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Hey everyone, names John im new here =p. Just interested in poetry and what people like and to see some tallent =] Im not very good and quickly came up with something to get things started. Thought it would be a good topic, hopfully im right. Like the heading states, share your own or your favorites.


Lost, I am now alone and scared
Overwhelmed, struggling to find truth and its meaning
Visiting, ideas of future and what I yearn
Enchant, by her everlasting beauty
 

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Hey everyone, names John im new here =p. Just interested in poetry and what people like and to see some tallent =] Im not very good and quickly came up with something to get things started. Thought it would be a good topic, hopfully im right. Like the heading states, share your own or your favorites.


Lost, I am now alone and scared
Overwhelmed, struggling to find truth and its meaning
Visiting, ideas of future and what I yearn
Enchant, by her everlasting beauty
Kinda stuck on where to go with this one.... it could flow a lot better, and it needs to be longer. I intend on using them in a song.

follow me down, follow me down
all the way down the mountain

where the fountain of dreams
can be heard through the screams
from all of its past who is below us

though you're withered away
just like yesterday
i can hear you say
that you want to play

I'll follow you down, follow you down,
down the mountain

hand 'n' hand we stroll around
i hear the music that has no sound-
as i pull my weight, pound for pound
beneath my feet bares no ground
 
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Though blind to ourselves, in others we see
With most immaculate clarity.
For what reflection in what mirror
Could make our imperfections clearer?

The looking glass will not reflect
A flaw that is the heart’s defect.
What wrong you do is justified
And painted right by foolish pride.

But could it be, before your eyes,
Your very blinder and disguise,
Right before your very nose
Is where your imperfection shows?

Your imperfections you don’t see…
Now that seems like a fault to me.
 

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I wrote this myself:

I stared out the glass window
And I saw something
I saw what could be me
Should I gaze at my reflection
Or better it
It will get dark soon
And the night sky will wash away my identity
 

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Here's my favorite poem ever:

Still I Rise
by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
 

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Whatgets to me the most,
Bothers me more than Anything else
Is that maybe, I'm straying from myself

I feel as if I have the might to remain true,
But I suppose it could merely be from all the plaster
getting to my lungs, sculpting a face that most naively trust,
and few can spot the counterfeit ashes of which I am composed
falling to my feet as I float by their heads
But those that do, they'll leave me here,
And I'll become Nothing

Only, I could be content,
If Nothing is not what I am expected to be,
But Something that is authentic, that is me
You know, I had a dream that Holden Caulfield called me a phony
The thing is, I'm starting to believe him
 

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This is my poem: The Wanderer. I did it for a school project. I had done another one, but I seem to have lost the paper that I had written it on. Hm.... Anywho....

I am the silent wanderer, forced to walk the Earth alone.

I am like a storm; I may come and go, but I leave an impression.
I am the wind's song, floating through the air with no obvious destination.
I am the coming confidence, waiting to be called.
I am the gentle messenger, the invisible help.
I am the fuel for creativity and action in others.

I am the kind rebel.
I am the force that gives its all, standing strong in the face of danger.
I am a lost shadow, searching for a purpose.
I am the person everyone knows, but no one remembers.

I am the silent wanderer, forced to walk the earth alone.
 

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This was something I wrote in response to a picture prompt on a poetry website. I picked a number and was given a name and a picture. Mine was Joshua and the picture was this:



The poem is called Back Then:

When I returned to the house I grew up in I discovered a picture under my mama's shelf that must have fallen during the move. Captured was a 9-year-old me holding a whirligig I found on the hillside at sundown:

eyes closed,

blowing.

Back then I didn't know any pleasures other than those of my dreams. The house didn't even have a full coat of paint, and rain and weeds made the already weak foundation cackle with every step.

Back then I'd grab my spinner with it's traces of blue sky and sit by the lone oak tree, wondering what else there might be beyond the horizon's end. When my eyes were closed, I was there:

Atop a mountain where my firefly companion would help me explore the peak and it's endless caves; below the lake where my great-great grandfather dropped the pendant his love gave him before the war; anywhere that I dreamed of at night I'd go and visit in my head when the sun was high and the air was warm.

Back then every blink was a moment of shine.
 

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I did not write this--it is by Billy Collins. I discovered it in my teaching of literature class--our poetry section, of course.

Introduction to poetry

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.
 
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"I want to see the thirst
inside the syllables
I want to touch the fire
in the sound:
I want to feel the darkness
of the cry. I want
words as rough
as virgin rocks.”

