Post by »ƒrozengold« on Nov 1, 2010 16:30:00 GMT -8
Well my poems are coming soon! I shall post all that I have ever composed onto here, so you can see my work. Here is one of my first poems:
Nefarious
She dived.
She dived into the pool.
She dived into the crystalline blue water.
She dived to her death.
She felt herself being dragged down.
She liked the feeling of it.
She liked how it was soft.
She liked how it was calm, with nothing to disturb it.
She let herself be there.
She drifted lower and lower.
She sank until she could feel the bottom.
She laid there for a few seconds.
She let the breath she was holding out.
She then felt arms wrap around her.
She was being pulled up.
She tried fighting, but she was growing weaker.
She reached the surface.
She could feel herself being dragged out of the pool.
She could hear shouting and screaming.
She was laid upon tiles.
She felt someone pounding hard on her chest.
She could still hear screaming.
She felt her breath growing weaker.
She could feel herself slowing down.
She was like a music box.
She was fast and playing loud and clear.
She was now at her end.
She was growing slower, and not playing as loud.
She could see a black wave rolling towards her.
She welcomed it.
She could still feel the rhythmic pressure against her chest.
She was now fighting for her life.
She reached out to the shadow.
She fought to touch it.
She wanted to.
She didn’t want to.
She knew if she touched it, all would be over.
She knew if she didn’t touch it, she would still live.
She touched it.
She saw at once what a huge mistake she made.
She gulped for air, trying to breathe.
She saw the sable shadow close over her eyes.
She felt herself take her last breath.
She shut her eyes.
She had stepped into the nefarious home of the Death Shadow.
Untitled
Math is dull and boring
You can’t find anything to do
Maybe draw on the desktop
Or dawdle with some glue.
Oh, how I wish that
I was all but here.
But no, I’m stuck in this room
Until the bell is near.
Come quick, come!
Oh agonizing bell.
How longer can I wait?
No one can ever tell.
Here we go, yet again,
Two plus two is four,
When will they ever get that
I’ve already got this stored!
Eight plus two is ten
Oh so sick am I
Of this dreadful boringness,
Ten minus one is nine.
We’re just sick and tired
Of you leaving us in sorrow.
Please, let us go!
Torture us at two tomorrow!
Untitled
Taped to a desk
Fluttering in the wind
Placed upon a surface
To throw your thoughts in.
I can be black or yellow
Or a striped deep sea blue
Orchid and chartreuse
Orange and honeydew.
I can wrap things up
And make them quite pretty,
But what I most enjoy
Is when they cut me silly.
Smaller than an elephant
But larger than a grain of sand
You can take me anywhere
Or just rip me with your hands.
But what people forget most
Is that when I’m thrown away
That I’ll never live to see again
Yet another day.
Fallen Leaves
Withering, dying,
Multiple furrows.
Where dead crumples,
Make their last burrows.
Hopefully hoping,
That it isn't their last day.
Why are they hoping?
Because it's only May.
"Wish for no fall! Wish for no fall!"
They sorrowfully say.
Because this is their last sunrise.
Before they decay.
Weep! Weep!
For the melancholy day!
For it will be the worst funeral,
At which everyone will pay.
Shocks of lime and pine,
In the green of the summer.
Die away with the heat,
Wishing them a good flutter.
So helpless, so woeful,
In a great matter of dispair.
But soon they will come back!
With mockingbirds in the air.
Snowy slushes have melted,
Despair and bitterness no more!
Whooping and dancing,
In clear weather, forevermore.
Cries will be heard,
Miles away.
Until singing and prancing,
Vanish shortly after May.
So the cries and the cold,
Happen with the year.
The crumples are the meek,
Commanding those who are near.
This is the version I remade of that poem:
Withering, sighing,
Multiple furrows.
Where dead crumples
Make their last burrows.
Hopefully hoping
That it shant be their last day.
They mournfully await
The end of late May.
"Wish for no fall! Wish for no fall!"
They sorrowfully say.
For this their last sunrise
Before they decay.
Weep! Weep!
For the melancholy day!
As it will be the worst funeral,
At which everyone will pay.
Shocks of lime and pine
In the green of the summer.
Vanish with the heat,
Wishing them a good flutter.
So helpless, so woeful,
In a great matter of dispair.
But they soon will be back!
With mockingbirds in the air.
Chilling snows have melted,
Despair and bitterness no more!
Whooping and dancing,
In clear weather, forevermore.
Cries will be heard,
Miles away!
Until singing and prancing
Vanish shortly after May.
