Writing Prompt Envy's Poem Thread V2

[ElijahRyne]

Fate:

As the world dances in song, there I lay in bed.
An eye to the sky, covered in an old mess.
As the eye stares into mine, it is buffered by the wind.
An unknown song finds my lips.

The outside world is as quiet as a snowy field.
Those that go out into it do not linger.
The outside world was graced by a dancing figure.
Those that went out into it ignored.
The outside figure was me, with song at my lip.

Fine particles of sand fell from the sky.
First the red sand fell around me.
Fine eyes opened in the sky.
First they say me.

Unknown words fell from its gaze.
Useless noise danced through my voice.
Unknown laws graced the world.
Useless was my struggle.

 

[Envylope]

What a world to live in,
A place where the prophets sold condemnation.
What a world to live in,
Somewhere they sided with the politician.

What a world to live in,
A place where fraud invaded the institution.
What a world to live in,
Somewhere the people were sold delusion.

What a world to live in,
A place they were given a different religion.
What a world to live in,
Somewhere that they sowed division.

What a world to live in,
A place where there is no place for the men and women.
What a world to live in,
Somewhere we are filled with disillusion.

 

[3guanoff]

Boundless it is

The breath shallow as it quickens
His eyes widen, focused still
Staying steady, the plot thickens
Such restraint takes sober will
Not to skip ahead a chapter
To endure the tension's climb
E'en to praise that cunning captor
Serenade steep cliffs with rhyme

Though the author left him hanging
Drove his pulse with anger high
If he could, he still would beg him
To keep building his supply

Yet complete works need an end
The last page read, I must sigh
I rest my chin in my cold hands
I do feel sorrow, I won't lie
My gaze is heavy, questioning
The story moved me, my outlook
Ever changing life has been
The joy of reading a good book

 

[CinnaSloth]

Nestled in the darkest veil
every soul has a harrowing tale
various stories and difficult trials
eager to walk another's mile
racing to the very end
gone too soon with a hook and rend
open to the world above
nothing more to hold, to love
nothing left, but you and me
a beautiful sight, a sight to see
guarding your heart from death, and pain
I want to save you, and keep you sane
vicious worlds will have no power
eternal love I give this hour
you, my love, I hold so dear
owe me not, i hope you hear
under the stars, our hands combine
under the sun, we become divine
passionate days will live forever
...read down, vertically i hope it's clever

 

[ElijahRyne]

Void, Quintessence, and Æther:

The eternal exhale.
The eternal change.
The eternal inhale.

Why do you exist?
If you are ever growing and ever shrinking, what does your change mean?
Is your growth external or external?
Why do you change?

The three primes remain unchanged and ever changing.
Your questioning does not affect the mind.
Your questioning does not reach the soul.
Your questioning does not touch the body.

The three essences of everything, forever intertwined.
Three that begets all.
An ever changing face.
Three that negates all.

Distill reality with your mind.
Distill nonexistence with your soul.
Distill the connection between the two with your body.
Do this and you will make your first step as an apprentice.

 

[Envylope]

From the ringer and through hell I went,
And now this thought lingers without embellishment.
I whisper with this anger that the heaven sent,
And I lament these thoughts arisen from the establishment.

They caused me to sit with this sorrow so deep,
And the words hit my soul, for now, it's cheap.
I roll my eyes and bare witness to the creep,
This ugly and sickening thing they made me reap.

They told me I sowed it, but I did not.
I simply owned it, for in this web I'm caught.
I sat here wondering maybe it's all for naught.
Because I gained nothing no matter how much I fought.

"Oh wow, this is the cage that you built for yourself,"
Yet, I ask you now if this is the stage for wealth.
Maybe all of these ideas I shouldn't page and should shelf?
But then, how would I become better for myself?

I cannot see the world in which I didn't do it,
And I don't care if you hate me and say I abuse it.
The system is like this, so I use it.
I play this tune on my throne, my background music.

