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The Poetry Game


ThetaOrionis01

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Sound of Pain, the tolling of church bells

Experiencing this, death has come upon me

I wish to drink, My soul he sells

Never before have i had this urge to see

 

I lie in my coffin, struck with fear

For in my death lies my salvation

I cannot help this temptation

It encumbers my spirit, I shed tear

 

Frozen in time, my life is changed

Turning, Whirling, miss aranged

I cannot sort this out

Yet i see no doubt!

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My creativity is switched off this week but thinking of switch gave me an idea for a little cheat. Please feel free to throw things at me!

 

A Moderator's Morning

 

 

Never aN EARly bird, more like a ghost,

SwitcH OPEning his eyes sees spam

Runs for his cleaveR EDiting the post

With meteorIC Energy shouts "I am."

 

:shifty: Now where will that cleaver appear from next? :shifty:

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Resplendence

 

By the angels and Gods will I must not hence,

For her deportment Is the treason in which I live.

Oh! How could I have known that beauty can go,

Or how the birds sweet song could be a person?

To speak plain is to speak with no emotions

Oh, but to think is the rapture humans should feel

For it is the deviation of what lies in wild

And covet us and what lies above in high resplendence

Good and evil are both in ones perspective and within the soul

One can not ignore what the soul feels

And less when it is love that one ignores

Thus I can not slight a dying souls wish

To be the shine on the shield, the blade in the sword,

The strength in a soldier

Ah, the ignorance of thous minds eye pave the way

For naive insults and depraved kins

That settle for the plainest of kings.

 

 

Christian Ayala

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A somewhat scrappy attempt but attempt it is. View my picture to understand the description.

 

 

My picture

 

Two sad, bedraggled wolves stand on a sheet of white.

Limestone perhaps, or ice, we are too high to see.

Our vast balloon, dull red, is dark against the light.

Its black name 'Nevermore' depicted tellingly.

 

Why do they hang their heads, these poor neglected beasts,

As if all hope were gone? Is there no comfort near?

This landscape's desolate - maybe they dream of feasts

They had in days long past. Were they once cause to fear?

 

From here their baleful glances move us not at all.

We are not of their world; safe in our grand cocoon.

Not one of us can see our frail craft yet might fall

And with the threat of war still rife, it could be soon.

 

Who are we, do you ask, floating above on high?

Three gods? Ah no. The world we lead today.

Your safety's in our hands. Trust us. No need to sigh.

For ignorance is bliss. That's what the world would say.

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Okay Theta these words are specailly for you. Wake up those creative neurons. But everyone else (you have been strangely silent) is challenged to attempt something too!

 

Words are:-

 

Boy, sunny, fishes, starlight

 

Come on y'all!

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Best I could do I'm afraid :/

 

boy, sunny, fishes, starlight

 

 

Proud and arrogant the boy,

Jealously guarding possession of his toy

Dismissive he of others' wishes

While for their approval and praise yet he fishes

So sunny dispositions soon turn sour

As others flee his oppressive glower

Alone by starlight does he now walk

With no one but himself left to talk

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