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mutantdevle

Moderation Team

From: Hell

Joined: 2015-03-31

Posts: 3,848

Website

A collection of poems.

Howdy. Something you may not know about me is that I like to write poetry (don't judge me). Sometimes because I'm bored, sometimes because I'm sad and sometimes because I just feel like it. Well anyway, I've never really shared much of my poetry before. So I've decided to share some here. At the end of each month, I will post 1 of my poems in this thread. These poems will range in complexity with some being more poetic than others. Read them, analyse them, ignore them, post your own, I don't really care what you do I just feel like posting them. So here is my archive of poems that I will be posting once per month for as long as I remain on EE. whenever I feel like it.

▼October 2017 - What Scares You?

Is it that frightful green gloop monster
That resides beneath your bed?
Or is it the carnivorous spider
That's crawling on your head?

Is it the one thousand meter height
From which any second you may fall?
Or is it the man that yields the scythe
That promises to kill us all?

Maybe it's the clown's red balloon
That is waiting to go pop?
Or perhaps it's the vicious werewolf
That will eat you from bottom to the top?

What about that vampire
Who's coming to suck your blood?
Or what about the undead
Rising from the mud?

Would you be scared if you saw a ghost
Flying through your floor?
And would you go to investigate
If you heard knocking at your door?

What is it that sends chills down your spine?
What horror most scares you?
Or is it best left not described?
Because it probably scares me too.

Audio version:  https://vocaroo.com/i/s1nv1JAiP3UY
- Thanks to Emma333 for making this

▼Information

This is a poem I wrote mid-October 2016. I wrote it as part of a poetry section for an unofficial newsletter for another community I was a part of. I soon quit writing for the newsletter when I realised it basically consisted of people only just submitting their articles just before the deadline, followed by the writers patting themselves on the back in the comments for the newsletter as we were literally the only ones reading it. The target audience of this poem is people between the ages 8-14.

▼November 2017 - The Cloaked Man

As an unfriendly object pierces the skin of man,
Minds flake, hearts ache
And lives grope as the cloaked
Pulls them into the trash can.
The mothers weep as their children cry
Out in pain, for the cloaked man's gain,
As yet more guests drop down and die.
The cowardly command cater "fight on" to the sight of a foe,
This serves "the war effort" and waiters a lot more than they know.

Enemy, ally, awake in the black dressed night,
They listen to his silence neither really wanting to fight.
He watches from the oceans,
He watches from the sands,
He watches from the trees whilst they give him a helping hand.
His silence retreats as machine guns break
Formations of men and the hearts at stake.
Gunfire blazes, shells soar,
He screams in delight begging for more gore.

Once wonderful weapon, now normal in sight,
Some seek relief as they reach towards the light.
Only after seeing his purpose and plan with their blown out eyes,
Can those who watch on begin to realise;
We fight for our countries dressed rather smartly,
For we are all only guests

To the cloaked man's party.

▼Information

This is my oldest poem. I first wrote this poem all the way back in 2014 in an English lesson where we had to write a WW1 poem. I have re-written and re-structured the poem a lot since then but the original thing is still there. Generally speaking, 2 full lines that rhyme with each other means that they are probably from the original poem. An example of a removed line is that originally the line "The mothers weep as their children cry" rhymed with something similar to "why did little Tommy sign up to die?". This is by far my most technical poem by professional poetic standards.

▼December 2017 - In My Dreams

In my dreams I have a son, age of which is three.
In my dreams I have a daughter, and with my wife, family makes up me.

In my dreams we are playing chase and pretending we have guns.
In my dreams we have a laugh, share stories and tell puns.

In my dreams we love to sing, silly voices fill the air.
In my dreams we watch TV, kids on my lap, in my chair.

In my dreams we eat good meals, tasty and very scrum.
In my dreams we get ice cream, we all go om nom nom nom nom.

In my dreams we go to sleep and snuggle up in the warm.
In my dreams we solve puzzles, paint pictures and brainstorm.

In my dreams we are happy, living our life day by day.
In my dreams we enjoy ourselves and don't care what others say.

In my dreams we run at winter, through the soft white snow.
In my dreams we build forts and watch all the Christmas lights glow.

In my dreams we like to relax and go swimming at the beach.
In my dreams we learn to share, everybody gets one each.

In my dreams we go to school the kids enjoy it and do well.
In my dreams we make cupcakes, boy how nice they smell!

In my dreams we love to dance - twirl, hop, jump, skip, whoosh.
In my dreams we sing nursery rhymes and go round the mulberry bush.

In my dreams we have a big house and bedrooms of our own.
In my dreams we are princesses and each get a golden throne.

In my dreams we love everyone as well as one another.
In my dreams we are the perfect family. Son, daughter, father, mother.

In my nightmares, there is no family, only a lonely empty chair.
In my nightmares, there are no voices, only suffering that fills the air.

In my nightmares, they are gone, there is no laughter, I eat no scrumptious meals.
In my nightmares, I don't entertain, I'm not a father - no such thing as children's happy squeals.

In my nightmares, my dreams are no more, only sleep, and the cries of a crow.
In my nightmares, they no longer are my world, for it was taken long ago.

▼Information

Christmas and New Years is very much a time for family, so I felt now was the time for my poem that revolves around that. This is my longest poem and, as of the moment I posted this, it is my most emotive. I still sometimes get a small chill down my spine whilst rereading it despite knowing what's coming next, so I hope you felt something too. I also relate to this poem. Becoming a father is something that means a lot to me. This poem was inspired by a thought I had randomly of chasing my fictional daughter through a hole at a soft play centre (the things with all the climbing and the slides and ball pits). Whilst pretending we had guns and shooting at each other. It was a very happy thought and I decided to write a poem about it. Originally, the poem ended at "In my dreams we enjoy ourselves and don't care what others say." But then I was rereading my poem when I was sad and decided to add to it. In that moment, the meaning of this poem changed from a simple happy poem about fatherhood to something a lot more impactful; especially to me on a personal level. Mental health is something that I often struggle with and suicidal thoughts pop into my mind every now and then. But I believe that there is always hope and the prospect of being a dad one day is something that keeps me going and makes life worth it.

▼January 2018 - It's Not Love

My heart is beating so fast and I’m falling so far
That at some point you have to wonder
How can someone fall so far and heart beat so much
If not for love?

I woke up this morning thinking I was ready and so strong
To face the world and all it throws;
Lacking muscle is not what makes me weak
It’s how I feel

On the inside, is nothing of any interest
Not even to myself which I hate
So how can I love anything or anyone if
I don’t love myself?

Love is not a goal or a cure but rather
It would be a second curse for those who’d have to endure it
By my side or from afar but either way
I want no one else to suffer

These thoughts and feelings that I experience
Have no cause and have no cure
So I’m just beating and falling and asking
When will it stop?

▼Information

2018 is off to a bad start for me as a couple of days ago marked the end of a 3 month long emotional struggle that I had been experiencing. And the end isn't a good thing, it ended it the worst way possible and I've lost my closest friend over it. This poem describes a little bit of how I felt over the incident that happened 3 months ago when I wrote this poem. The statement that 'It's not love' kinda describes how I felt towards my friend in that I cared about them on a really strong and deep level but my feelings had nothing to do with love, at least, not in a romantic way. So since my friend is now gone from my life and I've hit an all-time low I thought why not post my poem about how I felt when the 3 lowest months of my life started.

▼February 2018 - The Day Of Love

Kisses blow throughout the wind
Landing significantly on others cheeks,
Romance lights the candles of love,
A lover that one seeks.

Passion flows through pure hearts
Seeking fantasised desires,
A diamond ring and promising
Of love that never tires.

Newfound love and old found new
Of gifts and cards and joy,
Many conceive the gift of life
For an August girl or boy.

And there's roses by the dozen,
That litter the pathway,
Once a year we celebrate,
All our love in just one day.

The couples cuddling clinging,
Enjoying nothing but each other,
Happy healthy relationships
The lips they shall soon smother.

Lest we forget those single,
Craving a deep sweet love,
Dreading the sadness of loneliness
They just need a supportive shove.

As the message of Saint Valentines
Was love not partnership,
To enjoy this annual special day
You need no romantic trip.