So what if the written words were more generic?
This is the curse I've bitten, and I wear it.
I've eaten the sin, so others don't bear it.
I have these words, so I might as well share it.

 

[Worthy39]

I hailed the luxury that came of my sin,
I failed to see cruelty, drowned out in the din.
Wonders of the world, I never could hide,
All rendered worthless by my own pride.

I've never actually written a poem before, and it clearly shows.

 

[unlaumy]

Dust
---

See that you don't forget,
your clothes, your books, your wallet, your dream
and where's that smile you love to have?
when you wave to here before you vanish, your lips falter slightly.

After you reach there,
don't forget to call home.
Do you remember the little square
of flowers in front of our home? The last rain
took the last dirt with it.
The next time you call,
I don't think I can tell you
of their blossom anymore

Our place in an uphill street.
Row of brick houses.
The neighbour's kid across has grown big.
Do you know a wooden seat is cold?
so does a plastic, a cushion, a floor.

 

[unlaumy]

The Distance between Two Points
---

Joints eaten away by the rain,
a fallen leaf drown in a wavering pool.
Another piece of clothing
and the body, feels its burden.
Oh, it's so heavy, so you say: oh — it's so heavy!

 

[Envylope]

It rattles through your mind and your clavicle too
When you unravel and unwind the skeleton crew
The bone structural battle with the pen and the paper
When you're the maker, the writer, and the undertaker
They say that it's so simple what you do with the pencil
They see through you like a window and see a placator
Makes you think you should grab the eraser
And unwrite what you wrote on the page before
But I don't care anymore because I am always at war
With myself anyway, and at any time of day
All of the words don't lead me astray
Because like soup, I'm the queen of the bay
And you might string together my writing
Strike it like lightning, but I'll go down fighting
Because like a midnight sighting, it's the vampire biting
And I keep hissing and spitting some facts
...
I'll come back to it later, I guess.

 

[SwordSong]

Komorebi (rondelet)

leaf and light kissed
as sunbeams drench past boughs aloft
leaf and light kissed
green tresses brushed by golden mist
there life outflows from whispered love
while shade imprints the scene above
leaf and light kissed

 

[3guanoff]

A mate helped me create some MP3s of some of my older poems:
Red River of Glory: http://www.sndup.net/crf72
You lived well MP3: http://www.sndup.net/ntpn7
Count Robert, It's Raining MP3: http://www.sndup.net/bwj4k
Brothers-in-arms MP3: http://www.sndup.net/mg56v
I Remain (or Recalling a Lifetime of Friendship) MP3: http://www.sndup.net/z77kx
The Colors of Youth (Reminiscing) MP3: http://www.sndup.net/7wgb9
Many For One MP3: http://www.sndup.net/cprxz

Spoiler: POEMS

You Lived Well

True war is hell, yet we still went
And there you fell - I saw it end
You died, I lived - Am I to blame?
No one said yes, yet I feel shame

I saw them grow, your children small
From toddling boys to six feet tall
They found their ways, they studied hard
Unlike their uncle they are smart

They know your hearts and praise your names
And spent their childhoods playing games
When you were fighting, eating sand
They were still learning, pen in hand

They know no hunger nor corpse smells
Yet they know pain and grave farewells
While on my table dust gathers
Some of you are grandfathers

You paid the price - You earned their lives,
Their future peace and for your wives
To see them rise, shake off this dust
To thrive in times of wealth and trust

What about me? I can't complain
My name is doomed, but here I am
I'm lonely now, but soon indeed
I'll leave the plains and we shall meet

Brothers in arms

My Shoulder bit the dust today
I'm cradling my Back
Our bright red flag I can't betray
But why is it this black?

It stood by me, it shielded me
That back, that shoulder, you!
We drank, we lived. Why, didn't we?
All's left me now is brew.

My stupor takes me back in time
Your laughter rings out bold
"You lazy ass, just one more climb!
"Keep moving, it's too cold!"

