Post Your Poetry

RE: Post Your Poetry

http://www.flashflashrevolution.com/...wtopic&t=34895
http://www.flashflashrevolution.com/...wtopic&t=25774
http://www.flashflashrevolution.com/...wtopic&t=10825
http://www.flashflashrevolution.com/...wtopic&t=10391

We have enough already, thanks. I know there are at least two more that I've posted work in... but I can't find them.


Still though, I like the poem. A lot better than most that you'll find in the links above... :P

Something I wrote..

While this is not my first attempt at writing, this poem still is pretty awful. That's to be expected of someone who is just starting to learn how to write. Still, I liked this poem, and I think its the first I've ever written that didn't suck outright.

Untitled - (I haven't gotten around to it)

I pick up a book;
Timber in my hand.

The fire of my thought ignites,
consuming the wood to ash.

Man has a devouring fire,
the rainforest is no more.

All thinking is done,
All doors are wide open.

Progression forces us;
Man trapped jumps a cliff.

Black void there to greet him.

Re: Something I wrote..

i would contend that this poem does suck outright.

no offense... you'll get better, or die in the process.

Re: RE: Post Your Poetry

i agree. it's a pretty good poem.

i dont think the second line of the second stanza fits though. that's my only gripe.

oh also if you change the "wont" to "will not" in the last line it flows better.

RE: Re: RE: Post Your Poetry

I wrote this on the train on the way home from town. Its nothing speacial. It's a poem that kinda came out more like song. I dont know anyone with an interest in writing. If anything. Its nice to post this knowing that other writers will read it. No matter how critical there responce is. I like to write, i wouldnt call myself a writer though. I surpose id have to be good to be that.

Touched by the flame of this window
I say im caught alight by your stare
Passion is a song for are hearts
Pain is a melody of are soul

But we never listern

Red sea's runs through are Vision
It never stops it cause's this head on collision
Shooting stars will fire but always miss me.
I see it all from the branch of this looking tree.

Season come and go like a thought
The sun rise's and the sun sets
All we do is sit and watch
We are closed minds to are message.

(But we cant listern)

Red sea's runs through are Vision
It never stops it cause's this head on collision
Shooting stars will fire but always miss me.
I see it all from the branch of this looking tree.

But we try to listern

If i could dedicate.
I would stop and Annihilate
Time and are worlds seperate gates
Just for one smile, the smile that change's fate

I see it all from the branch of this looking tree.


Yea, so there we are. Hope you enjoyied reading it as much as i enjoyied writing it.

RE: Re: RE: Post Your Poetry

i didnt read all of it but looking tree is a cool kind of tree.

I just wrote this one up alittle while ago... It is somewhat a response to a person I know, and to other people who I've had the displeasure of talking with on occasion. Tell me what you think of it.

Title - My Unpatriotic Patriotism

The American flag swells inside me.
My heart is a drum that beats its tune.
My mind a clock that ticks its rhythm.
My body the cement that holds it in place
Why then am I a disgrace?

I look about me.
I see broken drums.
I see clocks stuck at half - past eight.
Even the cement is rotting away.
Why don't people just relax and play?

They hate me for it.
In exchange for love and kindness, they prefer ignorant blindness.
They set my soul ablaze, while calling me names.
Their stupidity is a forever blooming tree.
Why must they burn the flag within me?

Wish I Were a Tool
Today I feel like getting up
And doing 1000 push-ups,
But I can only muster 30.
I feel like being screamed at,
Used as a complete tool while I'm
Torn from limb to limb
By some crazy red faced guy,
Just so he can rebuild me
Into some super machine.
I wish I could join the Army, the Military,
Or become a Marine!
But to accomplish all of that,
You have to be over eighteen.
So the only thing
To do right now
Is put my alarm on snooze and dream.

They put this in a book and tried to charge me $45 for it. By all means THEY should pay ME...

Charge you? Like you're going to get publishers riding your butt over that poem, especially considering the book is probably pretty low budget to ask for YOU to charge. Or it could be the opposite and be world renowned. Gah, I hate those "either really dumb or really smart" situations -_-

Good poem though.

Should I move this to literature forum, and this can be the official poetry thing?

yes, do it. However, doing this will significantly reduce the number of replies to it... it's the right thing to do though.

Poetry is Literature, so yes, do it.

