fast as I fade away,
It's almost over,
Slow I suffocate,
I am broken and a mere shell,
In the world of life.
PostPosted: Sat Feb 26, 2011 4:50 pm


Caged Lark of London

Watch the beautiful lark sing,
and behold her enchanting voice.
See how the light caresses
the ivory velvet of her skin.

Watch as she flits across midnight meadows,
and listen for her wings to open.
Soar high above with her,
as she wears the moon around her neck.

Scream for the beautiful lark,
as the cage ensnares her.
Weep as those sweeping wings are crushed,
beneath lengthening bars of sorrow.

Stay beneath her windowsill,
and beg for the silent lark,
to bless you again with her enchanting voice.
The silence is tortured,
as the lark wills herself to be free...

...I clutch these bars of glass,
and watch the finches sing.
The stars tempt my wings to grow,
but they are useless now.

I am the caged lark of London,
who's father spills blood for her voice.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I wrote this, the first time in a while, for my amusement. It is inspired by Sweeney Todd, but I think there is something more to it that I have yet to discover. Make what you will of it, constructive criticism is encouraged.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------




The_Scarlet_Lark


nEkO_aniMANIAC

PostPosted: Sun Feb 27, 2011 1:06 pm


Hmm.. With all the writing that I have done for so many years, I just cannot seem to get a single line on paper lately.. Has this ever happened to anyone?
PostPosted: Sun Feb 27, 2011 1:30 pm


nEkO_aniMANIAC
Hmm.. With all the writing that I have done for so many years, I just cannot seem to get a single line on paper lately.. Has this ever happened to anyone?
Yes, and often at the most inopportune times like when I am trying to write merely sixty lines for a project...

The_Scarlet_Lark

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