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Post YOUR poems
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jhbball
Platinum Member
a lone figure slowly makes his way across the deserted, wind-blasted plane
Silent and garbed for battle
Dry gales whip around his body and stir small cyclones in the dust
gentle breezes slowly glide over the sand and wrap around him
sighing softly
his wooden armor makes a hollow creaking and groaning with each step
like a distant echo, retelling past glories and battles
Harder than any stone, his armor has changed much from whence he first put it on
the softer layers of wood have long-since been lost
all that remains is the heart: the hardest and strongest portion
smooth and hard and terrible
like driftwood
So many battles
So many struggles
He cannot remember the last time he had removed his armor
if, indeed, he ever had
Perhaps, he ponders, he can not remove it
no more than he could remove his own bones
the eerie contortions in the grain of the wood, every cut and mark
all form a catalogue of one life
his life
Legionairres of the Broken Shore
those tragic guardians
who wear their souls on the outside
Silent and garbed for battle
Dry gales whip around his body and stir small cyclones in the dust
gentle breezes slowly glide over the sand and wrap around him
sighing softly
his wooden armor makes a hollow creaking and groaning with each step
like a distant echo, retelling past glories and battles
Harder than any stone, his armor has changed much from whence he first put it on
the softer layers of wood have long-since been lost
all that remains is the heart: the hardest and strongest portion
smooth and hard and terrible
like driftwood
So many battles
So many struggles
He cannot remember the last time he had removed his armor
if, indeed, he ever had
Perhaps, he ponders, he can not remove it
no more than he could remove his own bones
the eerie contortions in the grain of the wood, every cut and mark
all form a catalogue of one life
his life
Legionairres of the Broken Shore
those tragic guardians
who wear their souls on the outside
Have fun:
I wonder do you look at me now?
Am I still not beautiful, but
Not hideous. Will you say?
I think so at times, think of
The stone
The sun in winter.
Maybe a forest in autumn, I
Wonder. Tree and snow
Seeing me, breathing my name.
Brisk and clam and clear,
I am walking in air of ice.
Yellow and red here or
There, bracing against
White or trodden gray.
Warm for a step, then
Frozen again.
I wonder do you look at me now?
Am I still not beautiful, but
Not hideous. Will you say?
I think so at times, think of
The stone
The sun in winter.
Maybe a forest in autumn, I
Wonder. Tree and snow
Seeing me, breathing my name.
Brisk and clam and clear,
I am walking in air of ice.
Yellow and red here or
There, bracing against
White or trodden gray.
Warm for a step, then
Frozen again.
Oh woe is me
for having to flee
this car I cannot fix
all my customers are dicks
they bitch and moan
over the bill
I'm just an old mechanic
not over the hill
I have bills to pay
insurance to claim
I have work today
not looking for fame
So bring your car
or your out of luck
pay up now
you miserable fvck
for having to flee
this car I cannot fix
all my customers are dicks
they bitch and moan
over the bill
I'm just an old mechanic
not over the hill
I have bills to pay
insurance to claim
I have work today
not looking for fame
So bring your car
or your out of luck
pay up now
you miserable fvck
gistech1978
Diamond Member
the log and dog
way down where the piney woods grow
lives a man that nobody knows
he says he was a singer way back when
now he only talks to his bottle of gin
hes got a friend, a 3 legged dog
a shack in the swamp and good sittin log
some folk would say hes got it pretty nice
straw bed on the floor and rid of the mice
he sits on the log contemplating his life
and asks himself why he hasn?t taken a wife
the very next day he walked into town
went to a bar and sat himself down
he noticed a woman sitting alone
he went on over and invited her home
although she found this to be quite weird
she liked the way he had fluffed his beard
he spoke of his shack and beds of straw
what happened next will drop your jaw
she agreed to go to the swamp with him
she knew she shouldnt; had bad luck with men
he showed her around the shack, the log and dog
the lovely backyard; an endless bog
she was impressed with this lovely spread
and anticipated the day they would wed.
way down where the piney woods grow
lives a man that nobody knows
he says he was a singer way back when
now he only talks to his bottle of gin
hes got a friend, a 3 legged dog
a shack in the swamp and good sittin log
some folk would say hes got it pretty nice
straw bed on the floor and rid of the mice
he sits on the log contemplating his life
and asks himself why he hasn?t taken a wife
the very next day he walked into town
went to a bar and sat himself down
he noticed a woman sitting alone
he went on over and invited her home
although she found this to be quite weird
she liked the way he had fluffed his beard
he spoke of his shack and beds of straw
what happened next will drop your jaw
she agreed to go to the swamp with him
she knew she shouldnt; had bad luck with men
he showed her around the shack, the log and dog
the lovely backyard; an endless bog
she was impressed with this lovely spread
and anticipated the day they would wed.
Breathing Room
freedom is a rocking chair
in the setting sun,
a kaleidoscope of tangerines
dripping juice down my chin,
spilling citrus into my throat,
rumbling hilariously in my stomach.
freedom is the lion?s grin,
his mane torn to pieces
sewn onto my grandmother?s quilt,
and the laugh as children crash
through sprinklers on the lawn,
and the rainbow sprouting
from wet grass,
and my lover?s scorn
for my stupidity,
and the possibility that love
is an acorn ? its absent
seed on sabbatical.
freedom is a rocking chair
in the setting sun,
a kaleidoscope of tangerines
dripping juice down my chin,
spilling citrus into my throat,
rumbling hilariously in my stomach.
freedom is the lion?s grin,
his mane torn to pieces
sewn onto my grandmother?s quilt,
and the laugh as children crash
through sprinklers on the lawn,
and the rainbow sprouting
from wet grass,
and my lover?s scorn
for my stupidity,
and the possibility that love
is an acorn ? its absent
seed on sabbatical.
