Anyone here a poet?
I LOVE writing poems, usually serious ones.
I write quatrains and don't usually rhyme.

Post your epic poems here!

Here's mine... I wrote it for an English project:

Ode to a Broken Doll

Your flawless pale features and bloodred lips,
Your large chestnut eyes of a doe.
Shrouded ‘neath lashes like silken dips,
Your raven curls sway to and fro.

Moonlight bathes you in silver pools,
Stirring the dust motes that blanket you so.
The light caresses your gown, reflecting the jewels,
Turning your skin the color of snow.

And the bane howls, and the air chills,
A fluttering comes from your heart.
“Melanthe, Melanthe, my dear sweet Melanthe”
“From you I shall never part”.

Then the memories start to dance,
Returning to your mind.
You remember that you took a chance
For that gem of all mankind.

So you slowly start to rise
From your perch upon the shelf.
And you look around with shiny eyes,
Beholding your dusty self.


You shake yourself off and start to sway,
Like you did in happier times.
Wishing that he was here today
And not dead for his false crimes.

You can recall that awful night
Where his screams echoed through the land.
The unseen assassin giving him fright,
Then killing him by his own hand.

“Raphael, Raphael, my poor sweet child”,
You say as tears roll down your pretty face.
Your grief is deep; it’s driving you wild,
Your fragile heart is starting to race.

And then your body starts to shake
Your face is looking grotesque.
That’s when you make a supposed mistake
And leap off the tall desk.

And as you were falling, time seemed to slow.
There was no hint of sadness, you were feeling quite well
For both you and I at that time did know
You soon would be reunited with me, Raphael.


Yeah... one of my OK-ish ones, I did better before

I don't know if this can really be considered a poem, but that's what my teacher's called it. It was never intended to be a poem, but more of a story poem (as little sense as that makes). I wrote this when I was in year six, after having a Naruto marathon ^.^
This poem is based on true events. It is about the first friend I ever made. I've always been told it's quite sad and I don't think it's overly good, but I'll post it anyway.
Well...here it is.

I weep for you

If you went down the hallway to the last room,
You may have heard weeping,
This room belonged to a young girl,
Who has a broken heart.

She wept for a young girl, sad and lonely,
She wept for a best friend, who was never forgotten,
She wept for a young girl, who lost her best friend,
And she wept for a broken heart.

Slow and scared, a young girl walks into school,
Sad and lonely, she looks around,
Tears in her eyes, she sits down,
And half crying, she tries to hide.

Gloomily, she looks around,
Relieved, she sees there is another lonely girl,
Staying out of sight, she crawls to the girl,
And in barely a whisper, talks to her.

In whispers, they exchange names.
In small voices, talk about where they're from,
In normal voices, talk about themselves,
And using 'outside voices', laugh together.

Shyly, they go outside,
Smiling, they walk to the trees,
Giggling, they skip closer to the trees,
And laughing, they run into the trees.

Shyly, they met in the morning,
Smiling, they talked together,
Laughing, they played together,
And crying, they parted forever.

She wept for a young girl, sad and lonely,
She wept for a best friend, who was never forgotten,
She wept for a young girl, who lost her best friend,
And she wept for a broken heart.

I weep for a young girl, sad and lonely,
I weep for a best friend, who was never forgotten,
I weep for a young girl, who lost her best friend,
And I weep for a broken heart.

I weep for me.

^ Very pretty! I love it :D
I didn't think that anyone was going to reply...

Thanks. I think yours is amazing. If I find any more of my old poems, I'll post them

Yeah. I have a lot of poems, too. They're mostly unfinished...

Mine are less pretty and more aggressive than yours. I hope you will enjoy them, although they're designed to be sung as songs (I write songs for myself in spare time). I've done quite a bit, so please enjoy.

^Niceee Cattyman! Now post your Ianthe one :D

No... no way... whoa

So which one do you like better? Yes?

And not to call me Cattyman on here ok?? For "security purposes".

Check out the Eye Creators forum!! ok?? Met you there.

Yup.
The 'It's really pathetic you know' one's much better :D
See ya :D

This can be sung to either 'Breathe No More' or 'Lithium' by Evanescence, or just read as poetry. It's about loving someone who doesn't want you in the least and is constantly plagued in utter madness by your love for them. I wrote this for somebody very close to me in grade 6, and it was my suicide note. Luckily he clued in and get me down, phew.

Untitled

This ledge is all that keeps me
From hurtling over the edge
Between life and death
Your sorrow and your smile.
Almost there now
Just one step more, darling,
Until your life is cured of this disease
This disease that is me.
Well, darling, don't keep me now!
Don't you realise what I am?
I'm just an epidemic,
Virus, leech, parasite.
I control you in more ways than one
But like my airborne counterpart
I can't really change
For human nature is set in stone
Soon that stone will drop down
And shatter by your feet
Like a self-destruct setting
On a missile of terrorism
There for that just-in-case,
And that button's pressed now
In my strongest heartfelt hour
I'm sorry for what I've done to you
My darling
I guess I never dreamed
That love could be so cruel
So if I'm really hurting you by living,
Then why hurt you any longer?

