So, in my free time, I like to write poetry. To be more specific free verse poetry, and sometimes rhyming poems. Most of the themes I write about is Insanity/Murder, Anti-Bullying, Murder, Nature, Loving Yourself, etc. The poems I write are about not only my experiences, but my friend's experiences and things that could happen such as real-life events. I might post a new poem weekly, and you all are free to post your own if you have some! Without further a do, here is my first poem that I will be sharing with the SGM Community: Poem #1: One of my wishes is that those blood stains, So dried and red would disappear my pain, I feel so deep inside of my guilt, But I fall apart as I sorrow and wilt. I should not believe that it wasn’t in my head, The scene was so messy and dead, Blood all over I see the body laying there breathless, Almost like it was there for hours deathless. I do not see why they blame me, It is not like I went on a killing spree, It was a one time thing I’m just insane, It is all in my head the voices tell me to cause pain. They can not pin me for this ordeal, Unless their statements were real. Spoiler: About This Poem This poem is about a man who is caught with murder, and is trying to plead insanity at the murder trial. The reason behind this poem was because of my sociology class where we got to look at some cases about people who have pleaded insanity.
a leaf _falling from a tree ___it is now on the ground ______i like pointing out the obvious ____________traps are gay thank you
Blue-Jays and Lace Come my Little Robin, as I spirit you away Come my Little Robin, so you may sing your pretty song. You are my Little Robin, as graceful as a dove, as fierce as any hawk. You are my Little Robin, so kind and beautiful, with your feathers bright and clean you are as regal as any queen. Yet how sad you look, my Little Robin, where you once danced so merrily. Come my Little Robin, let me set you free. Come my Little Robin, so you may once again sing happily.
Surprised nobody has tagged me here yet. I write a lot of poetry. I'll edit this later with some of my own
I made this for Creative Writing in Highscool, but: (Structure: Villanelle) NightLight It was a world without Light. Shrouded in darkness never ending. A realm of Eternal Night. It’s inhabitants cruel and so full of spite The wicked flame causing shadows distending. It was a world without Light. A veil so thin, concealing the fright. And the darkness unending, A realm of Eternal Night. The shadows faded beyond sight. The rulers hand extending, It was a world without Light Caught within a shattered dream, so bright, with our reality bending, A realm of Eternal Night. To soon to pierce the veil to be right. To soon for the ending. It was a world without light, A realm of Eternal Night.
Tas skuķis Tas velna skuķis Ar brūnajiem matiem Un tumšzaļajām acīm Tas visu laiku un spēku No manis izsūc Kā tāds ods Tas galvā man sīc Un bez tā es Kā bez ūdens nespēju Un tai pašā laikā Kad satieku ne acī redzēt negribu Tā acīs durās Un uzmanību jauc Bet tam velna skuķim To nekad es neteikšu Spoiler: Meaning It's about a girl, about hating her and loving her at the same time and never proposing to her because somethings should be left like they are untouched and unspoiled EDIT: It is in Latvian, if anyone is asking.
I made this in the 4th grade to show how the public water filtration cycle works I am a glass of tea When you drink me I turn to pee Down into the sewer where I feel newer Where I get cleaner and greener I am a glass of tea When you drink me, you leak me When thy leak me, thy drink me.
So this poem, is not one that I have written. However, I really like this poem, even though it is kind of bashing Mario. Enjoy. Princess Peach Speaks Thanks, Mario, I guess, for fighting those Koopa Troopas and riding on the backs of dolphins and traveling all the way to Star World to save me. You keep saying it was a lot of hard work, how you almost lost all of your 99 lives, how I should be grateful, but from my corner of the castle — it looked a lot like adventure. But what do I know? I’m just a kitten caught up in a tree. I get to sit in this 8-bit castle guarded by a fire-breathing turtle fuck and I’ve been here for however long it’s taken your slow shit ass to get past that fucking flying level and now of course what I want to do is get married! Enter into another imprisonment called matrimony with you. You, whose brother wears the exact same outfit as you but in a different color like twin little fucking infants and is always whispering into my hair, Damn Peach. If only I’d gotten to you first. But your princess is in another castle, filing her taxes, because she’s a princess, and makes a hell of a lot more money than you, Mario. When she needs her toilet un-clogged, she’ll call you, Mario. Your princess is in another castle, I don’t know, preparing to inherit rule of an entire country? Princess Peach got work to do. Princess already brushed her hair today. Now princess gotta make some phone calls, send some emails, get her ball gown fitted just right. Oh, you thought princess was trapped by Bowzer? Maybe, Princess hired Bowzer as a bouncer because she didn’t have time to reject you at the door. What makes you think every time Princess doesn’t answer it means she needs your help? Can’t a woman get some alone time around here to deal with her shit? What shit, you ask? I don’t know — body image, rape culture, motherhood, gender roles, the fact that no one will let her wear anything but a pink dress? You ride a dinosaur who comes in more colors than I do. I don’t ever get to ride a dinosaur. You fought off a baseball-throwing football player Both: and now you’re entitled to Peach’s peach? I should have stayed with Bowser because at least he called himself Monster. At least I knew what he was — not some one-dimensional super nerd who thinks human decency is foreplay. Who thanks a savior complex gets me wet. You’re a plumber, so I thought you’d be able to smell your own bullshit. You’re the date who buys a nice dinner and calls me a bitch when I don’t let you upstairs. You’re the guy on the street who tells me to smile before cutting it into me. You’re all the states in America where it is legal to rape your wife. So fuck you Mario. Here’s a level. You can beat it. Get a life.
