Some poems...

Casper89

Hi:) I haven't posted any of my stuff here before, but I thought I'd give it a shot...here are 3 of my latest...

Everyone is Obsessed with the Teenager
Care more than you dare,
The philosophy of the hopeful.
Life took two steps back
When it heard about Death.
Could you be any more obtrusive?

A cylindrical whirlwind
Traps you in space and time.
Dirty wooden slabs
Where dust mourns time past,
And whispers of space forgotten.

For, mortality is not only an affliction of the living,
But so too of what they carelessly leave behind.
To dust, to dust.
We have no sanctuary,
Floating tirelessly in the vacuum of abandoned buildings.

What a fanciful truth,
How it slips from painted lips.
And you could fall right through
If it weren't for your numb gazing
At the concrete ceiling, trying to see the roof.

I feel for you, my dear sorrow,
My dreams broken.
Though never given the light of day,
My poor pleading loss.
But I'm afraid I'll never get out.


Nothin' Wrong with American Livin'
Life's love lost
but for a pity's sake
I will not mourn it.

You prance about now
in frills and fragments
Bones bewildered at your knees.

Sunlight drops between
Virginal leaves
Your white wings grey from the dust.

I could beg and plead
fumble lovestruck in gallant weeds
Forever until dreaded peace.


Robin Hood's Unknown Accomplice
Can memories be carried on the wind,
like the scent of the sea
on a renegade breeze?

Its like a fist that never unclenches.
Painfully, eventually piercing the swollen flesh,
and the life slips out.

The hope, the peace,
the establishment.
The meaning of it all.
Lost out at sea, with an anchor
that cannot reach understanding.
There is something inside me,
deep in the core of me,
that swells,
overwhelms my eyes and takes captive my heart,
and squeezes,
as I fight back the tears for perceived sanity.
My lungs become stricken with the sorrow,
and like the Titanic's doomed musicians,
play their mournful notes,
breaths of empathy caught in my throat,
perhaps as the ice cold Atlantic silenced them all.


Your face feels like as if all the pain of life were written on it.
Pull into oneself,
hands express outward the inward feeling,
and conceal.

Because the fist never unclenches,
and it turns into a burning rock deep in your chest,
and slowly poisons your every thought.

lmtduffy

Its all very nicely written they flow great in alot of places some lines I liked,

"What a fanciful truth,
How it slips from painted lips."

"Lost out at sea, with an anchor
that cannot reach understanding."

but I think ive pointed this out before and the more poets I meet and talk to it seems to be a problem with all of our early work,

that being we right about our feelings to much,
an our feeling alone genuinely ephemeral to others,
that is why regardless of how interestingly or well written these poems are Im unlikely to remember them or take much from them.

People can, there is a market for everything.

Think about writing about what lead to these feelings a swell.


you have ability no question.

keep writing and keep posting,

Casper89

Hey you know what, I was actually really taken aback with that advice! It actually makes sense...I had never considered that before...thanks for the feedback!:)

lmtduffy

Id also like to add that it is still important to write what you feel, I find it can be very useful in the cathartic sense.

techguru2k8

awww

Your face feels like as if all the pain of life were written on it

leon35

Whats a virginal leaf?

Your writing has a poetic flow to it and i enjoyed reading it a number of times. Personally I'm a writer of not much more than personal journals but i have wrote a few lines when my emotion allowed.

Keep up the fine work.