The "I wrote a poem, but don't need reviews" thread

63 posts1, 2, 3, 4, 5
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Legos

i’m made of legos;
you can tear me down
piece by piece
until i’ve built myself back up again.



Spoiler
Uhhhh no, I did not just spend ten minutes researching if I could legally use the word "legos" in this poem. What are you talking about?
it is always another hand that guides me.




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Gender Female
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sunset corridor

the side of the building

windows

opened out to

the fields,

the small white flowers,

the sunset

which crept in,

spilling onto tiles

honey-coloured and silent

but for dragonfly wings

muffled rhythm,

as though underwater,

this golden sweet water,

evening time.


Spoiler
Revised from the 2022 version:

Wide-open windows
lined the side of the corridor
that opened out to
the fields, the small white flowers,
the sunset

which crept into the building,
honey-coloured and silent
but for the flapping wings of dragonflies
muffled, as though coming from underwater,
this golden sweet water,
evening time.
she/her




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Gender non-binary
Points 18
Reviews 20
Wrote this for the September free verse contest :3

Trigger warning: suicide

At the end of the rainbow

Your hair color changed every week,
pinkbluegreenpurplered,
Like a chameleon in a rainbow.

Baggy jeans adorned with chains,
Flannel that you wore even in summer,
I hold on to the memories of you.

I miss the smell of your ciggies,
The way your hugs felt like home,
Your bubbly laugh,
And the way your eyes lit up,
When you talked about the stars.

The universe keeps expanding,
Life goes on,
Yet your seat at the lunch table remains empty.

They cleaned out your locker last week,
Found all the doodles we drew in it,
Our inside jokes.

They found the mixtape you never gave me,
The one with the song about feeling lost,
Yet finding your way back.

I sit in our spot by the river,
Where we threw pebbles and talked for hours,
Your voice echoes in the rushing water.

The world keeps spinning,
But for me, it stopped the moment you left.

I wish you could see the butterfly,
That landed on my hand today,
Would you still say it’s a sign of change?
Or would you tell me it’s just a butterfly?

I wish you could tell me anything,
other than your goodbye text,
Still etched in my mind.

I still text you every day,
I know you can’t answer,
But it feels like you might.

I ask myself if I could’ve done something,
Could I have caught you when you jumped?
Could I have stopped you?

Suicide isn’t a choice you made,
It was the monster that whispered in your ear,
The monster that grew from your pain,
And ate away at your soul,
Till it felt like the only way out.

I hope one day,
I find you,
At the end of the rainbow.
(You can call me Grim if you want)

Remember, until we meet again,

“Never trust anyone who has not brought a book with them.”― Lemony Snicket


This is DeadMenTe11N0Tales, signing off :D



cron
How can I be king of the world? Because I am king of rubbish. And rubbish is what the world is made of.
— Kate DiCamillo, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane