Poetry Showetry

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poetry

#21

Clipped Wings

Where are the waves clashing against the ocean?
The meadows and the tree line covered in mist.
The wonderous awe of childlike wander?
Did they clip off their wings as we got older?
Did it all die for nothing?

I don’t know, yet what was given to us was taken again.
It seems the worries of adulthood are upon us…
But it is not for nothing.
Each generation must sacrifice a part of themselves so the next one can thrive

But I think we lost to much, I think we took to much.

And what we’re left with is a small scarred stage.

Where the youth find their pilgrimage, where the old
Reminiscent about their past mistakes and pleasures.
I weep for our past. And dream of our future laurels.


#22

In My Own Realm

I have my own realm,
My own worlds,
My own reality.
All within my mind.
I can be anything,
All powerful,
Smart,
Strong,
Beautiful.

The realm called reality,
Is different.
Not a friend.
It is cruel,
People die,
They cry,
They get hurt.
Not like in my realm.

In my realm,
I am special,
I make everyone happy.
Nobody dies,
Nobody cries,
Nobody ever gets hurt.
I make sure of that.

In the realm called reality,
I am only what I make myself,
And I am flawed.
I am bound by the rules.

In my own realm,
I am special,
I fix my flaws,
I am what I want to be.
I can be me.


#23

They think they know everything.
Even in their stupidity, how they hurt, judge and spit.
If it was them in that situation they would want people to understand.

But people love to complain, to point fingers and to snarl and say i’m right and you’re wrong.
Where is the loveliness where is the understanding, it seems its in short supply.

People love to live in their short little boxes, with a little frame and some the blinds drawn.
Instead of seeing the full picture, there is an illness in man, if only he would listen.


#24

We Had Flowers

We had flowers in our gardens, beautiful flowers. Oh how the roses seemed to bloom, how even the marigold was made a thing of beauty. With light pale petals. Blooming and smiling up with at us with stellar awe, we had a fountain, alive with northern pikes, piranhas, of roses and marigolds, and sprout trees tall as ever reaching up into the heavens on a cloudless summer day. we saw that even the ugliest of plants became a thing of wonder under the right lens.

But somehow, sometime the glasses must come off, and the truth hit us harder than ever. And we were bound to find out that a marigold is just a marigold. And no matter how much sunlight you give it, how much rain pours over it, it simply remains the same. A simple plant with not much to offer lest in style nor in depth.

But you had thorns in queer places, and there was no time for caution, and I had splinters everywhere. Trying to chisel away your spikes.
But they went to deep I’m afraid.

Now the garden is empty, the fish had eaten themselves long before the fountain dried out, the trees decayed and the plants withered. We used to have flowers in our garden, beautiful flowers. Now the garden is empty and the cloudless summer day has turned to bitter moonlight.


#25

Black Pale Moonlight
Dancing in the pale moonlight to a sublime tune.
The only way to be immune.
I go left, I go right. I feel so tight.
Grooving to a long lost feeling.
Off with that jacket.
I’m practically kneeling.
Just don’t call me a faggot.

Lets keep it cool, and flowing.
Before I might be the one knowing.
That you’re a fine ass girl.

And all I want to do is dance with you.
Forget our troubles.
And maybe we’ll drink a few.

When the music comes out it brings a demon in me.
And you’re about to see. How I fill you with glee.

Lost in a drunken state of trance, wishing for a night of just dance.
Oh those gloomy moments without you.
Really makes me feel blue.
So I wanna keep it going, never loose sight of that moment.

Just a hopeless romantic in love, and with you theres no atonement.
Theres just you, at night, my Black Pale Moonlight…


#26

pina colada

i’m swimming in my head
doing laps
praying to some unknown deity
(god or otherwise)
that i can make it to shore
without drowning

i don’t know how to swim.
i’m flailing and thrashing and
fighting against the waves
that tell me what to do
and what to believe

and should i believe them?
they sound reasonable
or at least plausible
are they the ones telling me
that now? i don’t see land
but maybe they do

i only see a sea
a vast expanse
of salt
and maybe a shark’s fin
but that’s out on the horizon
or is it getting closer?
my arms are getting tired.

i can’t hear you.
i want to.
are you looking for me in your boat
or are you lounging on the beach
with a pina colada and our
dream?


#27

Good poem!


