Hey there! So, I know there's already a thread for this (kind of) but basically, I'm making a book of poems and short stories for EPQ and it'd be really great if I could get a few contributions from you guys to add to it. If you'd be willing to donate a poem or two, please post them below, along with the name you'd like me to write as the author. (eg: John Smith, <your user name>, anonymous) The topics the book is about are LGBT+, Homelessness, Religion, Self-harm/Suicide/Depression/Anxiety/etc It'd be really awesome if you guys could help me out :3 (Even if you just copy and paste a poem you've already written that fits) I'll post the finished copy of the book once it's done, so you can see how it turned out Thank you so much in advance :3 Thankyou!!!
I've got a few you might like. You can put "Argentwing" as the author, or just "Tyler" whichever you think sounds better. Drops of Water All the time we see couples whose love resembles an ocean: eternal, inexhaustible, and mighty. One day I looked at that and decided, “I want that. I want to have an ocean.” But the question remained-- How do you get an ocean? That question was entirely absent from my mind when I saw her. But each time we were together before we started dating, I got a tiny bit of fondness for her much like a drop of water. Mind you, by this point, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. We kept seeing each other and I kept collecting drops. And because I had no idea what I was doing, eventually I got so many drops that they were unmanageable. They spilled over, which was when I asked her out. But then something amazing happened. She said yes, and I had collected enough drops that they were able to flow. They turned into a creek. And as water usually does from a source, the creek flowed fast. It was energetic, explosive. I didn't intend anything in particular for these drops. I just let them run and gush over whatever they would. Of course that kind of energy wasn't very stable. I kept adding more drops, but the creek changed course often as the land under it was eroded. Everything I expected to work one way actually worked a different way when put to use. The water had no particular direction and it was in danger of spreading out into nothing. At times I thought my creek was drying up for good and I thought it might be better to let all of it soak into the ground. Thankfully though, I was just enough of a stubborn son-of-a-gun to keep adding drops anyway. It was around this time that I found sometimes I got more drops without even trying. They came from other places. Some random little thing she did would add another drop to the creek, which managed to collect together and turn into more of an estuary. I moved in with her around here and saw the drops had made a defined path. It had a stable source and a place to go, so found a great sense of rhythm. Naturally though, the terrain was still less than ideal for my estuary in places. Sometimes the water was deep and content with flowing slowly. At other times it was beset with rocks and closer resembled the creek that came before it, in danger of coming apart completely. Still the drops found the path of least resistance and coalesced again. She and I were used to the drops and kept adding more. They formed a big river by now, in a great harmonious movement. It was funny though, because the movement of any particular drop was almost too harmonious with the rest. I looked at the river and saw that one drop was not terribly different from any other. Each drop seemed terribly unimportant. I used and abused the river with no consideration to how it had been crafted drop by painstaking drop. I drew from the river until it ran low and slow. It was only when she warned me the river was almost dead that I practiced a little caution with what happened to it. I kept drawing from the river, but added drops back to it however I could. Doing this was exhausting. The river was still low and I now I needed its resources. But one day, I went to draw from the river, and noticed that it had stopped flowing. Not because it had dried up, but because it had reached sea level. I raised my head up and saw the entire path the river had taken-- down from the mountains with dangerous speed, into the uncertainty of the highlands, into the plains where it was taken for granted, and out beyond the coast. My drops of affection had flowed for years on their meandering course, growing only imperceptibly, but they finally made an ocean-- eternal, inexhaustible, and mighty. -------------- Will post the others once my computer stops derping out. X.X EDIT: Just realized you have a limited selection of topics! Well, it's not really LGBT-themed, but from the perspective of a girl it can be hehe.
Well since you never said anything about language here is mine... _______________________ L'ombre me rattrape, la nuit berce l'esprit Les étoiles m'échappent, la vie me fait rire Oui le ciel m'épate, distant je le chéri Mes reves éclatent, et éclairent mes nuits Dans la solitude, je trouve mes forces Douce plénitude, acquise dans l'éffort Sentiment qui dure, et efface mes torts Où la joie se situe, je trouverai mes nords Un doux havre de paix, bati de mes pensées Un fou cherchant le vrai, vous laisse le sensé Tout ce que nul ne sait, ne sait que m'offenser Défi qui de ce fait, ne pu que me tenter Ici j'ai pu évolué, loin de la réalité Un endroit non pollué, m'étant fait à l'idée Que rien ne pourrait tuer, cette curiosité Qui m'a pourtant fait suer, mais ne peut s'épuiser And well... Let's call me "Aeolia" or "Yanis"
Goddamit Argentwing, I may not know much about english poetry but damn... It's so so so so so greaaaaaaat !
Here is mine, but it is in Spanish. :\ Un poema... Mas cerca y tu recuerdo... sensaciones dispersas en el alma. En mi memoria y en el olvido... vidas que he tocado al anochecer. Primero risas, luego llantos cuando no me acuerdo que he perdido. Confundido y coherente, lo hice, lo hare... no entiendo que hago. Entre la vida y la muerte... en ese momento me pregunto: "Quien soy? -SpiritEnergy- ---------- Post added 30th Mar 2015 at 11:34 PM ---------- Another, I wrote this one for a short-story that I never finished. I am not using it, so... You can have it. XD If you like it... It's kinda weird and not so good.... It's more like a monologue... And it's about a guy that is about to die.. The time keeps running Tick tock, tick tock 1, 2, 3, 4. She tells me quietly: "The time is running, it is moving" Tick tock, tick tock 5, 6, 7, 8. The time goes I am desperate My body's shaking Tick tock, Tick tock 9, 10. Stop! Stop moving! Why? It will end! What will happened to my soul when the time comes? Tick tock, tick tock 11, 12..................