For where roses may be red,
And where violets may be blue,
This uplifting pretty day
Is about loving yourself too.

▼Information

I wrote this poem on the night before Valentine's day for my facebook group chat with a few of my friends. Pretty much all of my friends are single (well, they all are now) including myself. They would often beat themselves up about being single on Valentine's day (as do many people) so I decided to write this poem for them all to try and lift their spirits up a bit. It didn't work. Most of them didn't even read it and just commented on how they don't like poems :/ So this poem has had the least time put into it out of all of them I've written and I think that shows. But, for what it is, I think it's decent.

▼March 2018 - Coach Trip

We approached the city of London.

Journeying to see a political play.

I hate the material that the seats are made from.

They make me feel sick, nauseous and grey.

Someone nearby says they'd like to live in London.

"For the experience that the capital offers."

Another jokes about the high crime rate.

And another just pigs and scoffers.

Late, we arrive at our destination.

To recap what's false and what's true.

The moral of the story? Look out for others.

As your actions affect them too.

We leave the theatre and I am hit full force by the cold.

But everyone is happy and far from miserable.

I put on my jacket; look out into the distance.

And I see a man who is invisible.

No one else seems to see him.

They don't look, not even a glance.

No one seems to even want to acknowledge him.

They're all stuck in their perfect world trance.

We get back in our coach, now warm.

We quench our thirst and feed our hunger.

I take my last look at the invisible man.

He looks 45 but likely much younger.

The coach is moving, we are on our way home.

People notice the architecture of the tall towering structures.

They notice the lights illuminating from obscure places.

They notice everything but the fractures.

I notice more and more invisible people.

Most sleeping in their battle against the cold.

One lies stationary in their sleeping body bag.

Sleeping in a wound of pain that we refuse to wold.

As we turn the corner away from the theatre.

The guarded gates to the infamous Downing Street.

Look out and ignore the invisible.

As if they mock their struggle to eat.

Back on the coach, everyone is recounting the joys of their luxurious lives.

But I am too busy thinking about how to help those under the invisible trick.

They just lie there as a part of the littered street, with no home to take a coach back to.

Sitting in my seat, in the warmth of the coach, it no longer makes me feel nauseous or sick.

▼Information

This peom is essentially entirely true. During November 2016, I went with my school on a trip to London to watch the play 'An Inspector Calls' as part of English revision as we were studying the play for our English liturature GCSE. This poem is about what I observed on the trip, how I felt, and what I remembered about the trip. When I got home, it was midnight, and that's when I wrote this poem. I always hated the seat materials of things on coaches but it genuinly didn't effect me after I had noticed people walking past other's who were homeless whilst purposely not looking in their general direction. When we got back on the coach, most people were talking about the play or about how beutiful London was at night. I just sat in silence looking out the window though at the homeless people. One person was fully wrapped up in their sleeping bag so that it covered their face so it really did look like there were in a body bag and another person was laying next to trash bags that were on the street to try and keep warm. A few of these people were literally around the corner from downing street (where Britain's prime minister lives). My experiance of the trip was a lot different from everyone elses and I guess that just shows how I have a different outlook on life.

▼April 2018 - Sin

If God is real then I’m not going to heaven,
For I live and commit to one sin of the seven.
But I love and not lust for those I desire,
And that’s still a sin by the words of my higher.

I try to believe in the lord up above,
To hear his son’s preachings of wisdom and love.
But if the message he spreads is supposed to be true
Then why can I not love those I want to?

The priests say I’m born sick and in need of a cure.
That what I love and I seek is a sin and impure.
I’m a reject of the church but I still want to pray
To forgive the sins of I and who next to I lay.

I refuse to believe that my love can be wrong,
Despite what they say in their hymns and their song.
The words of the bible state I am to be dead
For my actions of love put my blood on my head.

I’m told to repent and confess that I sin,
To abandon the pleasure and touch of man’s skin.
But so what if I sin? I still want to be holy,
Hell embraces me now as heaven does slowly.

So forgive me my lord but I cannot change,
To follow that path feels unnatural and strange.
I’m down on my knees doing all that I can,
But I’m still going to hell for loving

amen.

