Are you a Poet at heart?

Jimdamick

Jimdamick

Well-Known Member
I totally am, especially sitting by my fire enjoying the heat & watching the flames burn.
Yea, I try to black out reality.
I give up
I escape by words
& communication
Fruitless?
Not really
It works, sometimes, which is far superior in my mind
to not at all

Was that a poem?
Nope :)
But it sounded good for a moment in my fucked up brain:).

Now this is Poetry



Post your own/or favorites.

Expand :)
 
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Man in the box.
Dont come near me,in my hazy state of dream.
I grope with my eyes ,and the city darkness weighs heavily on my head..
I would lash out if there were a reason!This place with its living dead.
Walking streets day and night, confounds my sense and deepens the impending plight.
Carbon coated rock garden stands against us all,in the corner of the alleyway,against a concrete wall.
I have become the city,for i am old and sore,it has taken everything from me
And in the end i know it will not repay.
 
amid aimless heaps of scrap metal
a weathered young girl emerges
she gazes deeply into the post dawn orange of a failing sun
she takes a deep breath and starts her long juorney
Radio silence from the mainland she knows their fate and the futility of going there
But still she must as this is the dawn of her brave new world.:clap:
 
This is the first poem I memorized in my youth -


Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost - 1874-1963

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
 
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buckaclark said:
amid aimless heaps of scrap metal
a weathered young girl emerges
she gazes deeply into the post dawn orange of a failing sun
she takes a deep breath and starts her long juorney
Radio silence from the mainland she knows their fate and the futility of going there
But still she must as this is the dawn of her brave new world.:clap:
Click to expand...
Aldous Huxley
 
Reaper
Icon being
lost garden
in the middle of the night
why have you deprived mine eyes of your wonderous sight.
your look ,and smell, and shredded rotten garb.
of the lifes within your eyes taken without regard,
many times you take from me your solitary friend
this i know but still feel better having given in the end
to you my awe and wonder curious,
for many things are similar between the two of us
I too,am a being that you should know so well.
and soon we meet on the other side in ...
 
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