Does anybody write poetry?

Fierlin1182

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Aug 26, 2011
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Sorry if there's already a topic about this, but recently I had to write poetry for part of English, and despite being opposed to it at first I actually found it rather enjoyable. I wrote perhaps six in the first week... which was very odd, most people only managed one or two.

Anyone else have poems to share?
 
I do have poetry to share:

Its not 'chicken Poetry:

Unknown Grave

by Gabriel Mendoza


Today I lay on an unknown grave
Someone from somewhere knew who this someone was
The headstone still lives, but the story is all gone
Who knows who is in there?

As I lay on this grave of an unknown someone
It might be a grim reminder
That I am also no one, but I am alive
Less worse to be no one and dead

I fell asleep on that unknown grave
It was a comfortable rest, or be it so grizzly
That I was so comfortable with death
To share the topsoil of a dead someone unknown

Unanswered are my stories my lifetime shares
My dreams, my desires, my awakenings and nightmares
Must seem to echo to my unknown friend
Telling of my unknown grave that encompasses my end

You are me and I am you I said to the Unhallowed ground
Our souls are twisted, our feelings spellbound
But one thing is different as I walk away
You must lay here unknown, but I must be unknown another day


Here is a link to my other poems.I do have more,but this poetry site wont allow any that seem dark.

http://www.voicesnet.org/allpoemsoneauthor.aspx?memberid=1109680010
 
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That's great!
I never seem to be able to write something meaningful like that
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My poems are about documentaries I saw on TV about air crashes...
 
I actualy wrote this when I was homeless and separated in Charlotte when we moved to the east coast our first year.I wont dabble nor answer any questions concerning this,but I was walking to uptown when I spotted a park,so I layed down on the ground for a rest,when I realized it was a cemetary park.I was laying down on someones grave.I couldnt read the headstone because it was very old and decayed.Then as I thought" who is lying in this unknown grave"? I came up with this poem.

There are many more about my homeless exploits that I made into poems.Heres another one:

OUTCAST

I had no place to go
The walls crumbled around me
That fatefull evening
I was told to let go
Of the things I held onto
And crying all the way out the door

The thunder and the rain
Were in their place that day
Surrounding me,drownding me
Beating me with their lightning
To the feeling that they
Were made for me that day

I prayed for the lightning to kill me
End me please from my agony
Destroy this unwanted person
This thorn in everyones side
Get rid of me and toss me in the ditch
Who would care?

I cried so much to the point of blood
I tried my best But failed
I always tried for them
Leaving myself last in line
Wasn’t that enough?

What more did I need to do for others?
What more did they want from me?
Wasn’t it enough that I was a good person?
Wasn’t it enough that I did try?
Wasn’t it enough that I loved them?

I cant think of turning back to tell them this
Seems they didn’t want me anyways
I’ll have to force my heart to press on
Oh please God put hooks in my mouth
And turn be back. I don’t want to go

All I ever hope for was a better life for them
All I ever prayed was the best for them
So I had to reach into my heart
And turn the screw
And move forward,to wherever I must go


I felt my feet were in cement
It was hard to walk away
But the opposition didn’t care
It just pressed on,driving me away
The feeling of my chest giving in
And my heart pounding,my throat closed
And I couldn’t stop the tears
And the rain
And the pain

As I walked away


I feel poetry SHOULD be based on your own experiences.Not made as a poem tool spitting out jibberjabber for profit.
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Now I also made some "Mantel" poems from sad and death times in my life like this one:

Swept Away

Please tell him I wanted you
To have someone like me
Please tell him I needed you
Like you need me

Please tell him I loved you
Like you love me
Please tell him I cared for you
Like you care for me

Please tell him I miss you
I hope you miss me
Please tell him I did no wrong
You did no wrong to me

Please don’t leave my arms
But he took you both from me
Please don’t leave my mind
Your names will stay with me

Please return the one thing you still have
You both took my me from me
All im left with is this empty shell
Until the day I am free

The mantel came in at night
And swept you both away from me…….


This one was about my and DW misscarrages and our two kids that the "mantel of death" took.
 
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Thanks so much for sharing those, they were beautiful! I agree with writing about experiences, that way you can put more feeling into them.
Thanks again, I thought they were really quite good
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Here's my feeble attempt.

In a time that I hold dear
Not too far from yesteryear,
My small world had corners four,
I never wanted any more.

A young heart that had known no pain,
I fell and scrambled up again.
This small world would never need
More than population: me.

I had dreams I strived to see
Turn into reality,
I wanted just the reach the sky.
Things were fine with only I.

Be mad at me? Why, that’s not fair.
I did no wrong, why should I care!
When did things begin to matter?
Now I’m not so hard to shatter.

My rules I’d want them all to meet,
But friendship is a two-way street.
Sometimes I would throw the knife,
Of course I’d suffer: It’s called life.

The ground from a height is bound to be hard,
And true, when I fall, it may leave me scarred.
But this young heart has not yet grown old,
Instead it’s become a heart of pure gold.

Welcome to the bigger picture.
 
Here's my feeble attempt.

In a time that I hold dear
Not too far from yesteryear,
My small world had corners four,
I never wanted any more.

A young heart that had known no pain,
I fell and scrambled up again.
This small world would never need
More than population: me.

I had dreams I strived to see
Turn into reality,
I wanted just the reach the sky.
Things were fine with only I.

Be mad at me? Why, that’s not fair.
I did no wrong, why should I care!
When did things begin to matter?
Now I’m not so hard to shatter.

My rules I’d want them all to meet,
But friendship is a two-way street.
Sometimes I would throw the knife,
Of course I’d suffer: It’s called life.

The ground from a height is bound to be hard,
And true, when I fall, it may leave me scarred.
But this young heart has not yet grown old,
Instead it’s become a heart of pure gold.

Welcome to the bigger picture.
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My poetry has sort of went underground because of dark content.
Every site wants to be a critic, save one that I am on.

Oh well, Poe never got popular until after he died, and he is my favorite writer.
 

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