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Poetry

[Selected]: All categories Arts & Humanities Poetry

*****
Of all the flowers in my garden
Just a few take special care
Like my young pink Lizzybit
Curling up the front porch stairs

Wild flowers are so easy
Morning Glory runs like weeds
But to see my Lizzy blossum
Start with more than sprinkled seeds

Her blooms are broad and beautiful
Full of color and perfume
Summer sun rewards each morning
With cut flowers for my room

*****

2007-12-29 09:31:44 · 14 answers · asked by Anonymous

Some where just left of goggle
there is a place called yahoo answers
what is yahoo answers you ask?
yahoo answers is just a place
maybe it is a lot like your world or not
but if you look close you will find some one like you
some one trying to find there way
some one trying to find there place
some one that needs help
some one trying to find them self

2007-12-29 09:29:32 · 3 answers · asked by Anonymous

Here I lie in my bed,
dreaming of my sleepy head.
Her brow rests gently on my chest,
she is the one that I love best.
I hold her close and stroke her hair,
whisper that, for her, i'll always care.
I know she sleeps and hears not my words,
I bet she dreams of beautiful birds.
Thats what we are my love and I,
two birds on the wind and away we fly.
I wake in the morning a smile on my face,
knowing in my soul she was in this place.
Her soul was here resting on my chest,
maybe someday I'll hold the rest.

2007-12-29 09:16:10 · 1 answers · asked by jeffrey_griswold2006 3

It's a bit long and needs help in some areas. Ideas are greatly appreciated.

Intangible

I wish to write to you of your loss,
but I fear there are no words.
Your grieving has become a part of you,
And now you've taken to ignoring the day.

And happiness is intangible behind those croaching walls;
The undiscovered joys of abandoned rooms,
and times unspent.
You've tidyied up that last occasion, but left it as it was
in your mind,
the banners, streams-
And now the rug wears no stain,
but shadow and light,
and the beds have been neatly made.

And your world continues to fade,
behind the storms, the bleary pane
and dusty sill;
while they've longed to show you another day.

And words are lost, dear child,
lost among the draft that passes through,
the heaving past upon your lap,
and the way you've darkened the day.

Things should last forever, you used to say;
friendship, love, it is the way.
And a world that has been unfair and unkind with its deadlines and goodbyes,
has made you realize,
I always saw it in your eyes,
how they danced the music of another time;
the danger, the subdued cry;

memories were not meant to imprison.

My child, I choose not to stand in your way
and watch your world continue to fade;
I will not sully your memory
of the day.

Pain is necessaery, but should only last so long-
it is the fog that lines our windows,
until it is wiped away.

2007-12-29 08:58:13 · 2 answers · asked by Sundrop 1

2007-12-29 07:27:45 · 3 answers · asked by Anonymous

i guess i'll get my anger out
i'll let it out
before i die
before i try to hide
before i sell my soul before i let you know
that everything you did was under my control
before i scream it out
i won't come screaming out
this adversity i taste is like scream out
wait stop hold up for me
i'll wait for you i'm not gonna leave you be
but i have this time so i'll bust my rhyme
like it really matters i don't care i'm fine
now the big people have your attention
i got theirs
but it's not mine i'm just a little delayed over there
see that's me thats how i came to be
so don't go trusting everything
i'm just the same as you
and you're the same as me
and there's not room for both
so baby let it be
i'm not afraid to die
i'm not afriad to cry
so before you run out let me whipe your eye
let you sell your soul
but i'm not sell control
i don't do this
i knew this
would come around
just like what goes up
must come down
and what comes down must come down hard
people looking at me like don't you know

