Poetry Thread

[MidnaEmiko]

Do you write poems? Do you like poems? I haven't seen any poem threads on TBT and I'm wondering if there are any poets out there! Share your poems here if you are willing. Or share your favorite poems of others. (Credit them if you can.) Share any type of poem, Happy or Sad. It doesn't matter. As long as its appropriate. I'd share a poem of mine but mine aren't really positive or good haha. So Instead I'll share a poem that is one of my favorites. If you do want to really read some of my poems, PM me.

Heres the poem Im sharing:
The Dead
by Inta Ezergailis


Under the snows
and the years
they all lie,
getting lighter
in the earth
but heavier in me
until I feel a pull
a sudden change
gentle but demonstrable
in time and mode,
as the scale drops
and they fill out
with a life, a flush
that drains from me
and my affairs
they do not claim me yet
but I know, somehow,
the weight has shifted.

 

[Xara]

So I've kind of been into writing poems lately...I'm much better at stories imo, but poems are nice too. This is one of the first poems I wrote...it's honestly not any good, nor are any of my other poems honestly, but oh well

Warning; pretty depressing

Insecurities
By, well...me.


All my friends, have come and gone
They said they loved me, they were wrong
I destroy everything that's good
I'd go back in time if I could
Go back to when I was pure and clean,
back to when life still had meaning
And maybe if I hadn't been pulled out of school,
maybe now I wouldn't be so damn screwed
I'm scared to feel, to think, to love
I'm terrified of never being good enough
But maybe I'll get my happy ending,
if I just keep on pretending?
I live in a nightmare of crushed dreams,
a world with me and all my insecurities
Yes, I care about what you think
And no, things won't be okay

 

[moonbunny]

I don't write poetry myself, but I love reading it. I'm only going to post three of my favourites for now (simply because I don't want this post to get too long), but I'll be back with more:

"Arson"
by Peter Goldsworthy

I burn your letters
at the edge of night
--an autumn bonfire.

Into the flames
go leaves fallen from trees,
and those brought in the post.

Garden prunings,
and the foliage of desks
--drafts of unfinished pain.

Slowly the flames contract
to a fistful of ashes,
a finger of smoke in the night.

Even the stars we see
are only a kind of memory,
already dead for years.


"As the Mist Leaves No Scar"
by Leonard Cohen

As the mist leaves no scar
On the dark green hill,
So my body leaves no scar
On you, nor ever will.

When wind and hawk encounter,
What remains to keep?
So you and I encounter,
Then turn, then fall to sleep.

As many nights endure
Without a moon or star,
So will we endure,
When one is gone and far.


"Mirage"
by Christina Rossetti

The hope I dreamed of was a dream,
Was but a dream; and now I wake
Exceeding comfortless, and worn, and old,
For a dream's sake.

I hang my harp upon a tree,
A weeping willow in a lake;
I hang my silenced harp there, wrung and snapt
For a dream's sake.

Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart;
My silent heart, lie still and break:
Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed
For a dream's sake.

 

[MidnaEmiko]

Insecurities
By, well...me

Your poem was amazing i love it.
I know how you feel .and hope things get better.

 

[Chris]

A heads up to any poetry writers that we are actually running a Poetry Contest right now as part of our TBT Fair.

 

[moonbunny]

Both of these are from the book "Desert Fathers, Uranium Daughters" by Debora Greger.

"Lives of the North American Martyrs"

A clearing, Indian summer 1646 --
to aid the digestion
Sister Superior read to us after lunch
from the brief lives
of the North American martyrs.

Of the heart cut out
of one before he died. Of Isaac Jogues,
whose hand was mutilated
by the Iroquois but he lived on, marked
for a Mohawk tomahawk.

I was nine or ten, practicing at lunch
to hold a sandwich
with just the third and fourth fingers:
thus St. Isaac held the host,
given dispensation by the Pope,

and poured the wine
he told the silence was a dead god's blood,
and longed for martyrdom,
where even the dead silence was heathen.
Each burning bush

an ambush, open-armed,
each leaf the red
of vestments for a martyr's feast --
Sister Superior
closed the book at the flaying.

A clearing in the forest, Indian summer --
no, on the playground
after recess was over, only a devil spun,
the only dust
the nuns couldn't exorcize.

The seven veils
of the wind danced before our gritty eyes.
What would tempt us? Lunch?
Lunch was the head of cabbage on a platter.
The desert lay in wait,

more infinite than God, no less remote.
Somewhere out there
our fathers worked. They put on garments
as white as the lily
to protect themselves from their work.

They gloved their hands.
They laid their hands on the remote controls
of robot hands,
and then a pair of steely pincers
pinched the air under glass

as if to make it even purer,
to make it worthy
to hold a handful of uranium
out of reach
of gods their dust and ash.


"The Cloud of Unknowing"

Why did I not die at birth,
for then I should have lain down
and been quiet?

I should have lain in the dirt
beside those who fought over it,
under the ruins built in their name

while they lamented
the cities they destroyed and rebuilt,
ash after ash, dust laid to dust.

I should have lain in the dirt
looking up like the man
who put a dark cloud between himself and his god,

the better to see him.
I should have been the woman looking up:
the day had dawned clear,

only a few parachute drifting low,
testing the wind.
And then the darkness covered the earth.

That was the second cloud.
She wiped her hands clean.
Her skin came off in her hands.

Why did I not lie down in the river
with the rest of them?
Invisible in the cloak of flesh,

I should have been dust
lamenting the dust whose daughter I am.
O dust wrapped in wind,

in the desert I found these words
where they had burned
and put the ash on my tongue.

 

[Watchingthetreetops]

Lost at sea, here I am
Floating above bars of sand
Here I am, here I stay
Waiting for the rest to ebb away
I know the shore is somewhere near
But to face others is my greatest fear
So here I am, here I stay
Drifting ever further away

 

[SolaireOfAstora]

THIS THREAD NEEDS TO BE BUMPED!

A quick Haiku, because I'm tired and wanna sleep

You are in my dreams
Every single night, that's why
I hate waking up

And what the heck, here's my sonnet

Sonnet #1
Watching myself scream through my demon?s eyes
There is nowhere to run, nothing inside
I begin to hear my deafening cries
Nothing I can do, nowhere to hide

I once thought that I had a lasting life
That?s when I learned the sacredness it had
Until they came with their bitter knife
Do I deserve this pain? Am I that bad?

The possession I have will be let go;
I will see you again, I promise soon
Inside the dying light, I see your glow
I will not be your sunlight, but your moon

To keep you from the darkness of the night
As the sun only appears in daylight

Too tired, but gonna continue

Untitled Poem
You say the world is against you
You act like nothing is ever right
Your life is in ruins,
Your heart is aching
Lost all hope
You are in complete despair
Breaking down
Time flows by,
Leaving you helpless
You act like the world is against you
When really,
It?s you against yourself

EDIT: These are all by me, I thought we were only posting our own, but apparently not so, yeah, these are by me

Gn

 

[Watchingthetreetops]

Get out
Out of my head
Out of my sight
Out of my bed
Out of this night
Get out
Out of my dreams
Out of my life
Out of my screams
Out of my strife
Get out
Out of my footsteps
Out of my open doors
Out off my music reps
Out of the floors
Get out