▼Infortmation

This poem was inspired by the song "Take Me To Church" by Hozier. It was created out of thinking about my attitude towards religion and sexuality even though I don't necessarily relate to what I've written in this poem. Personally, I've never really sought acceptance or validation from religion and, despite appreciating some of their values, I don't think I ever will. Also, I've never actually had any direct discrimination over my sexuality; that may just be because I've only recently been open about it though. Of course, I do frequently hear homophobic language being used, whether that be a simple misuse of the word gay or a hostile use of the word ****. I've also had clearly homophobic friends. It's never bothered me though. This doesn't mean I've never faced difficulties over it, however. I partially blame my sexuality for why I'm so awkward around everyone irl and it often feels like a whole other side of me that I have to keep secret from my family due to their views of it. But in a wider view of things, I do think I'm quite lucky in my own experiences and I wouldn't ever want to change this part of me.

Shout-out poems (poems I like that other's have posted in the thread):

Pingohits

---

mutantdevle

Moderation Team

From: Hell

Joined: 2015-03-31

Posts: 3,848

Website

Re: A collection of poems.

October 2017: What scares you?

Is it that frightful green gloop monster
That resides beneath your bed?
Or is it the carnivorous spider
That's crawling on your head?

Is it the one thousand meter height
From which any second you may fall?
Or is it the man that yields the scythe
That promises to kill us all?

Maybe it's the clown's red balloon
That is waiting to go pop?
Or perhaps it's the vicious werewolf
That will eat you from bottom to the top?

What about that vampire
Who's coming to suck your blood?
Or what about the undead
Rising from the mud?

Would you be scared if you saw a ghost
Flying through your floor?
And would you go to investigate
If you heard knocking at your door?

What is it that sends chills down your spine?
What horror most scares you?
Or is it best left not described?
Because it probably scares me too.

▼Information

This is a poem I wrote mid-October 2016. I wrote it as part of a poetry section for an unofficial newsletter for another community I was a part of. I soon quit writing for the newsletter when I realised it basically consisted of people only just submitting their articles just before the deadline, followed by the writers patting themselves on the back in the comments for the newsletter as we were literally the only ones reading it. The target audience of this poem is people between the ages 8-14.

---

N1KF

Wiki Mod

From: ဪဪဪဪဪ From: ဪဪဪဪဪ From: ဪဪဪဪဪ

Joined: 2015-02-15

Posts: 11,115

Website

Re: A collection of poems.

I feel like the rhythm of your poem is a bit off. I tried to read it with rhythm in my head, but it kept just going off-beat. Aside from rhyming, much of the catchiness in poetry comes from the smooth pace at which a poem is read. Think of it like writing song lyrics, but without the music.

mutantdevle

Moderation Team

From: Hell

Joined: 2015-03-31

Posts: 3,848

Website

Re: A collection of poems.

I feel like the rhythm of your poem is a bit off. I tried to read it with rhythm in my head, but it kept just going off-beat. Aside from rhyming, much of the catchiness in poetry comes from the smooth pace at which a poem is read. Think of it like writing song lyrics, but without the music.

When the line doesn’t end with punctuation you continue to read the line it runs on to as if they are both 1 sentence right? Because other than the 3rd stanza, in my opinion, the peom flows quite well as the structure is consistent. (The final stanza is of course different as it consists of 4 sentences rather than 2).

Not all of my future poems will rhyme but the majority do.

---

N1KF

Wiki Mod

From: ဪဪဪဪဪ From: ဪဪဪဪဪ From: ဪဪဪဪဪ

Joined: 2015-02-15

Posts: 11,115

Website

Re: A collection of poems.

When the line doesn’t end with punctuation you continue to read the line it runs on to as if they are both 1 sentence right?

Er...perhaps I should try that next time.

Emma333

Member

From: The Netherlands

Joined: 2015-04-16

Posts: 589

Re: A collection of poems.

i recorded your poem because i like telling poems (prepare for bad sound quality) https://vocaroo.com/i/s1nv1JAiP3UY

---

Pm me with anything math related please

mutantdevle

Moderation Team

From: Hell

Joined: 2015-03-31

Posts: 3,848

Website

Re: A collection of poems.

i recorded your poem because i like telling poems (prepare for bad sound quality) https://vocaroo.com/i/s1nv1JAiP3UY

Omg I love it! It means a lot that you would even go through the effort to do that <3

---

iPwner

Member

From: CaliforNYAN Land.

