Poetry thread. Post your favorite poem. Share one you've written and I'll share mine

Poetry thread. Post your favorite poem. Share one you've written and I'll share mine.

Eh ill bite. I don't ever share these but were anonymous so I don't care.

I wrote some poems when I was homeless a few years ago. They don't rhyme or flow and theyre depressing that's why I don't share them.


The spirit of winter is evident
Because in my being is cold and barren
Within my stomach is emptiness
And my being is darkened
In this epiphany do I realize

That though the exterior is not the frigidness of winter,
His carcass; his shell still cover the frail,
The weak; those unfulfilled with the necessities
For mental preparedness for what lies ahead
In future times

His laugh still echoes, concealed by the warmness of summer
But his trail in repetitious cycle to return
To haunt me, to threaten me, to rob me of humanity
Of life as knowing, of turmoils afoot

He still scares me
For the rest of my life
I will always fear him

And my wrists ache
And my hand still flexes
For the antifreeze within my grasp
My weakened estate, far beyond normality a new color forms

And invention of thoughts
As letters create words and words form sentences
That phrase into paragraphs and pages form
The nothingness of my existence and is expressed in paper
My life formed into a substance
And in my absence the world can sleep

That was awesome. Ok I be right back

I'm Nobody! Who are you?

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you - Nobody - too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Dont tell! they'd advertise - you know!

How dreary - to be - Somebody!
How public - like a Frog -
To tell one's name - the livelong June -
To an admiring Bog!

by Emily Dickinson

No you won't, you can't, know you will again.
No you won't, you can't, know you will again.
Here they come for you, please just stay again.
No you won't, you can't, dead inside again.
Feel it hurt across your face again.
Feel it hurt across your shape again.
Spill your pain out your eyes again.
Spill your pain down your chest.
Feel it hurt all over again and again and again.


Kind of dum but, yours was deep.

Sorry didn't put pic.

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

Gayest thread of the year award

roses r red
violets be blu
i likes sex with toddlers too

Go back to playing basketball nigger.

*hold it there friend you might to slow down*

Here's another of my homeless emo poetry.

How modest she is
As our eyes touch gently across each other
The salt of her lips, the grace of her essence
The white forces of soft fragance
Of mere whisps of notions
We associate in small glimpses
To be taken by intention only

We stride against each other
Our waves contradicting
We clash in rivalry of the absence of our knowing
A barrio of investigation collides our beings
And we sink into further detachment

My mind, my stark reality
What is consciousness?
Figments of pure sacredness
Of the appreciation of deepest admiration
Just the thought of objective presence
Bring solace and rest to my heart
As I piece together remnants of soberness

And reality it is
That assesses my ability to reason,
To deliver myself into true comprehension
Where I can follow my desire
The true desire
That is initiated by drunken thought,
Translated into paper,
And my conveyance brings the
Utmost intentions of my spirit
Forth to the ease of my peers

She doesn't know this, does she?
She can't fathom our few encounters
Her thoughts never linger and cross into mine
And she lacks the warmth of heart
To compensate for my abundance

Was smoking at night
Read creepy internet post
Now I can not sleep

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I have a gun
So get the van

when your heart beats so violently in your chest,
it's clear to me you're sleeping, but not getting rest.
i take your hand, to maybe comfort you a bit,
and it moves nervously to make the dream submit.

sometimes, you jump so wildly in your pretty sleep
it makes me wonder what you do in dreams so deep,
and would it help if i will take your hand again
or would it hinder you or cause you any pain
to know that, if i want to, i can take my hand away,
because you're sleeping and can't force me to stay?

These are great guys. You should be authors..for serious.

Nevermind the mouthbreather, hell get bored and go back to his copypasta porn and rekt threads

thank you :D means a lot

I'll post another one. Give me a sec..im slow typer.

those yours?

Thanks user. Its the first time I've shown these to people. I've had them saved on my tablet for years and I read them just to remember. Here's another.

I smell fucking soot all around me
Biting at my heels, succumbing me into fear
The smell is all god damn around me
and my face expresses this
and in wide-eyed fear I crumple in the road
My panicked state, my desolation
My feet flutter towards the canopy of trees I live under
With water soaking my clothes,
finding solace within the holes of my shoes,
I lay on the wet ground
Shaking, shivering, cold, barren,
while rainfall caresses my lungs
with eyes that never fail to close
Laying there until the sky is erased.

A man sits in a booth, the adjacent one empty

I've seen this man before
A commoner,
one of the few free
who is spit on by the spirit of mother nature,
who in turn laughs at those who laugh at him.
He who is detested,
who is frail,
who is like me,
who's lips forget the memory of cracking into a smile,
the weak strings holding him
in a barely recognizable cognitive balance.
He knows who I am too.
(cont'd)

2/2
Our mouths are frozen shut
Only gestures speak,
our tired faces that avoid eye contact,
our body language makes a conversation,
telling stories of mental anguish,
the young and the old,
the shared livelihood of the lowest struggle.
The pain in our eyes.
Our miniscule insignificance.
And I can't fucking stand it.
I see myself in him, and I can't face it.
I can not handle the truth.
So I leave my shelter.
The dry place of refuge I can loosely claim as my own
for the short time being
And my body retires in a forest nearby.