Umm, mine are usually short, so this won't take long ^-^

A Poem for Jed
You spoke about life like you knew.
-Yet you moan.
-And wait.
-And listen.
It wasn't your fault.
As far as I could tell.
The stars. The lights. They glisten.

We dressed you up in human skin.
And hoped the rest would follow.
But there's no beating. No sound of drums.
I fear that you are hollow.

I could go on. With rhymes and words.
And pray they form a sign.
But you'd be torn. Some certain scorn.
With stars and lights that shine.


My Box.
A box of all my butterflies,
A safe place for my heart.
But once a stranger's found their way,
My box will fall apart.


We're all mad here.
Bring me back to wonderland,
Where I am not insane.
Take me to the rabbit hole,
And wonderland again.

I miss the sense of mystery,
I felt once in the air.
I miss the loving creatures way,
The only ones who care.

I liked it back there in the snow,
The fun I had in frost.
But now i'm back. My world's turned black.
And now I feel so lost.

I loved Alice in Wonderland as a child... it was so much fun, but I preferred the more insane version than the Disney version. I s'pose even back then I was a psycho.

Yeah, i've always loved Alice in Wonderland. Hell, I still do.
'We're all mad here' is my favourite quote. I love the cheshire cat ^-^

yayy! I love the cheshire cat... love that creepy smile on his face.

A box of all my butterflies,
A safe place for my heart.
But once a stranger's found their way,
My box will fall apart.

I love it, PowerCosmic. Love love love it.

This is a poem of mine I wrote for an English assignment. It's about London, and how I felt when I visited it. Be nice, please, I don't write poetry much *nervous*

London Town

If London was a person
One like you or me
With eyes and nose and teeth and hair
This is what she’d be

She’d be old and wise and strong
And have a thousand tales to tell
Of war and blood and ancient love
In voices like the holy bells

But she’d be young and cheap and bright
And drink sticky cocktail drinks
And her eyes would glow with the sickly light
Of clubs and drugs and neon pinks

She’d smell of cigarette smoke
And drains that don’t quite work
And she’d voice the beggar’s helpless pleas
“Could you spare a penny madam please?”

And you could burn her, and smash her
And kick her when she’s down
But still she’d rise again
She’d be the same old London town

awww thanks ^-^
Yours is really good by the way

I'm so jealous of all of you! Your poems are all so gooood! I fail miserably at writing poetry.

*Revives thread*

Short, unsweet, and title-less.

Unnamed
Break my heart and leave me to die;
I promise you, I will not cry.
On come the tears,
That I hope reach no one’s ears.
For a promise broken,
Is a lie spoken.

This is one I wrote a while back called Bones in the Closet.

While you still have the light of day,
You go outside and laugh and play.
And then the sun begins to disappear,
And then you really begin to know fear.
You run inside and lock your doors,
But still your fear just taunts you more.
You know the undead are beginning to rise,
And you fear this night will bring your demise.
You look outside your window pane,
And what you see nearly drives you insane.
What should be a dark empty street,
Is where the rotting, risen dead now meet.
They turn and look in your direction,
And you know they want to spread their zombiefying infection.
You turn and run into your room,
Although you know they’ll find you soon.
Zombies are faster than you think,
And as you listen, your heart begins to sink.
They start to climb the side of your house,
And you feel as helpless as a mouse.
You try to think of a place to hide,
And suddenly the closet comes to mind.
You run in there and slam the door,
And as you do, you realize the idea was quite poor.
Now I’m here paying my respects,
And that was what happened, I do suspect.
For when they opened up the vault of your last deposit,
All they found were bones in the closet.

I know it's not all that good... But in any case, I don't write that much poetry, so yeah

The Meaning of Us
I know, I know that you’re going to leave,
I don’t care about that, it’s trivial to me,
Because now I know, I know…
Now I know the meaning of us.

Thinking so hard about the past and the future,
I never really knew about the present.
Stuck in a place that was dull and gray,
I never thought about the meaning of it all.

I’m independent now,
I’m free from the cage,
Now I know the meaning,
Now I know the meaning of us.

A sestina I wrote. God, writing a sestina is hard, and I couldn't figure out a way to do it without making it into a story poem. I'm a prose writer through and through, but I'm told that my prose is like prose poetry, so I suppose this is a happy medium.

The Second New World

The leading visionaries of the era envisioned a second new world,
A place beyond proverbial oceans, beyond the North Star,
A world without lines of demarcation, without boundaries, without maps.
Their attempts to claim it were as fervent as a summer storm,
But with my candidacy, I saw their eyes spark, thinking of the loveliest ship in the sea,
My Calypso, my USS Arizona, my HMS Beagle, my beautiful Evangeline.

