YCM Poetry Corner...

[Lunar Origins]

That's actually pretty good, Yank. I have no idea how you'd continue it, though.

[Βyakuya]

Impact

 

Can I still smile?

Even with the other compiled smiles of grit and delirium?

Can I still pray?

That the snakes of temptation have painted the crosses red?

Can I still walk?

Among the carcasses of millions dissolved into bedrock and say,

"How was your life today?"

Can I still eat?

Or is it that gluttony has doubled in manner and size?

Can I still breathe?

May my throat turn into void and congregate debris and all that is still hubris?

Can I still see?

Is it possible to look at the horizon over fabrication of household and filth?

Can I still hope?

Or rather, am I still talking?

Can I still be alive?

No.

I already died; hope has laid along with me.

I already seen the eternal darkness enclose my eyes, many times.

Why do I still question?

Am I crazy that I am walking with the deceased? Or am I crazy I think such things?

No.

Even you, since your birth,

You were the one that died that day.

[Lucifer the Wise]

Life is a stream of ebb and flow.

All we can do is make it go.

On and on and on it travels.

Until its host is buried in gravel.

However I have cheated this dastardly end.

And it is the rules of life and death I bend.

 

I sat at a bar drinking heavily.

And picking many fights with whomever came at me.

A woman happened upon my drunken self.

And helped me sober up leaning against a dusty old shelf.

She seemed amused by my antics, and acted flirtatiously to my amusement.

She offered me to walk with her and how could I refuse it?

 

We walked all over town.

And talking about how our lives were wretched and down.

She promised me an end to my disarray.

As she laid me down on a bushel of hay.

She told me I would be eternal, that no illness could deter.

I said that would be great, in my drunken stupor.

 

Just as I thought things were going well.

She bit my neck and my life went to utter hell.

Blood was seeping from my throat.

As loose blood spattered on the womans coat.

I felt the world spinning around me.

However when I woke up I felt heavenly.

 

I could jump like a rabbit and run like a panther.

However what I thought was my cure of death, turned out to be my cancer.

I required blood everyday to please my hungry appetite.

And if I wanted to live, I could not travel in sunlight.

I could not speak the lords name or touch a cross.

I was not much of a believer however and this was not much of a loss.

 

It has been 200 years since that fateful day.

And although it has its downsides, things have been pretty okay.

I have seen this world grow and grow.

As I watch from the sidelines in a secret place below.

I still suck human blood.

Just like any of my kind would.

 

You are probably wondering why I am telling you all this.

However the matter of fact is...

I do not know why I told you.

When you stumbled in that dark alleyway wondering what to do.

Maybe I did it as something you can remember me by.

Before I bite your neck and suck you dry.

[Yankee]

So...figured I'd keep the train going.

 

I kinda finished that song.

 

When it began, we held nothing but roses

Now we point our guns from seperate houses

Waiting for the other to fire, the beginning of the end

Fingers on the trigger. Who'll be the first to send?

 

I look away as I clutch, crying as I finally attack

Please forgive me, it's time to act

Memories flash by, our life so bright

My heart stops as I hit my sight.

 

It's begun, the ultimate battle.

All's fair in love and war.

Might we stop before the ground rattles?

I don't want to miss you anymore.

 

Another bomb drops, our hearts explode

Please tell me, how did our love erode?

The shells scatter, our dreams keep falling

It's over, I'm tired of crying

 

It's begin, the ultimate battle.

All's fair in love and war.

Might we stop before the ground rattles?

I don't want to miss you anymore.

 

Crying, panicing, hating

I want it all done!

Survival, revival, a new one

Yeah, that's what I'll become

Forget me, cuz soon I'll be gone

But until then, I'm still here...shouting

 

It's begun, the ultimate battle.

All's fair in love and war.

Might we stop before the ground rattles?

I don't want to miss you...

[Yang Xiao-Long]

Dead Man

 

I want to live again.

I want to see those colors;

I need to see your smile.

but life is so cruel, and all I can do

is wait. and wait. like the dead within their graves

as they await the silence of their forlorn eternity.

 

and so it comes to pass that I eagerly await the silence of a dead man’s grave;

the time of going, yet not.

For I was once told by the conspiracies of my inner ear

Of a little phrase from a jail not far from here:

 

You have to be dead in order to live in this Wonderland.

[Bassa]

It's great how you guys are still writing poems occasionally. xD

[Mehmani]

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rage at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

One of the best poems ever, without a doubt.

[Βyakuya]

So I've decided to make a limmerick,

Which really sucks like a brick.

