[Official] Share and discuss your amateur poetry and stories.
Well that was fun as hell to write.
Two parts Intellect one part man
A Fire in the Sky
Passed like a fire in the midnight sky
A hopeless wanderer,
A guiding light,
@imhotep, i don’t mean to dishearten or discourage. i have been through a few writing workshops. i am not very good, whatever. i can’t stop writing, though, and i still often want feedback. i respond to critiques better. i usually have a good grasp on what is working, and when everyone tells me that, it feels too much like a group hug. i’d rather know how to make it better, to have others tell me what isn’t working and decide if it is worth fixing.
i offer a more full critique. if you only want compliments, then stop here:
@geryon89, Thanks for your critique man. If you could personally offer me some more critique I would appreciate it. Just message me.
This is a blank verse I’ve been working on, It hasn’t be fully edited yet, but I’d like to know what you fine people think. Happy reading. Thanks.
With a knock-knock and a cold wind
“How was your journey?”
We sat on the suede for single malt
Rich polish and swirling white
Then my compensation, floating
We walked coldly in the wind.
Can you tell us a bit about your thoughts on it?
In this thread you can post your super secret poetry, that you think is super good or super bad, or somewhere in between, it doesn’t matter.
Here’s some contributions of mine (made this year):
“At least I am free”
That’s some of my 2 cents.
I’m curious to see yours!
There’s probably more ‘poetry’ threads, but I wanted one with recent stuff.
This one’s pretty old (early 2011)
I want fucking chaos, intoxication by all drugs possible. Falling from the edge of sanity, falling for hours and hours on end into a void of nothing but chaos and insanity. Every second slipping away deeper and deeper into this void. Away from everything that was known to me. Eventually losing all of my mind and reference. No more life, just a black sheet of nothing. This sheet being filled with so much that is has become blacker than death. A void blacker than death. The nothingness of space, no sound, no nothing. An explosion of emotions resulting in an internal war, raging…
Dug this one up from the dusty corners of my hard drive.
“Spinning belligerence. Spiral downward, spelling nonsense with tongues tied and hopes held tight against your chest, unable to speak about what makes you who you are and when you are. Without blinking, taking your shirt from your chest and stepping free into the light. Unafraid. Unbent, unbroken, and unbreakable. Leave yourself behind in search of yourself. Bleed freely. There’s as much blood as hope in your veins.
I’ll make you laugh at my expense, approve of me.
Look at the fucking tits on her, approve of me.
You hate that person? Yeah, me too, approve of me.
I am a fake.
the turtle hatches from the sand and creeps toward the ocean,
secret because childish and i believe i have the spirit of a turtle :P
Not exactly suuuper secret…I’ve shared this with a handful of people but not many.
“Thus Spoke The Emerald Woman”
She’ll never dance with you
Went through a poetry phase a few years ago. This is probably my favourite of the ones I recovered (I lost most of them!)
“Dreams of Past”
Oh, how my head spins.
In sleep, I have no rest.
She is the Queen
A late autumn rain had shaded my room in gray.
Words I used to understand because I had the breath of enthusiasm for which to inflate them fully and to light them extraordinarily but now fall flat with the emotion worn out of them trodden underfoot and left to decay until the breath of autumn or spring roots rot the ashen structure of their being until they are memories placeholders for some other life that will never be…
any of you guys know German? I wrote this a few years ago:
“Das Lachen war schon lange vorbei.
Alle Errin’rungen waren weg,
Sie lag auf‘m Boden, eines Tages,
Ihr Prinz war es nicht,
Zwischen Schmerzen und Vergnügen,
Und dann war es schön,
(Zum später benutzen.)”
O roots, O these dirty roots
O light, o unburdening warmth
O what, o what need we to do?
Our skin has grown hard, and matured,
Nice thread. Keep it rolling secretive writers.
or so they tell me
The constant burden of unrequited love
The burden of Ulysses
very slowly must make do.
The full moon rises in the east
@brightwhitelight, beautiful and clever. thank you for sharing
This thread has got me hunting all my old shit. This one is just that, I think I was 16 when I wrote this. It was for my final year in secondary school.
A Wayward Wanderer Recalls
“Sit down now children, close the door
A disturbance from behind,
It is there now,
And now, a lamplight,
Hands, unconstituted by rocks nor dirt,
But suffer on, linger furthermore,
Miracle or sin?
This is a poem from two different perspectives :) enjoy!
@livelifeloving, awesome idea~
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