2007-12-29 04:18:34 · 2 answers · asked by Anonymous

Forever Love

I want you to be my forever love
But time seems to laugh mockingly at us
Can we brave the raging storm
Or should we admit defeat, close the umbrella, and drown
I see a future of dark misery
With strong winds tearing at my heart
If our final step, our final chance
Leads us only to goodbye
Do we close the door to our hearts
Leave the windows to our souls broken
And walk away from true love
For fear of admitting such obvious truth
The truth of such passionate love
Clouded by waves of turbulence and sweet peace
So passionate
It can seldom be embraced
The secret to a storm
No matter how beastly its nature
As sudden as it starts
It meets just as abrupt an end
In its wake it can leave destruction
Bruised hearts from words foolishly said
A flood of raw emotions
And broken pieces to put back together
I offer my hand to help guide you
To lead you down the path to my lonely heart
I want to love you til the end of time itself
Come, be my forever love

2007-12-29 04:17:54 · 6 answers · asked by Under the Sea 3

Do you feel that rhyming poetry is limited and feels forced and/or generally crass?

2007-12-29 03:06:04 · 23 answers · asked by Anonymous

Just enough story to avoid the categorisation of nonsense whilst steering well clear of any thread of logic it rhymes where it feels like it whilst carefully avoiding anything that might be construed as structure. The meter resembles a drum kit falling down a staircase. I think I'll name this genre:


Penfold's pants prose.



I wrote a poem about a duck that didn't have much to do with nicotine addiction
but twas just a work of fiction
and even though Duck rhymes well with cluck
the response I received was Hey! U suck
And then there was one about mice that completely failed to mention or even hint at rodentation
but focused instead upon the unexpectorant unforseen
fate of the frog of Dock Green.
So then I tried a poem of protestation
But chewed my placard in mastication
I even plagiarised a chap called Sam
but couldn't stomach the green eggs and ham.
I am maligned for my poetic turds
and now Tyler thinks i changed his passwords.

2007-12-29 02:01:45 · 15 answers · asked by Anonymous

*****
I put my head upon the floor
Tied my foot up to the door
Grabbed a hold of unwired
Refrigerator

I put a loop around my waste
And some tape across my face
Then I wrapped the rope around
My scrawny neck

I’ll get it right this time
When, the ladder, up I climb
One of my ideas
Should do the trick

*****

2007-12-29 01:21:56 · 13 answers · asked by Anonymous

*****
We march along in echelons no longer photographable
From rank and file to the jumbled mass
In just a few short years
Did Atta and his cut-throats succeed?

*****

2007-12-29 01:11:00 · 14 answers · asked by Anonymous

Here's my most favorite one:
http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=AtJKFb3qjYc4IMoHSyIG_y7sy6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20071228163718AALUGJS

2007-12-29 00:27:10 · 14 answers · asked by Dark Dickinsonian 4

A losers tale

Being a novice in this game,
I laughed at fate in the face.

I loved him too much
to care.

I loved him so much
I almost lost
and forgot who I was.

They told me it wasn't love,
that that's not how it goes.

They warned me against
my hypocrisy.
They warned me again
they warned me again and again.

Too foolish and headstrong,
too stubborn to listen,
I played games in my head.

I played games with people,
too innocent and unaware.

I lost. I lost because of my stupidity.
I lost my identity.
I lost my credibility.
I lost because I didn't care.

2007-12-28 22:07:11 · 10 answers · asked by Anonymous

Heart burns fire
Killing me softly tonight
I will give a fight

2007-12-28 18:41:43 · 14 answers · asked by Anonymous

And the city time's opposite noon the clock lands
Sun, reflecting of the moon in my hands
It's brightness did lighten it there for man
And the amazing rays earth do bring upon it

And the galls over rivers soaring above
Flying high by day: for then pouring love
And they sing in anticipation of men coming together
They sing loud of the nations in the coldest weather

And there safety can be found in its warmth
Their beautiful sounds thing that deserve of a man
the attention of a mob that lasted long
Now, that's music's job, which serves its ejaculating song

THE music, The greatest of our songs, happily humming along
We sing quietly along! Steaming breaths lasting long
Leaving pain just wholly gone as we continue to smile on
Those that are present should sing with the souls growing song

2007-12-28 18:05:47 · 5 answers · asked by Anonymous

Battle*


Father...do not worry for me today. Sleep for a time, as I.
Gather the Cedars and Rock around you.
Be content.
Be still for a short while.
I have gathered branches of Yew and Water of the Mother...
I have gathered History and compassions of Women
Who stand guard under evergreens in Winter. I have found
The Rowan Tree.