Brothers in arms

My Shoulder bit the dust today
I'm cradling my Back
Our bright red flag I can't betray
But why is it this black?

It stood by me, it shielded me
That back, that shoulder, you!
We drank, we lived. Why, didn't we?
All's left me now is brew.

My stupor takes me back in time
Your laughter rings out bold
"You lazy ass, just one more climb!
"Keep moving, it's too cold!"

I remain

My heart burns with indignation
I remember our glorious past
The cause of my agitation
Is the good that has already passed

Our hearts were bright, our eyes were clear
Our minds aimed for heaven, yet we both remained here

To your last breath they were blue
Your steadfast eyes
To the end you stayed true
To your dream of those skies

Yet they held no reproach
For that coward, for me
I gave up on our goals
Stayed while you crossed the sea

Worked for those we'd despised
While you planned for their ends
'Spite the plans you devised
We could remain as friends

When I visited there
We would drink, we would laugh
Say, how come? Is it fair
That you spared me your wrath?

Perhaps you knew not to blame me too much
Since I myself always treat me as such

Yet I ask myself now
Were you happy, my friend?
Was your solemn vow
Worth that pain and contempt?

You endured it all
As a man should and does
Thus, I rightly can't fall
At the pain of your loss

For a mortal I am, weak in spirit and mind
Yet a man I remain, both in body and kind

Colors of Youth
Many For One
Red River of Glory
Count Robert, It's Raining

 

[unlaumy]

Reposting my short poems that I posted on profile post. Back when I liked to do word repeat.

Wet ground, flooded ground,
damp wooden floor.
Saw little grass growing by the concrete wall.
The alley was so small.
Above was broken metal roofs,
holes and shaved edges chewed by pain,
covered with cloths and cut blue-colored and green-colored tarps.

Soft branches:
Twisted into awkward skeletons of rectangulars.
Twisted into wreaths for your prides.

 

[CinnaSloth]

In death, in life, in darkest light, Cursed of breath, she will write, A poem of sorts, The Devil’s Eye. she walks tonight, alone, a blight, Blind of hope, a scream, a fright, A shrill of kinds, with none in sight, she walks alone, a guise of might, shivering fault, mask uptight, she feels a fall of life this night. Not his, not hers, Nor yours, nor mine, but those who dare be lured to bite, The maiden faring poisoned knife, The one who dons The Devil’s Eye.​

 

[CinnaSloth]

World ablaze, false pieties
They scorch our Earth, societies
Burnt to ash, past deities
Forgotten all integrities
when will we finally f*cking learn from history..

 

[AliceMoonvale]

I title this poem: I don't like poems, and I'm not sorry.

---

Oh, poems, those bite-sized masterpieces
Blink and they’re done, like literary sneezes
They strut in white space, proud and profound
Saying so little while taking a bow

I’m told, "It’s about feeling," "Read between lines"
But I prefer pages, plural, thanks, I’m fine
Give me chapters that sprawl and characters who grow
Not a metaphoric puddle that dries as I go

Poems flirt, then vanish. Books move in, unpack
They build whole worlds; poems just text “call me back”
I want plots with commitment, arcs that take time
Not twelve vague words pretending to rhyme

So keep your haikus, your odes, your free verse despair
I’ll be over here reading something that slaps with flair
Something that hits harder than your emo playlist
Not a three-line sad tweet I can barely digest

 

[Envylope]

I title this poem: I don't like poems, and I'm not sorry.

Poem lost two points for this title.

 

[CinnaSloth]

Dark poetry. Skip. Turn back. It's fine. Don't read.