Joined: 2015-02-15

Posts: 1,514

Website

Re: A collection of poems.

"AGNOSTICSUM CORDATTA" - A Slam https://vocaroo.com/i/s0hG5V1QZo2e Poem https://vocaroo.com/i/s08UsxYmY3os - sung by an anonymous christian singer by my request (no joke mother woke!)

Sing it at home, it's just plain, JIFF spread fun for the whole family! Just don't sing it too often around your mother or that might pepper her petunias. Have fun kidZ! Z;>*

LYRICS: "Squeeze a turd~
out my
tightened a-nooooooooooose.

Pull the loose string cORD
&
!HARK! !DRUMROLL!
Boy have you got a sweet toot       h.
"

Feedback? Inquisitions? Questions? Answers?

; _ { }

---

ssAARASAAAAAAAAA  iAAAAAAAAAAAAA OU yaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAA YAAAaa YAAaah; yaayaayaa, yayayaya-ya-ya YAAA YAAAYA; YAYAYA YAAHAYAhAAAAAAAAAA 

EPIOOOOOUUUUUUuuuuuu   IUO0O0oooooooooooppi

;3 0>o ~X_x~ <~(^V^)~> (); ;B ;~; *~<:',',',',',{ Q=(*@`)Q

Im A ®a®ity ®

mutantdevle

Moderation Team

From: Hell

Joined: 2015-03-31

Posts: 3,848

Website

Re: A collection of poems.

November 2017 - The Cloaked Man

As an unfriendly object pierces the skin of man,
Minds flake, hearts ache
And lives grope as the cloaked
Pulls them into the trash can.
The mothers weep as their children cry
Out in pain, for the cloaked man's gain,
As yet more guests drop down and die.
The cowardly command cater "fight on" to the sight of a foe,
This serves "the war effort" and waiters a lot more than they know.

Enemy, ally, awake in the black dressed night,
They listen to his silence neither really wanting to fight.
He watches from the oceans,
He watches from the sands,
He watches from the trees whilst they give him a helping hand.
His silence retreats as machine guns break
Formations of men and the hearts at stake.
Gunfire blazes, shells soar,
He screams in delight begging for more gore.

Once wonderful weapon, now normal in sight,
Some seek relief as they reach towards the light.
Only after seeing his purpose and plan with their blown out eyes,
Can those who watch on begin to realise;
We fight for our countries dressed rather smartly,
For we are all only guests

To the cloaked man's party.

▼Information

This is my oldest poem. I first wrote this poem all the way back in 2014 in an English lesson where we had to write a WW1 poem. I have re-written and re-structured the poem a lot since then but the original thing is still there. Generally speaking, 2 full lines that rhyme with each other means that they are probably from the original poem. An example of a removed line is that originally the line "The mothers weep as their children cry" rhymed with something similar to "why did little Tommy sign up to die?". This is by far my most technical poem by professional poetic standards.

---

Pingohits

Banned

From: aids lizard

Joined: 2015-02-15

Posts: 7,591

Re: A collection of poems.

i suggest you take a stab at meter

you could be writing jumbled garbage, but if it sounds good, people will like it

▼example

I think I think I used to think,
But now I think no more -
The thoughts I always thought I thought,
I thought, I think, before.
And now, I think, I think a thought
Infrequently, and so -
The rarer thoughts I think I think
Are lesser thought, you know?
So shed the thoughts you think you think,
And when your thoughts have shrunk -
You'll see the thoughts you thought you thought
Are better thought unthunk.
Context

---

HeyNK

Member

Joined: 2017-04-07

Posts: 1,318

Re: A collection of poems.

da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM

seconding this, meter is sick.

da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM

Anatoly

Guest

Re: A collection of poems.

@N!KF

Scare
Your rhymes are very, very good,
fitting their theme with scary blood!

I didn't read it now.
Didn't yet.
But reading rhymes very loud,
is very, very, very sad.

Not my topic, not my place,
I'm sure you look into my face!

