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Poetry Thread


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I have always had a soft spot for poetry, and I have inspired to become a published author, but not for the benefits that come with it, but more of a way to share my words of thoughts to the world.


Anyways, this is for anyone as well, because I love reading other people's work.


Some of mine:


Love, of all things, can never be shackled,

For love lies in a realm of eternal bliss.

So why do people still try to tackle,

A feeling, locked away behind a kiss?





For when your essence lingers in my presence,

With a crisp tender taste of a kiss,

I’m forever embraced by your elegant grace,

For you endowed beautiful feelings of bliss.




Let us dance to this joyous serenade,

That our love has passionately made,

For this is no more than our lullaby;

Seamlessly embroidered forever in time.




you are my life, my true quest,

for my heart you hold and keep;

it's hidden away in a treasure chest--

where no eyes may ever peek



These are my most recent, and most are unfinished, for these are just the beginnings. I have more to offer, but I would love to see others.


Happy writing!



Edited by djbrcace1234
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This is a poem I wrote on the spot. I really enjoyed writing it.


Beneath the fire, the smoke, the flames,

Lays a deathly Dragon, his name was James.

With beady eyes, of black and Gold,

Always fierce and always Bold.

But one day he spots a young boy,

Of which he decided to annoy.

He calls 'Hey, you over there

Why are you in such despair?'

The little boy cried with all his heart

I accidently let out a massive f...!

'Oh it smells, it smells so bad!'

This let the boy screaming Raving mad.

'Well look at your hair all messed up and red

I never seen such a nasty looking head!'

Off hearing this the Dragon replied,

'You are dead you little snide!'

'And with your toes all beaten with guilt,

God must've had a tantrum, when you were being built!'

The Dragon was mad, as mad as could be,

And stomped on the young boy, what a catastrophe!

But before he turns and walks away,

The Dragon had one more thing he wanted to say...

'Never before have I seen Quite a nutter,

He was incredibly horrid, he was an absolute f...!

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Been waiting for a thread like this to come up for awhile. Ah, if books could talk.


The Book’s Rant


I am lonely, and collecting dust

Flip me open, you must!

No body wants me anymore

Because they scurried out the door


I’m obsolete!

I’ve taken defeat

Why can’t you just take some time

And read me!


Why don’t you want to read?

Is it too boring?

Easy, pick up another book!

How hard is it?


What are you waiting for?

Read! Pick me up and open me!

I’m lonely here!

Give me some company!

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Hey Tiger, that's really cute! I can just picture that as some pop up book, or something of that matter.


Crazy_Behemoth_Lady_Jess: I like it! Poor book, though.



Two more:


The taste still lingers from that passionate kiss,

For it bonded so deeply in my soul,

But the bounty provided can never be missed,

For my heart is forever in your control.



There's no need to hide, what's seen inside,

for your articulate beauty, should never be confined.

Open your wings and let your fearthers glide in the breeze,

So you have the chance to make people freeze.

Edited by djbrcace1234
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English majors unite. I write a lot of short little things that I like. I dont tend to go to deep as I hate poetry I dont understand, but I write for fun and stuff, although I would love to get published, but I am not much of a poet.


DJ, your poems are very good! A slightly personal question, but if you don't mind my asking, IS SOMEONE IN LOVE? Your poems read a lot like a lovesong, which is a good thing.


Each night you appear

But when I wake up you disappear

You are pearly white

Luna queen of the night

The over bearing light is gone

In my bed I sleepily yawn

As your pearly light glistens on



I detest the sun in every way

I hate it during the day

Blinding me with your orange beams

The lights so bright I want to scream

Burning me with your scorching heat

The ground is too hot for my bear feet

Sun please go away

The night is much better than the day



This last one is more of a concept than a poem, so it reads a little roughly. Essentially I am TIRED of the same old thing, and I am only 19! I have about 50 more years before I am able to retire, so this is my thoughts on that!



When I was young the sky was the limit

Everyone is special

My kindergarten teacher one exclaimed

That is a lie

We are told to believe we are special

But in reality we go to school everyday

so we may get a job

Which we go to everyday

Taking the occasional day off or vacation

To distract us from our dull realities

We are told were all special

But we are all the same

Striving for the perfect life

Yet finally understanding

That perfection is an impossibility

And that society has programmed us

To do the same thing

Day in

And Day out


Enjoy, I'll post more when I get new ideas.

