I wrote a poem off a subject a reader suggested (who may reveal his/herself if he/she wishes to).

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Severe Thunderstorms

A convoluted swarm of gray
Gathers in the sky
Shadowing the world
Thickening the air
Awakening the instinct to run
From the menacing haze
That clouds the heavens
And consumes the sun

The tumbling gray turns darker
And growls at the earth
A feral beast about to spring
And tear at the world
It rears up
And attacks

It’s teeth bite at the world
Shattering units tearing at earth
Flung into the ground
By the fast deadly jaws
Of wind

The gray monster growls again
And it’s million teeth fly faster
With rising bloodlust
Faster and faster
A whirlwind of destruction
Tearing through the air
The beast roars again
And strikes the world
With heavenly fire

The fire is the beast’s rage
Hate incarnate
Ripping through all in it’s path
Spreading it’s twisting thorns
Feeding on the air
Burning it
A terrible and beautiful thing
As it smashes into the ground
And unleashes it’s inferno
On the mortals below

The gray monster roars in the sky
Writhing with it’s own hate
Striking the earth again and again with it
Biting and tearing with it’s teeth
Desperate to destroy humanity
Craving for it’s blood
It is growing weaker
It must find purchase
It roars and attacks again

The monster eventually tires
It’s roars become weaker
It’s bites not as severe
The bolts of hate less frequent
The monster gives out one last roar
And then retreats
Allowing the sun again
To shine
And fill the world
With love,
Warmth,
And light

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My dad doesn't want me to post my poems anymore, but I will anyway; I assured him that I have full right and resource available to me in order to sue anyone who steals them. And in case anyone is wondering; I really do and I really will.

Nice! Thanks a bunch, Dunsparce! =]

No problem KA.

Lol, it's been a month and I thought I should start writing again.

But beware, this gets deep.

Enjoy! (and stick with it, it changes).

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Peace and Hate

What comes in infects
What comes out destroys
Is this insanity?
Or torture?

Grief, anger, fear
I thought I knew them
But I had no idea
That they come in a more powerful form
Hate

What do I hate?
Nothing
And everything

I hate life
How it plays with us like toys
Making us feel loved
Before tossing us aside
Abandoning us
And leaving us to decay
But we need it
And we covet it
Destroying those who try to take it away
Becoming animals to keep it
To cling to it with desperation
Because for us
This decay
Is all there is

I hate love
An inescapable obsession
That consumes our lives
Binding us to another
Splitting ourselves in half
It is what brings on most hate
It is what has destroyed the best of people
Devoured them
As they first hand a person their life
And then watch it be crushed
And through it all
Like it

And I hate logic
It gives us the illusion
Of dispelling illusion
There is no pure logic
It is all tainted
All overshadowed by emotion
That we humans are slave to
But we think it makes us right
Makes us better
So we always search for it
Without cease
Some live for it
Some love it
But it cannot be found
And it makes our lives endless paths
Without peace
Without resolution

This hate
It seems so right
And feels so wrong
Why?
Is hate a thing also to be hated?
It burns us
Twists us
Destroys the meaning of
Life, love and logic
And it can only bring more hate
You, hate of others
Others, hate of you
And all
Hate of hate

By twisted irony
More of grief than humor
The only things that can end hate
Is what it rejects
Life, love and logic
So to destroy it
We must accept what we hate
And envelope ourselves in it
It is the worse pain of all
But still we must strive for it
For hate must find a resolution
A wholeness
And grow into something beautiful
Something pure
Something wonderful
Peace

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Do I agree with this myself? Not wholly, but it is some things I have been thinking about and I thought I should express it.

Meh

Tell me what you think (please).

Well, this was more of a practice than anything. Just getting the juices flowing.

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Games

Death is a tragedy
Hatred is a sin
But war plays violent games with us
And says, by them, we win

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ZOMG, rhyming!

I forgot what this kind of poem is called XD . I'm sure it has a name, I'm just not sure what it is...

EDIT: I reworked Bath of Fire from recommendations from another site, here it is:

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Bath of Fire v2

I stand, ablaze in blood.
The fire arises,
From the dead before me.
They are the enemy in battle,
But brothers in humanity.
They lie there by my hand,
Twisting my mind,
Deforming my soul.

The reminiscence of
The act,
The final blow;
It burns.

As I stand here,
I am caressed by pain;
Pain that resides within me,
And possesses me.

There is no hope,
No life.
Only the scar,
And the pain.

I am cremated by my own evil,
Flames turning all things to ash;
My sanity,
My love,
My soul.

Everything flares,
And all
Burns.

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Here's something I wrote for English, it's a bit complicated so I included an explanation.

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Unknown

We cower and writhe
With unmatched terror
From death
Why?

We show defiance
With hate and spite at
Difference
Why?

We search unceasing
With desperate lust
For a meaning
Why?

It is the unknown
That infects our thoughts
With fear, lust, and hate
Why?

We are not content
We always want more
Grasping for all we can take
Why?

