[Official] Share and discuss your amateur poetry and stories.
I recently wanted to challenge myself, so I decided to try my hand at poetry. Since I’ve written a few poems, I’ve really wanted to get some kind of feedback, I’m not sure if they suck or not. So I’m creating this discussion in the hopes people will share their amateur poetry and stories. Only constructive criticisms guys, not everyone is literary genius. I’ll share a poem, if you want to here another of mine, just ask.
An Explorers Ode to Earth
As I see her from afar,
Short story/poem combo thing:
Today I painted a picture.
@aliwine, wow I liked it. Really good message as well. Thanks for sharing.
No problem, I love writing =]
@aliwine, Impressive! Keep at it
How does this story go,
wrote this the other night and made a thread, no-one commented D: but enjoy! it’s a draft, any tips on improving it will be much appreciated… by the way imhotep, your poem was so simple and neat, loved it
My wife Michelle and I moved into this house about a month ago. It’s a small, cosy, cottage-like brick house with a blue roof and white walls, and it’s on a very secluded rural property, surrounded by tall, looming trees. It’s about a 30 minute drive out of town, which isn’t too bad. The house has two bedrooms, a kitchen, lounge, laundry, bathroom, so it’s a pretty standard house. Except for the old tin shed.
I can’t explain why, but the old tin shed out in the paddock has always frightened me. It’s just how you would imagine an old tin shed to be, it was rusty, covered in moss, and the wooden door was nearly off the hinges. When we first looked at the house to buy it, the property manager showed us how great it could be to store all of our tools in. At first I agreed with this, because I have many tools, being an electrical engineer and all. But something made me shudder when I examined the inside of it. Cobwebs were hanging down everywhere, it had a damp dirt floor, and it seemed weirdly warm in there – considering it was cold and windy outside.
When I questioned the property manager about it, he had this to say. “The last owners of this house were spiritual nutters. They said that they sensed some sort of evil “boogeyman” entity in here. Personally I just think that’s hogwash, they were crazy to want to sell this house for so cheap. You don’t believe in that sort of stuff, do you?” I was just about to answer him when my wife interrupted him and said “Of course not, right John?” I just mumbled in an incoherent groan. Truth was, I did believe in sprits, and I could sense that there was one here too. But Michelle seemed too happy and I didn’t want to disappoint her, so we brought the house.
At first everything seemed great. We paid for the house straight away with our collective savings. Our two cats Minnie and Fritz settled in quickly and so did we. Michelle enjoyed being away from the city as she had grown up on a farm. “Oh John, it reminds me of when I was a kid, doing all the farm-work with Dad and spending the night watching television and drinking milo. I love it!”. I just put on a fake smile and agreed with her. It was all I could do. I didn’t bother telling her that the old tin shed was the only thing on my mind.
About three weeks after we moved in, I had a very strange and vivid dream. I was dreaming that I was my tabby cat, Fritz, and I was walking around the inside of our new home. Now, we’d always talked about how Fritz was a weird cat, he was very jumpy and he would always stare into our old fireplace for hours on end, even when it wasn’t lit. We named him Fritz because of his irradic and seemingly peculiar nature. Anyway, in the dream, it seemed as if I had become my cat in every possible way, it was like my thoughts and perception were that of a cat’s. I walked over to the cat-bowl and ate some food, licked my fur, typical cat behavior. But that wasn’t what made this dream so strange.
I suddenly bolted out of the little cat-door at the back of the house and ran across the paddock towards the old tin shed. Through Fritz eyes, it had a pulsating red glow, with a very menacing undertone to it. But I kept running anyway, something was drawing me to it. I sat down at the front of the old tin shed and stared at the wooden door. It was very big from where I was sitting, or should I say, where Fritz was sitting. That was when I heard the heavy footsteps from behind the door, thud, thud, thud, like someone wearing steel-toed work boots was treading the ground in there.
Then all of a sudden the door swung open with a loud BANG! against the side of the shed. There was barely time to look at the grotesque, tall figure that stood in the doorway. I got such a fright and to say the least, I ran the hell out of there, faster than the wind itself. I remember thinking how free and powerful it felt to be a cat, as I ran back into the house through the little cat-door.
I quickly made my way back into the bedroom and jumped up on the bed, and started nudging at my owner’s face. This was where the dream ended and I awoke to my cat panting and headbutting at me, trying to get my attention.
It has always been said that cats are more in-tune with the spirit world. Guess I know why now.
@patience, I liked it man, great first person narrative. You have a real smooth, relaxed, colloquial style thats easy to understand and related to. Keep workin on it man, you got some talent.
@imhotep, thankyou bud :)
Bare limp, the hanging mirror rocking
What he saw were etched tattoos
Guilt and pain
Angel’s howled above, wishing they could stop nightmares
A covenant from long ago, broken.
Single breath, life was gone
Yet hallowed be thy name
Is about Joseph and Mary. How he realised his wrong decision when he let Mary be impregnated by God haha. Mary was never attached to him..
Her heart plugged into
Until she wasn’t worth it;
I swear upon
To see if your passion
To watch you board that train
Waiting for you at the station
I would wave my wilted cap
Half about my sister who passed away after they took her off support and half about my girlfriend…
Fleeting echoes reach out
And this is my best
Ivy channels whirl about
Wondering for you
And wondering if you
Here you are this morning
And feel the emotion brewing
Joining hands in quiet company
About a girl
I am the precipice
Grated teeth will bare
But the birds are weeping
And all the while
Sparrows caress the winds turning creases as it goes higher and higher
Your body, some chiselled marble pillar
Spit on me and my crucifix
About people who search for fame so much. Search for “high existence” without thinking enough about what they have, they can’t get off the ground because of their obligations, and they birds envy their abilit yot come back to earth after jumping, birds can never fall. Thanks, I have been writing for two months and need people to criticise
tick tock, I’ve lost my sock
now close your eyes, it’s time for a surprise,
now here we go. your pulse is slow,
I christen this poem…socks!
@mimic, I hope this isn’t about a serial killer.
@dawnistoday, keep at it man, you definitely had some good lines.
“@mimic, I hope this isn’t about a serial killer.”
It was about socks, silly! you’ve got a very dark mind, if that’s what you see when you think of socks!
The maggots repose, a feast for crows,
But her storie’s not through,
but as he prepares his tools and his wears
you can name this one!
@imhotep, Thank you so much for opening the floor for some supported creativity! You’re a gem.
@mimic, I’m impressed really.
@llewdiklirpa, thank you for reading and participating.
@imhotep, I love love love this poem of discovery :) Thank you.
Where am I?
Together we were always much more than amused,
When will I fully see the light
My mouths sealed shut
@thegiantsquid, beautiful, profound, and relatible. This really hit a cord with me. Keep it up, and thanks for sharing.
@imhotep, i love your poetry! it’s rich yet economic, insightful and with meaning but people have room for different imageries and particular interpretations :D
Imagine a world of strangers
But a glowing, flowing bright thing
I put [my glasses] on
I take them off.
@himynameisingrid, thank you so much. I really enjoyed yours as well. It is quite surreal, I honestly feel like that fairly often. Thanks for sharing, and keep on writing.
Just wanted to recommend a web forum that I used to be a part of:
It is a poetry forum that discusses and critiques each others poems. It is a great place for folks who love to write.
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