Anybody write poems

<p>R0$3 In D@ Gl@ss C()nt@in3r</p>

<p>By: Michael Tubbz
(Insert Copywrite here) </p>

<pre><code>Look at the rose,
Sealed by the glass container.
Many touch ,
Longing for a feel.
Fingerprints testify of those who sought to hold the rose.
The were only at surface, didn’t get to the real.
Watching the rose lose a little beauty, a little vitality everyday
Is painful.
It withers slowly,
It closes,
It is almost gone.
</code></pre>

<p>Its growth is stagmented
Its protected but suffocated.
It bangs on the glass.
It cannot be contained.</p>

<p>It yearns to be set free.
However, it is delicate.
Frail and easy to mishandle
Born in the wild and the winter came
Froze it.
So it was put in a glass, to protect against hurt.
If you touched
Its petals can easily fall
One by one.
Or you can be pricked by the thorns
Hardened over time. </p>

<p>Still you must take the rose out the glass container
And let me hold it
Smell It
See it.
Let it Go
Let it Grow!</p>

<p>Mr. Tubbz, I really liked "Hyphen"---I've read that kind of poem before, but you put an interesting, fresh twist on examining black identity with (of all things) punctuation. Which is awesome! :D I think you accomplished what you were aiming for very well and it made for an interesting piece.</p>

<p>^^ I concur.</p>

<p>i like poems that express the poet's SAD feelings...</p>

<p>As in teen angst?
I'm not too fond of angsty(?) poems--a lot of times they end up sounding whiny and ridiculous. I know this kid who writes only when he's upset (about stupid things, mind you) and his poems are the whiniest pieces of crap I've ever read.
e.g. (I'm making this up but this is the gist.)
No one understands me as I cry in the bedroom.
Going into a spiral, down to the bottomless
Pit that is my life
Should I keep living?
Is it worth it? I often ask myself.
Blah blah blah. Shut up.</p>

<p>(this wasn't really in response to you, sona--I just went off on a random rant/tangent.)</p>

<p>thank you guys for reading that long poem lol</p>

<p>sunshineday-- yeah, i'm sure my writing is very confusing to someone who is not knowledgeable as to how my mind works, and what my interests are. :p I use figurative language alot and I use allusion alot..."THIS IS NOT A SUPERMARKET" is inspired by a Ginsberg poem to Whitman and most of it is about Gary Snyder (Japhy in a Kerouac book) and Mahayana. </p>

<p>ActuarialDJ-- just looking at your poetry (not even reading it, just the physical structure) looked straight outta Leaves of Grass. Which is a compliment, as I love Whitman's form. </p>

<p>Anyway, here's more I guess. More proof of my love of allusion. Whoever can guess the three men I'm alluding to in the last one gets a cookie.</p>

<p>JE SUIS CONFUSEE (OR SO THE FRENCH WOULD SAY)
I am clawing at my own glass ceiling
I am too many layers constantly peeling
I turn to grey after many metamorphoses
I am beyond being pinned up to 95 theses</p>

<p>I am one hundred; I am Sylvia Plath
I am Marat taking his last bath
I am Ernest Hemingway on a bloody battlefield
I am Atticus Finch and Gandhi kneeled</p>

<p>I am a pristine Hindu goddess
I am eccentricity, bold and modest
I am polished with Persian crown
I am Okie earth, crumbled and brown</p>

<p>If only the world weren’t so harsh and troubling
My life would be ink, boiling and bubbling</p>

<p>METAPHOR FROM EMILY DICKINSON
My life is an unfinished poem
Abrubt and incomplete
With strokes of brilliance and insight
But burrowing in defeat</p>

<p>I crack and I howl with a scowl
But no resolution
I am a cause and no effect
Just seeds of revolution</p>

<p>I am Hamlet’s own inaction
Coming to terms with thought
But never do I leave this struggle
Waging war but never to have fought </p>

<p>I am thrown away, pushed aside
To be met with another day
But that day never comes
Instead I waste away</p>

<p>I gather dust, my ink doth run
Because I am not worth your time
You’d rather do something else
Than wasting time with rime</p>

<p>But one day, someday soon
When you’re buried underground
Like Emily Dickson’s own
My genius will be found</p>

<p>SOMETHING FAMILIAR
Come to London with fog in your hair
I’ll come to Westminster—I know you’ll be there
In the middle of Trafalgar, teach me to dance
You be my Heathcliff and I’ll try to be Blanche </p>