Pablo Neruda, from “Verb,” trans. T.M. Lauth Etiquetas
 
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A poem, I just write it now from random and subconscious idea

from the time I have seen you



from the time I have seen you
to the time I will see you
I'm still waiting for you
from nowhere
to somewhere
I'm following you
because from the time I have seen you
I have seen a part of me
walking from nowhere
to everywhere.


I love you and hope you love me.
 

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Hey everyone, names John im new here =p. Just interested in poetry and what people like and to see some tallent =] Im not very good and quickly came up with something to get things started. Thought it would be a good topic, hopfully im right. Like the heading states, share your own or your favorites.


Lost, I am now alone and scared
Overwhelmed, struggling to find truth and its meaning
Visiting, ideas of future and what I yearn
Enchant, by her everlasting beauty
This is so weird..I was just thinking of making a thread just like this as my first on my way home from work...happened to see this and realized someone beat me to it...
 

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Rays of Hope
I know that life has been so hard and you have done your very best
Your living life now so on guard finding no time to ever rest

Others have treated you wrong, it's become so hard to trust a single soul
Living your life in darkness so long, I know the pain has taken it's toll

While the sun may sometimes be hidden it always rises to share it's light
When clouds of rain make for dark living remember it's brighter than the dark of night

Though I know it's sometimes hard to see beyond this darkened scope
Remember that the sun has risen and through those clouds are rays of hope
 

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This is one I wrote that's a little dark..but it was dedicated to, and from the perspective of a friend who took his own life after yrs of struggling with something that happened during adolescence.

The title is as much for me as it was for him...as, losing him had a strong impact on my life

"Letting Go"

Never ending uncertainty, never ending pain
Never truly knowing just how much I could sustain

Always wanting to do better, never knowing how
Always wishing that my "someday" would just happen now

Never really understanding, life never truly making sense
Never knowing why I needed it to be so damn intense

Never wanting to give in, always wanting to let go
Always wishing there were better ways to not let my pain show

Always looking for a way out, never seeing it was there
Always knowing the only way I knew would be just so unfair

Never really liking me, never knowing how to change
Always sure people around me must have thought i was so strange

Never getting over it, never really thought i could
Always wanting to forget what robbed me of childhood

Never trusting anyone, I was betrayed even by me
Never able to get away from who I had come to be

Never could I let it go, no longer would I try
Never would I take the time to say one last goodbye

BY: JaySH 3-10-07 Dedicated to Ryan Turner, a lifelong friend who lost his way. You were like family to me, and I only wish I had been there for you through your darkest of times. RYAN TURNER, DECEMBER 2, 1980 TO MARCH 1, 2007
 

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I did not write this--it is by Billy Collins. I discovered it in my teaching of literature class--our poetry section, of course.

Introduction to poetry

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

Is this to mean that, when over analyzing a poem, you tend to miss the meaning within? You fail to fully embrace the authors true meaning by focusing merely on the written words individually..and not seeing the poem as a whole? Or is my asking the exact thing this poem is meant to prevent as it should be what it means to the individual...hmmm?
 

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this is my favorite poem I've written a loooonnnnnng while back x)

Euphoria
The deep melody within your soul seethes me
They say that you're bad news but you see
You make me want to do things I've never done
Making me simply become
This person I don't know anymore
I'm lost within this endless euphoria


Your smile holds this mystique
That can't be described, like an antique
It's one of a kind
It seems to blow my mind
Every time you look at me


I want you to discover me with your eyes
I don't need these lies
State your needs from me and I'll give
No need to forgive
For this bluntness at least I won't have hope
It's not something I'll have to cope with


Those lips hold meaning beyond belief
I'm hoping for heaps
Of what this pleasure can bring for us
I know that I simply can't trust
This physical poison to bring good for me
But this experience will free
Us both from this reality
This will not be the end of our sympathy
Use me for what you think I'm good for
I hope you hurry before
This enamourous revendezous ends
I can't hold this feeling forever now...
 
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Though blind to ourselves, in others we see
With most immaculate clarity.
For what reflection in what mirror
Could make our imperfections clearer?

The looking glass will not reflect
A flaw that is the heart’s defect.
What wrong you do is justified
And painted right by foolish pride.

But could it be, before your eyes,
Your very blinder and disguise,
Right before your very nose
Is where your imperfection shows?

Your imperfections you don’t see…
Now that seems like a fault to me.
Did you write this?
 
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