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The poetry corner - post your poems in here
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Hi everyone,
This is a thread for sharing your creative works.
Please bear in mind our community rules before submitting your work.
This thread is located in the BB Social Zone, so the primary purpose here is entertainment.
We will not publish poems containing dark or disturbing content, including themes of suicide, self-harm, death, dying, abuse or other forms of trauma.
Thanks for your understanding.
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Touching
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Hi Struggler,
Just wondering do you like writing poetry as well? Is there anything you feel like sharing with us? Perhaps your favourite poem if not one of your own?
BTW After all the medication I've had to grow to like short and stout too;)
AGrace
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Hi all,
I usedto write poems in high school, not a time I'd like to revisit and have since turned my literary talents to writing novels. I do however have a few favourites written by those much more gifted than I.
Alone by Edgar Allen Poe:
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
There is a second verse, but this has always seemed the most poignant.
Another favourite is The Old Astronomer to his Pupil by Sarah Williams, from which I want to get a particular couplet tattoed on my arm.
Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.
GA
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I loved that verse GA. Struggler- no embarrassment here. Poetry is my therapy. I can only write it when in a down period unless its humour poetry. For me poetry is a depth of feelings where it is usually beyond what many would experience. It is a place I can go to alone or share but only share with those that "get it".
My friend from school (I'm 58yo) could never get my emotions. After 20 years duration of our friendship his dad died. For the first time I watched him weep at his grave site. The next day I told him, that when writing my poetry I am in deep grief almost as he was the previous day. He now has an idea of its depth and sadness. However it took me many years to embrace it and see it as unique and cherish-able. It takes me to a wonderful place.
This next poem was to my wife. It was however written to her in 1993 when she and I were married to partners that were brother and sister. We were good friends and I recognised her kindness.
TO PRESERVE YOUR HEART
As a boy I'd wonder why
a frog in a jar or a pinned butterfly
to preserve all for others to see
was all so meaningless to little boy me
But then as age crept up so quick
in a world of sorrow, the starving and the sick
a place of prevailing doom and gloom
of history, of art and mummies in tombs
Then suddenly without a sign
it occured to me right at my prime
a message of love and how to give
that came to me- a better way to live
So I no longer ponder the reason why
a frog in a jar or a Jurassic fly
to preserve your heart no money can but
to capture that immortal- twinkle in your eye
To feed on your love all I need
your presence, your ear and your good deed
to preserve your heart for all to see
I'd put it in a jar and carry it with me.....
WK
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Hi WK this is really beautiful.
Struggler, that's fine. I'll try and dig out some poems that I've written myself for you to enjoy reading. But be warned they aren't as good as Edgar Allan Poe's or WK's;)
AG
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Came across this one a few years back, am reciting from memory, can't recall the author though...
I felt I could no longer carry on, life's joy was lost to me, mixed up, confused, alone and sad, what future could there be? Then someone who understood passed by, paused, smiled, and took my hand. A glimpse of sunshine in the dark, yet braver now I stand.
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Being ultra sensitive others have often taken advantage of that and tried to dominate. One such male work colleague years ago did this, constantly being over bearing and critical of me. Then I found out he had a criminal past.
THE CUPBOARD
They ponder their prey they do
Some but we dont know who
for it in their own head they ask
how could all those guilty
- hide so many skeletons in their cupboard?
They check their own wardrobe
its bare, no skeleton, they sigh with relief
While they point at others they not aware
as they get dressed for a new day
put clothes around their own skeleton
they carry around with them
-all the damn time.....
WK
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Hi WK
I love reading your poems. I wish I could write a poem but I don't know where to start.
Hope you're well.
Jo
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