Again in memory I allow myself an attempt to rest
To hear the soothing lullaby of recollection.
A conjured form of thought,
rought from the bottoms of my subconscious
with attentiveness and eagerness to turn my body off
And at once do I recall times of happiness in the past
To distract my mind and my body escapes
To shut off
To forget

I don't know what I'm told.
I don't know where to go.
I don't know, I'm to bold.
I don't know, where is home.

Hey you go home.
Hey you no way.
Hey you get lost.
Hey you wrong way.

I don't know I'm so cold.
I don't know, guess I'm sold.
I don't know, life's too slow.
I don't know, what I'm told.

Poetry. Period.

just to add a lil variety here's my favourite poem (actually just a passage of drama) which is an extract from Coleridge's translation of Schiller's "The Piccolomini":

Oh, never rudely will I blame his faith
In the might of stars and angels. 'Tis not merely
The human being's pride that peoples space
With life and mystical predominance;
Since likewise for the stricken heart of love
This visible nature, and this common world,
Is all too narrow; yea, a deeper import
Lurks in the legend told my infant years
Than lies upon that truth, we live to learn.
For fable is love's world, his home, his birth-place;
Delightedly dwells he among fays and talismans,
And spirits; and delightedly believes
Divinities, being himself divine
The intelligible forms of ancient poets,
The fair humanities of old religion,
The power, the beauty, and the majesty,
That had her haunts in dale, or piny mountain,
Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring,
Or chasms, and watery depths, all these have vanished.
They live no longer in the faith of reason!
But still the heart doth need a language, still
Doth the old instinct bring back the old names;
And to yon starry world they now are gone,
Spirits or gods, that used to share this earth
With man as with their friend 11, and to the lover
Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky
Shoot influence down: and even at this day
'This Jupiter who brings whate'er is great,
And Venus who brings everything that's fair!

Hm??? I can't understand your tone

Saying it's really good guy

Thanks for the lovely words user.


Looks like the thread is dying so ill share one more.

and then my soul was pierced
the pin prick of depravity
and then drained color filled my eyes
and then I sputter my life all victimized
and then vanishing my own heart
to my self and to the both of us
while she cries my name in separation
while motion ceases
only for a brief moment
a butterfly dances on my chest
a vigil to the soft hearted
a friendship to the keen and weary
the only motion is my heart
and the burden she carries

I like that. Reminds me of me. Not being conceded or anything, it just does.

OP hides behind a happy face
Holds her hands in a fist with disgrace
No wrinkles between the brows on the mask hiding her face

Her teeth grind at night when she looks at her face
The things she's done she can't embrace
She sees the wrinkle of years on her face

She cries alone at night holding her face
Gets up in the morning and shows everyone her happy face
No tears to show on her face

Her eye brows move closer when she looks at her face
Her eyes go from blue to green when the tears fall from her face
The mask hides the wrinkles between her brows on her face

>the wrinkles between her brows.
??

*eyebrows

I know, they're ugly.

I was trying to describe my interpretation of the original picture posted by OP

Mine too. I use a #2 trimmer to make them less pronounced

Roses are red
Violets are blue
A cabbage stinks
And so do you.

Oh.
Some posted posted it on my thread the other day and I just had to have. They said it was cool. But your poem was me to a T though. I'm gone to keep it forever.

kys

I have a gerbil,
He always is so verbal,
I also have a rabbit,
But you're a real faggot

Roses are Red,
Violets are Blue,
Reply to this comment or your mother dies in her sleep tonight.

Angels rarely visit us frail humans, however the impression is forever. And to love one is a fatal misstep for happiness. For I know this look when I see it in my fellow man. However I could never arrest the feeling. It gives hope, and hope runs thin in this ever darker land.
Bright beauty is often fleeting as is its heat. But the memory is eternal. And my search will continue, for that flame that can illuminate my world. If only i could for a while, stay in its glow, maybe too i could shine into the hearts of man.
This obsession will be my life, my greatest feat, my magnum opus. To catch my sun and let its light shine past all. Maybe if i could fly, i could catch the winds, if i could swim i could drift on the sea's current.
Yet I am rooted to this ground, forever bound to my feet. And as much as i struggle to grow taller and reach higher than all, I may only see her when the clouds part.

Eyebrows rock!
Check Cara Delevingne's ones!
Make her hot as fuck

...

Give me another picture & I'll do my best

...

I once saw you outside my bedroom in a dream, my heart stopped, my lungs began to wither. My knees grew weak, and my body heavy with this burden called love.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I want a nigger to come and fuck you

Aww. Thanks. I always think they're ugly but I'm too lazy to pluck them.