Spoiler: Hi Sloth

Dear Family,

Spoiler: Hi Sloth

Chapter 1: I was born unwanted, unneeded, a plague on day one. As I grew, forsaken, I stayed quiet, no words, not a peep, not a hum. I never complained, but cried silently into my pillow, never wanting to be bother. I did as I was told, not to be a burden, listening, trying, obeying mother, and father. But try as I might I failed classes, and failed life, I just couldn't succeed. I hated school, I had no friends, I hated people, even events, it was as though life wanted me gone, to rot, to bleed.	Chapter 3: Though I was secluded, I was happy, writing stories, and songs, and limericks, and poetry. I wrote a lot of things, but I was accused of the craft, of hate, of malice, told I were doing Satan's sorcery. But that was a lie, I wasn’t aware of what they were talking about, stupid, idiotic garbage, spouting hate, and trash. I ran away, leaving everything behind, they’d burn it all along with me if I went back, without batting a lash. You know what it was? It was dungeons and dragons, a table top game made for children. 'Satan warship!' f*ck you, it was a game, nothing wrong, it was just me alone, just as you all left me. I was f*cking ten.	Chapter 4: I’m bitter, I’m cold. I’m pessimistic, and tired. I hate people. I hate god, and all that transpired. I’ve had my s/o’s and loved ones, and friends, but no one has stayed in the end, leaving with someone better, or worse, I never cared to ask. Took from me, and used me, never a person to them, just an objective, a task. Whatever I don’t care. Just leave me alone, that’s all I'm good for, a monstrous stare, thrown in a tower, secluded, and locked. Who’d bother to look for me anyway? We're all going to pass one day, whether we’re kings, queens, famous, or mocked..
Chapter 2: Nobody knew what I was ever thinking, always silent, quiet, and doing things on my own. But id rather do that, than have to do anything with anyone else when they didn’t want me there, feeling a nuisance, alone. I liked to read books, I still do, I love fiction, and stories, and poetry too. As soon as I was able to write, I picked up a pen and wrote, and scribbled, it wasn’t good, or readable, which was fine, it blew. I needed to practice, thinking I’ll get better eventually in a few months, or a year. I never thought it’d take this long, feeling amateur at best, despite the time I spent hiding in fear.	​	Final Chapter: I’ll stay here till the end with my pages, and books; My fiction fixations, and my dreams, and my nooks. I’ll stay hidden forever. Anonymous, and broke. Why was I cursed with this life, if it’d end up this way? A figment, a ghost, a joke- I’d rather choke. Strung by the noose my family once hung, no songs to be played, no hymns sung. like the flame, and the moth.. The sour, ugly end of the one called, CinnaSloth.

 

[CinnaSloth]

I title this poem: I don't like poems, and I'm not sorry.

---

Oh, poems, those bite-sized masterpieces
Blink and they’re done, like literary sneezes
They strut in white space, proud and profound
Saying so little while taking a bow

I’m told, "It’s about feeling," "Read between lines"
But I prefer pages, plural, thanks, I’m fine
Give me chapters that sprawl and characters who grow
Not a metaphoric puddle that dries as I go

Poems flirt, then vanish. Books move in, unpack
They build whole worlds; poems just text “call me back”
I want plots with commitment, arcs that take time
Not twelve vague words pretending to rhyme

So keep your haikus, your odes, your free verse despair
I’ll be over here reading something that slaps with flair
Something that hits harder than your emo playlist
Not a three-line sad tweet I can barely digest

I name this one, Poetry to be read, in honor of Alice, petpet

I like poetry
because it shows vulnerability
if there were no poetry
they would just be short stories called, 'portions of everyone that really yearn to be read'.
but what do I know.

 

[pangmida]

(Unfinished work in progress)

A portion of a poem from an immortal to his reincarnated human lover:

Should memory of me within you fade,
I shall remember enough for two.
Should you return, clad in another’s form,
With a stranger’s hands and foreign eyes,
I shall learn the dialect of your soul anew,
As I have ever done.

Live, my love. In radiance, depart.
Whether your winding path draws near my own,
Or leads you far beyond my reach,
My vigil shall be the horizon,
As I have been, through every bloom and end,
And as I shall be, forevermore.

...I'll finish this one day. Too many braincells died just for these two stanzas. Will be studying some rules about syllables, meters, schemes, etc.