Do you have any good poems?

Question

Do you have any poems that i can read while I am on here...for who has the best poem, gets best answer and 10 points.
i want to see how good you are!
Thanx,
Peanut

Answer 1

look into my eyes
what do you see?
is it drakness of a lost soul?
or is it desperate search for a answer?
or maybe it might be wonder being curious of the world around me
yet it could be love the need to calm and numb
or yet greed the want for more and more
probably you might see insanity the dont care and dont give a f u c k
maybe its determination the got to get it done
but what ever you see
you will never see the real me

HOW BOUT THIS

once in a life time things get hazey
your mindslips,years go by and you dont know what happened
no one is there there is no light
you cant see or hear or yell
you cant do anything
death has taken you
taken you to a place far away,a dark place
a place of no existance no time
no space, you have come to relize this is forever never to
come back ,for some life will begin again
for most
nothing
just an eternity of darkness

Answer 2

A Poem.

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it.

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen.

Answer 3

Here is one I wrote in 2004

Proust Has an Angiogram

Pronounced with alien dread, he mouths, “I am”.
The curtain screens, a pale apple tree disrobes
not for intricate spring design of flowers & fabric
but for the obscenity of cracked porcelain, damn

pitiful if it were not for an old absurdity, trembling
from fear of the unknown, no dimly lit room,
but one bright with instruments, no books,
only beeping monitors, eurythmic blinking.

How would he lie on the firm bed with wheels,
with an IV on the back of his hand, electrodes
sucking on his flesh, waiting for nameless terror?
Legs shaking, a form of prayer, is all he feels.

Or would he have the courage to see the glances
of the medics, anxious to give him comfort,
as they wheeled him into the X-Ray room,
the friendly atmosphere of music and dances.

One cracks jokes while the executioner shaves
his groin, mute, he was going through a divorce,
and had his own problems. He had had one too.
Piece of cake! A birthday party for life's laves.

Or perhaps he would be fascinated by the wire
twisting into his heart when the doctor said,
"Turn your head and look! See the snakes?"
Seeing his fate. Out of the fey into the fire.

And later, resting for three hours to be sure the plug
did not leak (“call 911 if it does”), with the foils
withdrawn and in their scabs, the master off
to his next fencing class, Proust takes a slug

of Coke and listens to the whimpering next to him
where an old aunt with purple feet cries when
anyone touches her. Her daughter, in as much distress,
pulls the curtain closed and falls into an endless hymn.

Answer 4

Didn't you write really good poem a while back, and I thought it was good but sad? My poems days are getting shorter by the day. I couldn't write much poems on line, but I can have fun by doing silly jokes, sometimes, just sometimes. Well, here's nothing.

It's sad but I'm glad you wrote the poem.
Just a tad bit of gadget makes you free.
But how bad can it really be to write sad poems.
Though I'm glad you wrote such poem, you had me.

Answer 5

what is life..life is the pain that still remains the same u point ya finger and blame parents and bullies its all same the fact is u still remain on crack cocaine as u hide behind the bricks that u made to walls that stand higher then the twin towers and just like them u fall to the rock bottom as u colapse still lookin for somone to blame but the fact remains the same now point the fringer at urself reach inside and ask for help to build ah better path clean urself up and open ya eyes this is life u make who u are u can live it how u wanna till u dont want it no more and u decide to pull the trigger and let it blow out ya mind because u allways say i never had or i wish for that if u want it u can have but it takes time and u dont want to wait so u gamble wit ur life now knowing that the stakes or to high and time is runin out as u lie in bed know its to late time is up now point the finger and blame cause u still remain the same..one

Answer 6

Brother Judd


The fish could hardly be expected to remember us-
Two sleep-dusted Ohio boys, working a pole with Brother Blake, methodically plinking the glass of Heritage Lake.

He was a most agreeable fisherman, long since passed on,
but he understood the principle of the thing itself;
this sport of tricking one live into becoming a trophy or dinner
for those other lives with nothing better to do.


loved Brother Blake, I really did.
He of the Pentecostal faith
(one God one Name one Baptism)
who spoke kindly to my mother,
as he rushed her sons
to rattle the baitman's door;


We need us some frantic cold red worms;
We need us some possessed nightcrawlers;
Do we got any of them salmon eggs anywhere?
Fish don't bite on 'em anyway.
(They know their own.)

Once, I caught a beauty-
a rainbow trout, with all the hidden
colors of the Lord, he said,
and my friend, who had no grasp
on the subtleties of angling,
bent the fish clean in two,
just to show it could be done.

Brother Blake, his patience at an end,
said, "Son, don't be foolish with those fish."
So we put it back in the creel,
feeling much like the fish must have felt
when he felt that first tug.


I don't fish much now at all.
but occasionally I catch myself thinking
about that elder of my childhood church,
and start feeling a little foolish
about all the beautiful Fish
I've bent in two since then...

Answer 7

Afraid of the Dark

I sit and stare into the night,
My heart and soul are full of fright.
The lights are out, no electricity;
Nothing is available to occupy me.
Is it what I will see, or what I will hear?
What is causing this unreasonable fear?
Now my imagination goes wild;
My heart beats fast - way beyond mild.
My blood pressure rises, my breathing gets hard.
Something is coming through my back yard!
It's breathing, it's hunting, it's bigger than God!
It pounces on me - oh... it's my dog.
The lights go on, everythings all right.
I'm going to bed. Good night!

Ralph D. Quarles

Copyright © 2006 Ralph D. Quarles

If you want to read more of my poems (or other poems), go to http://www.poetry.com and search for my name.

Answer 8

A hiaku for you!

we shatter like glass,
all colors blending to grey
'till truth is no more.

Answer 9

Stars are in the sea
Stars are in the sky
Stars are beautful to see
Does anybody know why

Answer 10

don’t wear perfume
don’t paint your face
keep that dress quiet
keep your nails in white
don’t wear stockings
That everything is vain, that everything is pure

I want the perfume of desire
The colours of your soul
The dress of your skin
The nails of the libido
The stocking of pleasure

you don’t disguise
That I only want your eyes

I want to drink the infinite,
Spitting at Eros, your glance.
I want that you will be water and salt,
Liquor of sour cherries and honey
Drop by drop, whole and without disguise
Whole and pure, I want to drink all of you.


Juan Angulo “Quiero”
Translated by Alvaro Garcia