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Discussion Starter #1
So I thought we should have our own poetry thread. Please do post your poems. Here's one I wrote yesterday:

My Parents

My Father

He never said much growing up,
Not like now,
He goes on and on and repeats himself like a cuckoo clock,
Though no one can say he isn’t supremely thorough in everything he does,
But I digress,
I don’t remember anything he ever said to me as a child,
Except-,
All bad of course,
My father,
Who houses me from not too far away,
Pays for my car…,
I guess it’s his way of showing his love,
In any case I’ll take it,
Since on my own I am homeless and broke,
Now I drive, and sleep easy,
For my father,
Who never not worked a day,
In his life,
Even though now he’s retired,
He’s not perfect,
He’s done things I’ve had to find in myself to forgive,
But…,
He loves me,
And a lot of love is not something I have,
So I take what I get,
And know how I am blessed,
With the father I’ve got,
Whom I’ve grown to love.

My Mother

My mother has a touch of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,
She cleans like she's on crack and stockpiles cleaning supplies like a doomsday bunker full of food,
It manifests too in other ways,
Like in how maniacly she plays, doing her thing,
Like marathon Mahjongg games and intense stretches of gardening,
My mother is sweet like candy I am so blessed,
To have a mother like her,
Even though she sometimes talks about people in a way they might hear,
Like when they are right there, way too near for what she is saying,
She’s smart though in general,
Was top of her nursing class, even with a language barrier,
And she gives good advice,
I always regret when I didn’t listen,
Except for when she told me to marry a rich man,
Instead I divorced a poor man and married a dog,
That's what I think of my new boyfriend at least,
My big doggy, he’s a little more useful but not by a lot,
My mother is scared of his tattoos, they are grotesque,
Because of them she doesn’t invite him over much,
She’s funny like that,
But still, she occasionally makes him some food,
Ah yes, my mother,
Who took me fishing once where I caught a goldfish,
She always had a delicious meal ready,
And a girls’ day shopping trip planned,
Yes, to me she’s rich,
Not filthy rich but well off,
Except in love the flow is steady,
If I could say one thing to her, this I’d say,
You’ve taught me well, you’ve always shown me the way,
For this how could I ever thank you or repay,
But know this, as we age, I will try.
 

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Discussion Starter #2 (Edited)
He Loves Me

He loves me,
He loves me not,
He loves me,
He loves me not,
What's a girl to think when uncertainty is all she's got?

He loves me,
He loves me not.

He loves me,
Like a pillow in the night,
Or a steak on your face after a fight.

He loves me,
Like a fish loves a net,
Or after a shower and you're still all wet,
He loves me not.

But he loves me,
He truly does he must,
Who are we kidding here it's probably just lust,
He loves me not.

But what of the sweet words he says?
Those were meant for others to hear,
So nurse your ego, shed your tears,
He loves you not.
 

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Discussion Starter #5
so i found this old poem i thought i'd share

Love is hell now,
All the demons are gone,
The ruler has returned to heaven,
But all the fires have not gone out,
Love keeps the fires burning,
We knew not what we’d done,
Our only mission of mercy,
Was heaven on earth begun,
In hell are our base emotions,
Which we have yet to splay,
But this we must remember,
Love’s what saved the day,
For love in hell wishes no harm,
Yet harmed is what we’d become,
From heaven to hell,
Is what love had done,
Let us not be love, let us be light, in Heaven above,
For we knew not what we wanted,
And love has held us down,
Let love rise unto heaven,
It rides upon wings of white electric,
Through the cold waters filled with all the dead bodies,
Which we have returned from the grave,
Yet in our hearts we know,
They were our loves,
We must not fear their sight,
For it was most their live bodies we loved.
 

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Discussion Starter #6
Playing with Chameleon

Can the chameleon ever show his true colors,
Or will he always be there,
Hidden amongst the rocks and trees,
In the grass or sand or wherever it is that chameleons like to hide,
Oh how I wish I knew, could see,
I durst say chameleon, come out to play with me,
Even if you have to bring your 101 colors,
Though I'd like to see chameleon,
On chameleon's own__ is it that the're green?
Ah now I remember chameleon's true colors,
Green like a sour apple,
Or the veins of a dogwood blossom,
Or the color of certain leaves,
The color of chameleon to me,
How I wish he would come out to play,
But still I think he would hide, hide from me, forever,
And I shall sit and play by myself and pretend I don't see him.
 

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Discussion Starter #7
Chameleon wears a fancy tophat,
My hats are handmade,
And I only wear them when it's cold,
Chameleon wears a spectacle,
My glasses practically cover my face they're so bold,
I like to hide,
That's one thing I have in common with chameleon.
 

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Discussion Starter #8
My mom on the other hand is a bit of a hoarder.
i think that would horrify me. my ex-husband turned out to be a packrat. oh my god it was so awful. does she like hoard styrofoam trays and plastic bags and stuff? i guess it might no be that bad if it's not too extreme. plastic bags can come in handy.
 

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Atlas

Atlas, you! The one who carries the world on his shoulders,
They've sent me to tell you the bad news:
You succeeded, Atlas. You managed to carry on with life
But life will crush you, Atlas
Your glory has a known end
For your last days are coming
The boxing bell has runged
And you've fallen more times than the world itself ever has
Atlas, don't suffer as the time comes
For it is the end of your life
There's nothing left for you to have
You'll never make peace in the sky
You are no more welcome on the lands of the people
For you are cursed, Atlas
Cursed is your name everywhere
No matter if you achieved to carry on with the world on your shoulders
What's left for you is to die
it may be better in a forest
where lost beasts can feed from your corpse
as they roam through the night.

Spanish original version:

Atlas, tú que cargas con el mundo sobre tus hombros
Me han enviado a darte las malas noticias:
Lo lograste Atlas, ya llegaste a cargar con la vida
Pero la vida te aplastará Atlas
Tu gloria tiene un fin marcado
Están llegando tus últimos días
Las campanas del ring sonarán pronto
Y has caído en la lona más veces de las que ha caído el mundo;
Atlas, no sufras cuando eso pase
Es el fin de tu vida
Ya nada más te queda, ya nada más hay para ti
No llegarás jamás a poner el cielo en su lugar para que a nadie más le haga un daño
No eres bienvenido en la tierra de los hombres
Porque estás maldito Atlas
Maldito es tu nombre en todas partes
Aunque hayas cargado por fin con el mundo
Solo te queda morir a tu ritmo
Mejor será que mueras en un bosque
Para que sirvas de alimento a las alimañas que allí deambulan
Perdidas como tú durante la noche.
 

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Your light falls upon me;

I illuminate

from your warm embrace.

Hold me softly,

Carry me slowly.

Show me where home used to be.
 

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A warm wind between the trees
Summers breath through the leaves
Colours of sunset paint the sky
Fiery clouds passing by
Pale stars not quite bright
Where the day turns to night
Twilight feelings fill the air
Come my dear I'll meet you there.
 
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