Eagle's Mainly Poetry Thread

[Hulavuta]

Nice pictures, I recently got into photography too so it's cool to see.

The rivers and beach and stuff look really beautiful but...wtf a monkey in the road? For some reason, that is just absolutely hilarious to see. Lol, is that the one that attacked you? :P

 

[Eagle4]

Hulavuta the monkey in the tree attacked me

and after my hiatus, I'm back with more photography!

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Feedback very much appreciated

 

[Eagle4]

Getting back into photography.
Feedback appreciated.

 

[Bummer]

I like that last one the most, it's the only one out of the three where the focus of the flower and the blurryness of the background gradually fade into each other, as opposed to the other two photos where the flower is sharp while everything else is a blur.

 

[Eagle4]

Ta Bummer, I'll work towards creating that fade of foreground and background in mmy photos, though I kinda like the lack of fade on some of my photos as well, as I feel it accentuates the crispness.

On a side note:

Prawns.

 

[Eagle4]

Gonna start doing a quick 5-minute poem a day in order to sharpen up my poetry skills (also because it's extremely fun)

Day #1 - Pretty-Petal-Flowers​

Pretty-petal-flowers stick needles in my eyes
O’ my lovely, you witch.
I fear you pollinate me oh my senses are awry;
thread strings of dandelion through my skin, stitch.

Your siren is your song and you sing it bloody well,
Seeking crevices of new before you.
Your lullaby reverse keep eyes wide shut on verse
as melody sanguines eyes dripping, skew.​

Send out your cannons and launch it all at us;
I repel them with shards of gentle broken glass;
the shards that repel they dig deep into skin,
yet pretty-petal-flowers you’re starting to thin.

Day #2 - Anxiety

You don’t sleep to rest but to forget the before,
where sharks be circlin’ as roots grow, shatter
the floor and static stance is all you can muster;
one quick glance implies a stutter.

Eyes weigh down way down and drag along
the reluctant feet that heave, misled;
missed steps and leaden as you follow foot;
a talk is a stammer where a swallow stay put.

Yet in your slumber where sleep will escape,
rest is replaced with anxiety and hate,
as anxiety ripples and swells its seams,
nightmares are often in your worried sweet dreams.​

Feedback is very much appreciated!

 

[Eagle4]

Day #3 - Behind Backs

Wispered and whispered away,
I lie on a wedded bed, screaming silently
at stars fully-fledged.

I tell myself that this something is nothing;
that sentiments can wound but scab over (I assumed);
oh but I wish that the blood runs undyingly.

Grooming myself with bridled smiles;
of course, these grins are a smeared facade;
theirin contained are hardening tears.

My plight halts when heads turn and to their delight I leave;
leaving behind spiteful discussion and laughter;
thereafter I fight any repercussion.

I separate apart from myself, laughing
sadly at those with a broken heart;
I’ve never had a chance - until death do I part.​

 

[Eagle4]

Yeahhh let's scrap that poem-a-day idea

Submarine
Deep blue and feeling heavy,
I sink into sea.
Where there are no waves to crash against;
They seem to seek me.

Away from the boaties,
The life and the land.
Fish lurch toward me;
I refuse their hands.

I shudder and moan,
As pressure grips me rotten.
I choose to rust away;
I’ll be one of the forgotten.

 

[Eagle4]

Advice
A chortle, cracking into gravel.
A misplaced smile that breaks into shards.
Christ, I keep up the pretense that you help.
You nod; I shake, strain with this facade.

The words I seek you cannot give.
Melodies come out as harsh spittle and notes.
A shame then, that I too lose my voice.
Like harsh tears, scraping down my throat.

I crumble with this help, or lack thereof.
I realise that there is nothing that can be done.
I’m sad and empty as you are blind.
What I needed had never begun:

A chortle, spreading into warmth.
A smile that hugs me close.
Yet all I get is gravel and shards.
You urge me to step on them, and cut my toes.

--

Ya know, feedback is cool to give..

 

[Eagle4]

New poem

Wordless
Frozen in time,
Where words splutter, motionless
Where mouths and eyes remain cold and unmoving.

Salt and water stop midway before the thunderous splash,
Though nobody can prevent it;
Frozen in time.

And frozen in time,
Remain my worried thoughts,
Rushing and jeering and fizzing, restive, and lifeless.

Those that surround me
Are frozen in time;
Laughing, electric and static.

While frozen in time,
I walk away.
As fast as a standstill can take me.

My legs cannot stop shaking.

--

I don't think I'm gonna stop writing depressing poems just yet

they suit me

 

[Eagle4]

Wrinkles of tears burn through my cheeks;

The fire hidden under tired skin.

I cry, I weep, though only secretly;

I cry through a painful grin.

 

[Eagle4]

A microscopic image of celery xylem that looks like a planet o_o

 

[Eagle4]

resurrecting this thread because I wrote a poem recently at 3am because I couldn't sleep:

Awake and bored, darkness bored through weary eyes;
I throw my mind in throes of thoughts supplied;
Yet to be oblivious of oblivion’s my demise;
So awake I am, in wake of worries’ guise.

Scared to death of death and of the fading light;
My eyes so close to closed, to wonder that they might;
So I lumber into slumber for the night;
While dreaming dreams of nothing's fated plight.

Hopefully this shows a progression in my writing style/ability from my last poem update :)

 

[Eagle4]

Have a horrific philosophical/existential concept that I can't get out of my head. So need to flush it out via a poem, of course:

Tonight, I will close my eyes. First one eye,
and then the other before I give in and die.
Or I may not.
But who’s to say, really? I have lived a long
day, and perhaps many before,
though I cannot be sure.

I can only be sure that I exist right now,
right this instance and this instance I allow,
and it is my decision to close my eyes and step
warily into a potential abyss out of depth.

I’d interrupt my interrupt if I had that will,
death’s voice ringing, its tone harsh and shrill,
or maybe that voice belongs to me alone,
though am I then isolated? Should I atone?

Can dreams keep me steady? Keep me alive?
Alive in a life that I’ve lived, that I’ve thrived?
How long have I thrived? Am I being misled?
By my memories that belong to a previous head?

Now my head hurts, or do I only imagine?
Should I care when this very night I abandon
all my hopes of knowing the know?
Do I let myself let up and let go?
I don’t know. I don’t know. I won’t know.

Legit terrified atm

 

[Eagle4]

I know my poems are a lil morbid but I'm a happy guy in real life, I swear! Just a little stressed atm - though with exams or with myself? Hmm..

Enthusiasm Deceased

I think I’ll watch TV, and then have a bite to eat
Once or twice or more.
And then I need to fuel my review site, so I’ll go
Out with a friend and watch the latest film that
I’ll enjoy or I won’t but
It passes the time.
I won’t write about the film, of course;
I have other work to do.

But the intent is there.

After my film, I’ll go back and mull it over
To draw out the day.
And hopefully the next, just so long as
I don’t put pen to paper and get on with it.
I’ll get on with my card games or my computer games,
Or begin making another unused revision schedule
Because I deserve rest, you know? Life is stressful right now,
You know?
Maybe you don’t. And maybe I pretend to.

I’ll start work today.

But first I’ll perhaps take a shower, to wash away my laziness.
And by laziness, I mean the dirt from my skin.
And then I’ll watch TV, or have a bite to eat,
In preparation for the work I’ll start tomorrow.

--

Very different from my other poems -I've scrapped wordplay and gone slightly Billy Collins-y, so it's vaguely more introspective but also actually penetrable.

 

[Eagle4]

How Unfulfilling Would It Be

I await that skeletal grasp and the moving moving of the ebony door,
In and out without a second’s pause.
That moment - that moment will come any year now, at least
In the next eighty or so,
With all of its alluring unease.

Plants and animals do it, and they don’t seem to care,
But I am aware, I am aware. So I only wear
An embracing smile; an amusing method of proving to myself
That I have it all together.
But my complexion hides my complex,
That only unfurls in writing, as if this poem
Were a will; I will it to be.

There’s no comfort to be had - the dead can’t consolidate me.
In nothing, they can do nothing: they won’t feel love or pain or anguish or lust or love
or anything at all.
And I won’t feel any of that too - neither will you.
Each experience we have is our last,
and so I lambast to air and wind - heck, not even that.

And I can’t make my mind up -
Are the clocks moving too fast or too slow? They work in seconds, minutes, hours,
And I have many of those.
Though soon I’ll have none.
And with every strike of the clock’s hand, I clock in that it hands
me down to the gaping maw of the truly uncertain,
The greatest horror of them all.

I haven’t lived enough yet - I’m only seventeen, you see.
Now I’m seventy-three, and I haven’t lived enough yet, or honestly at all.
There’s so much ahead, in my head, but I can’t head there - it’s not for me.
My time has passed away - I told you that it would.
And time has passed away - as my ninety-year-old self wheezes and stumbles,
like an old man ‘ought to,
Into that skeletal grasp that I can’t quite grasp.

But it has grasped me.

 

[Eagle4]

Popcorn Graveyards

Our earth is our playground,
Or so they say.
It’s also our graveyard,
One for each day.
We’ll slowly visit it,
Aware in dismay,
We’ll quickly be it,
And wither away.

But how big is this graveyard?
It grows in groans.
It’ll mount up high,
The world bemoans.



And soon we’ll need to rocket out these bodies,
Nothingness launched into nothingness.
Like a popcorn dispenser, a sweet jut-jut-jut,
Candied flesh and all.
But eventually the machine will break or rust,
Just like the rest of us.

 

[Eagle4]

Ok p proud of this one

To React to a Rose

Who knows whose nose will smell the rose?
Will pluck its juicy tender.
Or cloves of clovers, some of those,
To fix, to catch, to lend her.

Or wait in weight of a better man,
A man that’ll actually tend her.
And bait the bate where jealousy began,
Sickened and sorry they render.

They’ll believe and bereave with hearts to heave,
To drop in anguished splendor.
And weave their peeve that they’ll relieve,
By blaming another gender.

 

[Eagle4]

school is kinda wearing me down

If it Were a Race

I ran too fast and tired out, retired out,
Forgetting to pace myself along the scrawling track,
And my muscle weakened.

And if it were a race, which they make it out to be,
Then I’d be that runner that starts too early,
And refuses help because I’m better than that, surely.

The crowd, fake faces, would cheer me on, tell me
How brilliant I am, how far ahead I am,
And I’d look behind me with a blind eye and believe them.

I’d then jog along the scribbled line,
Inky sweat alongside me, and in one jot I’d be walking,
And in one blot I’d be stumbling.

I’d look behind me to see thinner competition,
And turn around to find better runners pencilling ahead;
You see, I lack the wisdom.

And then I would stop completely, catch my breath
Just in time to waste a week or a year or two,
And then I’d begin again in lurches.

The same fake faces would cheer me on still,
I’m brilliant, I’m great, and nothing new,
But I’ve lost all my energy, my intent.

So I walk the rest, not the best,
But acknowledging the middling.
But my concerns won’t diminish over whether I’ll finish,
But I still keep in line with the middling.