post your poems or others

i came up with this 20 minutes.

Life is hard like a boner
There is no happy endings and you end up a loner

best poem of this thread so far

Do not go gentle into that good night

Submerged in sandcastles with the sand beneath my feet 

Seagulls in the skyline as white as double entendre’d keys

Shelves on the wall filled with endless memories 

Forever yet temporary 


First fight first spar with a belt as black as my skin 

Learn the meaning of futile with a kick to the chin

Some nights you would like
 take us out for a bite or something

You gave us lots of loving 

While you was in school and it was cool to see amongst the strugglin

Blockbuster pull up to apartment on the weekends

Contrast to public school praying that the f***ing week ends
Guess God just wasn’t listening cause grades was far from decent

Fireworks in the distance summer times with quasi-family 

Rowing boats in the water fears of falling deep into the sea 
Soundtracks you played in cars started by flick of a light

We sang songs of Michael and danced the day that he took flight
And watching dancing frogs with you in bed on Saturday morning
Fleeting times of life when childhood wasn’t mourning 


Hearing all the screaming drinking Playstation to drown it out 
Sometimes I sat alone and wished that you and him had worked it out

Summer lights on the horizon
High tide, the sea of her love rising
Our eyes fuse when we together, blue and brown, color my night like aurora borealis
Can it get better?
Of course, she don't need a crown
she's more rich than a chalice
Shes the 8th wonder, takes my thunder
Thinking about her all the time cause she's my lifeline
So at night time, I gotta turn on my search light to find mine

grandma's rings on fingers skeleton
aroma underwhelm
strobe thru plains behind closed eyelids
acid flashbacks, flashing lights flicker
panic attacks through unknown eyes
. . . i don't remember who i am

Love me regardless
Tried and true
It looks brand new,
but I bet it tastes the same.
Happy we're acquainted
These days I'm tamed
Whatever I can't explain won't even come up
I've learned many lessons
Maybe amazed and awestruck but it ain't dumb
I do this for fun
Feeling in control of my funds
Be back to that soon
Time is now to renew
I'll be the glue for your broken heart
and I'm straight too

haha lightweight but sober
thanks for the poetry thread
it helps me with my closure

What if I got so much steam to let out
All I wanna do is write
I know it don't have to rhyme
Got Boi-1da in the background
Youtube history and learn
earn and excel prevail
doesn't have to live up to anything
Might feel worser if I don't share

Once again thanks for the poetry thread

Daddy Daddy could you please
loosen the chain around my knees
i've been a good girl and could use some food
please give me some food when you're in the mood

Your life is nothing
You serve zero purpose
You should Kill yourself NOW

Sonnet 29
Shakespeare

When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Love this one from a British World War 1 soldier

Dulce Et Decorum Est
Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

You can also listen to this one on Youtube, absolutely amazing, its the first poem: youtube.com/watch?v=nnTROuO-Y-o&t=499s

Here dead we lie
A.E. Housman

Here dead we lie
Because we did not choose
To live and shame the land
From which we sprung.

Life, to be sure,
Is nothing much to lose,
But young men think it is,
And we were young.

Aubade - Philip Larkin

I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what’s really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die.
Arid interrogation: yet the dread
Of dying, and being dead,
Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.

The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
—The good not done, the love not given, time
Torn off unused—nor wretchedly because
An only life can take so long to climb
Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never;
But at the total emptiness for ever,
The sure extinction that we travel to
And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,
Not to be anywhere,
And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.

This is a special way of being afraid
No trick dispels. Religion used to try,
That vast moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die,
And specious stuff that says No rational being
Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing
That this is what we fear—no sight, no sound,
No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,
Nothing to love or link with,
The anaesthetic from which none come round.

And so it stays just on the edge of vision,
A small unfocused blur, a standing chill
That slows each impulse down to indecision.
Most things may never happen: this one will,
And realisation of it rages out
In furnace-fear when we are caught without
People or drink. Courage is no good:
It means not scaring others. Being brave
Lets no one off the grave.
Death is no different whined at than withstood.

Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape.
It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,
Have always known, know that we can’t escape,
Yet can’t accept. One side will have to go.
Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring
In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring
Intricate rented world begins to rouse.
The sky is white as clay, with no sun.
Work has to be done.
Postmen like doctors go from house to house.