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this is more of a rap but oh well




im posting in this thread

the word "park" on the top is red

theres crazy people here and lame people here

people who probably shouldn't drink beer

there's rob alvey and wes

i could beat both at chess

suck ups and nerds

they put me at a loss for words

cause lifes not about parks

or sarcastic remarks

bout a company like vekoma

hey whats that bad aroma

its the virgins in the back

studying the dimensions of a coaster track

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This is kinda cheezy but oh well. I wrote it about the time my uncle took us off-roading at is private property in Texas.


Ride through the barren jungle


Grasslands spread for what seemed like forever

Gentle ripples shimmer on the lake’s surface

Small animals swim and wiggle near shore

As colourful trees reach for the sky


The adventure begins:


Like a rollercoaster ride

Flew off its rail

Like a runaway train

Gone right off trail


Through the woods

And beyond the trees

A rough ride

May it be?


A runaway train

Right of the track

Through the jungle

Away from the lake


The lake disappears into the distance

As we venture deeper inwards

Shrouded by the trees

The paths get darker


And on and on and up and around we venture to the other side of the everlasting plains…


The light returns

As we leave the woods

Out of the jungle

We made it out

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I'm really enjoying this thread!


When the Milkman comes along

He always sings his little song.

A song of harmony, A song of peace,

A song he calls his little piece!

And I stand there watching him whistle along,

Nothing to be described as wrong.

Untill a small peble falls from the sky

and falls into his precious little eye.

He screams and runs and jumps around

But that little peble could not be found.

But he did not notice up the road

A Big Bad Bulldozer in destruction mode!

The milk man stoped and turned his eye

cryin' 'Why? Why o' Why?'

The bulldozer stoped a foot from his head,

To see that the motor had turned bright red!

It caught alight, It blazed quite well,

And suprisingly the bulldozer did aswell.

The milkman watched his luck unfold

UNTIL A Bear ate him...

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This is one I wrote a while back for a Macbeth project in AP Lit Comp. It's not one of my better poems, but it got me the "A" I wanted.


The King's Conundrum


Mighty is he, upon the throne,

Whose queen is fair and servants loyal;

And though he has secrets unknown,

Doth keeps them so, for he is royal.

To illuminate the darkness would

Shroud him in accusation and death;

What he perceives of his son could

Result in the great King’s final breath

and eternal burning for his crime.


Spies he on that which makes him shake

While maintaining his innocence

(Or feigning, at the least): ‘twill take

The old Lord’s fair daughter to convince

Him to unveil his intentions.

His soul is guilty, his time finite;

He makes his horrid plan, to poison

The prey, ending (so he thought) his plight…

Until he was felled by the same wine.

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Here's a two that I posted on the Random thread several years ago:



Teddy’s Last Defiance


Teddy was alone

In a barren patch of land

Between two gold-green hills.

A hasty turban covered his round ears

From the cool September sun.

His glassy eyes reflected

I-beams, logs, train rails, and lockers.

Below his button nose,

A cigarette butt burned.


Teddy swayed in the breeze

Hanging from a det cord noose.

A C-4 belt, uneven and dirty,

Encircled his fuzzy belly,

As a stick wrapped in det cord

Impaled his ass.


Teddy died under the mushroom cloud.

Tuffs of cottony innards

Burned and floated on the breeze.

His head, black and smoking, landed

Somewhere in the golden field.

He set fire to the grass

And flared into a raging brush fire.


EDIT: Okay mods, I understand the A$$ part, but how the heck does the word "lock" with "ers" at the end turn into "fluffy, fluffy bunnies filled with medicine and goo"?!?! (I admit though I find it rather funny.)



School Daze


Refrained to his desk, the droning prolonged.

Two plus two is four, eleven minus three is eight,

The sun is a star, Milky Way is not candy.

The young boy ignores plump teacher,

Watching big and little hands spin to a stop.


Beyond ironwood crisscrossed glass,

A lonely playground calls to him:

Untamed wilds of jungle gyms,

Cavernous exploration of planted tires,

Speedy heights of swing and slide.


Jumping onto his desk, he exclaims,

“Oh, wretched boy I am! I have but one life,

And here I waste the splendors of day

When in the world I should be discovering,

Not this brain-draining drivel of school!”


Crying in anguish, he bolts to the door.

Desk, chair, papers, and pens settle in the aftermath.

Nonchalantly stretching out her baggy arm,

The teacher clamps the boy’s collar,

And carries him back to his proper place.


Chair, desk, and boy reassembled, the teacher says,

“What more can be learned elsewhere?