Hey guys, So I decided to post yet another poem, but this time its 3 different poems. Again, these set of poems are not written by me. 2 are by Emily Dickinson. 1 is by Denice Froham. I have been conflicted to post my poems due to the fact I don't want to trigger anyone since most are about bullying and suicide. Without further-a-do, here are the poems: Poem #1, by Emily Dickinson: Spoiler: I felt a funeral, in my brain I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading - treading - till it seemed That Sense was breaking through - And when they all were seated, A Service, like a Drum - Kept beating - beating - till I thought My mind was going numb - And then I heard them lift a Box And creak across my Soul With those same Boots of Lead, again, Then Space - began to toll, As all the Heavens were a Bell, And Being, but an Ear, And I, and Silence, some strange Race, Wrecked, solitary, here - And then a Plank in Reason, broke, And I dropped down, and down - And hit a World, at every plunge, And Finished knowing - then - Poem #2: Also, by Emily Dickinson Spoiler: I'm Nobody! Who are you? I’m Nobody! Who are you? Are you – Nobody – too? Then there’s a pair of us! Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know! How dreary – to be – Somebody! How public – like a Frog – To tell one’s name – the livelong June – To an admiring Bog! Poem #3: Dear Straight People by Denice Froham Spoiler: Dear Straight People Dear Straight People, Who do you think you are? Do you have to make it so obvious that I make you uncomfortable? Why do I make you uncomfortable? Do you know that makes me uncomfortable? Now we’re both uncomfortable. Dear Straight People, You're the reason we stay in the closet. You're the reason we even have a closet. I don't like closets, but you made the living room an unshared space and now I'm feeling like a guest in my own house. Dear Straight People, Sexuality and gender? Two different things combined in many different ways. If you mismatch your socks, you understand. Dear Hip-Hop, Why are you fascinated with discovering gay rappers? Gay people rap. Just like gay people ride bikes and eat tofu. Dear Straight People, I don’t think God has a sexual orientation, but if she were straight, she’d be a dope ally. Why else would she invent rainbows? Dear Straight Women, I mean, “Straight Women.” Leave me the fuck alone! Dear Straight Men, If I’m flirting with you, it’s because I think it’s funny. Just laugh. Dear Straight People, I’m tired of proving that my love is authentic. So I’m calling for reparations. When did you realize you were straight? Who taught you? Did it happen because your parents are divorced? Did it happen because your parents are not divorced? Did it happen because you sniffed too much glue in 5th grade? Dear Straight People, Why do I have to prove my love is authentic? Why do I have to prove my love is authentic? Why do I have to prove my love is authentic? Why do you have to stare at me when I’m holding my girlfriend’s hand like I’m about to rob you? Dear Straight People, You make me want to fuckin’ rob you! Dear Straight Allies, thank you, more please! Dear Straight Bullies, You’re right. We don’t have the same values. You kill everything that’s different, I preserve it. Tell me, what happened to Jorge Mercado? Sakia Gunn? Lawrence King? What happened to the souls alienated in between too many high school walls, who planned the angels of their deaths in math class, who imagined their funerals as ticker-tape parades, who thought the afterlife was more like an after party. Did you notice that hate is alive and well in too many lunch rooms, taught in the silence of too many teachers, passed down like second hand clothing from too many parents? Dear Queer Young Girl, I see you. You don't want them to see you so you change the pronouns in your love poems to "him" instead of "her." I used to do that. Dear Straight People, You make young poets make bad edits. Dear Straight People, Kissing my girlfriend in public without looking to see who’s around is a luxury I do not fully have yet. But tonight, I am drunk in my freedom, grab her hand on the busiest street corner in Philadelphia, zip my fingers into hers and press our lips firmly, until we melt their stares into a standing ovation, imagine that we are in a sea of smiling faces, even when we’re not and when we’re not, we start shoveling, digging deep into each other’s eyes we say, “Hey Baby, can’t nothing stop this tonight” because tonight, this world is broken and we’re the only thing that’s going to keep it together.