What's the most poetic, aesthetic way to kill myself

Sorry that ones gross. Here you.

What's the point anyway?
They'll only grow thicker and longer.
See what I did just there?

Our illusions are defined
In measurements
of space and time.
And it's strange that love
Like gravity, is a force that binds
Yet sets us free.
We choose a goal and try to find
A path, or way which seems sublime.
Yet when that goal is finally reached
We find the gap is scarcely breached.
That empty place we keep inside
Denied with walls behind we hide
The bricks are carved from heart of stone
With love of needs fulfilled alone.
We're reaching out to interact
Confused by details of the fact
That every act
communicates our need to love,
A truth that every man has known
Though never prooved,
And rarely shown.
The truth that every mans the same.
That separations just a game.
There is no prize of fame or wealth,
There's only peace of inner self.
So live your life,
Live it well,
Lest life become a living hell.
"Man"

Love it.

The mind is a garden. Thoughts are like seeds. You can plant flowers or you can plant weeds.

New poster oldfag here, liked what everyone was doing so aded "man" from memory may have forgot a line its30 yrz old at least

Roses are red
Your mom is a slut
I spat on her face and came in her butt

Nice. You make it?

well my name's Rick and I own a shop up on the Vegas strip
I'll tell you what, those customers sure can be a trip
and if you ask for Battletoads I'll give yer ass the boot
now sit down and lemme tell ya why i'm the best at pawnin' loot

a feller came in with a bronze age sword just the other day
told 'em fifty bucks is all I'd be willing to pay
he got upset and told me off, looking for a fight
but I knew just what to do, said "let me call my buddy Mike"

feller's gettin' loud, don't faze me a tick
Chumlee's in the back shed jerkin' his dick
Big Hoss on the phone with some random dude
Old Man with his hat and his 'tude

now when Mike arrived I knew that I had surely sealed the deal
told him in advance to say that feller's sword weren't real
Mike held the item up and said "see that marking on the blade?"
"it's inauthentic, my good chum, millions more were made"

Mike left and it was just me and this steamin' feller there
the news was more than his embarrassed ass could bear
I told him quick, "I'm sorry man, that sword it isn't real"
"...but here's the thing, I'm still willing to make a deal"

the feller said "oh yeah? how much I'm gonna get?"
I said "you can grab this hundred stack, a silver coin and split"
the feller agreed and went on his way, I had earned his trust
it's just too bad that bronze age sword was worth two thousand bucks

feller's gettin' loud, don't faze me a tick
Chumlee's in the back shed jerkin' his dick
Big Hoss on the phone with some random dude
Old Man with his hat and his 'tude

Copy pasta but still a laugh

I wrote if myself (not kidding)

I wonder if they know my face
Is it the one I hide or the one they embrace
The one I know only in my breathing place

Is it the one they know from behind the wall of my place
Is the one they know when I walk into their space
The one I know only in my breathing place

Do they know who I am
Do they care I wonder some times - damn
I see them and can't control my diaphragm

They don't know who I really am
The face they hear or see which one madame
My sincerity and my venerability if I show them I will be slammed

Dare I take my mask off
Dare I show them and will they scoff
Dare I be a turnoff

I'm scared to show you the person behind the mask
So insecure sometimes I run for the flask
I just want to run to a place that is so vast

I wonder if they really care to know my real face

I've seen it before though, or something similar.
Is it the 1st time you're posting it?

I posted it a few times before

>Roses are Red
>Violets are Purple
>Sugar is Sweet
>And so is Maple Surple

Alright then...

Im a sad cunt
you are one too
Lets meet one day
And I might tongue you

Tis true my form is something odd.
But blaming me is blaming God;
Could I create myself anew,
I would not fail in pleasing you.
If I could reach from pole to pole,
Or grasp the ocean with a span,
I would be measured by the soul,
The mind's the standard of the man.

Yep.

I'd like to read some of yours please

I put two up already.

I consider "This Is Just to Say" by William Carlos Williams probably the greatest poem ever written.

>I have eaten
>the plums
>that were in
>the icebox
>
>and which
>you were probably
>saving
>for breakfast
>
>Forgive me
>they were delicious
>so sweet
>and so cold

In Praise of the Fedora

Being an original poem written in honour of Sup Forums, by me.

I've worn hats for decades now,
Since I was but a sprout,
Caps and toques upon my brow,
Whenever I went out.

Hats with peaks and hats with brims,
And even cloth berets,
Changing hats to match my whims,
Each one with its cachet.

One hat though I hold most dear,
Though Sup Forums gasps in horror,
You will never take from me,
My sharp black fedora.

In the brim a feather red,
The peak creased smartly down,
At roguish tilt 'pon my head,
Fedora is my crown.

So dismiss me as a joke,
And darn me all to heck,
I'll just don my hat and stroke,
The beard upon my neck.