Poetry

Discussion in 'Off Topic' started by ElizabethBennet, Dec 24, 2013.

  1. Lets share our favorite poems? New or old, original or by famous poets, I would love to hear your discoveries️

    My favorite poem is Annabelle Lee, Edgar Alan Poe. 
     
  2. I want a cupcake,
    So gimme a spam,
    Or be thrown in tha lake,
    By my giant ram,
    Uh, YOLO!
    SPITTY ROLL SOLO!!

    -SpitFire
    My attempt at poetry/rhyming/rap
    Whatever
     
  3. ^ Learn the rules of grammar, heathen. ?
     
  4. One of my favorites is "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun". I thinks its from Shakespeare, not sure xD
     
  5. one cupcake at least?

    PS: THIZ AINT ENGLISH CLAS YO

    Welcom 2 pimd
     
  6. Had this on my clipboard

    From r/poetry

    When you were young,
    I used to watch you before you would sleep,
    I used to tell you the thoughts you would think
    were just passing.

    You were a shadow,
    you made the walls so afraid of your grace,
    I had cameras all over the place
    in my mind.

    It was December
    and darker than usual, too
    when the walls started closing on you
    and your ideas.

    I though it best, then,
    to wade through the murk of your mind,
    separating the good and unkind
    into piles.

    And you went to an office,
    where the walls were all white and so clean,
    where the people were put into dreams
    until death.

    For months,
    I would walk to your room in a daze,
    not knowing which woman I'd face
    when I knocked.

    You told me
    the pills that you swallowed were dry,
    and that no matter how hard you would try,
    you were lonely.

    When you left me,
    the note in the Bible had said,
    "If I can't live, then I'm better off dead,"
    and I'd read it.

    When you were young,
    I used to tell you I wanted to know
    where the thoughts in your mind start to grow
    into ideas.

    I meant it sincerely;
    I couldn't connect to your type of regretting,
    because now I just wanted forgetting
    to be on my side.
     
  7. Just take us outta our misery
    Let us die together simultaneously
    Forget the rest of life
    Life only last so long
    And while it lasts pain thrives
    So why live to die
    Why not die and hope to live in the place called heaven
    How can i wait for this new world knowing me and my family will most likely not be in it
    Life is pain and suffering at once
    Why havent i killed myself?
    In hopes that i may inspire others to do the same and stay strong
    The quote "it gets better" is bullshit
    If you want a better life you gotta fight for it

    Change the game dont let the game change you~Emoji
     
  8. I have this super sad but amazing poem that I found on Tumblr!?


    I knew a boy who liked to draw,

    He drew pictures that nobody saw.

    He was most artistic late at night,

    In the bathroom, out of sight.

    He kept a secret no one knew,

    He didn’t tell a soul and his gallery grew.

    His drawings were different, no paper or pen,

    But needed a bandage now and again.

    We stood by the river under the stars,

    He rolled up his sleeves and showed me his scars.

    He felt embarrassed and looked down at his shoe,

    Then I rolled up my sleeves and whispered, “I draw too.”
     
  9. I've seen that one before^ I agree, it's a great poem and written by a talented writer, I just don't think cutting should be seen as poetic and shit. It's an awful thing to do… anyways. I like a lot of poems, so I don't have a favorite one. I have a question -- do you think rhyming stories count as poems?
     
  10. Roses are red
    Violets are blue
    I suck at writing poems
    Refrigerator
     
  11. Don't eat waffles on a windy day.
    The gusts catch strands of syrup
    and blow them away.
     
  12. Stories that rhyme purposely and have a rhythm are known as prose poetry.

    My favorite poem is Remember How We Forgot by Shane Koyczan.  He's amazing and inspires me to keep writing everyday.

    Also, here are two poems I've written. They're part of a series I wrote for class.
    ---

    the box part I (a list of things i would not normally talk about)

    under my bed
    there is a box.
    in the box
    there are things that
    i would not normally talk about.

    1
    in the box is a rock,
    smooth on one side,
    craggy on the other.
    The smooth side is easy to touch.
    cool and unblemished.
    no one wants to touch the other.
    to have soft skin catch on the
    roughness.
    it’s like the sides of me.
    no one wants to see that
    not slick,
    not polite,
    not “me” side.
    but what side is actually me?
    I don’t talk about who i might be in the comfort of a closed office.