Godammit, I have to go back through all those threads and find my poetry. Lame.

ALRIGHT: HERE ARE MINE:

The Waiting Room:

It’s white, but not quite bleak
An interesting perspective, yet not without hope
Watching the door, sitting in the lone chair
There’s not much to do, but sit and wait

The exit door is far on the left
The same door you came in
But the door you want to go through
Is shut, and you just stare

The clock hands tick (for there is a clock now)
But time doesn’t really seem to matter
Indomitable hope dwelling inside
But all you can do is sit and wait

As the hour grows late, you begin to sweat
A grand opportunity all hinges on the moment
And outside, the day passes, the leaves fall
But if you go, you might miss it.

The sun sets on the day, but the room remains white
You can’t leave yet; the night is still young
You get comfortable in the chair, look at the clock
The numbers are the same.

Make a wish?

Two hours pass and you’re dozing off
But just as you finally reach sleep
The door opens
Your stomach knots

The woman stares at you
And offers a kind smile
You smile back
But the sucker punch hits

“We can’t see you today.”

The Smiling Behemoth:

There's glass in my gums
And a stone on my back
It's the first piece of
A larger piece that I
Was moving for the masses.

My lungs are half full
There's sweat on my brow
My blisters are bleeding
And the blisters that reside
On my blisters are bleeding.

The people clap and smile
As I shift the rock over
And in my shoes stained red
My socks are stained red
But my shoes shine white.

I go back for another slab
Of this mountain which I had
Promised to move for them
My muscles ache and my throat
Is raw, but my voice still booms

And while I create this,
Piece by painful piece,
You all smile, and you all leave
Done with it, done with him
And I am left with no one

They clap and they cheer
They're happy to hear
What a marvelous thing
That I've done...

But I stand alone, in my shoes
My shoes stained red, alone
In my socks stained red, alone
With my arms dead, alone
My lungs swimming,
My throat torn

But I look fine, and no one
Not even you will ask me why.

Helpless:

I try to help
I ask if I can
I tell jokes
You laugh
But it doesn't help

I try to help
I see if I can
I give advice
You nod
But it doesn't help

I try to help
I know I can
I listen
You speak
But it doesn't help

I try to help
I know I can't
I'm silent
You're silent
And I'm helpless

Theatre:

You don't look at her from across the room
You look at her sitting next to you
And you don't think about how nice she looks
You tell her
Except for her pigtails

She doesn't smile from across the room
She smiles sitting next to you
And she doesn't think about how good you look
Because she doesn't like that shirt
Except, maybe a little

There's a play on stage, it might be funny
But you're not paying much attention
The real star of the night is sitting next to you
And you tell her that
And she just goes, "Shut up."
But doesn't mean it, because...
She smiles.

The leading man might be on stage for everyone
Except her, because she's only seeing you
Right next to her
And she tells you that
And you smile, and shove her a little,
But then laugh and say, "I'm sorry."
But you're not.

The light is on stage
But the light is in her eyes
And you don't need to say a word
Because it is in yours, too

The doorbell goes off in the play
But you don't hear it
Your heart is beating so fast, it's pumping air
And that's all you hear

But don't worry:
Hers is too.

The play is over, and the cast bows.
You would applaud
She would applaud
But you each have a hand
In each others hand
And that is better than applause.

The theatre empties
But you can't move
Frozen in the moment?
Let's not be cliched.
Frozen...
With her.

There's no one left
And she's not moving.
Frozen in the moment?
An overused device...
Frozen...
With him.

Together.

-

Those are all I could find at the moment, except for Waiting Room, which I just wrote.

Mal

I Suck At Poems
A Poem
By Michael Gettings

I suck at poetry
Throw the words in an oven
Half the time
They don't even rhyme
Except for right there
But I can't rhyme "There" with anything
That I can think of.

I suck at poetry
Because I suck at love
And love sucks at me
But not in the way that is good
In the way that is bad
Very bad
Cause you could get, like, a hickey
And hickeys are Bad News Bears

I suck at poetry
Because "meter" and "time"
Are foreign words
What punctuation?
Where does it go?
If you ask me,
I might as well punch you
Because you've missed the point

I suck at poetry
And also humor
If you've read this far
I'm sorry
Because one other thing I suck at
Is
Endings


Mal