Scary, scary, scary view!
When you look at the scary scare.
Possible rhyme is: long-time due.
When you actually have time to dare.

A killed kid,
killed from you,
Hit alive "Follow!, Sit!"
And his blood taken, too.

You're a hated vampire,
in the vampire empire!

Hey I should start a collection of it,
And I hope that my rhytm will fit.

mutantdevle

Moderation Team

From: Hell

Joined: 2015-03-31

Posts: 3,848

Website

Re: A collection of poems.

(I'm not an hour and a half late, what are you talking about? I mean, it's probably still the 31st December 2017 somewhere in the world, right?)

December 2017 - In My Dreams

In my dreams I have a son, age of which is three.
In my dreams I have a daughter, and with my wife, family makes up me.

In my dreams we are playing chase and pretending we have guns.
In my dreams we have a laugh, share stories and tell puns.

In my dreams we love to sing, silly voices fill the air.
In my dreams we watch TV, kids on my lap, in my chair.

In my dreams we eat good meals, tasty and very scrum.
In my dreams we get ice cream, we all go om nom nom nom nom.

In my dreams we go to sleep and snuggle up in the warm.
In my dreams we solve puzzles, paint pictures and brainstorm.

In my dreams we are happy, living our life day by day.
In my dreams we enjoy ourselves and don't care what others say.

In my dreams we run at winter, through the soft white snow.
In my dreams we build forts and watch all the Christmas lights glow.

In my dreams we like to relax and go swimming at the beach.
In my dreams we learn to share, everybody gets one each.

In my dreams we go to school the kids enjoy it and do well.
In my dreams we make cupcakes, boy how nice they smell!

In my dreams we love to dance - twirl, hop, jump, skip, whoosh.
In my dreams we sing nursery rhymes and go round the mulberry bush.

In my dreams we have a big house and bedrooms of our own.
In my dreams we are princesses and each get a golden throne.

In my dreams we love everyone as well as one another.
In my dreams we are the perfect family. Son, daughter, father, mother.

In my nightmares, there is no family, only a lonely empty chair.
In my nightmares, there are no voices, only suffering that fills the air.

In my nightmares, they are gone, there is no laughter, I eat no scrumptious meals.
In my nightmares, I don't entertain, I'm not a father - no such thing as children's happy squeals.

In my nightmares, my dreams are no more, only sleep, and the cries of a crow.
In my nightmares, they no longer are my world, for it was taken long ago.

▼Information

Christmas and New Years is very much a time for family, so I felt now was the time for my poem that revolves around that. This is my longest poem and, as of the moment I posted this, it is my most emotive. I still sometimes get a small chill down my spine whilst rereading it despite knowing what's coming next, so I hope you felt something too. I also relate to this poem. Becoming a father is something that means a lot to me. This poem was inspired by a thought I had randomly of chasing my fictional daughter through a hole at a soft play centre (the things with all the climbing and the slides and ball pits). Whilst pretending we had guns and shooting at each other. It was a very happy thought and I decided to write a poem about it. Originally, the poem ended at "In my dreams we enjoy ourselves and don't care what others say." But then I was rereading my poem when I was sad and decided to add to it. In that moment, the meaning of this poem changed from a simple happy poem about fatherhood to something a lot more impactful; especially to me on a personal level. Mental health is something that I often struggle with and suicidal thoughts pop into my mind every now and then. But I believe that there is always hope and the prospect of being a dad one day is something that keeps me going and makes life worth it.

---

mutantdevle

Moderation Team

From: Hell

Joined: 2015-03-31

Posts: 3,848

Website

Re: A collection of poems.

January 2018 - It's not love

My heart is beating so fast and I’m falling so far
That at some point you have to wonder
How can someone fall so far and heart beat so much
If not for love?

I woke up this morning thinking I was ready and so strong
To face the world and all it throws;
Lacking muscle is not what makes me weak
It’s how I feel

On the inside, is nothing of any interest
Not even to myself which I hate
So how can I love anything or anyone if
I don’t love myself?

Love is not a goal or a cure but rather
It would be a second curse for those who’d have to endure it
By my side or from afar but either way
I want no one else to suffer

These thoughts and feelings that I experience
Have no cause and have no cure
So I’m just beating and falling and asking
When will it stop?

