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 Posted: Fri Apr 18, 2008 12:09 pm
brighten colors
black and gray.
lay on my back
the children play.
into the sun
my eyes do gaze.
no clouds pass by
gray skies today.
black gray,
white to bright,
gaze at the sun
into the night.
to cold on the ground
gray grass like the sky.
not a sound.
walk through the trees
none but me.
below the sun
its bright white
rays chill my bones.
alone color swirls
and mix and growl
white and gray
and black surround.
forever gone
red and blue.
gray and black
and white my home.
dull and bright;
day and night;
frigid chill
all my life forever will.
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Posted: Thu May 01, 2008 8:59 am
Me likey. I always enjoy seeing poems on the internet that are dark and a little eerie, but not emo. Emo poetry gets real old, real fast... So kudos. You have an interesting rhythm, almost uniform but varied enough to hold the reader's attention. The only suggestion I have is to clean up your rhyme scheme a bit. In the beginning, it's every second line, but that deteriorates about halfway through the poem. Other than the rhyme scheme, though, I liked it.
Here's mine. It's called "I quit."
I quit.
by Ikki. smile
I quit.
I don't want to play the game any more.
Cash in my chips,
Knock over the white king,
Lay down my cards.
Am I allowed to quit?
I've never seen anything about it in the rules.
I've never read the part that says,
"Once you've been tricked into playing,
You have to keep playing until you die."
But everybody seems afraid.
"Don't quit. Don't do it, man. You're making a mistake."
Why is it a mistake?
Why the shifty eyes, the shortened breath?
Are there big men
(With guns)
Hiding just offstage,
Waiting for someone to step out of line?
Or does this game have a bigger jackpot than I realize?
Does the winner get a big pot of gold and a lifetime supply of pop culture?
Gold calls to its own, and pop culture smells too much like 1984.
I think I'll pass.
Thanks for inviting me, though.
Glad to see someone's enjoying it.
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Posted: Mon May 05, 2008 11:27 pm
I like them both very much. I'm not sure exactly what the second poem was about but I'm sure it was intended to be that way. Here is one of my own. It's called My 4 boyz
There's one who holds my body,
And one who holds my soul,
But the one who hold my love for me
Is the one who'll never know.
He's the one who holds a firery touch,
That burns with passion and with lust.
He's the one who holds my body close,
Though it seems we never touch.
He's the one who seems to know me well,
Enough to read my thoughts.
He dreams along the same lines as me,
But dreams in the wind are almost always lost.
And though we speak a lot of times,
And somethimes not at all.
We'll stare up at the night sky,
Or watch the rain as it Falls.
And though I'm grounded to the earth,
The chose is still as hard.
Though love and happiness is what I want,
I fear lust and pain is all I'll gain.
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Posted: Mon May 12, 2008 3:21 pm
very nice i enjoy em all, here one of my own recent ones that I have wrote called "River"
River
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Do you know how it feels to live
living in a river of lies
surrounded by other lives
swimming subconsciously along the currents ride
just drifting
drifting away
yes drift away from reality
away from what makes you real
just to see where you would be
down in dark waters
with no reflection to see
your very existence gone
gone from all to see
your no longer able to breath
able to bleed
able to see
just a mere memory
caught in a glimpse of time
just drifting along
drifting along the currents ride
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Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 11:30 pm
I love reading other people's poetry. It always broadens ones horizon. I don't expect to either broaden anyone's horizon, or even to enjoy it, but artist never pass by an opportunity to brag about their work, and I am unfortunately no exception! lol. Here's one of my favorite abstract poems that I have written. biggrin lol The Gift and Curse of Inspiration
My pen screams at me
Telling me to pick him up:
I obey
Wondering what mystery will unfold
As I feel the slim, firm magic;
The scrolling black sleuth of knowledge-of the unknown.
The sharp smell of ink permeates
Into my thoughts, like wine into the blood,
Making me hear that which I never knew.
I can almost see the bitter fire of touch
As my hand grips his throat.
I’m on the cruel drug of inspiration.
Oklahoma City, the first appearance of
My muse, the foreteller of Eryn Brooks.
My pen never really screamed at me.
I had felt the urge, the need to find him
The necessity of holding him.
The tocsin of the harsh voices of reality
Held me in their grip, telling me
I can’t understand, I can’t do it,
I don’t have a pretty nose.
