Poetry from Scratch

[Breton Thief Oriana]

And now for something completly different, as the monty python people say. Im going to, right here, write a poem from scratch (no lies). Lets see...

 

If I met a hooded figure

upon a grassy hill,

And if the skies were dark at depths

that fill my fear past nil,

I would try to ask that man:

Have you found a Spirit,

upon this grass as I?

and he would turn towards me,

and show his ill will high.

He would try to cut my stance

from my earth so firm.

and i would feal pity upon

a stare as his, Like earth.

for it is cold, and boneshed,

and draws a pang of yet.

And I would know that it was time

to face my after-Death.

 

 

EDIT: if you can, give it a title.

 

Titles so far: "The Inevitable."

[Smashy]

hmm, amuseing poem, dont know why but "The Inevetable" comes to mind when thinking of a title, luck on future poems.

[Sarrowa]

I guess since this is called "poetry from scratch" instead of makeing a new topic for this I shall post it in here. Anyways this is a poem I wrote while I was at work watching the news lol well here it is:

 

You people choose to live,

Eating your lives out with a silver spoon,

Even if there is nothing you will give,

Living your lives under the moon.

 

You say you want tranquility,

But your point is often missed,

Nobody lives in equality,

When both hands are fists.

 

You say you want peace,

Your will as frail as sand,

'Tis hard to practice what you preach,

While having five middle fingers on one hand.

 

So why do people live,

In this cold shell of a life,

Living with nothing to give,

Living under a pfeiff.

 

So why do people live,

When all the world is so currupt,

When all the greed may flourish,

While life is so abrupt.

 

They say love is the answer,

They say love is the key,

But love is just a cancer,

And true love is just a degree.

 

I havnt figured out a title so if you have any suggestions go ahead and give it a go.

[Breton Thief Oriana]

Wow, man, that's deep, excellent, inspiring, etc. Maybe call it " A tragedy, Details at Eleven" or something like that. I have another simmilar one that I havent written it on this particular thread (It is in my other poetry one, Age Old Bohemein Poetry Thread) but I called it Inc. Pin because It was showing how industrialized corporrations become corrupt for all money which they suck from our pockets. As a thought, It just strikes me as another clever title.

[Breton Thief Oriana]

New! a sonnet I wrote from scratch on a different forum. Enjoy!

 

I brought into the earth a plague it seems

a war of all the words as fit to write

But I can rest with all my soul at ease

as I have trained before this battle night

I lost my thoughts upon the battles graves

in mourning those who would not last in will

for in the war of life, our days as slaves,

we end as buried in the battle's hill

We fight our brethren, our cursed enemy

those who we have come to love and hate.

But if we search the same words that we see

we love them just the same for it is fate.

I brought upon this earth a plague it seems

I battle in a war of words and dreams.

[SimVig]

That's some fine poetry there, especially as it is written from scratch. Imagine what you could do with some editing.

[thanateros]

There are some good poems here, and as mentioned editing helps it along. I recently spend 45 minutes debating whether or not to keep the word 'its' in a poem I've been constantly working on. I might post it, though I'm not completely satisfied, and more likely never will be. The trick is to get it as close to perfection as possible. More to come in the future, I'll probably open a new thread when (if) I decide to post. It's really nice to see how supportive this community is of each other, keep up the good work :D

[Breton Thief Oriana]

Well, thank you. I think I'll try again with another poem from scratch.

 

 

 

They came from every corner just to

dance the night away

They followed law and order

of all spirits gone astray

though the war existed

They wanted only peace

A peaceful, humanless existance

left to empty ease

even through the famine

They could feast upon our hate

of which we have alot of

for you see its human fate

through the plaugues around

They rested without fear

and we could feel a virus

as it trailed us ever near

They followed and brought death

as it came from the last three

we left with them a world

of four Equis yet to be

we cannot embrace them

 

We followed with our own, for these

were angels that did call

One an archer, two a lion.

Three a bull, and four--

a scorpian

that would take the life and poison us and more.

 

Who are these four?

The horsemen

From where?

inside us all

We let them loose with fury

every time another falls.

[Sarrowa]

Well I finished what I had to do for MEMod for today so I'll take another crack at this....

 

Nights turn to pain,

Days turn to mourning,

Light turns in vain,

Dark break the warning.

 

All the people you love,

In a river of blood,

Knife kills the dove,

In a puddle of mud.

 

When all the hope is gone,

There is nothing to rely,

Dead before it's drawn,

In the blind of an eye.

 

For pain will always collide,

In the shadows high,

To the knowledge inside,

Pain will die.

[Sarrowa]

Well I got bored and er wrote this poem...don't beleive its true....because it's not...

 

I have always been kind,

I have always been loving,

But the old man always takes to mind,

Bothersome he is, always in my way,

But today I came home weary,

Not knowing, he had drove me mad,

I shuddered over with a great cry,

It was in my hand, the dagger I had,

The old man had to die.

I crept upstares, quiet as a mouse,

Up the front steps I went,

Rickity it was, the old house,

Black the old door was, black as night,

I picked the lock, and lit my light,

Creeping in the old house without a sound,

Slipping past the kitchin and into his den,

The target was found.

I made my way to his side,

Him sleeping like a baby,

Me with the knife above his head,

With a gracefull slice,

The old man was dead.