▼Information

2018 is off to a bad start for me as a couple of days ago marked the end of a 3 month long emotional struggle that I had been experiencing. And the end isn't a good thing, it ended it the worst way possible and I've lost my closest friend over it. This poem describes a little bit of how I felt over the incident that happened 3 months ago when I wrote this poem. The statement that 'It's not love' kinda describes how I felt towards my friend in that I cared about them on a really strong and deep level but my feelings had nothing to do with love, at least, not in a romantic way. So since my friend is now gone from my life and I've hit an all-time low I thought why not post my poem about how I felt when the 3 lowest months of my life started.

---

Bimps

Member

Joined: 2015-02-08

Posts: 5,067

Re: A collection of poems.

January 2018 - It's not love

My heart is beating so fast and I’m falling so far
That at some point you have to wonder
How can someone fall so far and heart beat so much
If not for love?

I woke up this morning thinking I was ready and so strong
To face the world and all it throws;
Lacking muscle is not what makes me weak
It’s how I feel

On the inside, is nothing of any interest
Not even to myself which I hate
So how can I love anything or anyone if
I don’t love myself?

Love is not a goal or a cure but rather
It would be a second curse for those who’d have to endure it
By my side or from afar but either way
I want no one else to suffer

These thoughts and feelings that I experience
Have no cause and have no cure
So I’m just beating and falling and asking
When will it stop?

▼Information

2018 is off to a bad start for me as a couple of days ago marked the end of a 3 month long emotional struggle that I had been experiencing. And the end isn't a good thing, it ended it the worst way possible and I've lost my closest friend over it. This poem describes a little bit of how I felt over the incident that happened 3 months ago when I wrote this poem. The statement that 'It's not love' kinda describes how I felt towards my friend in that I cared about them on a really strong and deep level but my feelings had nothing to do with love, at least, not in a romantic way. So since my friend is now gone from my life and I've hit an all-time low I thought why not post my poem about how I felt when the 3 lowest months of my life started.

this reminds me of ddlc

mutantdevle

Moderation Team

From: Hell

Joined: 2015-03-31

Posts: 3,848

Website

Re: A collection of poems.

February 2018 - The Day Of Love

Kisses blow throughout the wind
Landing significantly on others cheeks,
Romance lights the candles of love,
A lover that one seeks.

Passion flows through pure hearts
Seeking fantasised desires,
A diamond ring and promising
Of love that never tires.

Newfound love and old found new
Of gifts and cards and joy,
Many conceive the gift of life
For an August girl or boy.

And there's roses by the dozen,
That litter the pathway,
Once a year we celebrate,
All our love in just one day.

The couples cuddling clinging,
Enjoying nothing but each other,
Happy healthy relationships
The lips they shall soon smother.

Lest we forget those single,
Craving a deep sweet love,
Dreading the sadness of loneliness
They just need a supportive shove.

As the message of Saint Valentines
Was love not partnership,
To enjoy this annual special day
You need no romantic trip.

For where roses may be red,
And where violets may be blue,
This uplifting pretty day
Is about loving yourself too.

▼Information

I wrote this poem on the night before Valentine's day for my facebook group chat with a few of my friends. Pretty much all of my friends are single (well, they all are now) including myself. They would often beat themselves up about being single on Valentine's day (as do many people) so I decided to write this poem for them all to try and lift their spirits up a bit. It didn't work. Most of them didn't even read it and just commented on how they don't like poems :/ So this poem has had the least time put into it out of all of them I've written and I think that shows. But, for what it is, I think it's decent.

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mutantdevle

Moderation Team

From: Hell

Joined: 2015-03-31

Posts: 3,848

Website

Re: A collection of poems.

(This is posted a day late because I had a headache all day yesterday )

March 2018 - Coach Trip

We approached the city of London.

Journeying to see a political play.

I hate the material that the seats are made from.

They make me feel sick, nauseous and grey.

Someone nearby says they'd like to live in London.

"For the experience that the capital offers."

Another jokes about the high crime rate.

And another just pigs and scoffers.

Late, we arrive at our destination.

To recap what's false and what's true.

The moral of the story? Look out for others.