So the cries and the cold,
Happen with the year.
The few are the meek,
Commanding those who are near.
Nefarious
She dived.
She dived into the pool.
She dived into the crystalline blue water.
She dived to her death.
She felt herself being dragged down.
She liked the feeling of it.
She liked how it was soft.
She liked how it was calm, with nothing to disturb it.
She let herself be there.
She drifted lower and lower.
She sank until she could feel the bottom.
She laid there for a few seconds.
She let the breath she was holding out.
She then felt arms wrap around her.
She was being pulled up.
She tried fighting, but she was growing weaker.
She reached the surface.
She could feel herself being dragged out of the pool.
She could hear shouting and screaming.
She was laid upon tiles.
She felt someone pounding hard on her chest.
She could still hear screaming.
She felt her breath growing weaker.
She could feel herself slowing down.
She was like a music box.
She was fast and playing loud and clear.
She was now at her end.
She was growing slower, and not playing as loud.
She could see a black wave rolling towards her.
She welcomed it.
She could still feel the rhythmic pressure against her chest.
She was now fighting for her life.
She reached out to the shadow.
She fought to touch it.
She wanted to.
She didn’t want to.
She knew if she touched it, all would be over.
She knew if she didn’t touch it, she would still live.
She touched it.
She saw at once what a huge mistake she made.
She gulped for air, trying to breathe.
She saw the sable shadow close over her eyes.
She felt herself take her last breath.
She shut her eyes.
She had stepped into the nefarious home of the Death Shadow.
Untitled
Math is dull and boring
You can’t find anything to do
Maybe draw on the desktop
Or dawdle with some glue.
Oh, how I wish that
I was all but here.
But no, I’m stuck in this room
Until the bell is near.
Come quick, come!
Oh agonizing bell.
How longer can I wait?
No one can ever tell.
Here we go, yet again,
Two plus two is four,
When will they ever get that
I’ve already got this stored!
Eight plus two is ten
Oh so sick am I
Of this dreadful boringness,
Ten minus one is nine.
We’re just sick and tired
Of you leaving us in sorrow.
Please, let us go!
Torture us at two tomorrow!
Untitled
Taped to a desk
Fluttering in the wind
Placed upon a surface
To throw your thoughts in.
I can be black or yellow
Or a striped deep sea blue
Orchid and chartreuse
Orange and honeydew.
I can wrap things up
And make them quite pretty,
But what I most enjoy
Is when they cut me silly.
Smaller than an elephant
But larger than a grain of sand
You can take me anywhere
Or just rip me with your hands.
But what people forget most
Is that when I’m thrown away
That I’ll never live to see again
Yet another day.
Fallen Leaves
Withering, dying,
Multiple furrows.
Where dead crumples,
Make their last burrows.
Hopefully hoping,
That it isn't their last day.
Why are they hoping?
Because it's only May.
"Wish for no fall! Wish for no fall!"
They sorrowfully say.
Because this is their last sunrise.
Before they decay.
Weep! Weep!
For the melancholy day!
For it will be the worst funeral,
At which everyone will pay.
Shocks of lime and pine,
In the green of the summer.
Die away with the heat,
Wishing them a good flutter.
So helpless, so woeful,
In a great matter of dispair.
But soon they will come back!
With mockingbirds in the air.
Snowy slushes have melted,
Despair and bitterness no more!
Whooping and dancing,
In clear weather, forevermore.
Cries will be heard,
Miles away.
Until singing and prancing,
Vanish shortly after May.
So the cries and the cold,
Happen with the year.
The crumples are the meek,
Commanding those who are near.
This is the version I remade of that poem:
Withering, sighing,
Multiple furrows.
Where dead crumples
Make their last burrows.
Hopefully hoping
That it shant be their last day.
They mournfully await
The end of late May.
"Wish for no fall! Wish for no fall!"
They sorrowfully say.
For this their last sunrise
Before they decay.
Weep! Weep!
For the melancholy day!
As it will be the worst funeral,
At which everyone will pay.
Shocks of lime and pine
In the green of the summer.
Vanish with the heat,
Wishing them a good flutter.
So helpless, so woeful,
In a great matter of dispair.
But they soon will be back!
With mockingbirds in the air.
Chilling snows have melted,
Despair and bitterness no more!
Whooping and dancing,
In clear weather, forevermore.
Cries will be heard,
Miles away!
Until singing and prancing
Vanish shortly after May.
So the cries and the cold,
Happen with the year.
The few are the meek,
Commanding those who are near.