I don't care if it doesn't make sense,

So I'll say this to my expense:

Eat a d**k.

[Mehmani]

Some more Thomas:

 

 

And death shall have no dominion.

Dead man naked they shall be one

With the man in the wind and the west moon;

When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,

They shall have stars at elbow and foot;

Though they go mad they shall be sane,

Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;

Though lovers be lost love shall not;

And death shall have no dominion.

 

And death shall have no dominion.

Under the windings of the sea

They lying long shall not die windily;

Twisting on racks when sinews give way,

Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;

Faith in their hands shall snap in two,

And the unicorn evils run them through;

Split all ends up they shan't crack;

And death shall have no dominion.

 

And death shall have no dominion.

No more may gulls cry at their ears

Or waves break loud on the seashores;

Where blew a flower may a flower no more

Lift its head to the blows of the rain;

Though they be mad and dead as nails,

Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;

Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,

And death shall have no dominion.

[Agro]

| things to always I seem bottle |.

 

Kudos to anyone who understands what I'm saying.

[Darth Revan of the Sith]

[spoiler=Crossroads]

In the end the crossroads are clear.

What can happen is a mystery.

Even though they are so near.

The choice's presented to us make us weary.

 

However, lift your head up high.

For no matter what choice you make.

Shall you falter? Nigh.

To push past those who hate.

 

See the future as if it was as clear as day.

See the past as if it were a lesson to be learned.

Be that as it may.

Use your time in the present as if it was earned.

 

For you have no time to waste.

No time to ponder.

For you must move post haste.

To your potential future over yonder.

 

 

[spoiler=I Am Different]

 

I walk the desolate trail.

Watching as people walk the other way.

They move on with the flow of things.

 

I am not that frail.

My choice is as clear as day.

I walk the other way from the pack and sing.

 

I sing the tunes of those who have done the same.

Of those who chose to Non-Conform.

Of those who weren't afraid of the oncoming storm of hate.

 

You can call what I do lame.

You can say I am corny.

However I feel this is fate.

 

I was meant to be who I am.

I was meant to walk the other path.

I was meant to be different.

 

And if you don't like that, well then damn.

I don't need to suffer your wrath.

It would be better if you decided to be a little more tolerant than irrelevant.

[spoiler=Battle of the Civil War]

The men stand at arms.

The rifles pointed towards heaven.

They stand firm against the fiery tide's of the Southern men.

They all stand in fear, awaiting the onslaught.

 

The land they fight for is their own land, against their own land.

However they do not fear.

For the flag of freedom and all its properties are what they hold dear.

To defend the freedom's of all of God's children.

 

As the Union flag is raised the call to charge is sounded.

The men gather their wits and charge forward.

Not thinking for a second the enemy they charge towards.

They think only of a reunited country, of new liberties and hope.

 

The charge goes on as shots ring the field.

The men fight against their brothers.

To the wide opened, tear stained eyes of their mothers.

Their blue coats stained with red, but their heart as pure as gold.

 

Civil War fought not by man and arms, but by ideals.

Sacrifice not of blood, but of liberty.

Glory not of how the battle was fought, but by how it was seen.

As a sense of duty, a defense against evil.

 

To free those who were not given the same is their goal.

To give freedom to them all across the nation.

As Abraham Lincoln himself signed the Emancipation Proclamation.

They fight and die not just for their country, but for their countries men.

 

[Suibon]

Oooooooooooh, poetry! Must. Go. Find. Doveglion.

 

I can no more hear Love's

Voice. No more moves

The mouth of her. Birds

No more sing. Words

I speak return lonely.

Flowers I pick turn ghostly.

Fire that I burn glows

Pale. No more blows

The wind. Time tells

No more truth. Bells

Ring no more in me.

I am all alone singly.

Lonely rests my head.

-- O my God! I am dead.

[AsianGuy1137]

ETERNAL MELODY

 

And that simple melody resonated...

 

A brief sound of awe

A cursory glimpse into the truth of truths

Upon which the world was paved

Upon which every becoming was only a shade

Of the canvas through which life took root

And shaved, and shaved, and waved

Until the burning ember faded away

Until the flash upon which foundations laid

Crumbled away in decay...

 

And that simple melody resonated...

 

And it shone so bright

Gave spark to a light

That wrought barren the land

In mortar fires and broken hands

Of generations ceased in an endless fight

And in one ceaseless moment made amends

And withered away in the rising height

Of days not yet seen by mortal sight...

 

And that simple melody elevated...