As your actions affect them too.

We leave the theatre and I am hit full force by the cold.

But everyone is happy and far from miserable.

I put on my jacket; look out into the distance.

And I see a man who is invisible.

No one else seems to see him.

They don't look, not even a glance.

No one seems to even want to acknowledge him.

They're all stuck in their perfect world trance.

We get back in our coach, now warm.

We quench our thirst and feed our hunger.

I take my last look at the invisible man.

He looks 45 but likely much younger.

The coach is moving, we are on our way home.

People notice the architecture of the tall towering structures.

They notice the lights illuminating from obscure places.

They notice everything but the fractures.

I notice more and more invisible people.

Most sleeping in their battle against the cold.

One lies stationary in their sleeping body bag.

Sleeping in a wound of pain that we refuse to wold.

As we turn the corner away from the theatre.

The guarded gates to the infamous Downing Street.

Look out and ignore the invisible.

As if they mock their struggle to eat.

Back on the coach, everyone is recounting the joys of their luxurious lives.

But I am too busy thinking about how to help those under the invisible trick.

They just lie there as a part of the littered street, with no home to take a coach back to.

Sitting in my seat, in the warmth of the coach, it no longer makes me feel nauseous or sick.

▼Information

This peom is essentially entirely true. During November 2016, I went with my school on a trip to London to watch the play 'An Inspector Calls' as part of English revision as we were studying the play for our English liturature GCSE. This poem is about what I observed on the trip, how I felt, and what I remembered about the trip. When I got home, it was midnight, and that's when I wrote this poem. I always hated the seat materials of things on coaches but it genuinly didn't effect me after I had noticed people walking past other's who were homeless whilst purposely not looking in their general direction. When we got back on the coach, most people were talking about the play or about how beutiful London was at night. I just sat in silence looking out the window though at the homeless people. One person was fully wrapped up in their sleeping bag so that it covered their face so it really did look like there were in a body bag and another person was laying next to trash bags that were on the street to try and keep warm. A few of these people were literally around the corner from downing street (where Britain's prime minister lives). My experiance of the trip was a lot different from everyone elses and I guess that just shows how I have a different outlook on life.

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mutantdevle

Moderation Team

From: Hell

Joined: 2015-03-31

Posts: 3,848

Website

Re: A collection of poems.

April 2018 - Sin

If God is real then I’m not going to heaven,
For I live and commit to one sin of the seven.
But I love and not lust for those I desire,
And that’s still a sin by the words of my higher.

I try to believe in the lord up above,
To hear his son’s preachings of wisdom and love.
But if the message he spreads is supposed to be true
Then why can I not love those I want to?

The priests say I’m born sick and in need of a cure.
That what I love and I seek is a sin and impure.
I’m a reject of the church but I still want to pray
To forgive the sins of I and who next to I lay.

I refuse to believe that my love can be wrong,
Despite what they say in their hymns and their song.
The words of the bible state I am to be dead
For my actions of love put my blood on my head.

I’m told to repent and confess that I sin,
To abandon the pleasure and touch of man’s skin.
But so what if I sin? I still want to be holy,
Hell embraces me now as heaven does slowly.

So forgive me my lord but I cannot change,
To follow that path feels unnatural and strange.
I’m down on my knees doing all that I can,
But I’m still going to hell for loving

amen.

▼Infortmation

This poem was inspired by the song "Take Me To Church" by Hozier. It was created out of thinking about my attitude towards religion and sexuality even though I don't necessarily relate to what I've written in this poem. Personally, I've never really sought acceptance or validation from religion and, despite appreciating some of their values, I don't think I ever will. Also, I've never actually had any direct discrimination over my sexuality; that may just be because I've only recently been open about it though. Of course, I do frequently hear homophobic language being used, whether that be a simple misuse of the word gay or a hostile use of the word ****. I've also had clearly homophobic friends. It's never bothered me though. This doesn't mean I've never faced difficulties over it, however. I partially blame my sexuality for why I'm so awkward around everyone irl and it often feels like a whole other side of me that I have to keep secret from my family due to their views of it. But in a wider view of things, I do think I'm quite lucky in my own experiences and I wouldn't ever want to change this part of me.

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