See refracting reflecting sky and shifting water vapor,

Behold chloroplast swaying in pressure’s movement.

The secrets of the world revealed in this classroom.”


The droning returns, filling his mind.

Cotton of Independence and the Declaration gin.

Moscow in London, England in Russia.

Beyond the windows, the playground remains,

As the clock to the bell turns slower and slower.

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Um, I wrote a poem that actually won a poetry contest, it was only at Borders, but still. The story behind it comes after:



Bright and Cheery in the End or Which Way to Tomorrow



The paths lead this way and that

None too easy, None too clear

The rains fall, water into covered eyes

Mud jumps to grab and to claw and to slow

Roaring din, sound and fury

Say, scream; choose, Fight On

The proud stand back

The disappointed push forward


On the even edges, light and dark, glory and defeat

Beyond, the placid green field beckons

Grey seamless skied overhang

The brown forest flails in the storm

Limbs fall, Toppling trees

Send their roots to the sky

Trails closed, trails opened

Run forward, Chance has turned

Dappled light leads the way

Eagle sight, open wood

The final press and there

ye stood.


Arsenal one. Arsenal won. Football for everyone.



Yes, a poem about, well, I'm American, so soccer. I honestly do love it as it is, and, without the last line, it works very well on it's own. I do feel my poem describes the give and take of a athletic competition in an artistic manner and provides a satiric edge on two accounts. One, poems can take the reader/listener on an emotional journey that need not be so one sided or expected, and, Two, despite the passions of the fans, sport events are not really that serious. In a contest filled with the usual kinds of poetry, I wanted to tweak people a bit.

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  • 3 weeks later...

I'm liking a lot of these past ones!


My inspiration is very scarce at times, but here is my newest little snippet:


Oh these feelings can never hide, my love,

For you forebode pure beauty that's so divine.

Yet my eyes still have to look so high above,

to see that you're God's gift--an angel that shines.

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This is not what I wanted.

Tumbling through hours,

Waiting, dreading something darker.

Happiness isn't earned,

Success is not given to the deserving.

You find the light,

Then it blinds you.

I have found it.




Really bad/emo/written in literally 2 minutes.

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  • 3 weeks later...

((A rhyme telling of my first roller coaster experience aboard the Grand National at Pleasure Beach Blackpool in 1978. The majority of the coaster is hidden from view, so this first-timer (aged 7) was unprepared for the experience that followed))


**** **** ROLLER COASTER **** ****


A spectrum of light, a stoic cashier.

Intrigued, transfixed, intention unclear.

Cannot resist, powerless to try.

What lives beyond? Or who? And why?


Lay down my wager, welcomed in line.

Chariot awaits, the pleasure's all mine.

Brakes released, gravity takes hold.

Journey awhile, elated and bold.


Ascending, panoramic, what valleys are these?

Tremulous hands grip tight in the stiffening breeze.

It's all a trick! A cunning facade!

Croupier laughs at my misdealt card.


An animal caged within tracks in the sky.

The laughter grows faint, there's a glare in his eyes.

With chains removed, what way to go?

Deep intake of breath, and painfully slow.


One second in Heaven, another in Hell.

The beast incensed by the gambler's smell.

With eyes closed tight, intense gnashing of molars.

Accompanying screams of under-track rollers.


Through the grace of my faithful lap-bar.

My contorted body in this hurtling car.

Forcibly bowed, confess your lies!

A further decent of considerable size.


What spectre most sinister torments his prey?

Oil stained joists and twisted stays.

Flesh bleached white, an abrasive wind blows.

Snatching owed breath, velocity slows.


The hand is completed with violent chicane.

My lifeblood racing, he shuffles again.

His invite's so tempting, such cruel cause.

This punter dishevelled pulls from the jaws.


Never again! Fools granted no mercy.

His eyes enraged continue to curse me.

Turnstile spins, roam not so near.

It feasts on your fragrance, that scent is pure fear.


Simon Baynham ©1998

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  • 3 weeks later...

Here's my most recent one:


No Breath of love can fathom my oath

To love thee forever, evermore,

So why would I sit around and loathe

When it is you love, that I adore.


Why must you insist that I coexist

In a world surrounded by timidity?

I must protest that I am so pissed

That you do not trust my validity.


Why must I be a man tied down by string

When I have done nothing to cause this

I know sometimes worrisomes I bring

But can't we please make up and kiss?


Nevermore, nevmore, for it is you that I adore;

your gentle touch is golden and sweet.

let us lay in the arms of another for a little more,

As we try and rest, and sleep.

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