Alright, any poets here

I was reading in the "how do you vent " topic and saw that a few people here write so I thought I\'d start a thread.

I\'d be interested in reading some of your poems if anyone cares to share

Here\'s one of mine that I\'m proud of. I haven;t wrote in awhile but I still have a few scribbled down

DARK CORNERS


 Sitting in the corner
sipping strong black coffee
I watch you frolic
with a malevolent awe

Youthful exhilaration
spins you frivolously
Giddy laughter betrays
your feeble innocence
Joy comes easy
amid callow years
 
I am the Prince of Pleasure
Patience is my strategy
Planting flowers down diablerie paths
Inviting you
Feeding your hunger for happiness
Shielding you from life’s stinging rein

I\'m always there
never manifesting far
In the darkest corners
waiting
preying
for pain to pierce
for hope to languish


Daryl  Pienta

share and comment this could be interesting for those who enjoy this stuff

Roses are Red,

Violets are Blue,

The Shinin\' Niners,

Are 8-2.


YEAH! I\'M GOOD!

Originally posted by Vapor Snake
Roses are Red,

Violets are Blue,

The Shinin\' Niners,

Are 8-2.


YEAH! I\'M GOOD!

LOL. blah blah blah.  

I wrote some funny poems in 6th grade that are buried in my documents somewhere, I\'ll try to dig em\' up.

I wrote some very disturbing poems. I dont think anyone would enjoy reading them.

LEARNING IS SADNESS

Happy as we may be and laughing without caring ,
centering on me and not knowing anything ,
about the world around  and who is living ,
you might be happy , but one day you\'ll be crying ,

think about the unger ,
think about the violence ,
think about it longer ...
think about receiving the lance ,
pretty soon you\'ll be in a trance ,

more you know , more you change ,
more you change , more you look at the sky ,
more you look at the sky , more you think ,
more you think , more you realise whats around you ,
more you realise , more your sad ,
more your sad , more you wish you had not learned ,

Because learning is sadness .....

(Head hurts)

(drunken headahce)

There once a man named Dave
Who took dead whores to his cave
He said "sure when they\'re dead, they give lousy head,
but think of the money I\'ll save"


Most of the other poems I know start out with There once was a man from Nantucket

A Fallen Angel

               Beneath the glare of a curious light,
               A sample of  yellow skin,
               Should you or should you not look...
               Bones surfaced from my cracked and curved spine.....

               Like tiny blocks of ice, some crushed; they gleamed
               Transparently, but I feel no more physical pain,
               Eyes, yellow too, or so it seemed, or was it still curious light,
               You wanted to look, but could not...

               Yet you stared blankly anyway,
               Unable to turn away and run,
               Yet not willing to help
               Running away from the Fallen Angel.....

               There was no blood, only a glimpse of crimson,
               Where a heart once was pulsating,
               Is it still there is what you wondered,
               Still yer eyes could only stare, lost in a sea of pain ......

               Looking at wings that once were spread in full glory,
               Which obviously defied the laws of science,
               Broken round my head with no pain in my eyes,
               Seeing the mystery, finding no cause,
               No wonder the Angel has Fallen,
               Is what you said......
..............................

If you pretend you are alone,
     or that you are well-born
     and protected, then of course
     you can go out and stand in the yard.
     As you would do anything
     you wanted to do.
     But if you go out
     like and act as if things are fine,
     flying around corners on a back road,
     then you will feel the dark enter you.
     Whatever roams the air tonight
     always seems to come my way,
     as my willful body rumbles on,
     digesting and breathing
     in spite of your watchfulness.
     I fall from the bedroom window
     be it on my own...
     So I just take the dark road
     past what endures but cannot move or
     feel....or
     love......or
     think......
 

........Souless
.....................................
Before you damn me,
                                                    And your doors lock
                                                    Listen...
                                                    Just listen,
                                                    Beyond the sound of the wind,
                                                    Beyond the sound of  surpressed feelings...
                                                    Listen to the constant rhythm of your heart
                                                    Listen to the beat of your soul,
                                                    Your life in thumps
                                                    As constant, as eternal as my love for you.
                                                    One incident dies so quickly
                                                    But this emotion lives with you
                                                    Within me.... forever
                                                    Even when your heart stops
                                                    This will continue,
                                                    Finishing what I can’t.


Just 3 by yours truely ..dont be too harsh

Great stuff guys.  I think writing/reading is the best form of entertainment out there.  It just does the best job of taking you away from everything and absorbing you into that world.  I write short stories mostly, but I don\'t think that anyone would really read them if i posted them.  If anyone is really interested in writing I just read an exceptional book by Stephen King called "On Writing".  Pick it up if you have the time.

Interesting stuff

I always have a hard time interpreting other peoples work.

he obscurity makes poetry interesting