Yay, I can write poems! Post yours!

[Campine Lover]

Title: Blink

Why does the dying sun, so desolately fall
Into the brutal ocean?
Leaving dark to shroud us all.
Why does the wispy cloud,
So feeble in the darkened sky,
Hide the moon from weary travelers
Taking joy in their demise.

How much we miss the wilting rose.
Its petals on the ground.
How much we take for granted,
The beauty our world surrounds.

When you take away the engine, how quickly it becomes,
That 1,000 horsepower drops meekly down to one.

Ironically we call mankind master of all he sees,
But we rely on animals, of land and sky and sea.
Take away these creatures,
And then you shall certainly see,
That we are really nothing,
But a blink in eternity.



You like? Can poets be crazy?

I want to see your poems, too!

 

[Campine Lover]

White Horses

Its dawn, run White Horses!
From the white tipped wave heads,
they come.
Brushing the beaches, leaving foamy white trails.
Kicking playfully at the cold sea beds.
Run White Horses!
From the lighthouse, someone looks,
At a sailboat, filled with nets and hooks.
The foamy waves that push and pull,
That yank at the bow, and kick at the hull.
Run White Horses!
To him they look like white-tipped waves,
But beneath the watery, blue-gray caves,
The Horses rise, and show their heads,
And laughing softly all the while,
Run On!
So if you visit the sea on a windy day, you might perhaps,
You might,
You may,
Catch a glimpse of a horses head,
And hear a whisper of laughter misled…



wow, I am on a ROLL today!

 

[Campine Lover]

Life

When the world passes you by
leaving time
and thought
When reality becomes
a state of mind
a flicker of thought
Nobody but you. You.
time.
gone.
now.
nothing.
but thought…
Is this the end?
or the beginning.
Does death live?
Or is this life…
really
truly
Life…

 

[Campine Lover]

Rain, falling, falling.
Angels, crying, crying.
Are they crying happy for the
beautiful new angel?
Or crying sad because of the loss,
of a beautiful family member?
Clouds, sinking, sinking.
Mist spirit, coming, coming.
Are they coming,
to take her away?
Or leaving to,
bring her back?
Wind, blowing, blowing.
Leaves, rustling, rustling.
Is it sighing sadly,
because of her?
Or singing happy,
to have her back?
Back,
to them.
Rain, Cloud, Wind.
heaven…
Angels crying,
Winds sighing,
Clouds dropping,
Sun sinking,
Moon coming,
Stars showing, a new star born.
We give back to the sky with,
Charlotte…

 

[Campine Lover]

The Hunter

The hunter, proud and strong
Stalks through night and day
Suddenly a movement, a quiver in the grass
Legs stiff she creeps forward, making no sound
Paw raised she patiently stands
She waits, quivering in anticipation
The prey dares to venture out
It sees the hunter, tries to flee
Quick as a flash, the hunter leaps
The hunter stands, the prey dangling from her mouth
She hears a familiar call and returns home
She sits purring on a lap
Until the next hunt

 

[Campine Lover]

Ok, I'm done for today writing poems!

 

[Sir Birdaholic]

I have chickens,
They're yokohamas
When the eggs hatch out
they make good mamma's

I'm a poet,
and didn't know it

Wow! they just flow,( like when you hose out the coop)

 

[Campine Lover]

 

[GlitterBug]

Puppies are so cute,
Puppies like to poop.
Puppies are adorable,
Puppies like piddle.



( P.S. the 'adorable' is pronounced 'Ad-or-a-bib-el', to rhyme with piddle)


I look, and there, it a magic device,
Giving me all sorts of advice.
As I gaze at a fascinating tool,
Could be or good or crule
So new and pristine,
- It tells me what some things mean!

What could it be?
A name that sounds so catchy,
Why, it's a C.P.!

(LOL I know, it's stupied!)

 

[agnes_day]

I watched thee when the foe was at our side,
Ready to strike at him—or thee and me,
Were safety hopeless—rather than divide
Aught with one loved save love and liberty.



I watched thee on the breakers, when the rock,
Received our prow, and all was storm and fear,
And bade thee cling to me through every shock;
This arm would be thy bark, or breast thy bier.


I watched thee when the fever glazed thine eyes,
Yielding my couch and stretched me on the ground
When overworn with watching, ne’er to rise
From thence if thou an early grave hadst found.


The earthquake came, and rocked the quivering wall,
And men and nature reeled as if with wine.
Whom did I seek around the tottering hall?
For thee. Whose safety first provide for? Thine.



And when convulsive throes denied my breath
The faintest utterance to my fading thought,
To thee—to thee—e’en in the gasp of death
My spirit turned, oh! oftener than it ought.


Thus much and more; and yet thou lov’st me not,
And never wilt! Love dwells not in our will.
Nor can I blame thee, though it be my lot
To strongly, wrongly, vainly love thee still.


i call this "you forgot to call"