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Old 05-08-2010, 06:24 PM View Post #1 (Link) YWO's Thread-Box Poem
Simmi (Offline)
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Yes, you've probably seen this on TW.

The point of this is to write a poem, right now, and post it. You can spam it with your poems and stuff, because that's the point. But they can't be poems you wrote a while back, the poems you post aren't really meant to be critiqued.

Write a poem. Post it. Then continue the chain.
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Old 05-08-2010, 08:18 PM View Post #2 (Link)
Simmi (Offline)
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Silver splotches transform
into squash-licked rays.
Illuminating
empty eyes.
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Old 05-08-2010, 08:36 PM View Post #3 (Link)
Alice Glitterhorn (Offline)
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You've added the final letter
of the song you sang in years past (A, B, C)
to your spiraling visions of blank pasts and
dark presents. You once lived in
nothing but length and breadth, my dear.
But future is blinding you with a clear,
bright day, and nothing is stopping you
from cringing in fear.
Hesitate, love, before stopping the song
just to go back and fall into
your single-plane world.
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Spoiler:
Originally Posted by Caleb
when I hear the word poet

I think of you naked, rimbaud drinking, and how lovely my hair is


They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the bong-tree grows;
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose,

Word Count: 10000/50000
  
						Last edited by Alice Glitterhorn; 05-08-2010 at 08:51 PM.
					
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Old 05-08-2010, 08:47 PM View Post #4 (Link)
Jack (Offline)
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When you first stood upright you marvelled
at the complexity of the dirt on your soles
and grinded your hefty jaws, thick and clumsy
through lack of use. Your sockets were wide;
your mind was closed.

You tossed grey at your equal so you could watch
as its features were torn, disfigured then returned.
Soon you built a home in mother’s ruins
and scrawled blood upon the walls.
Learned to love the orange-red that lit them.

You ate from veins that covered the floor
and the walls alike. Dug teeth into raw flesh
and found that it was boring, tasteless.
So you propped it upon ecstatic bubbles
and allowed the orange-red to lick at it.

You were interested in the shimmying light;
threads that danced and pleasured you;
liquid delight. Shafts that cut the dark.
Bright, as though the sun had cast children down
to play with the gravel.
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poetry
  
						Last edited by Jack; 05-09-2010 at 12:10 AM.
					
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Old 05-08-2010, 08:47 PM View Post #5 (Link)
Simmi (Offline)
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Your ring begins to slip,
as only Patience holds it.

Occasionally It falls off,
and He questions why
you let it.

You leave It at your bedside,
as Patience, too,
fell away.
  
						Last edited by Simmi; 05-08-2010 at 08:54 PM.
					
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Old 05-08-2010, 08:51 PM View Post #6 (Link)
silverstardust (Offline)
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Alice told me to post in this thread,
But I think by the time I am done, I'll be dead.
You see every time I try to write words instead
Of this gibberish that runs around inside my head,
I wind up just going straight back to my bed
Where I'll fall asleep and dream of my old bobsled.
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Old 05-08-2010, 09:15 PM View Post #7 (Link)
Alice Glitterhorn (Offline)
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Rabbit holes are no match for
whale-bone corsets and
starched-white collars
who refuse to let even a pixel
of dust dirty their structured perfection (life).
Take my hand and fall into destruction
while we skip through wisdom clouds
and courts of romance without passion,
drink our poisons like medicine,
wearily coughing up oceans of gems
and stories of what we never
could have imagined while sitting in the prison
we were told to call society (life).
Dance through messy arrays of dishes
sat so precariously on the edge,
knock them over,
hear the crash of sweet porcelain, a sound
so forbidden it was almost like the groaning of love.

Just know that it's all got to go
when you open your eyes
and the sighs you've been holding,
in lungs all collapsed like un-birthday balloons,
will enter the expanse of
sharp eyes and sharp tongues
and you'll be scolded, naughty girl,
for dozing off at this tea party of madness (life).
__________________
Spoiler:
Originally Posted by Caleb
when I hear the word poet

I think of you naked, rimbaud drinking, and how lovely my hair is


They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the bong-tree grows;
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose,

Word Count: 10000/50000
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Old 05-08-2010, 09:26 PM View Post #8 (Link)
Lykaios (Offline)
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Blue Roses

[REMOVED]
  
						Last edited by Lykaios; 07-30-2010 at 06:28 PM.
					
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Old 05-08-2010, 09:40 PM View Post #9 (Link)
Simmi (Offline)
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You stroke your thin-paged
book.
Worshiping the printed letters
written by a man who put on
his trousers one leg at a time.
Like the rest of us.
You kneel down and pray for
me, if only I believed, then maybe
Life would treat me better.
You question the choices I make,
my actions.

And, as you eat your comfort food,
I thrive.
  
						Last edited by Simmi; 05-08-2010 at 09:44 PM.
					
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Old 05-08-2010, 10:01 PM View Post #10 (Link)
Jack (Offline)
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Thin flesh across thick skull
and bones scatter the dirt
at the foot of idols, or depictions
of such.

Since man learnt to scribble
and express their dark minds
he has judged, conjuring
images to explain what
isn’t known
and rid the world
of the imperfect.

The world’s greatest hoax.
left us hanging on a wire
wondering. Why?

So I wait for the Rapture
when I’ll be alone and free
to think and act,
un-judged.
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						Last edited by Jack; 05-08-2010 at 10:06 PM.
					
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