Poetry Thread

Reasons to live

Hope, even amid suffering,
Rick and Morty season 3,
That tasty Mulan szechuan sauce.
I'm tiny Rick, somebody, please God, help me.
Anybody, I'm slowly decaying in a vat in the garage.

So the story behind this one is I can't actually write decent poetry/am not original. Wubalubadubdub!
 
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I honestly really enjoyed a lot of the work shared here. That being said, I do not compare to a native speaker in any way
and therefore feel like my work is always flawed and inferior. I´d still like to share this though:
The day darkness came, she saw
A moth holding court
In the corner of the room, a dancing
Amber shadow, flickering
Whispers from the nearby
Vault where her creator
Was waiting.

And it fluttered flighty
subtle signals of transition
guiding her on how to slip
Behind the veil, softly,
Nimbly in the fading of
Presence, the evaporating
Senses, she found it

Her glistening sunbeam, her chariot,
Her ray of redemption;
Granted by a true

Light seeker.
 
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I honestly really enjoyed a lot of the work shared here. That being said, I do not compare to a native speaker in any way
and therefore feel like my work is always flawed and inferior. I´d still like to share this though:
The day darkness came, she saw
A moth holding court
In the corner of the room, a dancing
Amber shadow, flickering
Whispers from the nearby
Vault where her creator
Was waiting.

And it fluttered flighty
subtle signals of transition
guiding her on how to slip
Behind the veil, softly,
Nimbly in the fading of
Presence, the evaporating
Senses, she found it

Her glistening sunbeam, her chariot,
Her ray of redemption;
Granted by a true

Light seeker.
Be confident in your work, some native speakers probably couldn't do as well. Imo understanding your flaws and working on them is what separates people from beginners who think their shit don't stink. Always keep working on it :)


Anyhow, just want to put something here I wrote along time ago, and is probably one of my favorite things I've written.
Trooper

Stars, moonlight, a quick debrief

Combat ready, deploy to relief

Strike low, strike high, destroy all in your path

No counterstrike ever comes, show all your wrath

Light speed to the stars, tragic death in nature's cosmic game

The gravity of the situation never resolves, but who is to blame?

It is not I, a simple soldier in a war

I who fought in the countryside, who drank in the bars

Who marched across plains low and high, and never complained

Who swam oceans deep to find his enemies in sight, to leave them all bloodstained

It is not my delight to fight in this war, never was it so or true.

Here I am, lying in a ditch, becoming ever so blue.
 
I have always considered myself as really bad in poetry, but anyway, I'll give it a go.

She is to me what the search for pollen is to the bee,
Over and over, nothing else than a rhyming journey
Like the oak with the mistletoe, the apple to the worm,
I can't ignore her, prevent myself from being accustomed,
To this toxic relation, that follows me since I moved.
Unlike the other, I can feel its presence, like a storm,
Destroying every single of my attempts to kill it
Endlessly growing, endlessly obstructing my spirit.
 

yogi

not today
is a Tutoris a Smogon Social Media Contributoris a Community Contributoris a Contributor to Smogon
I had a poem that I recited to my year 8 art teacher actually after he asked me to do the colour wheel;

I believe that roses are red
I think that violets are blue
But remember sir I'm colour-blind
That's why I'm asking you

Got kicked out of year 8 art.
 
not anything amazing by any means, but i like messing around with words

At a lemon-lime house
there is a cat
that wears a blouse
and a lovely-lilac hat
it scampers
here
and tampers
there
sleeps everywhere
but
stays nowhere

---

i've seen it read a book
in a little-lemon nook
with a lavender and marigold
flower-tea-cup at paw and a very-old
blackened silver cross
on the book cover emboss'd

---

i asked the cat
where it got its lilac-hat
and the meaning of the book
it look'd at;
the cat turn'd to me
and meow'd like a buzzing-bee
spill'd its saffron tea
then up an old oak flee'd
 
me too
you three
and any woman as far as the eye can see
i wish these tallies were for something else
but in 45 seconds it will be someone else
 

Finchinator

IT'S FINK DUMBASS
is a Smogon Social Media Contributoris a Super Moderatoris a Community Contributoris a Tiering Contributoris a Contributor to Smogonis a Smogon Media Contributoris a Past WCoP Championis a former Tournament Circuit Champion
OU & NU Leader
The night sky glares at me with navy blue eyes, filled with deception
For my intent in life has been screened away by a massive appalling misconception

As the clock struck three, it became clear that the point of no return had been surpassed
The thought of being entrapped in a false reality leaves me feeling aghast

For a moment, the nothingness I felt inside emanated externally,
Not even the most indistinct of sounds could be detected
The soft breeze whispered that all would soon return to normal,
Until the sound of a crash in the distance screamed that the present injustice would remain uncorrected

As I limp down the hill of truth, I feel the ground beneath me quiver
For the great unraveling of the world I believed in left the remains of reality just a mere sliver

Finally, I knew it was the time, a time known by no clock, that left me wary
My own dishonesty plagued me with this fate of atrocity, for the night sky was no more than one depicted on the wall in the library
 
When I go out of town, I get out of my character,
I am no more a sheep, no more part of the same group.
My mind slowly wakes herself, break out and wonder,
Into my memory, starting another loop.