<p>Come to Lowell and cough through the industry
I’ll come to Lowell—but soon we must flee
Lift me to the platform of some hobo’s freight
We’re in Colorado; San Francisco, tomorrow night!</p>

<p>Come to Manchester and distort your vowels
I’ll come to Manchester—please, don’t scowl
And if the people stare, well, I really don’t care
Just sing to me and flip that incomparable hair</p>

<p>I am coming to Boston, with too many books
I have to find a new love— not dying men’s looks</p>

<p>pleeez teach me how to write/understand poems! they're so hard
u guys are so lucky that u r talented!</p>

<p>Hemingway Island Sweet Pieces especially the first 2........very deep</p>

<p>This is the very first sonnet i wrote. What do you think?</p>

<p>I invoke Urania, my muse
to speak for me
to show you the use
of my feelings for thee
calmly you have me betwixt under your spell
but when you smile
like a thousand winged messengers dispel
all the happiness the world needs, while
your eyes not unlike cupids himself
bring forth such brightness
to illuminate the occident itself
forgive me if over your feelings I transgress
but living in a world so uncertain
expressing love is better than expressing regret.</p>

<p>sunshineyday, yeah as in teen angst.. haha i guess those poems aren't hard to understand... thats why maybe.. but its alright :]</p>

<p>comment on my poem please?</p>

<p>


</p>

<p>Was it just me or did that kinda kill the rhyme scheme.</p>

<p>Otherwise, I really liked it. I have no knowledge of poetic structure or whatnot, so I'm not quite sure if it was intentional, but I felt like the last two lines disrupted the flow.</p>

<p>Great Stuff! I especially like "Hyphen" </p>

<p>and this line from "Je suis confusee"</p>

<p>I am a pristine Hindu goddess
I am eccentricity, bold and modest
I am polished with Persian crown
I am Okie earth, crumbled and brown</p>

<p>Also, HemingwayisDead- your "Theme from English AP" really reminded me of Ogden Nash, are you a fan?</p>

<p>Here is some of my poetry:</p>

<p>My MSG on TXT</p>

<p>Communication among our youth
Has become, in no uncertain terms, uncouth</p>

<p>We went from a letter carefully penned
Each word thought out, a specific message to send</p>

<p>Then to a telegraph with dashes and dots
‘Cross a wire instantly shot</p>

<p>Next, came Bell with the grand telephone
He was quite wise not to have his own</p>

<p>From there we were untethered, freed from our cords
For the train of technology steams forever forwards</p>

<p>The portable phone left us free to roam, rove and ramble
About the house doing chores while we prattle</p>

<p>People calling at all hours with nary a care
But I daresay it gets worse from here</p>

<p>For now we have the cellular phone
Every man, woman, and child each needing his own</p>

<p>Now you can be called any time, any place
Because your mothers’ aunts’ sister wanted to “touch base”</p>

<p>Interrupted during a movie, concert or play
‘Cause your friend just wanted to say “hey”</p>

<p>But worst of all, I find, is the texting
Adults find it vexing, I just perplexing</p>

<p>Taking ten-times the time
And costing a dime</p>

<p>And yet expressing none of the passion
Tell me why, oh why, is it the fashion?</p>

<p>Texting is the McDonalds of communication
Empty conversation, instant gratification</p>

<p>Full of four letter words and idiotic phrases
The fact that most kids abuse it amazes</p>

<p>Rife with lol, omg, *** and other abhorations
Rampant with Colloquialisms and abbreviations </p>

<p>Just think of the lazy, apathetic message it must preach
This new ‘communication’ barely constitutes speech</p>

<p>Still, they text during class, all day, all night
I cannot understand, though try as I might</p>

<p>What is the point of this nonsensical waste?
This waste of time, money and words I view with distaste?</p>

<p>Is it the wave of the future, one I must ride?
The Novus Ordo Seclorum, the change worldwide?</p>

<p>I should think, write, say, and pray it won’t be
For of all things learned, communication is key</p>

<p>A world with out true words would truly be poor
And thus is the duty of the Litt</p>

<p>@ mcqdeltat</p>

<p>WOW! man... ur realllllllllllly good! i wish i could write poems that well ugh!</p>

<p>k, so mine aren't very good...they were for english class and we were concrete images in poetry, and she wanted us to write 2 poems with 4 stanzas (independent or cohesive, doesn't matter) each using imagery to describe a different emotion/state of being...so they aren't really...meaningful, lol. </p>

<p>The first one is 4 independent stanzas that are kind of connected, each has its own subtitle:</p>