brunswickite
Diamond Member
i hate you bill gates
XP locked up again
control alt delete
in the original Haiku thread someone posted this...
i dont know who it was , but still remember the poem 🙂
XP locked up again
control alt delete
in the original Haiku thread someone posted this...
i dont know who it was , but still remember the poem 🙂
The morning after so sweet so pure
Sunlight soon after a night of bliss
We nuzzle each other under the covers
Reluctant to burst the evening bubble
Your hair so soft, so smooth and silk
Your warmth a comfort against morning chill
As the sun peeks in to bring the new day
You walk in asking where the dog is
Sunlight soon after a night of bliss
We nuzzle each other under the covers
Reluctant to burst the evening bubble
Your hair so soft, so smooth and silk
Your warmth a comfort against morning chill
As the sun peeks in to bring the new day
You walk in asking where the dog is
Schadenfroh
Elite Member
wrote this the other night, not finished and no tilte yet
john stood back in a flare of scare
for he saw his wife lying their
dead
his precious rose on the floor
how could god punish him more?
he rushed to find a pulse in her
but before he reached, he saw
the blade rising from her chesst
how did he not see before or was
he just turning more....... mad?
screaming and weeping he ran down stairs
only to find fate waiting for him there
for the neighbors had called the man
and johny's freedom was lost
that day, judge sent him far away
to a land fitting of his crime
in a padded room he sat, longing to know
where the key was kept, but he could not see
that is was not me who had strucken
her down that night.
for he formed in his head
mind and matter that was not really there
and he could not accept the facts
his wife was gone
and he longed
for his wife that was dead and gone
john stood back in a flare of scare
for he saw his wife lying their
dead
his precious rose on the floor
how could god punish him more?
he rushed to find a pulse in her
but before he reached, he saw
the blade rising from her chesst
how did he not see before or was
he just turning more....... mad?
screaming and weeping he ran down stairs
only to find fate waiting for him there
for the neighbors had called the man
and johny's freedom was lost
that day, judge sent him far away
to a land fitting of his crime
in a padded room he sat, longing to know
where the key was kept, but he could not see
that is was not me who had strucken
her down that night.
for he formed in his head
mind and matter that was not really there
and he could not accept the facts
his wife was gone
and he longed
for his wife that was dead and gone
MournSanity
Diamond Member
More of a song for my upcoming rock band than a poem, but eh:
Free Thought
I can?t explain it
Can?t understand
The way we all just sit around.
Quietly waiting until the end
We must wake up and break this trend.
This mindlessness; ubiquitous
A synonym of craziness
I?m hating this; I must confess
I don?t feel like following the rest
I?m not a sheep; the incline?s too steep
I wake up in the middle of my sleep
I dream infomercials and dollar bills
And am told everyday that greed?s what kills
Irony; its all I see
It absorbs you and it?s after me
I turn around and run away
But everywhere is entropy
Society makes it seem putative
But it?s really counterintuitive
This impasse we all must break through
Was shaped and furthered by you and you
It doesn?t take 20/20 to see
That free thought is now frippery.
Free Thought
I can?t explain it
Can?t understand
The way we all just sit around.
Quietly waiting until the end
We must wake up and break this trend.
This mindlessness; ubiquitous
A synonym of craziness
I?m hating this; I must confess
I don?t feel like following the rest
I?m not a sheep; the incline?s too steep
I wake up in the middle of my sleep
I dream infomercials and dollar bills
And am told everyday that greed?s what kills
Irony; its all I see
It absorbs you and it?s after me
I turn around and run away
But everywhere is entropy
Society makes it seem putative
But it?s really counterintuitive
This impasse we all must break through
Was shaped and furthered by you and you
It doesn?t take 20/20 to see
That free thought is now frippery.
ColdFusion718
Diamond Member
The Morning Rose
Twice, but in a name
I'm not surprised 'tis the same
Inflictions upon myself so cruel
A run around the garden, made a fool
Denial no longer, all is fair score
The Morning Rose, embraced no more
Together as one, eyes and night
Heart of glass crushed in blight
Silent splinters no sole can see
The mind unmended, let it be
Truthfully to you I offered
But a melancholy me, you rendered
As actors their parts so nobly played
Oh Morning Rose, I cast you away!
Twice, but in a name
I'm not surprised 'tis the same
Inflictions upon myself so cruel
A run around the garden, made a fool
Denial no longer, all is fair score
The Morning Rose, embraced no more
Together as one, eyes and night
Heart of glass crushed in blight
Silent splinters no sole can see
The mind unmended, let it be
Truthfully to you I offered
But a melancholy me, you rendered
As actors their parts so nobly played
Oh Morning Rose, I cast you away!
ColdFusion718
Diamond Member
Your Eyes
Eyes:
Like a window to the soul
Their glimmering tint makes emotions unfold
As they meet mine, my heart gives chase
Filled with dreams of a warm embrace
They sparkle with the rays of sunshine
In the countenance of a face so kind
And if that face my lips do touch
That fathomless moment I'll cherish so much
And should they shed joyful tears
I'll catch them as my souvenirs
It's the eyes--your eyes
(I changed some words; I wrote this 5 years ago)
Eyes:
Like a window to the soul
Their glimmering tint makes emotions unfold
As they meet mine, my heart gives chase
Filled with dreams of a warm embrace
They sparkle with the rays of sunshine
In the countenance of a face so kind
And if that face my lips do touch
That fathomless moment I'll cherish so much
And should they shed joyful tears
I'll catch them as my souvenirs
It's the eyes--your eyes
(I changed some words; I wrote this 5 years ago)
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