I’ll be posting all the poems I
(Also what’s a poa…tree?)
Horizon’s (aka NoOne) free verse
14 posts in this topic.
-
Am I late to the party?
I’ll be posting all the poems Idecided were not good enoughchoose not to publish on YWS. Comments are appreciated!
(Also what’s a poa…tree?) -
(just so you know all of them are horridly long)
-
Hi there! Glad to see a new face around here and don’t worry, the party’s just begun!
I look forward to read your detailed poems! -
Flowers blossom and leaves unfurl.
New life sprouts, the period of renewal,
Spring is beautiful, or so I’ve been told
It must be nice, to have nature bestow,
these wonderful presents.
The sun brightens, as it begins to heat.
People vacation, or go to the beach?
Summer is scorching, or so I’ve been told
I feel for you, for it’s all I know
At least it’s holidays for me.
Leaves transform their colours, floating
A sea of red, yellow, orange.
Fall is enchanting, or so I’ve been told
I do wonder, does it get cold?
I guess not, if you put on shoes.
Freezing and dark, snowflakes drift down
Fluffy snow blanketing the ground
Winter is chilly, or so I’ve been told
Is snow soft? Or is it just ice, just snow?
People say it’s nothing special
Here flowers bloom all year round
You can count on the sun beating down
on us, trees are evergreen, not deciduous
Never touched snow, I’m probably obsessed
Things we don’t know, humans tend to ponder
What seasons are like, I like to wonder. -
My words are nothing
but filler, run on sentences
that seem too long, yet
incomplete
if I don’t say more
So inject more words, and add more
filler, fluff up those sentences
withmeaninglessphrases.
Tell them how you appreciate them,
or feel truly sorry, round up
those edges.
Even if it’s nothing but a
lie?
Even if I don’t truly feel it
inside?
Even if my words no longer
make any sense,
and my sentences grow longer
and longer and my words start to run on
and when I’m done grammar is
no longer on the table and formatting
is out of the question and-
Gah! Are you sure
that they want to hear
what I don’t actually feel?
Life is full of fluff, anyway.
Are my words truly
nothing but filler?
Meaningless words that everyone dislikes,
forced to sit through to bridge the gap.
Do I even make sense?
[s]Shh, dear.
No one can hear you scream
in this void.
Besides, if they did,
they wouldn’t understand you, anyway.
So keep screaming.
Keep talking. [/i]
My words are meaningless?
Nothing but filler.
Now you get it. -
Spoiler
OH SHOOT I made a mistake when formatting uh just so you know the third last stanza is italicised -
Wow, these are amazing! I can’t put into words how detailed and emotional these are!! Great job!
-
Thanks @Coffeewriter (do tags work like that?) for your kind words!
-
The award, the praise
the things I never could have
done
My heart clenches and my breath
accelerates
Nothing makes sense anymore
Should I not be congratulating
them?
Should I not be
saying nice things, because this is
a special occasion, and yet-
And yet-
And yet-
And yet-
Stop comparing yourself with others.
It’s not worth it.
Then why do I feel so
terrible?
In and out. Deep breaths.
It’s okay.NotEveryone is special.
You’llneverget it,
eventually. -
Hi there! First of all, yes tags do work like that, perfect!
About the poem, it’s AMAZING!!
I relate so much because I struggle with getting grades I actually am proud of and I struggle with confidence and etc. Social standards, grades, making people ‘proud’. It’s all just too messed up.
I love how you wrote it and how you used the you’ll never get it but written as you'll get it. It’s exactly how it really is. Overall, great poems and you’re really talented!! -
I am only thirteen;
a young teen in a young nation of only sixty.
I don’t know who I am
I don’t know my alleged history.
The melting pot of culture that is supposedly me
doesn’t feel like me.
(Borrowed lies, unoriginal)
I say others are special and unique
I say countries are what we need
to survive, yet I live on an island
distancing myself
from others around me, never really knowing them
besides surface level facts,
(sand slowly pouring in;
ripples of water become a hard cover)
and only greeting them with plastered smiles
and socially acceptable words.
Sometimes my world feels
fake.
Sometimes I feel
fake.
I don’t know who I am;
I don’t know my alleged history.
A young teen in a young nation of only sixty —
I am only fourteen. -
Yesterday my teacher stopped teaching us and
everyone was on the verge of tears
but I had to force myself to feel
sad.
(Don’t get me wrong, he was
an excellent and engaging teacher)
Even then it felt hollow like the
cardboard box of a failed prototype
that I passed off
as the final project.
Period PHI stands for Passion Hour Ingenuity.
Supposedly we have to come up with
new inventions to help others
Supposedly we have to empathise with
others’ plight; their problems
But I’ve never walked a mile in someone else’s shoes
Each time the smooth rubber
of my slippers cushions my feet
is a moment when the falses memories of
leather soles and empty wallets
slips from my mind.
I’m not a sociopath, that’d be insane
yet I think empathy may not have been pre-installed,
I only come with compassion (as in
pity, not making an effort to understand)
just like they said
not to. -
You asked for no tears
so I silenced my heart.
My mind fills with static
at every word you say;
while you question
what shame I have left.
I look down at the unmute button
drilled onto my throat,
and wonder if I should break
the radio silence of my emotions.
But you asked for no tears,
so I say I have no signal.
(And that’s not entirely wrong.
I just broke the receiver
on purpose.) -
Drifting past life
at a constant speed
means I feel nothing
acting on me.
If you stick your head
outside,
you can feel the wind
playfully whipping your hair
but I was too afraid
to wind down the window.
(What of the things
you tossed outside
without a care?)
You can’t cruise for long
without dreading
the crash
into the eventual roadblock.
(Where were the brakes again?)
Or perhaps the stopping of motion
would feel like a fall
after the safety rails
were removed.
And this time,
there is no
flying person on a cloud
to fish you from your fall.
I never learned how
to drive,
did I?
Sign in to reply to this topic.
Delete this post?
Are you sure you want to delete this post? This cannot be undone.