Wow, didn't know this would get so much admiration! I feel loved :love: But that's what happens when writing is inspired by real feelings. I plan to read this aloud when my gf and I get married, whenever that is. With the same reaction the entire party will be a wreck. :lol:
I actually am writing my own poetry book right now if you ever become interested. I could contribute a poem or two. I write rather depressing poetry that was about my life in one form or another.
I drag my feet behind me my head weighed down with heavy thoughts every time I come close to letting someone in my tongue creates the words, walls that shut them out again I do not want to live inside my head but at the same time being real frightens me and maybe if I walk slow enough they'll forget what I said and try again my hands are stuffed in my pockets fingering the notes of my past the ones I should let go of before but can't get out of my head the walls that trap me within my brain have done me some good, isolating me from the same people who destroyed them last destroyed me last I do get some comfort, for I have found a world where others like me can be freed from our chains I never talk there, but it's nice knowing there's an option besides the unspeakable my pace quickens as I walk paranoid someone will figure me out for if they did, I would not know whether to despise or thank them but my excuses stop help from coming so in my head, thoughts remain as the vanishing sound of my footsteps echo while the door closes behind me maybe next time I'll tell the truth maybe I'll have a reason to walk faster -F. I. F.
Please have mercy, I am new at this. I started writing poetry literally this week. Friend F. Friends frolic in fine fantasias of fun with fraternity, freedom, and fantastic foolishness! f. Frankly friends, I frightfully fined fraternity, fellowship, or a fastidious fallowing of fellows I feel as friends! R. Readily we relish our real recreational relationships realizing our reason for our reality! r. Rarely I realize real relationships resulting in reason to live! I. Instinctually I intrinsically initiate interactions involving instincts ingrained in infancy! i. I inter myself, instigating impenetrable impertinence imparting inhibitions! Lo in doing so I instigate an inception of implausible isolation impacting I with an irremediable illness! My insight in fact initiates an intelligence incarnating me as an Isolite! Even when I insert myself into interactions I find impassible impediments. In this indulgence of imagination I often ingrain with ink ideally isometric division insinuating balance in exception of I. I,I,I,I,I! Why I? Ironic, isn’t it? I is supposed to be a delight, but it is in actuality a blight as inclusion is not insight. E. Excitedly we entertain each and every one of each of us. Enacting engagements we enrapture everyone who enters our empire of effervescences. e. empty. Emptiness ingrained in existence to he who was evicted from envelopment with his peers. Evidently excess emptiness, acting as ether, empowers evolving old evils leading to exclusions, embarrassments, and ever more sorrows. N. Naturally we never abandon our new neighbors knowing we will never let them go. n. Nary a neighbor has invigorated me through nepotism, nearness, nor niceties. Never! D. We dance and descant our deranged didoes of delighted idiocy in divisions as small as to be dyadic or drastically dimensioned, deserving daring displays of devotion. d. Deprivation of devotion descends my direction to a diminuendo designated as a disinterest, dissolution, and disdain. The denizens of dance and descant deny me, making me the Duke of Divorce, the Devil of Dander, and the Daemon of Dejection.
A bit hesitant to write my poem here but I'll do it anyway. author- Decandyman Fate Fate a monstrous being master of all. We are mere prisoners chained to its existence. We cower beneath its unrelenting power. Wealth, prosperity and happiness cease to exist, grief and melancholy lead the way. Malevolent, shadowed, discreet, you rage war against your victims. Omnipotent and omnipresent, you plague us. The toll of every second, an illusion to our being, is just the beat of your heart, a signature of your life.
Ahh I write so much poetry. It's hard to choose. But I guess this is probably my favorite that I've written. You can put Kaytlin as the author, or my username Set the Fixed Free A purple cloudy haze was left, The rain had left an hour before, Some tiny drops of dew were left Upon the grassy floor, Left to sleep upon the blades And slowly slide down unaware And wander dreamlike through the earth And drip in caves below the ground And find a new home, sleeping sound In puddles on the floor, That dream in which the water lives, Flowing through unconsciously, It makes me feel my sleeping thoughts Are like the rolling, emerald sea, Water moves without a thought, My thoughts, they move without control, I'd love to live like water flows And give things life And make things grow, Encompass oceans and deep caves And linger in the nimbus clouds And move along eroding rocks Through rivers slow and rapid And rest in mossy, muddy lakes And glaciers at the peaks of earth And ebb and flow against the shore, My mind, it moves like water, And I am stuck and fixed to earth, To consciousness, Reality, Water and my dreams alike Allow for all these stagnant things To float all winglessly around And set the fixed and fastened free
You can just place Jessica as the author, and sorry if my writing isn't good, poetry isn't really my forte Almost Almost won a crown that day, Almost captured art Almost reached into the night And caught a shooting star I almost wrecked my haven once Fell the shards of her broken heart But she has caught up to me again And joint my world and torned heart Almost left my love that day Almost gave her up Almost burned the bridge ahead But almost just isn't enough
A poem about number stations: The cacophony chorus cries a staring, still, static disguise Amongst the madness, may you meet a voice, so very vile- yet sweet Oh, will it sing a song, saddened worn, then whisked away by wind, this wind, not of normality, sounding like a silver sea.
