|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 04, 2007 6:12 am
Emos are awesome. And they write awesome poetry. So now, we can all be like emos and write emo poems! Oh yeah! So get writing emos and poser emos!
PS. I have no idea what qualifies an emo poem, so just post any poems that aren't happy.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 04, 2007 6:17 am
Ooooo! I got one!
"It is" The child said to its mother Shunned for generations to come "It is" The slave said to its owner The logic benefitted none
The child was an outcast The slave beaten hard The child spoke his mind The slave belived in his heart
What has the world come to To expell this knowledge wholly They say it is irrelevant Taking it slowly
It is The knowledge from a lifetime of work To be stumbled apon by those sound in mind It is A philosophers dream Used among its kind It is A childs voice Crying in the night It is Outcast of those Who can't use it's might
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 04, 2007 9:40 am
Bravo, Skip.
Here's one of Kiko's that I had saved from January:
I was loved like never before, Then hurt beyond my wildest dreams. I thought we had it all, The love, no secrets, everlasting, Then you broke my heart.
I walked into the room, To see you with my friend. I ran out, You did not follow, That was all settled then.
I saw you passing by, But not a glance for me, Just walking and talking, Two things you can do. About the only things.
Then you come back, Begging and pleading, For you and me again. I know you will hurt me, Deep inside, But still I let you in, What a fool am I.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 1:53 pm
I haven't written a poem in a month and a half, considering how happy I was. Well, sad and hurt again, so time for more poems.
Poinsettias By Kiko
The blade dug deeper, twisting and turning into the abyss of her heart.
Poinsettias blossoming from her shirt, schock spilled across her face as a single tear from his eye landed on her heart.
She couldn't comprehend how he could do it yet she still loved him, as he tore out the blade, leaving her on the concrete floor.
She lay there, broken, but she had no choice but to love him. Didn't he care enough to stop the pain? Didn't he care enough to stop before it killed her? Although, it didn't kill her, but he left her there for her to die.
~1.20.08~
Please don't steal or copy any of my work, or I will report you. Also, these are very close to my heart.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 2:30 pm
Honestly, this poem is rather short. I felt like everything was fine, but apparently not. I wrote this while he was there, and we were at a friend's house. I never bothered to name it.
The candle's flame long extinguished, the wax hardening, forming a shell, so easily peeled away.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 2:42 pm
I wrote a small poem yesterday also, a couple minutes after the candle poem. I think you can tell that I wasn't very happy yesterday. Also unnamed.
Vines creeping around her heart, enclosing it in a wall of solitude.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|