 

In between the rise and the fall

Between the Garden in which the seeds were sown

And the Towers of Babel that lay condoned

And the forsaken graves of valor calls

For sins never committed or atoned

Abandoned, engraved on the silent stone

With whisphers of a lost voice that once was known

But now no longer, no longer, on its own...

 

And that simple choir elevated...

 

And the voices of days of future past

Of futures lost on the eternal path

Of a child's cry, a woman's wrath

Of foundations of men that no longer last

And fade into the blast

Of shells and bodies cast

Lingering on a horizon unsurpassed...

 

And that simple choir fell silent.

Did it fall silent

Or did you finally hear?

[Bassa]

Nice poem. xD I'm back for a few minutes and thought I would check out my beloved YCM Poetry Corner...

[bury the year]

Decided to move this thread here from Literature.

[Iam Isthename]

My first poem (glad that I found it from my old notebooks):

 

You will never know,

the time when your life will end

that's why we have to enjoy every snow,

slowly falling from the sky...

 

We've been good friends for more than a year,

you already know my every secret...

but from my eyes, flowed a stream full of tears,

after knowing you don't love me yet

 

alas, I've never said it to you,

three words inside my heart...

a determined "I love you",

is nowhere to be found...

 

the last time our hands held,

we both turned away and cry..

"Are we really a good match?"

,is what I asked the sky

[Sondance]

[spoiler=Most recent work :3]
How does one top that?
How does one compete?
How can I reach the level?
To this day I do not think having thoughts to speak.
To this day I think about what you might say.
Person of interest passed by.
To this day I blame you for how I am.
LOUD and HATED for my ways.
To this day I blame me for why you left to young to know why.
To this day I thank you for leaving.
I love who I am Loud and Strange.
If things were different I wouldn't even have to question the name...title...Father...Dad...Giver of life.
To this day I know you as unworthy of my time.
To this Day I write about you and don't know why.
You have Been replaced this is no mistake. Father...Dad...Giver of life are only titles you can't live up to.
To this day I still feel the pain.
You loved them more with each day but in the end did the same.
To this day I thank you, I thank you for giving me a chance to have a life.
To this day I know pain, pain of rejection.
Do you even know my name?
Father...Dad...Giver of life don't even come close to the names I call you.

 

[NoshpalStefan]

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rage at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

 

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

 

One of the best poems ever, without a doubt.

 

I have to say that I agree. My literature teacher suggested it to me and it's been in my mind ever since.

 

Now, for a poem of my own:

 

I am the jester, the joker, the fool of life,

People sigh and with pointless tricks I chase after,

Before me they cry and I offer false laughter,

I murder people's evil with my joyful knife;

Men must not see me weep,

Women should not see me vile,

Children find pleasant comfort in my smile,

None are disgusted at the dignity that I do not keep.

But, the jester has darkness inside, be sure,

At night, I dance with shadows in a solemn manner,

With the aid of shadows, I show a smile so wanner,

So please, leave me be, for there is no cure.

I am not sunshine, I am not made of rainbow,

Yet, none can see beyond a man's shadow.

 

This is just my experimenting with the classical Petrarchan sonnet, the volta is somewhat obvious, and, though there is no real meter scheme, it does have (I think) a solid rhythm.

 

Hope people like it and if anyone wants, I can also post some of my work with Modernist poetry as well as Shakespearean sonnets and Villanelles.

 

P.S. Please refrain from the comments that I sound like a Literature professor, I know I do. :P

[The Warden]

Ode of, wait for it... HEART BREAKERS!

 

Do not quiver, do not flee;

You cannot escape from me.

My opinions, hot or cold;

Or those writ in glaring bold.

I will tear, I will maim;

Helping you is my aim.

I can see what you cannot;

Gaping holes in your plot.

 

Analysis is my grand design;

Though take a breath, you'll be fine.

I do not aim to kill;

Unless that be your will.

Through cruelty and intricacy,

I note what you can't see.

Hopelessness is not for you,

I'll do what I can do.

 

Though your heart might get broke;

Take it like a sturdy bloke.

I am cruel and obscene;

And sometimes I can be mean.

But know my will, and my mind;

They're the ones that bring the grind.

Now I'll end my stirling song;

New fics await, THE REVIEW GOES ON!

[L0SS]

Just watched Raging Bull, so I thought I would create a poem inspired by Jake LaMotta. 

 

Journeyman

Here I am, alone.  A cold mug of coffee in my hand, bitter to the taste.

 

I try to drown the sound of title shots and loud beat downs that echo through the fabric of my skull.

 

Here I am, in a café that never closes, sitting quietly in the darkness, listening to the sound of distant voices.