Father...do not guilt me with future knowledge. I learned...
Of children, who run under the darkness of Osiris,
Brave to play in rain that has showered madmen. Children
Who do not know that skulls smile, that water redeems
Without Baptism. That everYou loved them.

Father...do not send my mother. Dead trees do not give
Shelter. Nor rocks, water. I drown content. Do not interupt.
Stay as you are...fragments and laughter.
Do not send the woman of dry plains and dust...spiders and
Guile. Beads and acid...she would
Surrender.

Father...send the Unicorn that did not die, the white raven, and
A martyr who does not rule from the tomb...I have Battles to
Attend...Predators to contain...Foundations and Pits.

Father...do not worry for me. Today. Perhaps tomorrow, when
The Beast escapes and becomes...
Roses.
When Hell disappears, and there is only Heaven. Dealing with
Only Angels is dangerous. In that Heaven is darkness...and
Demons of innocence.

Father...there is Battle at hand. Know that I have slept under the
Hills of Changlings...worn Gold.
Drowned in the waters of unfortunate captains and whistling
Dolphins. Drowned in the folly of waiting women, taken to foam
And tides.
Do not ask.

Gather to the Cedars and Rock. Rest for a short while. Be content.
Women stand guard for you under the darkness of trees. I have
Sent the Mother to watch.
I know where you are. Be content. Do not worry or ask.
I wear Ancient Armor.

It will be Time, shortly.
I stand under the evergreens, waiting and watching.
The Lady of the Rowan Tree stands near, watching...
Waiting.
Father...Battle is at hand.
Father...it is Time.

2007-12-28 15:44:22 · 10 answers · asked by Elysabeth 7

Are You Wrong


To tell me God
Is not in my hands...

When I look at all
He has created in

Four fingers, one
Thumb...

Do you ask the
Cosmos....

Eternity...when I have
All in my
Hands?

Elysabeth

2007-12-28 15:28:25 · 11 answers · asked by Elysabeth 7

"Randsack your asthma"

and

"As day breaks swaggers in"

2007-12-28 14:52:29 · 2 answers · asked by x.t1n3 1

i want to tell a lot about myself but not with a bunch of words.
i'm also trying to make it sound mysterious

facts about me:

i'm half asian and half white
i have 2 personality types that i go on and off from
-bubbly, kind, and random
-depressed, anti-social, and "dark"
i love drawing
and i live in my own world

suggestions?

2007-12-28 14:36:46 · 4 answers · asked by alien child. 3

all he has going for him is his innocence
but what does innocence mean in a world where innocence is so scarce
does he have to tell anyone
or if he did would that just be more reason more exuse to tear him down accuse him of what they want or take his innocence
it makes him a target not a subject of affection
and the more he talks about it the more upset they get
because he's comeing clean in a world which won't accept his image because of their held beliefs
or is it in fact their held beliefs or just their cover up for the fact that they have no innocence

2007-12-28 12:57:09 · 1 answers · asked by Anonymous

Some of you may have already read it! It's 'Litany' by Billy Collins:

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

2007-12-28 12:52:20 · 3 answers · asked by serf m 2

Solarity Banality

A taste of enlightenment which they call
Orgasms, annihilation of the ego as fall
Emotional and intellectual barriers unto

Direct experience of that under what they do,
The reality of vacuity of identity, frivolity,
Ambition, purpose, humanity, divinity,

In a word, as well as, gymnastic satisfaction
Of more subtle psychic attraction from base
Appearance, through intellectual friction

