Yo! I'm in the mood for some poetry, so let's do this! Write me some poetry man. Haiku, Shakespearean (or Italian!)sonnet, concrete, free form, whatever. It can be something you've written before, or something you make up on the spot. Even just a couplet will do, man. Funny, serious, sweet, whatever.

My goal is to give something to everyone who posts, be it small or large (probably more large than small, but hey). But some people will get really big things, like items off wishlists or wizard tokens or the like. So post away!

A haiku for you

Yowling alley cats battle for love and honor Spring is not silent.

I want all the stuff You have on your vault I want it so much I'll make an assault!

If you ignore this You'll let sad You'll meet my fist And will hurt you so bad

:D

I'm feeling creative... so here are a few tidbits for you: 1. Your name is Mono A martial artist Ninja Talking to you, yo

Dangers lost in fantastical ways Thoughts hidden in the past Mind left in a daze

Jealous, chaos finds a hope lost in souls desperate temptations of which no one knows

Watching MASH and playing on Subeta. Writing some poems. Could this get betta? :)

Saw this on a chalk board today and had to share it.

I did this for a 30/30 prompt, and thought it'd be cool to share it.

what the neighbors heard

or to be more precise, didn’t hear: a little girl with hands shaking like leaves in the wind. his voice surrounds her like a noose (scratched palms from rubbing at her neck). soft words, each one a shovel digging her a six foot deep bed

I LOVE writing prose poetry! How many times can we post? :)

Here is one for you; I'm sorry it's lengthy!

I do this to myself, I say. Happiness is in costless abundance, yet I writhe it into the rarest breed, dripping with desirable captivation. I flirt with the thought; entangling myself in the delusion of how it should be, until I put more space between us with every idea of my perfect form of joy. The space between my brain and my heart is thickening, daily. I make it uncontainable, inconceivable, until it is just a dream, too far to cast my eyes upon. The media does this to us, you say. Compare your life to every other beating pulse until you're physically sickened to look in the mirror and see your flawed reflection staring back. Mistake your freckles for parasites, destroying the surface of your temple. Go through countless bottles of hair dye until you find the perfect shade to shade you from anything, you. The color will fade slowly, hand in hand with your withering silhouette. Don't eat that, or wear those, or represent anything you couldn't read about in the latest fashion magazine. Cover your walls in pictures of the girls who walk like goddesses among us. Pretend they see your every move. But do they see you fall apart as the makeup falls in blackened cascades streaming rivers from your eyes? Do you feel pretty, yet? Or does the word contort and contrive itself until you place it upon the shelf with your happiness? Another trophy you haven't won. Our choice in partners does this to us, they say. They want to feel bone where you have concealed them with softened edges. There's simply too much of you to blanket with kisses, so you keep yourself covered. Masked beauty you don't believe in. You draw with curves where they have straight lined, marrow mind posture. When they kiss you halfheartedly, you taste what it feels like to be second best in your own skin. Our parents do this to us, I've heard. Look like them, be like them. Live up to the name tagged to you until your assembly lined slaughter. Be the opposite of them. Don't do what they did. Do better than they did. Be anyone but you. Aspire to be number one, as if you have to earn that place in their heart. You begin to wonder if you were a result of expected, proper reproduction. I do this to myself, I know. I have gathered my insufficiencies in their eyes, mulled over every blemish, every scar, and I have smiled. I am a beautiful mold of everything I have cast my love upon, shamelessly. You cannot tear down what you cannot reach nor control. I am not pretty or perfect; I am alive, and I am thriving.

perfect! just did this for my pet^^

There once was a little girl, she was quite lonely. Then one day her parents gave her a stuffed wolf, encrusted in Sapphire. She hugged the wolf tight, thinking one thought only. That finally finding a friend in him was her desire. She thought carefully as she chose to name him Veltiseer. She would always take him out to the park to play. They pretended they were in a ship breaking through earth’s atmosphere Until the sun started disappearing giving an end to the day. One afternoon she left Veltiseer at the park. She went back only to discover that he was not there. She searched and searched until it became dark. Then left as she filled with despair. As the little girl grew up she was living her dream. She hunted for treasure all around the world. One day as she was exploring a cave she saw a gleam. It was veltiseer! She picked him up from the treasure and twirled.

Voices in allies, Groans from next door. Heavy rushing traffic, Listening to the rain poor. Sitting alone, With a well written book. Drown out the noises. Waiting for super to cook.

Rather bad but worth a shot ^^ xxx

thank you so much!! it's really appreciated; i hope you enjoyed the poetry :)

Not really a happy poem but eyyyyy

death lurks in the shadows smirking with lust towards me just wanting to take me his bony hands suffocating me trying to take me forever

I need a job, right now I have no money. I can't even pay my car bill, I'm relying on my honey.

I can not find a job. I can not pay my rent. The thirty dollars that I have left, on gas it will be spent.

I'm telling you I'm broke, but I do not know why. It's an embarrassment that I will not lie.

A modern haiku I just threw together for you! (note the deliberate exclusion of the word 'good' - you have been warned :P)

Surface in spring A gentle breeze ripples Self, reflected

Uh, here's a limerick for you??

There once was a girl named Winifred And everyone listened to what she said but what they don't know is when the sun goes low Winifred hunts the undead.

Here's a little something.

There on the hill they wait Shuffling their feet this way and that Just open your gate Remember to grab your best hat Because it's an adventure you're going on And no one knows how long you'll be gone

At a desk I think with a pen.

I look at the time; it’s half past ten.

I have to think of what else to write,

Before the clock says, “It’s midnight!”

I will treasure this poem for years to come,

And I don’t care what it’s like to some.

I really like this poem very much,

And I wonder whom else it shall touch.

I will keep this poem because it’s treasure,

I will read it again and again just for pleasure.

I think now it’s time for an end,

I’m going to create a new email then press send.

I am horrible at poems so I make one for you enjoy this little thing and remember to give me a ping?

I dunno I am pretty bad at poems lol

I sometimes feel sad Maybe it's all in my head But it feels so real It affects the life I've led I'm trying to break free from this reign But there is much regret My past is too dark To simply forget

I wrote this but I am translating it to English as it's originally in spanish.

The angel who lives on the other side of the street August 26, 2012

There is an angel with black wings living across the sidewalk. It is not touched by the effects or the rain or the sun. It seems alone, always in the same position, it doesn't move.   Sometimes I leave my room to see if it is still there, to see if it has moved. And there I am, its only visitor, the one who sees in the distance. It can not see me. I wonder if it misses me when I am gone, I wonder if it knows me, I wonder if it thinks of me.   Squatting with its arms around his legs, will it be praying? Its hair is black as the absence, its eyes as dark and deep as death. The truth is that I can not see them, those eyes. I approach it as much as I possibly can but I can not distinguish any trace of humanity in it.   Today I went back to see it, it was still there. The same old black skin... Angel, by whom do you expect? We looked at each other, in silence. Perhaps, in truth I did not even understand it and it lied to me pretending I did.

But in my mind, in my dreams, we challenge each other. It won, but I won. I understood that I'm here, for it, for love. It is there, for itself, because that makes it happy, because it has so decided. On the other side of the sidewalk, waiting.

It's my best work and in Spanish, I promise, it sounds so much better.

Old poems work? From High School xD It's also on my old deviantart.

There's this mask I've always worn, My eyes just say I'm sad;

Those friends: Do they think that I've gone crazy, do they think that i've gone mad? Have they ever wondered or Even know the thoughts I've had?

This mask I wear upon my face, says I'm bubbly and glad, So how could they know that they're the reason that I'm sad.

Maybe I should come up with something happier? xD