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skl02134

Poetry

  • Putting up my Hair

    First poem on here. Not the first written, haha. But the first I felt like a really wanted to share. I honestly just wrote this, on a whim. The rhyme ...

    • Poetry
    • Dramatic
    2 min read
  • The tip of my Tongue

    I can feel the words at the tip of my tongue-High-strungOn the choice of a trigger- just run.But there’s an acid in the air,A taste that holds my hand to ...

    • Poetry
    • Dramatic
    1 min read
  • Unca Steve

    Unca Steve gave me dollieslast night.With pretty hair andlittle shoes.He came throughmy window.Tap tap tapHe came in with a tapon my window,and I saw him andsmiled.Silly Unca Steve.I got out ...

    • Poetry
    • Narrative
    2 min read
  • Drunkard

    Destitute; alone, unawareof the silence hiding ‘round the bend.Great stories told of men and lore begetting thoughts of triumph, power, lust, desire, revenge. I sway, steady footing naught to be ...

    • Poetry
    • Dramatic
    2 min read


It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats—the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill —The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it—and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another.
— JRR Tolkien