Sucks to their assmar!
The pitiful thread of dreams and wishes
That depress me like a blank page
I snap my fingers, the paper disappears.
It’s as if Eryn Brooks never lived
Then she begins anew, creates again
And she will succeed, beyond her greatest dreams.
The dancing pages alight; my pen laughs
I must obey him or never succeed.
Na i ahie ya meril cene Ambaresse.
Is the motto my pen quotes to me
So I go to my desk and obey.
© Eryn Brooks 2007
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Posted: Sun Jun 08, 2008 6:59 pm
they r all moving. but i have 2 peoms to bring tears. for this i'm sorry!! I'm Going to FOllow you" Walk a little plainer grandpa Said a little boy so frail For I'm following in your footsteps And I don't want to fail. Sometimes your steps are very plain Sometimes they're hard to see So walk a little plainer grandpa For you are leading me. I know that once you walked this way Many, many years ago And what you did along the way I'd really like to know. For sometimes when I'm tempted I don't know what to do So walk a little plainer grandpa You know I'm following you. Someday when I'm grown up You are like i want to be Then i will have a little boy Who'll want to follow me. And I would want to lead him right And help him to be true So walk a little plainer grandpa I'm going to follow you. this was written for my father who helped raise my 2 sons!!!!
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Posted: Sun Jun 08, 2008 7:11 pm
crying this one is in memory of my grandmother who passed away........ "WHAT MOTHER TOOK" Most often when we think mom We think of what she's given, The softness of her loving touch A gentle guide for living. A nightly tiptoe in a room, An understanding look. But sometimes when I think of mom I think of what she took. She took a child And taught it how to live this life with pride. She took the kindergarten tears And kept them all inside. She took the hands that longed to hold her child and let go. Used them to push her child along the way To thrive and grow. She took sometimes to do some other things. Like sew and clean and cook. And never thought to ask for THANKS. For all the things she took.
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Posted: Mon Jun 16, 2008 5:01 pm
I've got quite a few in my journal, but here's one:
You hold a dream and give it wings,
A shiny pair that glows and sings.
And wear them both to fly all free
Beyond your doubt, reality.
You hold a heart and feed it love;
Give it peace to stroke a dove.
Then dare to smile every day
To wipe all of the dark away.
You hold a soul and bring it face;
Don't ever hide and don't erase.
It's good to weep since you'll still shine.
Within, that fire burns just fine.
You hold a life and keep it bright
As if it too is made of light.
Your presence shines for others, too,
So stay yourself, your own, just you.
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Posted: Tue Jul 22, 2008 8:22 am
Wow fantastic poems. I will comment them all;
Roo-your poem leaves a lot to the imagination, and though it isn't exceptionally depressing, there's a sense of darkness which comes across strongly and gives the poem depth
Ikken-i loved this poem because it has a story to it, and not only that i believe it is metaphorical too, which i always love in poems. I don't know whether you meant literal death, or symmbolism of how individuality is dying due to your pop culture reference, but i really liked it. I'm probably way off but that's what i get from it
This is-again, you can conclude what you want, but i'm guessing it's a mixture of feelings really which are placed well in the poem and really gives the poem character. Perhaps a sense of longing?
Vincent-it's really great how you can give something like a river such meaning, and bring it to life. With your words you make it sound really mystical and beautiful, and perhaps it is symmbolic to something personal?
Eryniel-another great poem. You've put so much detail into something as simple as writing. You've used some fantastic vocabulary which really draws you into the poem, and gives it visual strength
Kresha-both poems are really sweet, and you can tell how personal and special they are to you. It didn't make me cry, but i rarely cry, but i did find them really touching and moving
Nano-i love your twist on key parts of humanity; dreams, heart, soul and life. A really energetic and meaningful peace which you obviosly put thought into
So great job everyone heart
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Posted: Wed Jul 23, 2008 6:53 pm
EREBUS
A cold, detached embrace, You grip me still.
No warmth to find; of that You’ve robbed me blind.
A haunting ballad lulls my restless will.
Eternal Sleep, You cradle soul and mind.
Decrepit phantoms mourning through their pain,
The tales of their own bodies left behind.
You guide me forward, down this road arcane.
Toward the gate of Erebus we tread.
Your whispered words are vile as acid rain.
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