When I go out of town, I can freely express my rage,
Against all these clones, even know it won't change anything.
I can also remember when I wasn't in a cage,
This times when I could show my intimate feelings.

When I go out of town, a part of myself is shocked,
Of my unproductivity, of me taking a rest.
Across the years I see a girl, slightly bored,
Of my wins in all the games, we were the closest.

When I go out of town, I look for solitude,
To get off the surveillance, to have privacy.
The time does his old job, rehashing my anamnesis,
Gives me sight of her, sometimes euphoric, often withdrawn.

When I am out of town, my heart is heavy, my eyes wet.
I see myself, back from school, the sing of an avocet,
Is replaced with police sirens, light flashes, and a fall.
I look down, smell blood, see her eyes, subject of my enthrall

When I am out of town, I stop my car, take out flowers.
I lay them on her grave, my mind comes back, stop to wonder.
I mark a point to my life, finally understand why,
She left this existence, knowing everything it implies
 
So I had to write a poem for my creative writing course that consisted entirely of 1 syllable words. My inspiration was Flander's Fields in Belgium, which I would seriously suggest visiting if you ever can. You hear about the amount of people killed in World War 1, but it's just a number. It's not until you see gravestones stretching to the horizon can you really appreciate what these people went through.

Come and watch the still graves.

Take it all in.

Let it hit you.

All those graves.

All that death.

All that pain.

Graves as far as the eye can see.

It brings it all home,

What those men went through.

The First World War.

The War to end all wars.

Not the case.

The flames of war still burn.

The pain goes on.

Come and watch the still graves.

Take it all in.

And ask “could I have done it?”
 
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Stabbed in the chest,
A dull ache,
But the mark is true.
I inhale what I can.
Carcinogenic high
It wasn't winter
That inspired my habits.
It wasn't the biting cold
Nor the numb digits.
Ah, youthful rebellion,
Come to spite me again?
 

tcr

sage of six tabs
is a Tiering Contributoris a Tutor Alumnusis a Team Rater Alumnusis a Live Chat Contributor Alumnusis a Contributor Alumnus
I've recently gotten into songwriting as my guitar playing progresses and I take inspiration from Bob Dylan / Paul Simon / Lennon-McCartney. This piece is inspired by Bob Dylan's House of the Rising Sun as well as my personal life.

In a broken town down east
Lives a man worse than beast.
And he wonders to his peers,
"Can the water be so beautiful?"

He says, "the world only seems as one
When you're staring at the sun."
For he has lost all hope
That the water can be beautiful.

He was traveling one day
And he heard the music begin to play.
A six string on the beach
Next to water oh so beautiful.

A man advised "I know that times are hard
And the pleasures seem so far.
But in each valley is an ocean
Where the water is so beautiful."

"Within nature lies the clues;
Starve the reds and feed the blues.
Everything's a give and take
But the water's always beautiful."

Now that man is soaked,
He drowns but stays afloat.
For he battles towards the shore
To see the water that is beautiful.
 
I've recently gotten into songwriting as my guitar playing progresses and I take inspiration from Bob Dylan / Paul Simon / Lennon-McCartney. This piece is inspired by Bob Dylan's House of the Rising Sun as well as my personal life.

In a broken town down east
Lives a man worse than beast.
And he wonders to his peers,
"Can the water be so beautiful?"

He says, "the world only seems as one
When you're staring at the sun."
For he has lost all hope
That the water can be beautiful.

He was traveling one day
And he heard the music begin to play.
A six string on the beach
Next to water oh so beautiful.

A man advised "I know that times are hard
And the pleasures seem so far.
But in each valley is an ocean
Where the water is so beautiful."

"Within nature lies the clues;
Starve the reds and feed the blues.
Everything's a give and take
But the water's always beautiful."

Now that man is soaked,
He drowns but stays afloat.
For he battles towards the shore
To see the water that is beautiful.
Really like your lyrics:]. On the other hand, do you have some scores for the song ?
 
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tcr

sage of six tabs
is a Tiering Contributoris a Tutor Alumnusis a Team Rater Alumnusis a Live Chat Contributor Alumnusis a Contributor Alumnus
Really like your lyrics:]. On the other hand, do you have some scores for the song ?
not really yet, i dont know too much about theory other than basic scales the wwhwwwh stuff and the beginnings of i-iv-v as im mostly self taught, i i just tru to fiddle with what sounds good. probably going to try to do something starting with involving a moving bass line tho but havent quite figured anything out. i dont play for money or anything, just to myself and my girl so im not too pressed with trying to get music out in the open, its more a therapuetuc thing. Gld you liked it! :)
 

Finchinator

IT'S FINK DUMBASS
is a Smogon Social Media Contributoris a Super Moderatoris a Community Contributoris a Tiering Contributoris a Contributor to Smogonis a Smogon Media Contributoris a Past WCoP Championis a former Tournament Circuit Champion
OU & NU Leader
This is some really raw writing I fleshed out a bit last night. Not sure how to really explain or describe it besides the fact that you don't "know" what is going on in someone else's life, but figured sharing it would be chill.

You don’t know what it’s like to walk in these worn out, black and blue nike sneakers that scrape the ground seven days a week in attempt to make progress in life.
You don’t know what it’s like waking up at 10:23 in the morning feeling like the day is already lost, defeated by all of the yesterdays.
You don’t know what it’s like climbing the towering mountains I do to reach what feels like level ground to everyone else I see.
You don’t know what it’s like to hit the peak only to be told it’s not enough — you’re not enough as a person.
You don’t know what it’s like to be number two...or three...or whatever the fuck I am, and not one.
You don’t know what it’s like being alone even when you’re accompanied by another.
You don’t know the desperation until you kill every last bit of attention.
You don’t know about me.
You don’t know.
You don’t.
I don’t.
I don’t know.
I don’t know about you.
I don’t know what happens when the sun sets on our interactions.
I don’t know what it’s like to be in shoes that aren’t my decaying, over-worn Nikes.
I don’t know what it’s like to have a number one, for better or worse...especially for worse.
I don’t know what it’s like to fit the tight mold of expectations that form around you that can’t easily be shed.
I don’t know what it’s like being on top when there is nobody else in sight and nothing to do up there besides wonder what if.
I don’t know what it’s like being awoken by the responsibilities of reality that require you to be the supposedly “right” person, not your own person.
I don’t know what it’s like to run down the mountain, needing to reach the ground, afraid of what will come next if I stay near the top of what might as well be livelihood’s food chain.
 

tcr

sage of six tabs
is a Tiering Contributoris a Tutor Alumnusis a Team Rater Alumnusis a Live Chat Contributor Alumnusis a Contributor Alumnus
Written in the key of A minor, capo'd at 3rd(??) fret and fingerpicked with a pattern of (Root+1) / 2 / 3 / 1 / Root / 2 / 3 (I know thats not an actual tune for you all but I haven't finalized it and I'm still working on it D: at least those with a musical background might be able to fiddle with it a little and see how it is??) Sung to a similar tune to Working Class Hero - John Lennon

Nobody's perfect, at least that's what they say.
A handful of flaws but I like it that way.
A person's a person no matter their grey;
I love all your flaws for they're perfect to me.

Too many, they glance at another person's page,
A story not their own; jealousy I'd wage.
Someone seems perfect, when all the world's your stage
Till it leaves you battered and broken and trapped in a cage.

Nobody's perfect, at least that's what they say.
A handful of flaws but I like it that way.
A person's a person no matter their grey;
I love all your flaws for they're perfect to me.

Would you rather be the person, you see in your dreams?
Superficial and shallow, it's not as it seems.
Envy and hatred taken to the extremes
And yet still your flawed image I hold in esteem.

Nobody's perfect, at least that's what they say.
A handful of flaws but I like it that way.
A person's a person no matter their grey;
I love all your flaws for they're perfect to me.

When you put yourself down I find it a shame
For your flaws match mine we're one and the same.
A beautiful person with such an elegant claim
Your scars and your flaws are your reasons for fame.

Nobody's perfect, at least that's what they say.
A handful of flaws but I like it that way.
Unique and original, perfect as you are
I'm telling you this straight from the heart...
 
I present
"-ity"

To flex my legerity,
I write this with celerity.
My words are my verity.
I use no jocularity.

Life treats those of unpopularity
Such as myself, speaking with sincerity,
With a cruel degree of asperity
Leaving too many in singularity.

I experience no parity,
Verily, rather, vulgarity.
Who stands in solidarity
With those exuding irregularity?

To be sure, of regularity,
Feeling such similarity
To those dealing with barbarity
Soul unbound with dexterity.

Alas, if it were rarity
For souls like mine to face subsidiarity
At the hands of those whom with temerity
Destroy that which holds unfamiliarity.
 
