Write some poetry here

our president is black

a long legged mac

some say he's gay

and a smoker of crack!

ROSES ARE RED
VIOLETS ARE BLUE
POETRY IS GAY
AND SO ARE YOU

If only you knew,

the things I know,

lend me your ear,

i'll tell them to you.

moving along,

this untraveled road,

when our paths cross,

the atoms explode.

Oh where has it gone?

All of the time,

astray in reality,

lost in the mind.

If only you knew,

the things I know,

plant a seed,

and let it grow.

Am I alive?

Or am I dead,

these thoughts are running through my head,

though its no doubt that im alive,

but in my dreams, will I survive?

Am I awake,

or in a dream?

Just want it to be what it seems,

but nothing ever seems to be,

especially now,

especially me.

One day, I found pandoras box,

It didnt even have a lock.

so the one fact I could see,

someone opened it,

before me.

But that which was contained inside,

no living mortal soul could hide,

amongst the secrets of the dead,

swimming around inside my head.

And all these things that I did see,

made me question reality,

and then in turn I felt alone,

even though these secrets weren't my own.

It seems the sentinels of crime,

have known the secrets for some time,

and in a shallow demons bed,

they rested their wicked little heads.

But demons never win you see,

for they depend on you, and me.

and without us, they would surely die.

Compliments of the all seeing eye.

There used to be a few poets here...

poet = creative, i am not good at poetry :P

April is National Poetry Month

considering other acts of cruelty
perpetrated in April
it seems small consolation
that one can distill
an essence out of words
that calls to mind
a sense of time and place
i hear the bells and birds
through open windows
and sit in the light
of a sun that is not yet warm
to dream of grace

Nice OP :D

Karen had a cat
who ate a ball of yarn
and when her cat had kittens
they all had sweaters on.

poop dink

"The Offering"

(written and published 1992, Piedmont Press)

I stood
looking up through clouds
listening
As my mother said,
"She has gone to a better place."

Puzzled,
I turned
looked into my mother's
tear stained face
(asking the usual eight year old questions.)

In a room
filled with familiar faces
and conversations on something lost
I wandered.

I found her there;
sleeping.
I quickly rushed
to quiet the crowd.

"Mother!", I exclaimed
Grandma is not lost
she is asleep
over there
I have found her.

Showered by smiles and kisses
I knew I had done a good thing.
"She's cold though.
She needs a blanket."

I turned to see my father
bowed on single knee
his head lowered
his eyes closed
as if paying homage to a queen

"Father?", I said slowly
(He looked up, but could not see.)
"You can give her blankee."
(It was the one she'd made for me.)

Last Edited by Eireann on 04/27/2013 12:21 PM

poop dink
whaddya think
my five year old thinks you're keen
his favorite word
except for turd
right up there on the screen
just goes to show
some never grow
beyond a certain stage
hope you'll feel free
to poop and pee
regardless of your age

Stay away kid...

don't fret
he can't read yet
it's just that i said it out loud

Keep in mind the open doors

And find out where they're hiding

Take a step into the light

That always seems so blinding

Enjoy they days as time fades away

And enjoy the treasures worth finding

A sin to bad to pardon
A burden too hard to bear
A soft, warm heart was hardened
Eyes blank with a glossed stare
And all the dew was frozen
And winter had its fun
The Lord was found forsaken
And winter had no Son
I looked up into heaven
To see the hope of spring
To see the frost and all that was lost
And the Son warm everything
The answer clear, the Son is near
He comes quickly bearing spring
The end is near, The Lord hold dear
His children under His wing

In sorrow did my life begin
In death did I once love
The world did feed my hungry soul
And grieved the One above
A tearful start did I depart
And render Him control
In Christ alone was sin atoned
And the One purchased my soul

Oh Lord who found fault in me
Don’t look upon my sin
Look unto your son, the Christ
‘Twas He who bore my sin
I am alone before You
And have not any excuse
It was Your grace and love You poured upon me
That I did abuse
Forgive me, revive me from my sin
From death to life must I begin
That all the gifts I receive from You I learn not to misuse

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm a schitzophrenic
And I am too

Dreamer's Drink

As I lay against the rusted sink
Haunted spells are whom I drink
As truth is seen through curtained lies
My haunted, liquid lullaby
And from my thought a dream emits
A torch-lit horse, a riders bliss
An embers flight; midnight delight
As dawn returns my dream dismiss

Oh wow....

That's beautiful :) Thank you!

A "Man's Country" devotee
Seems like a poofter, to me
He may be the Prez
With a Supreme Court lez
But he's still Harrison J. Bounel!

Damn, couldn't make that last line rhyme!

I wandered round the misty lake
And took to heart my feelings
Thought of all my past mistakes
And sought out all their meanings
As time went by the lake ran dry
And took with it my pain
I saw my reflection no longer
So I cried out for more rain

Where the Angels Die
Originally Posted: oh, over a decade ago...

On this harrowing night of my troubled years
In this strange forest damp with August tears
Where the winsome dreams of life are doomed
I came to walk with the pallid moon

And a chill of sorrow crossed my brow
The misted mire; it wept somehow
With a bitter scream of a silent pain
The weeping dreams of a silent rain

Dark waving branches wet and grim
Scratched in my ears with a fearsome din
They clawed at the stars and pulled at my skin
These hard waving branches -- so bare; so grim

How sorrowed I feel walking slowly beneath
every bent branch and raining leaf
I can hear the angel of summer cry
As she kisses farewell to the warmth of the sky

With her wings of color...
-- her wings of soft color; now rusted and dry

She cries to me

..for her tender flowers and ferns
Her bittersweet song fills my ears
Like the sorrowing wind of late autumn
Like the cold, chilling wind of late autumn

Aye, but something terrifies; deeper still
It mourns in the hanging hopeless branches
As they all careen in the exploding wind
And the dark beast follows me

It follows behind the rising rock
I can feel its icy eyes in my heart
Its soft lips parting; so blue, so cold
Whispering with undying sadness..

"Sleep.. Sleep.. and forget me..."

Silver visions slip through the forest
Crystal-winged cherubs hang their heads --
-- so terribly burdened

Upon the high rock I come to stand
And they wail with such terrible tears

Sullen grey wooded mist rolls with me
I feel her fingers trailing in it..
Her fingers that warmed me once
And now, shall warm no more

The tendrils of the willows slip into the dust
They slip deep into sorrow; deep down in the dust

Never utter her name again
For she is lost, for time without end
For time without end will the moon chill the sun
For time without end a love is undone

What is this dread place where the angels die?

I can sense all these soft-winged skeletons cry
Endless dark tears rain down from the sky
The soil is weary; 'tis hard and dry
The wind has grown heavy and nothing may fly

What is this dread place where the angels die?

Written by an unkown elderly gent in the UK about a dozen years ago going by the name of Blue Scorpio on a CompuServe poetry forum whose wife had died and response to question about inspiration was a single word: grief. Been in my diary ever since.

Here I sit broken hearted had to shit but only farted

This is truly amazing.. thank you so much for sharing

{{{{{{hugs}}}}}}

I feel like we have similar styles

Kind of that whole "woes me" la la la

I'd love to see what we might achieve sans the modern day BS

eh-hem, I think the correct terminology is sharted.. :p

wowno emblem money ... Without giving anything like the rest and my friends not waiting for me to play on the ice ?

Thats mekka ..

once upon a time
there was a silly little rhyme
but
that was then and this is now