I wrote one quite a while back when a good friend of mine took her own life. Hard Acceptance Spoiler Death creeps up on the best of us, when we're young an living beautiful nevertheless. You walked with such grace, an you did so with a smile on your face. Your features were bright as gold, but never could they have been sold. Every dieing heart aches with pain, with a soul lost in vain. In every dream you will be, an in ever prayer you'll see. We will remember you forever, even though we were to sever. -MysteriousGlitch 11/21/2009 Don't mean to bring one with such a dark meaning but it's really the only one I wrote that I was proud of, one that I have no reason hate. Cause as everyone says you are your own worst critic but this poem I never once thought negative about. The rest of my collection that I have are back from my bad days I mean I think this one was a bit fun but something seems off about it. Love Summed Up Spoiler Here we are together, loving each other. Having fun, with each pun. Minds racing, bodies bracing. Saying sweet things, about our beings. Arguments irrupt, so abrupt. They end so soon, just around noon. Days go on and on, forgive and move-on. Loving each other, not letting it bother. Loving each other, always forever. MysteriousGlitch May 28, 2014
Deafblind, Never saw your smile Never heard your laughs and cries. Sat there emotionless. 'Till your wrists turned scarlet and your sobbing died. I was blind, I was deaf. Spoiler: Rip The grammar is dead and i never rhyme. It sound rougher w/o rhyming
The Question Is.. Spoiler So often you hear about bullying, the dreadful effects the agony pain and cries for help, and most of all the high, overwhelming suicide rates So the question is, have you ever been bullied to the pulp, to where you start believing the tiniest thing you hear. After a while, you don’t know who is telling the truth, who is lying to keep you from the truth. So the question is, how do you really know? How do you know, someone you love, someone you care about, someone who makes your life like sunshine in the summer, that they are being ridiculed and hated on, by people, who are just looking for, to hurt others just to make themselves feel good. So the question is, it is too late for you to make an outstanding decision to help? To let them know that someone cares. That you don’t care about, if they called her, a whore, a slut, or a washed up wannabe. That you don’t care about, the bruises, that people say are from her father’s ironing fist, the scars and cuts, that people say is just for attention, because they think you crave it, like you crave chocolate, because you are fat. That you care so much about them, that you don’t want to lose them, to a rope, a knife, a razor blade. That you want them here. In reality, there is only that few, that help someone in pain of a knife hitting their wrists, whose wrists have been cut multiple times, that don’t feel, that blade, so cold, and sharp hitting their pure skin. Just because of someone calling them names, and getting others to join in, by the slightest of peer-pressure, can ruin someone, from their once so perfect, loving, caring, outgoing life. One person. ONE PERSON. Can make someone do the unspeakable, the inevitable. Just because someone calls you fatter than an elephant, just because someone thinks you need to be erased, like chalk on a chalkboard, just because someone has the audacity to say kill yourself, because they don’t think your life is worth it, because they are jealous, of how perfect you are, just because someone doesn’t stick up for her, because they are too self-conscious of themselves. If you don’t stand up for someone, who is being belittled by stupid, ignorant jocks. If you don’t tell them, they have a friend who will be there, through their terrifying moments of life. They will end it. They will take their long-lasting, memorable life away. They won’t have kids, to inspire them to not bully someone, because of the pain, that she felt. Everything gone, like the wind picking up dirt. Everything disappeared, for real, like she was already gone, from the miserableness she called life. So the question is, will you stick up for them? Or will you let them fall, like leaves in the fall?
I've taken a few of the words from this video: Spoiler: Video Please feel free to listen along as you read. It has a lot of beautiful sounds that I want you to hear and it would mean a lot to me if you did. Untitled. We only live so long before the inevitable. And as if a clock is counting down, the labors that we have laid will have turned to dust, and we will become distant memories of the past. We seem to follow instinct like our ancestors; Falling in love to create a new generation and pass on our genes. But it's more than that. Love is something you lose sleep over. It's what keeps you up at night, for better or worse. The idea of you is what keeps me daydreaming so far into the night that I sleep in school the next morning. And as if you were a little piece of heaven, the thought of you and being held tightly close to you seems to be the closest thing to spending our apocalypse in luxury, and with every kiss you planted on my cheek, a part of you grew onto me like a flower in bloom. You were the stars that I looked up to in my daydreams, and wished upon you hoping that I'd be able to spend my time remaining on this earth with you. They'd say I'm made from you, and I'd tell them they're right - and for this we are better for it. I want to scream your name into the heavens, but in reality, it is more of a call to the void, bringing me closer to extinction.