#28

I Don’t

Beyond this door, change awaits
To the notes of Pachelbel, shall I walk down the aisle
Arm of my father, encircling mine
A forlorn smile on his face, as he whispers “my daughter looks divine”
Now the tune picks up the crescendo
Wide gates open, beckoning me to march forth
Filled with anticipation, the many eyes train upon
Believing my smile to be true, over this moment, do they expectantly fawn
Yet it is not so, this joy is but to conceal
The tumult of unrecognition, towards the man standing before
Against the man who slipped me the ring on his knee
Oh on countless nights, I have reasoned I have thought
To not mar the impending vows, with separation’s blot
Ever present on occasions of laughter and mirth
Yet rarely so, in times of success’ dearth
Showering me with kisses, while I claimed the epitome of perfection
Yet alone I lay when illness struck, wondering the absence of his affection
For better for worse,
In sickness, in health
The only gold he’d ever need, the only wealth he wishes to possess
It tears me apart to not know what went wrong
He used to be the man of my dreams,
But was I mistaken all along?
I had rejoiced, to my Cinderella finding her Prince Charming
To my Elizabeth Bennet, reuniting with Mr Darcy
Now I know why they call them, fiction and fables
I lay awake to your lies, to leave behind your turning tables
Those lofty proclamations of love
Those endearments, calling me your “turtledove”
Maybe this isn’t the right time
Maybe this isn’t the right day
But I have waited for far too long
Now I must say what I have to say
Now I look up, clutching the beautiful rose bouquet
As your lips curl into the smile, I see not warmth, but the lurking glimpses of betray
Leaving behind my father
With hastened steps, I drop the flowers
Their crimson not matching the bridal blush
But the dread, the furore, the consternation’s rush
Gasps of surprise erupt across
Choirs falling silent, brewing within a tinge of morose
The clatter of my shoe, as I step before him
Gazing one last time, before slipping off his ring
In his palm I place, our symbol of “togetherness”
“I don’t” I say
I depart, ending the games of his cunning, his cleverness

  • Dew

#29

Thank you! I love all of yours too omg


#30

:blush: I have more on a google doc if you want to see them. I didn’t put them all on here because there’s a lot.


#31

oh my god OKAY


#32

Hiiii!!!
I’mma drop my poetry here and read up on y’alls ;w;

It’s utter trash and deserves to burn but I guess you can see it
Don’t expect much, though

I told her that the monsters weren’t real
That they were in her head
But there was something in the corner of my vision
Like a hole in my plane of thought
An emptiness that I couldn’t see
And everything went silent
Like something choked the birds
I thought I smelled rotting meat
And the sky turned yellow
Then green and then a sickly tan
And the world was shimmering like heat rising from a fire
The trees became shadows
And their shadows became the monsters
And I told her that the monsters weren’t real
That they were in her head

But one walked up to me and said,
“My name is Suice,”
And he wrapped his ropes around my throat
And fingered my adam’s apple
And peered into my eyes
And his pupils were like tiny drills
Grinding upon the surface of my soul
Until my brain was filled with poison from the inside
And then his twin stalked forward
Her name was Sel
And she cut me with razors and knives and blades
And played hopscotch on my arms and tic-tac-toe on my legs
She whispered with scissors and it burned where she touched
And my hands turned to stone and my knees turned to dust
There was Abu
Who clutched me and broke my brain
Who punched me and shattered my skeleton
Who touched me and obliterated some parts of me I would rather not describe
Then came Anor, who starved me during the day
And Insom, who starved me during the night
So tantalizingly close
But my mouth was always glued tight
And my eyes were always wide open
I was crying, bawling, weeping, on the ground
Battered and broken while they stood and watched
For the next in line to do their damage
And the next in line was Lone
And when she pressed my forehead, everything was gone.

There was nothing, nothing as far as they eye could see
But even the environment was not as empty as me
And then came the last monster, he said his name was Guil
I whimpered and wailed and asked what I had done to deserve this torture,
And he said it was because I told her that the monsters weren’t real.


#33

Woah~
That pina colada one was amazing omg
So much good imagery and metaphors it’s insane


#34

Wow!! Amazing!!:exploding_head:


#35

Shadows

A shadow in the darkness.
A shadow within a shadow.
No light in here.
Shadows dancing in the air.

Like smoke,
Prancing through the room.
Choking darkness pressing on me all around.
Shadows moving without a sound.

The shadows do as they all want,
Moving of their own accord.
My shadow is not attached,
There are no strings to catch.

Flying,
Floating,
Throughout the room.
This place is empty,
It should be their doom.

There is nothing here to cast a shadow,
Yet here they are.
Something more than what they are.

Choking darkness,
Getting closer,
Shadows dancing in the air.
Passing through me,
Sending shivers down my spine.

They’re causing chaos,
And I can’t stop them,
I can only join them.


#36

Thank you! <3 I love the way your poem flows. You can feel the urgency and terror in it, and I’m obsessed.


#37

So this is a thing now? Sharing poetry via google docs? Huh, I didn’t know.
Do you just use it for edits or do you also share poetry this way on other platforms?


#38

I use it for writing, and put it on wattpad after I write the poems. You’re not allowed to put links to your book on here, so I just share the link to the google doc.


#39

I just had the Docs to myself in order to have all of my poetry in the same digital space (and in case I ever felt like self-publishing some of it lol). That’s actually the first time I’ve shared through a Docs… I like it, though.


#40

Ah I see