    2
    in the box,
    under the rock,
    there is a note.
    words are smudged
    fading to indentations from when
    your pen ran out of ink.
    failing to write out “i love you” in
    chicken scratch.
    reminding me how tired you sounded
    the last time you hung up with no
    “i love you.”
    i don’t talk about you in the silence of a cold night.

    3
    in the box
    under the rock
    on the note,
    are words smudged with tears
    blue words dripping into each other.
    tears i didn’t know i shed till the words blurred,
    the last time i cried, i cried for you
    i don’t talk about choking on tears to the faces of concern.

    4
    under my bed
    there is a box.
    on the box
    there is a lid
    US
    it says in the middle of a
    tattered, worn white.
    I don’t talk about the US that became nothing.

    5
    lying in bed,
    the box seems to have a pulse.
    beating like your heart on nights
    you had snuck over.
    my room smells of summer.
    of sweat.
    of the woods you walked though,
    the scent clinging to you
    like i do the thoughts of you.
    i don’t talk about those nights alone in my room.

    under my bed,
    is our box.
    it’s tattered and worn.
    tonight,
    i will take it to the tree.
    there i will leave it.
    you won’t find it
    because the dead don’t move.

    -

    the box part II (letter to a body)

    last night,
    i took our box
    and left it under the tree
    i sat there for hours
    cold.

    when your voice never came to visit me,
    i left
    US
    under the tree
    in the dark.
    like where you left me
    in the dark.

    so despite the weather,
    i’ll sit in the snow
    and write a letter
    that requires a response
    i won’t receive.

    Dear,
    Is it cold?
    Are your scars all gone?
    Or do they crisscross
    Blue
    White
    Lavender
    Like constellations on that pretty skin?
    Does your stomach still ache for food
    You won’t give it?
    Or do you never feel the pain of hunger you craved so much?

    Either way,
    I hope you are happy.
    I hope you don’t feel cold
    Emotionally,
    Physically
    Anymore.
    I hope you are all this
    And more.
    Because I won’t see you,
    Ever.
    Angels don’t mingle with those trapped in a
    Personal Hell.
     
  13. Sex is when a guys communication
    enters a girls information
    to increase the population
    for a younger generation
    do you get the information...
    or do you need a demonstration
     
  14. ^ when horny children learn how to rhyme the last syllable in a sentence.
     
  15. You rock my sox
    I rock your sox
    We rock each other's
    And we eat peanuts butter 
     
  16.  so I've been debating if I should post on this. I used to write when I was a teenager I guess I'll share a few with you.

    Working title for this one is
    Don't lie or you'll die (?if I ever start writing again that needs to be changed)

    She was a pretty girl, a smart girl
    But giving into the lies
    Now one day she was looking for a way to hide
    She took a pen knife and drew a X on her thigh
    Then she was always trying to hide
    A few years later she wanted a high
    Took some pulls
    They made her feel fine
    So a few weeks later she remembered that high
    And everything she wanted to try
    So she was sent to the hospital
    They thought she wanted to die
    "No no!" She exclaimed and it wasn't a lie
    Now this was her life
    Always trying to hide and always getting high
    Until one day she took a look in the mirror and who she was wasn't there
    So she tried and tried to stop the use
    She wanted a life, not a excuse
    So she threw out the pills and the knives
    So she gave it a million tries
    Never lying never hiding
    After a year of trying
    There was no denying
    So she got back her life and her dreams
    And everything was perfect
    ....or so it would seem

    Modern day Ophelia

    She's crying
    Building a sea from her tears
    A novel, written on her body
    Lost love, betrayal, revenge
    She has lost faith
    Faith in love
    Faith in life
    Faith in religion
    Using her body for love or money
    Needle prices running down her arms
    Her white shroud clasped tight to her body
    Like being wrapped in an embrace from some unknown lover
    Rivers still pouring from her soul
    She walks into the sea
    The cigarette in her hand sizzles out
    And left on her eyes, flowers
    And left on her lips, music

    Obsession

    Addiction fueled
    Statistically ruled
    Narcissistic, a sadist
    Passive, a masochist
    Subliminally run
    Emotionally undone
    Drug pumped
    Free falling into a slump
    Rat race
    Trying to keep up the pace
    Self-obsessed
    Informationally repressed
    Typical
    Trying to be an individual
    Technologically intelligent
    Feelings are irrelevant
    A complete hypocrite
    Throughly indifferent
    And to many to name

     didn't know which ones to pick but these are the first 3 I saw