<p>NATURE'S BEING</p>

<p>Rage
As blackness envelopes the night
The throbbing of the ocean tide intensifies
Waves rise, roaring with intensity
And crash in a torrent, devouring their frustrations</p>

<p>Solitude
In the midst of a meadow
Stands a tree, abandoned in its splendor
Lofty over the fields below
Its braches reach out desperately into oblivion </p>

<p>Anxiety
Early in the morning, when all is quiet
On a damp crimson blossom
A delicate dew drop rests; worried
Frantically clinging to its petal</p>

<p>War
A scarlet rose
Lies atop the soft blanket of white snow
And radiates in impropriety
Disconcerting its colorless reign forevermore</p>

<p>The second one is cohesive and uses love, isolation, anxiety, and war:</p>

<p>SNOW AND ROSES</p>

<p>Passionate kisses
Like the fresh snowflake in her hair
Pristine innocence in its ignorance
That it will, one day, melt. </p>

<p>It is no longer fresh
The single snowflake in her hair
It has been isolated
Sheltered in the tumbling madness of her curly locks</p>

<p>On the rose she grasps in her warm hands
Rests another snowflake; worried
Impatiently awaiting a companion
Who is yet to appear</p>

<p>Her clutch loosens
And the scarlet rose
Lies atop the soft blanket of white snow
Disturbing its reign forevermore</p>

<p>And then we had to do one that needed to write something using 3 literary devices (I used alliteration, repetition, and allusion):</p>

<p>First Love</p>

<p>Sultry summer nights and sunset colored kisses
The notes that punctuate the innocent smiles
The hands that shake with the nerves of first love</p>

<p>We learn by our nonexistent mistakes
And fake the arguments that should be real</p>

<p>“I love you” always at the tips of our tongues
Waiting, not quite slipping out, not now
Not ever. Not then, but I know it is there
From the way your hand finds mine
Out of the view of prying eyes</p>

<p>That was jeans and t-shirt love
Sophomore year love, just for fun love
Baking cookies and going for coffee love
Arguing about Shakespeare love</p>

<p>The kind of love that you can’t get enough of
The love that is almost too easy
The kind of easy that caused me to pull away</p>

<p>The sultry summer nights cooled to brisk autumn
And the sunset colored kisses faded from our lips</p>

<p>"THIS IS NOT A SUPERMARKET AND IT IS NOT IN CALIFORNIA
Where are you going, Allen Ginsberg?"</p>

<p>Hey! I caught that reference! I'm gooooood.</p>

<p>These poems are excellent! Keep posting =)</p>

<p>Generally repeated efforts show diminishing returns so I don't know how this one is(published in my school magazine along with my last one though)</p>

<p>The steel towers
glitter in the night skies.
Silent over anguished cries
of dying lovers</p>

<p>The bastardization of culture is complete
An age of darkness descends unchecked
Too few to stem the tide, washed away from deck
of the ship that's humanity's citadel</p>

<p>War and strife are commonplace
Show us the hate we possess
against each other, to destroy and depress
someday we will come to replace
sadness with joy, come to peace with regrets</p>

<p>Till then we fight until our last breath
to preserve hope for love to grow
look beyond tomorrow
for a future without threat</p>

<p>Please comment and critique and read my first one if possible. I like to receive input to improve my poetry.
Thanks</p>

<p>Autobiographical Piece comparing myself to a phinoex
kinda rough only a first write....</p>

<p>The Phoenix
By Michael Tubbs
Insert copywrite here lol </p>

<pre><code>Left to die before born
Refined by Fire;
From the ashes of despair
From the depths of nihilism
Arises the phoenix

An Immaculate Conception,
In the midst of an unwelcome reception;
The phoenix spreads its wings and begins its flight.

Sought to be tamed, suffocated, conformed, and maimed
Attempted to be captured before the sight of a brighter day
Although they try in their disdain to contain-

They can’t.
As the phoenix soars……………………………
</code></pre>

<p>``<br>
From afar it hears the chatter of those
Who doubt-
They look Up and Say
It won’t , cant, its mission is Impossible.
Rather than swooping down to their level,
To become ensnared in their verbal net and Grounded-
The Phoenix
uses their hot air as the wind beneath its wings,
propelling it to greater heights.</p>

<pre><code>Despite circumstance-the phoenix flies
Despite doubt- the phoenix thrives
Because of GOD the phoenix survives
And continues to
Rise, to Rise, to Rise
</code></pre>

<p>I'm sorry but MR. Tubbz I didn't like the phoenix poem. It felt a little forced but thats my opinion.</p>