POEMS post 'em here my friends!

Ripples into Waves

Ten months and one call
The phone ringing once
I can’t cry
My knees buckle and I fall
What is like to have
A best friend forever
A friend who wants to live
Who wants their forever to end tomorrow
Sometimes it’s anger
Sometimes is sadness
But those pills
All one hundred and fifty one
Should still be in
The medical cabinet
Not killing her
But it’s more than that
She lied about everything
Do best friends exist?
Do real friends ?
I’m not sure
I couldn’t even help her
Because I’m selfish
Focused on only me
But you cut
And in your wake
You left ripples turning into crashing waves
Beating up me
Beating up your little sister
Your parents cries haunt me
You lived
but I never saw you again

Deleted user

Ellie, are you okay…?

@hyunjins-eyemole

Yes. Maybe. No.

Deleted user

I'm PMing you, babe

Deleted user

December 01, 2019

What is it about your eyes that makes
A hundred butterflies in my chest take flight?
What is it about your laugh that shakes
Your whole body with such pure delight?

Why do my thoughts seem to short circuit
Whenever you say ‘hello’?
Why does it feel like it would be worth it
To follow wherever you go?

With all the things that don’t make sense
One thing is crystal clear.
You’ve broken through my every defense
Just by being near.

You could choose anyone you want
Whoever makes you happy
The years may pass and I still will not
Understand why you picked me.

@Leo-Valdez-Is-The-God-Of-Chaos

December 02, 2019

So this one isn't mine, but I really like it.

RUDYARD KIPLING
THE GODS OF THE COPYBOOK HEADINGS

As I pass through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

@hyunjins-eyemole

December 04, 2019

Tick
One second
One less moment until death
Tick
two seconds
I’m tired of trying my best
Tick
Three seconds
I’m never good enough
Tick
Four seconds
I’m done with acting tough

@Periwinkle_

It’s dark
Serene
The stars are full of life
Dancing
Winking at each other
Or are they winking at me?

@Periwinkle_

Tick
One second
One less moment until death
Tick
two seconds
I’m tired of trying my best
Tick
Three seconds
I’m never good enough
Tick
Four seconds
I’m done with acting tough

Is this like meant to sound like a song or is it just poetry? Bc I can imagine a good melody for this, it’s really good and flows really well

@that1_T0ad

I call this poem The Drum, and it's my favorite that I've written –

Ah, so you’ve made it
Comrade.
I’d worried you wouldn’t heed my call,
But here you are; I’m glad.

I requested your presence because—
Well—I need you.
I have a story to tell,
And only you to tell it to.

Oh—That noise? That’s nothing.
Something happened while I was travelling abroad;
In an old church, too,
That was quite… odd.

Oh—Oh, dear,
Are you all right?
You’ve turned quite pale.
It must be the cold, it’s quite frigid tonight.

No—I don’t hear it—
I don’t know what you mean.
A drumbeat, you say?
But I hear nothing.

Oh, by all means, please do,
But there are no demons in this house.
It’s possible,
But I have my doubts.

In that room?
My friend, what have you found?
Oh, yes, of course!
You found the source of the sound.

Go inside! Go inside!
Yes, I hear the Drumbeat
Yes, it’s always hummed like that
Always on that steady repeat

Silly you! It’s perfectly safe!
It’s a good place to meditate
A place to wipe clean your mind
Like chalk on slate

I’ll leave you be for a while
No, please, ease your mind
I’ll be watching over
It’s quite refreshing, you’ll find

Ha! Such a fool!
My trick has worked so well
Like everyone else
You’ll succumb to the Drumbeat’s spell

Don’t fight it, old friend
Let your mind fall into its steady hum
Hush now, all is quiet
All, except, for the beat of the Drum

@Leo-Valdez-Is-The-God-Of-Chaos

that is an interesting one

Deleted user

heloo, i havent posted on this thread before, but i recently uncovered a poem i wrote for school a year ago
so.. enjoy
'Verba Volant, Scripta Manent' - Latin for "Spoken words fly away, written words remain."

Venomous, If I may, the writer: I mirror, to your dismay.
Example; within our moral code, of what? I shall not say.
Rhetoricals fly, only the wind knows where it will carry.
Baptism of the soul! We’ll need more than a hail Mary.
And after all, the blood on hands will change to ink,

Vicarious scriptures. Blind to innuendo, virtuous, you think.
Omens of drowning, caught in the current of the ink sea. Our wings are tied, we gasp for air.
Longbows with arrow-pens, we are the hunter-cupids of despair.
Abstractions of emotions make us rivers spilled with gasoline.
Nothing could tear apart the meaning, (notably,) I speak of what lies in between.
Trance! Without an end, exhausting. Eyes wide and bloodshot of bordeaux.

Such passion is the light of truth - underneath the surface of our skin, surface below.
Craving of belonging, to what shall I call home? The pages is which I live in? Or otherwise?
Running ink and running away, your theories are my prize.
Infinity craved. Forever we are the divine, maybe dying deus ex machina.
Purpose filled, I crave. Thought on paper all an orchestra, world epiphenomena.
The afflictions of what we see as dying, I admire. Why else would you let flowers die?
After dreams of fiction, turn to insanity, on the horizon; we glorify.

My shadow tilts its head at me, moving in the dark, anxiety.
Assembly of our thoughts, no sobriety.
Nonsense is great smoke, clouding our page, I can’t see!
Everyone has left! Alexandria; burnt and fallen! Come with me!
Noxious fumes are filling my lungs! I must go back! Ignore the warnings of wise men.
Trouble comes; burning hands witness blood ink dripping from my desperate pen.

Deleted user

Oh my god…
Nikes, that's amazing…
~~Edgar Allen Poe vibes~~
~~And one look at my profile, plus the fact that I have an entire bulletin board of Edgar Allen Poe stuff, will tell you I fricking love Edgar Allen Poe~~

Deleted user

:) thaaaanks
i also did another poem based off of the structure of The Raven by Poe somewhere i think
i can try to find it if you like?

@hollow-boned