Incredibly trashy but these are from a couple months ago.

i made the effort to come out here today
because i have something, that i'd like to say
i want to talk about our time spent together
and to break the news that it won't last forever

do you remember that day when you first met me?
you locked yourself inside my mind and threw away the key
you made yourself right at home for all these years
always the source of constant crying and tears

i spent too many days sitting inside, too scared to go out in public
the very thought of talking to people made me so very sick
but i came here today to let you know
the end is nigh: the end of your show

things have been getting better as of late
i shut you out and began pulling my own weight
you still take hold of me every once in a while
but i spend the majority of my days with a smile

see, i found that key you once threw away
released you from my mind where you loved to play
locked you inside my very own pandora's box
now its my turn to play with locks

so anxiety, there's one last thing I'd like to say
listen now and be sure to take this away
my final words simply spell "fuck you"
yours sincerely,
the elliot you once knew.

the window looked simply alluring
i strode over and stared into the abyss
chalkboard black with an essence of hope
oh, those beautiful fragments of hope bursting through the gloom

i reached out my hand
i wanted to feel alive; i wanted to touch it
i leaned in, like a lover for a kiss
and just like a damned lover, i fell head over heels

no more holding back, today was the day
today was the day i broke free from all bounds
this despair infested world void of all morality
my mind was already made

the midnight breeze hugged me tightly
as I fell further towards it
edging closer to it with every passing second
to freedom

the world ends not in bloodshed but in tears
when humans are forced to face their childhood fears
the monsters under the beds
the demons inside their heads

skies darken as they arrive
the gnomes start walking up the drive
the dolls start knocking on the doors
and the abandoned toys emerge from their drawers

brave soldiers stiffen with fear
as all their childhood nightmares reappear
they stand there, short of breath
staring into what was to many the new face of death

so before you go to bed in the dying light
tuck your toys in and wish them goodnight
make sure to look after everything you own
because if you don't, one day they'll find their way home.

I don't really have a reason to write, I just pick up the pen
I zone out and start moving my thoughts to paper every now and then

Sometimes I'll try to write a story full of suspense
But I can never find the right words and put them in the right tense

And now and then I'll try my hand at a romance
But lack of experience leaves me with no chance

I even tried writing a tragedy once
But the tragedy was more like a comedy and I looked like a dunce

And now and then I'll write my own poem
But my dad always tears it to shreds when I go over to show him

Sometimes I even write horror stories, but they keep me up all night
And so the question remains, why do I write?
 

Soul Fly

IMMA TEACH YOU WHAT SPLASHIN' MEANS
is a Contributor Alumnus
Felt like doing something for my 3k. Don't write much of any poetry but wrote this as a part of a larger creative assignment.

It's inspired by a Don Draper pitch for the Kodak Carousel in Mad Men. Fantastic fucking show, I fully recommend.

Baby steps I guess. Presenting: Nostalgia.

In Greek
Nostalgia means pain—
“Pain from an old wound”
Be wary of it.

It is a twinge in your heart,
A potent concentration
Of yearning and desire
Sublimated in regret.

Like a carousel through memory,
It takes us away—
Away to a place we ache to go
Away from the one we inhabit.

It allows us wander
Like children—through time
Round and round in wonder,
Until you must go home.

A catalogue of happiness
Of timeless, temporal bliss
Kept hidden, even from yourself
Flowering in your darkest time.

But it so happens
That the world goes round
So does the carousel
So does Nostalgia.

That brief moment of bliss
Is only ever a bookmark
In a story of hurt, of regret—
Pleasure, mix’d with pain,

Tis a tragedy
That this rare beauty
Should only ever bloom
In such squalid darkness.

It is perhaps for the best
That not everyone knows Greek.
 

tcr

sage of six tabs
is a Tiering Contributoris a Tutor Alumnusis a Team Rater Alumnusis a Live Chat Contributor Alumnusis a Contributor Alumnus
Don't really know where I was going with this piece, a couple days ago I was listening to old old music I liked but had just not gotten back to listening to it and it got me feeling sad because I had so many memories tied to the music. This piece is kinda about youth, growing up, nostalgic experiences and the changing of the human nature throughout time but I guess you can interpret it however you want

As days go by and time flies away
I find myself longing for the good ole days.
Friends by my side we were having a ball
Young enough to not have a worry at all.

Now I see these things, oh so crystal clear
The old tunes I liked still reside in my ear
Laughter and pain, both in equal parts
How funny the music that likes to stay in our hearts.

Back then, I wonder just what I thought
I critique and explain like those years were for naught
But the songs of my past are my future defined
Blind leads the blind in a circle designed.

We all want to grow up but never grow old
Strange music in our ears but our hearts still so bold
They'll tell you and demand for control of your mind
But I ask of you, please, always remain kind.
 

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