View Thinker #8ed16d's profile thought 16 years, 3 months ago...

I've been writing words on my skin to remember, to remember the words that always seem to fade, and the lighting was something I watched through the window cascading over a building I could see where you were only a couple hundred feet away,

You were cold and beautiful and free and most nights I just drowned in the rain I'm never sure I reached that place where I felt like you were mine and I was yours but I drop you off now three months after our lives hit the ground, everything just stops.

I always feel I'm in a fish bowl, waiting here wherever here is, and you say you can't stand to watch me rot here, maybe you'd rather have me rot in someplace else. I know nothing of what I want, I know nothing of what is to come, the only thing I was certain of was that your touch was warm,

the only thing I'm certain of is that I've lost the only thing that has ever really meant something to me. Maybe you did have all of the cards, maybe I was the biggest fool a fool could be, but to each his own, we will both die alone.

You tell me of the life you want to have, you used to include me in it, and you resented the fact that at night when you fell asleep in my arms I was secretly looking at my ceiling wondering what it would be like if I could spend the rest of my life with you.

You resent me for as much as the unspoken as I do you.

View Thinker #5f1f0a's profile thought 17 years, 2 weeks ago...

I think I have been so depressed lately because, well besides the obvious reasons that I'm depressed, because, I haven't written anything in a while. I should do that before I go crazy.

View Thinker #277dd3's profile thought 17 years, 2 months ago...

One time my friend was hooking up with a girl, and she was about to go down on him, and she goes "so what do you like?" "Poetry."

View Thinker #5f1f0a's profile thought 17 years, 3 months ago...

Poetry is my outlet. I have too many barriers up to actually tell people how I feel but I can still express my self through poetry. I would explode if I didn't have it. Poetry is something so sacred to me. I don't let many people read my poetry, it would be like letting them into my soul. Not many people can have that privledge.

View Thinker #418656's profile thought 17 years, 4 months ago...

I've taken several classes in which I was expected to analyze poetry, to analyze the way the someone else has viewed life or recorded an experience, an emotion, a moment with something or an abstract dream, etc. It seems utterly rediculous to attempt to analyze someone's poem because it's like analyzing their PERSONAL life and expecting to come up with one right answer. Especially when you, yourself, are being analyzed for your work. I don't think you can analyze a poem and find out exactly what they were thinking. Instead, you can only come up with your interpretation of the matter.

I've only written a few poems that I'm proud of them. Some of the others seem to be more song snippets than anything. Now if only I could find a band who wants someone to help them with material for lyrics.


View Thinker #1f6774's profile thought 17 years, 5 months ago...

My poetry professor had such a narrow belief on what poetry was... that class was awful.

What I wrote she often did not consider poetry, because it didn't fit within her arbitrary guidelines.

I write lyrics, and I make great music...

but sadly cannot combine the two because I can't sing.

View Thinker #ff3399's profile thought 17 years, 5 months ago...

what is poetry? this is a question no writing class has ever come up with a satisfying answer to. poetry is not its words, or the sum of its parts. poetry is not a rhyme or rhythm or image, it is not the poet who wrote it or the audience who reads it. it is not a block of lines, it is not a paragraph or a sentence, it is not even a complete thought. poetry is a defect, a barrier on the path to logical thinking that some people never get past. poetry is a compusion for the poet. it's a label i've always hesitated to give myself. it's not that i'm really a poet... sometimes it just comes out that way.

View Thinker #5f1f0a's profile thought 17 years, 5 months ago...

Here is an example of bad poetry that I thought of. There is a story behind it, but that is better saved for another night.

I look over into the mirror, but instead of my face, I see A pink bouncy ball.

If you read it right you can fool someone into believing that it actually had deep, philosophical,meaning. FYI it doesn't.

View Thinker #f5253f's profile thought 17 years, 5 months ago...

Tonight, I am eating ice cream and reading thoughts from the ether.

This combination made me think about that movie My Girl.

I know it's lame, but, I love it.

And tonight, I couldn't help but think of the part where Vada goes the adult's poetry class and reads her ode to ice cream.

I see where she was coming from.

View Thinker #ff0066's profile thought 17 years, 5 months ago...

I Am

I am confident and determined I wonder how people can say there is no God I hear the echoes of long lost happiness I see the hurt in other’s eyes I want to change the world I am confident and determined

I pretend to be unaffected by people I feel like I have to be strong I touch the lives of everyone around me, or so I hope I worry that I don’t fit in I cry when people give up I am confident and determined

I understand that people make mistakes I say that it is ok, but sometimes I lie I dream that I really matter I try to be kind, but sometimes I fail I hope to leave my mark I am confident and determined

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