 

I think of all the guys who bet their hard earned dimes, time after time, on a dark horse.

 

I’m no raging bull, I’ve pulled a punch or two, but when the brutal bruises and jostling jabs hit home, they broke the flesh and bone like a bulldozer through stone.

 

As I drink the bitter drink, each sip colder than the last, the memories of my littered past come flooding back.

 

All the late night acts, the guys getting smashed or smacked, below the belt of decency and reason.

 

The down and outers, who, without a care, cling on the ropes of their sorry affairs.

 

The Palookas who are going nowhere.

 

This is it, my last haymaker. I’m kissing canvas. I’m punch-drunk.

 

But here, in my desperate slump, I carry on.

 

Day by day, they may walk over me, but I won’t throw in the towel so easily.

 

As I stare into the depths of my black coffee, all I can see is the sucker who was sucker punched, the guy I used to be.

 

Pound for pound, I was a clown, gloves too big, and a fancy dressing gown. 

 

It was inevitable that I would go down. 

[Mehmani]

I never thought that someone as self-aware and post-modern as myself would post contemptible teenage poetry on a bloody childrens' forum, but as we were tasked with writing a modern take on the sonnet form due to our studying Sonnet 116. So here is my modern butchery of iambic pentameter in all its glory.

 

Let me not talk of the East in such ways

That trivialize and pander to what

Moorish stereotypes might conjure to us.

I should not trifle in bland descriptions 

Echoed by those who have writ before me

Of desert flowers in the tropics, yet

I find myself trapped by simple beauty

And forced to describe, blandly, your dark eyes,

That open a world of foreign sands that

Roll beyond Hewler in clear desert skies

I am forced to play, for you, the great gat

Yet I remain as pleased and as free as

A bird, soaring on the Caspian, held down

But free of all the plans, targets and paths

I should take. And so, I murder the form

I try to write, and go over the lines

And rhymes I should revere, but for your flower

(It happens there, I deign to add!) nothing

Is sacred, everything is free. You speak,

My body speaks in sympathy. You smile, 

I can only hope to see that warm smile

Cast itself across your face again, it 

Lights up the room, the street, the desert heat.

Look, wherever we are you spread happiness.

Twee, yes, but so often the twee things in

Life are the ones that ring so true, for you

Cast stereotype asunder with but

A step, a swish of your dress. Let this be

An end to things. Leave a kiss within

The cup and I’ll drink gladly. There is no price.

 

 

It did get an A, if that means anything, but it's simply shit.

[L0SS]

J.R.R Tolkien (The Lord of the Rings)

 

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

 

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

[TigressAyura]

Yo Hi.

poetry is so fun, isnt it? heres a couple of mine, hope you like it. hopefully you dont find me too cheesy. i always find it easiest to write about writing lol

 

"An Ode to my pencil"

A poem by TigressAyura Copyright 2013.

 

It is sleek, but simple.

But with so much potential

In the right mind

And the right hands.

It matters not

If it is mechanical

Or wooden, or paper, even;

It works wonders.

Every little mark of graphite

Strives to proclaim

The possible, the impossible,

The finite and the beyond

And everything in between.

Even with no mouth

Its voice reaches out

And makes an impact

On those who hear its cry.

 

 

and here's another:

 

Sonnet – "Writer’s Magic"

By TigressAyura. Copyright 2013

 

I begin with a blank white page

Striving to give life to a world

Where I am the wizard, the mage

Making every detail unfurl.

My wand is merely my pencil,

And the landscape is just a sheet,

But I wish not to just stencil

Other’s ideas as my own feat.

With every stroke and every line

I tend to lose myself within,

Engrossed in every space and time

With my characters as my kin.

It is a writer’s great delight

To watch their own stories take flight.

[BlackRoseQueen]

Damn it. My phone refuses to post my poem vertically. I'll have to do it on the computer. I'll get that done ASAP so I don't just have a spammy post here.

[Proto]

One thing I must testify

It's likely that you're required to die.

Something evident in my mind's eye.

Bloody tears of rain you will cry.

Hide behind blinds and recline to find,

Yourself entwined without a spine.

My divine prime signs deem your kind.

Yet if I search deeply enough you're just blind.

Trust those who act as your seer.

Fear those that treat you dear.

Otherwise you'll be hunted like one.

Your soul dissected from you and cooked like a hot bun.

The ones who take their fun, have already won.

And you've been left burning in the sun.

This piece of writing is near done.

Yet I can't help ponder.

Why do I write here when I'm supposed to be in the wild green yonder?