Warming emotional frisson to soul felt ace,
Number one needs that bleeds into two as
Two become none in the insight of each the

Other who be so constituted as to enjoy
The which they have enjoyed if only to fell as
Incapable of mental constituants of being the

Truth revealed of said success they do so enjoy
As it mirrors into momentary awareness that
Which ages of sages past knew by right

Of attainment in constancy, satisfaction
Beyond any limit imposed of surrounding
Circumstance, the which could but ignite

Said underlying reality to awareness dealing
With surrounding circumstance, penetrating
Both the all and none, as do stars in full flight.

2007-12-28 12:40:18 · 3 answers · asked by Master Anarchy 2

*****
How can the Moon be so blue
To teary eyed onlookers
How can that face look so sad
On our golden beamed Moon

How can she shadow the sunlight
At midnight, from Kuala Lumpur
Why must her sorrow engulf us
From a place far away, yet so near

How does this Moon have such power
To shape our faces with sorrow
We know in our hearts she will shine again
When she wakes up free, tomorrow…

****

2007-12-28 11:37:18 · 18 answers · asked by Anonymous

This is one of my favorites from 2007.

*****
Softness

Whispered words melt,
passing by,
the thoughts
inside tumble
as you smile

Strands of hair part
as an ear strains
to listen

Softly passing by,
they fall to your toes,
these scattered, whispered words.

*****

2007-12-28 10:26:38 · 9 answers · asked by Anonymous

This is just a little poem of mine that I shared with someone on R&S today, but I thought I'd share it with you too. So what do you think? Basically, it talks about my struggle while I was trying to come to terms with the fact that there is no god.

Don't be too hard me on now, remember that Poppy is not a native English speaker :-)

2007-12-28 10:20:00 · 7 answers · asked by Anonymous

Your Gift
Written by Semper Fi Reborn

I'm sorry,
But I ddn't have time to wrap it,
Or pack it,
Adorn it with a bow to make it classic,
But unlike plastic,
These words biodegrade.
Yet long after I'm gone,
The message will not fade.
The song will serenade,
The ears of those that love it's message.
Like a gift given in grace.
Who will protest it?
I'm aware we may be strangers,
Seperated by this screen.
Yet in this high tech realm of secrecy,
Must I wax mean?
No, I say.
Mean is not of my forte.
But considerate whiffs of peace,
Are the gifts that I display.
Having said that,
Will you ponder what I do to cause such riffs?
Nevermind now,
I'd rather you accept this as my gift.

2007-12-28 10:17:53 · 22 answers · asked by Semp-listic! 7

Under the gruesome night and dead stars,
Let the torture begin to set.
Under the lifeless clouds and dark moon,
Let the truth begin to surface.

The crimson cracks shall begin to bulge,
My eyes will roll back into my head.
My eyelashes plucked out one by one,
The blood trickeling down my cheek bones.

I will tug at my madded up hair,
Pulling each strand out carefully.
From the back of my head to the front,
A throbbing sensation will start.

My throat will run hot and start to burn,
As a coat of bile forms inside.
My torso rapidly jerks foward,
And a liquid spews out of my mouth.

I will skin my old, dry, itching flesh,
From my bleeding ears to my feet.
Carved down to reveal the thin, white bone,
Now you see me stripped down to the core.

With my aching body, do you now see?
I've stripped myself down to the bone.
All just for you, it's what you want.
Now will you finally love me?

Under the gruesome night and dead stars,
Let the torture begin to set.
Under the lifeless clouds and dark moon,
Let the truth begin to surface.

2007-12-28 10:00:51 · 3 answers · asked by Waterworks. 2

Be deleted from the Poetry section as chatting? What's the deal here?

2007-12-28 09:28:54 · 22 answers · asked by Semp-listic! 7

2007-12-28 09:11:57 · 10 answers · asked by Anonymous

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