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Do any of you write poetry?

Squirmer30 wrote the best poem ever but I think he deleted it...I'll have to hunt it up again (cause Im a big bad mod and I can do that) 😀

I'm not much of a writer. The only things I have written don't really count as poetry...they're more like nonsensical short paragraphs that really dont mean anything.
I do apreciate poetry if it's not the whiney, contrived junk. I enjoy the work of Edward Gorey (cause he's awesome) and Poe, and Lewis Carroll.
 
vampireshadow said:
Just wondering :happy:
Click to expand...

I didn't write this one but I think that you might appreciate it vampireshadow. The first time I read it I committed it to memory and it's gotten me through many years of depression without trying anything drastic...

Razors pain you
Rivers are damp
Acids stain you
And drugs cause cramp
Guns aren't lawful
Gas smells awful
You might as well live

-Anonymous (one of my favorite poetry writers)
 
nessonite said:
Squirmer30 wrote the best poem ever but I think he deleted it...I'll have to hunt it up again (cause Im a big bad mod and I can do that) 😀

I'm not much of a writer. The only things I have written don't really count as poetry...they're more like nonsensical short paragraphs that really dont mean anything.
I do apreciate poetry if it's not the whiney, contrived junk. I enjoy the work of Edward Gorey (cause he's awesome) and Poe, and Lewis Carroll.
Click to expand...


id hafta disagree..Krystle wrote a couple for me that were just AMAZING!
 
ogleme said:
I didn't write this one but I think that you might appreciate it vampireshadow. The first time I read it I committed it to memory and it's gotten me through many years of depression without trying anything drastic...

Razors pain you
Rivers are damp
Acids stain you
And drugs cause cramp
Guns aren't lawful
Gas smells awful
You might as well live

-Anonymous (one of my favorite poetry writers)
Click to expand...


nice poem Mr or Mrs Annonymous :happy:

Good find ogleme one Dark poem!.
 
That's just too much. It was because of that twat that I went into hiding. Anyway, his poetry STINKS. This is real poetry:

Many are those who have come to regret visiting the grassy knoll,

For they often are assailed and have their skulls slowly smashed in by an unreasonably violent troll,

Who scoops the brains and anything else he can get from the inside of the skulls into a large earthenware bowl,

And then agonises internally for hours over his senseless actions and questions the very nature of existence, reality, thought dicatating action and the existence of the soul,

And then plucks your eyes from your skull and chews them whilst sucking your brains up into his cakehole,

Trolls are not renowned for their subtlety and should be avoided at all times when visiting the grassy knoll,

As they can only be repelled by smashing them repeatedly and violently in the genitals with a great big metal pole.
 
hehehe but freaks rule right?
I LOVE that poem! I want it on a t-shirt! I must make one immediately! I wonder if K would illustrate it...
 
AHH! Finally a thread I feel worthy enough to contribute something other than pithy comments to! WHEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

“Tables Do Turn”

A Tickle-E, indeed, I be.
Soft. Somewhat obedient.
Eager to please & be teased.
Straining, bound tightly,
And giggling with glee.
A writhing, squirming target,
Your fingers do evocatively squeeze.

No course will I provide you.
No map to my secret prize.
A Tickle-R’s task, for me, more enjoyable,
For taking his sweet, torturous time.
And Tickle-Spots all more delectable,
Upon discovering, where they do hide.

A Tickle-E, indeed, I be.
But heed you this fair warning –
If ever loose you should Tickle-Test this goose,
Be prepared for the table’s ticklish turning.


© Raichyll Mae Fine
(aka. [email protected])
March 12, 2002
 
I only have one other that is specifically about tickling, I'm afraid most are about other topics.

"A ticklish musing"

In ticklish merriment, I laugh
Gazing at the sight.
Your eyebrows raised in appraisal,
Of my situation.
A questioning look in your glittering eye
Tells me. You are quite aware
Of my gigglesome tendencies

Walking around the room. Circling.
Like a falcon eying its prey.
Fingers twitching, like talons, at the ideas
That in your mind are taking shape.
You, are thinking about your feathers.
What part of me you will brush with them first?

Tracing a line from cuffed wrist to armpit,
The laughter escaping in a stifled, gasping squeak.
Biting my lower lip between excited teeth.
You reach for the blindfold, bending low.
To my ear, you whisper, twirling a feather there.
"My dear, you are delicious in your predicament."

Eyes darkened, and ticklish laughter rising
I squirm and squeal, bonds restraining.
Vaguely hoping the storm on my sensitivities may soon break.
"Goose bumps!" I am shouting as they raise.
Fingertips dancing on belly.
One stiff feather traveling down my leg.
"Please?" I implore you.
"PLEASE???" I beg. – Too late.
As the feather has reached the foot of my leg.

Hips rocking wantonly.
Body wiggling and juices flowing.
Laughter flowing free,
Mixed with tears and sweat.
A feather sliding between my toes...
"Master, may I????" I plead.
"No." You say, "Not yet."

© Raichyll Mae Fine
(aka [email protected])
August 29, 1997
 
I write poetry but some of it is really sad, it was when I was in England, those were my depressing days.
 
Hmmm... Are you going to post any, or am I the only sap dumb enough to think people might want to read her poems. *giggle*
 
This was an actually dream I had, it was kind of scary.

Drifting in a sea of pain and torment
My body crashing against the waves
Muzzled by the waters currents
my screams go unheard again
Drowning slowly in sorrow
Choking on water and air
Aware there may be no tomorrow
Hoping that my life will be spared
I hear a voice not too distant
Calling out my name
My body turned to face this stranger
And in my heart I feel a pain
The face hatred has twisted
Pale and set in a wicked smile
His hair dripping with liquid
No more is there denial
So tenderly as if he cares
He reaches down and touches my face
His hands entangled in my hair
my head goes under the water again
My mind is swimming with questions
All of which have no answers
My mind gives no more suggestions my last attempt I gasp for air
My lungs are filled with blackened water
My mind starts to fade
I give up, why bother
I await deaths warm embrace.
 
punkygirl: that is a most excellent poem indeed. it is filled with emotion which the hollywoodbrother loves. now if the hollywood brother read it properly then he is yelling at you to cheer the hell up. it spring and summer. the sun is out and life begins again. the hollywood brother knows things can go bad in life. lonliness can eat at your soul and death can be knocking at the front door but until it really over, the hollywood brother wants you to enjoy life.
 
the hollywood brother never was a poetry writer. the problem always was that the man behind the hollywood brother can not always put his emotions properly on paper on in pm, letters and emails. the passion that resides within the heart of the man behind the hollywood brother is great but it has no real outlet. besides that some emotions are too strong for mere words according to the hollywood brother and the man behind the hollywood brother.
 
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