forum POEMS post 'em here my friends!

Started February 07, 2019 by @ember-chan-will-never-forget-you

tune

(I really like that. The imagery was awesome! Okay, this is a long poem, split into sections. But the overall poem does have a title. you can ask what it is, or guess.)

Mural

A picture sits painted on a wall.

A formerly white canvas.

The colours are eye-popping.

Beautiful.

It's a face, smiling, warm.

It's familiar, though it takes a while

to remember their name.

But like usual, you do.

---

Drying

The smell of the paint sinks in.

The air becomes toxic.

The reason why is unknown.

Nobody has a clue.

They don't like behind them

at the picture they painted.

Drying.

Drying.

Dried.

---

Chipping

Snowflakes flutter to the ground.

Their colours are vibrant,

but nobody sees them.

They only see them hit the ground.

They admire how beautiful the white is.

Then they look away,

and forget about it.

---

Whitewash

They look back at the wall where the painting stood.

Speckles of colour and grey-scale still there.

But they don't see it, it just blends in

with the white wall that stands to their front.

Wasn't something there?

The wall feels familiar,

and though it takes a while,

they can't seem to remember.

They grab a paintbrush,

and paint a new picture,

of black and white.

The paint begins to dry.

(You can ask me what it's about if you're curious. If not, that's okay too. :3)

This isn't my poem, just a short one I heard somewhere. just wanted to share it. :3

"Once there was a cat
Who swallowed a ball of yarn.
And when the cat had kittens,
They all had sweaters on."

a very quick thing inspired by a few memories of sleeping and waking

^^^^^ This is the good stuff, right here. ^^^^^

^^^^^ This is the good stuff, right here. ^^^^^

ohh thank you :)

WOW

finally got around to re-writing this one in a way i like better >:)) also frances's poem was amazing i am obsessed with the surreal, skipping-around tone and the contrast between beautiful and nostalgic concepts and harsher narration (coughing, burning plastic, guilt)

HhHHhhhHhhHHhHhH wwowoowowowwowoowwowow

ah thank u

@darling-velocipede I'm not sure which version I like better, but this re-write holds more clarity of voice and imagery, I think. Either way, awesome work as always! ^^

also frances's poem was amazing i am obsessed with the surreal, skipping-around tone and the contrast between beautiful and nostalgic concepts and harsher narration (coughing, burning plastic, guilt)

I'm starved for feedback and your poems always baffle me with their imagery— so !!! thank you :')

(Whelp, all of y'all are amazing poets. So don't mind me while I wait a whole three days to finally get some confidence and post mine. Like, y'all are really good with imagery, so props.)

(ahaha post away! Don't be shy! I'm sure your poems are great XD That said, I'm also kinda struggling to make myself post something lol)

(P)reincarnation

Alexander the Great slew me on the battlefield.

He threw his lance, lashed with his sword, and spilled my blood, all whirling gold cloth and scarlet feather plumes as he

swept by in his screaming chariot.

I turned, the world slowed to make room for me. In that moment, I knew many things.

Surprised by my own death, I

stilled in the mad ocean storm of

bodies–

"You killed me," I whispered through cracked lips

and "But you're just a boy, really."

And he was. His eyes white with fear, white as the eyes of his ghost-touched, demon-stroked horse. I fell in love with the both of them–a mother's love–and the charioteers, and the hate-sick infantrymen, and the corpses under my knees. I opened my arms to embrace them and to tell them it was time to rest.

But the dear king had already rushed into the crashing waves of arrow and shield. Time

no longer cradled me in its palm.

My embrace was instead

met and filled

with the dusty folds of death's cloak.

(Okay here, now I go die in a hole.)

I'm wandering, stuck with an angel's wings.
Wings that are unwilling to fly due to how many times they've seen the ground;
they've grown attached to the soil.

And I walk along the dirt-paved roads, straw hat held on my shoulders
by a string; it's wearing thin. Waiting to snap. But even still, I keep it on
as a thank you to the one who needs it.

I look up to the sky, the clouds drift bye and smile.
They whisper wishes of 'see you soon' and 'I'll be waiting' even though
we all know it will likely never be true.

Bandages hide the shackles that bind me,
a limb blocks the lights that blind me; I sleep within the arms of trees.
They hold me tight, despite all the foul I've done. Like a forgiving mother

They give me solace, even within this martyring hollowness.
They love me so; I love them more than they know.
I'll get to them one day, and I'll get to meet you too.

Just wait for me. I promise you'll see me one day. Past the cloudy skies I will drift and reign, no matter the costs; ready or not. It could take me 800 years or just one a day, but I'll break the glassy sky above me. I will see the heavens again, I will fly again, I will see you again. With or without God's blessing.

(This is so embarrassing agggghhhh)