Something clear and sharp and sacred, my intrepid Evangeline.
With the first mapped and bought, she and I moved onto the second world,
Dreaming of exotic fruits, tropical birds and civilizations sunk beneath a faraway sea,
Of astonishing, tragic, unruly love, of hushed oceans and the refracted light of a star.
The crew waves goodbye as we leave ground, the cries of those ashore loud as a storm,
Cries for us to be safe, to be painstakingly careful, to always consult the maps.

But there is no hint of land, no obstacles other than rogue waves, and no need for maps,
There’s just us and the ship, born in the Atlantic, bred in the Pacific, my lovely Evangeline.
Months of calm blue seas, like clearest honey poured into sunlit water, devoid of any storm.
So we sit back to wait until we disappear into the gate of the second world.
I set the course north, beyond the edge of the first world, beyond the Pole Star,
And I dream of the clear, profound harbor I’ll find for my Evangeline in a far-flung sea.

The bearing takes us into the hazy blue of distant horizons, deep into the azure sea,
But things go awry as we skirt Charybdis’ sisters, things beyond the reach of the maps,
And I can’t keep track of every falling star.
But even in peril, never can my soul be severed from that of the Evangeline,
Even as, one by one, the crew abandons her, defecting to the narrow first world,
Leaving she and I to come off course as we sleep, at the mercy of a turbulent storm.

They say that the captain stays fast with the vessel through sun and storm,
Even when the ship is dashed to bits on the swells, swept out to the depths of a rocky sea,
Pounded out of nowhere by torrential rains and choppy waves at the precipice of the second world,
Her decks flooded with ocean and coarse with salt, inundated with the running ink of the maps.
The mooring groans, the tempestuous ocean pressures the frame of the Evangeline
Until she’s run aground in the shallows, washed up from the deep on foreign shores beneath lonely stars.

The night finds me awash on a craggy beach, the inky sky devoid of any hopeful polar star,
The winds calm and clement, the ocean placid, no sign of the fateful storm
That took from me, nowhere to be seen, the fine form of my beautiful Evangeline,
Now dashed to contorted wood in the dark, deep harbor of this forlorn, far-flung sea.
Soldiers come to salvage, ushering me back behind the restrictive lines drawn by the maps,
The waves undulating on and on in mourning, ferrying me away from the second world.

Sometimes at night in my dreams comes the Evangeline, her prow severed like a collapsed star.
Resting there with me on the beach of another world, washed up in deep, calm oceans devoid of storms.
My Evangeline having found the second world beneath the sea, all we’d ever wanted, the last place without maps.

Sundays

Why, on Sundays
do I wear a bra?
It's not like
I go very far.
I stay in bed late
and read the paper.
I should allow my bosoms
such laid-back behaviour.
For the rest of the week
they can be up-front.
Stuffed and squeezed,
stared at and bumped.
But Sunday is a day of rest
and these brave breasts
deserve the best.

Marching Band(My poem for a school assignments im working on)
It's not as simple as it seems
It takes a ot to be in the band
It's more than just blowing into a horn
or banging on a drum

It's More than just reading a paper withe notes
It's remebering them when in front of the crowd
Band requires rhythm
Band requires teamwork

Our marching bands not great?
But were one of the only sports to win state

I had a homework assignment to write a poem about any topic thats at least 2 stanzas and 10 lines

I have an old poem called "Wyntur"; I suppose that should work:

Wyntur

Icicles from far above
Falling on the snow.
Snow bleached white, like Noah's dove.
Which lies there far below.

A few miles west,
There lies the lake
And fathoms down it go.
It may feel like a thousand miles
But its depth is hardly low.

So tells the story, an old maid,
As a dark blue scarf she sew.

One young boy, aged twelve beyond,
Took time to visit the lake.
The rooster's crow at before dawn
Marked the time that he wake.
Per'aps it seems like midnight,
Yet it's only just daybreak.

Walking through drifts thick and soft,
Like quicksand, in a way,
That boy, aged at least seventeen,
As he goes forth
Both west and north,
The dawn becomes the day.

How long he's gone, how far he walks,
No one knows enough to say.
'Cause as it gets cold in that village old,
In their houses they will stay.

What makes the boy go walking there?
Is it something in the air?
A wind that's spiraling down to the lake
Ruffles his hair.
At least, what is hair is not on end,
Though he was too cold to care.

---
There's a certain way that it has to be read, a certain rhythm with which this poem must be spoken, so that it sounds right.

..I hope BBCode is the right formatting for this @-@

This was actually written as a joke...my friends decided to drag me along to their karate lessons, where I met their "friend" Charlie...eventually I stopped coming to karate with them and wrote Charlie a goodbye poem.
So yeah, it sucks, but as I said it's just for a joke :D

I haven't known you for too long,
Yet fate has brought our paths together.
I know I'll miss you,
But someday we'll meet again.
Till then I'll cherish every moment,
Every day that we have spent.

With misty eyes,
I wave goodbye,
Will our lives go back to normal?
Maybe, maybe not
But I know that I am ready,
To let go and say goodbye...

This is your life.

Goodbye, Charlie, Goodbye