Is that why we live?
To grasp and to want?
Our minds thinking only thoughts
Of what we have not
Or can we love more?
Can we think thoughts of peace and joy?
Contentment, valor
Purity and good
Could we save ourselves and want nothing?
Why not?

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Can anyone figure out the syllable pattern?

I wrote this for a poetry contest on another forum, it's in a syllyble pattern called a Tetract.

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The Makings of a Heart

Life,
And love.
Death and hate.
For human minds
Our world revolves around these things of thought
Churning within us and pumping our blood
The things of dreams
For they live,
Breathe in
Hearts.

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If you're still around black_flygon you'll like this one, it's a lot like Dream, just a bit more severe. Thanks for the first comment in three months, I'm glad you saw so much in my poems.

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Froth

Last night I lay my head to rest
Full of longing for the sheet,
I closed my vision

wow, alot of poems and, i finally finished them all. i liked all but two of them, very good poet indeed. i cant give you the names of the ones i dont like because i think i'd have a better chance finding amelia airheart. ((shiver... so... many...po-poems))

All I can say is wow... I haven't browsed through many poems around the site but so far yours are the best. I shall wait for more!
Sorry if Im not critizicing or whatever but I am a horrible poet (and speller) but your poems are awesome!
~Snorelax

Finally cranked out another one of these things, but first: responses!

@Archangel Mikael: Only twenty seven (not twenty eight). But I get your point, some of them are lengthy. (Keep in mind though that this thread is over a year old)

@Snorelax: There isn't a ton of other poets here but thanks . Specifics are nice but everyone needs a obscure compliment once in a while.

@comedianmasta: I did write a few relatively happy poems, but yes, I prefer the negative. I have been very fortunate through out my life and these are what I use to sympathize a little, my way of taking the whole world in. Also I insert philosophical thoughts of mine throughout the poems. I will try to write some happy poems soon though, I still need to explore that end of the spectrum; but not quite yet, I still have one or two more, eh, not-happy ideas left.


This is based of the Columbine massacre, and the acts of ignorance found everywhere in schools.

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Schoolyard Cruelty

“Nerd!” say they,
A word of exclusion,
Of separation,
Of pain.
It is a word for me.

“Nerd!” say they,
Dunking my head in the toilet bowl,
Filling me with disgust,
And water.
They don’t let me come up,
But I must take a breath,
All I inhale is liquid,
Panic.
I can’t breathe…

“Nerd!” say they,
As they close me in a locker.
Trapping me in my metal cage,
The sides constricting around me,
Holding me in place.
I can’t get out,
I bang on the door,
But there is no one to hear,
And no one will listen.
The sides dig into my bones,
Pressing my muscles into them,
Pain.
I can’t move…

“Nerd!” say they,
Pointing at me in the halls,
Spitting on me,
Despising me.
I am not a person,
I am an animal,
I mean nothing,
I have nothing,
Sorrow.
I can’t laugh…

“Nerd!” say they,
As I walk through the doors,
And I laugh,
But not for joy.
The time comes,
And adrenaline pumps through me,
I can twitch at the speed of light,
And I move,
But not for freedom.
A gun in my hand,
Invincibility is mine,
None can match me in this school,
I do not panic,
But not for bravery.
They all die by my hand,
All who brand me,
Who exclude me,
Who torture me.
I turn on the teacher,
As bad as the rest,
By not helping.
“Dylan!” she gasps,
And she goes down.
My joy,
My freedom,
My bravery,
All a farce.
There is nothing for me,
Nothing.
I can’t live…

This is the pain of a child,
This is what destroys them.
More than divorce,
More than rape,
More than obesity.
This is what you do with an act of random cruelty
Instead of random kindness.
So for children,
More than any others,
Be kind.
For you are the future,
And for you to destroy yourselves,
Is what causes massacres,
Then war,
Then genocide.

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This was fairly random, came strait off the top of my head for no other reason than that I wanted to write. It is also probably the end of me writing not-happy poems regularly for a while. I've received many (not just you comdianmasta) comments that the only thing wrong with my poems (these are the people who don't pay a lot of attention) is that they are too dark. So I'm going to try to brighten them a bit, though I'll probably just end up doing stuff like below.


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The Black Slate

Fight.
Fight.
Fight for your loved.
Endure the fire,
Spread peace.
Stand to the wind,
Create strength.
Prevail the darkness,
By sacred creed,
You must bring light.

Black is what is,
But against it white will shine.
Bring it.
Embrace it.
Make it so for your posterity.
Give them hope,
Give them life.

At times the world is a blackboard,
Large,
Dark,
But it must be pierced with chalk;
Giving new flowing strands of white,
To permeate the darkness.
Time after time it may be erased
But it will return
As long as the chalk exists.

If we rise to confront our destruction,
We gain our purpose.
If we live for glorious life,
And not for death,
We fulfill it.

The night is dark,
Yet it is the stars that are beautiful,
Pinpricks of light,
Yet strong.
Shine, and the night is not dark.
Live, and death is not the end.

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I tried to write non-depressing poems, this is what happened.

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Victory

Life exulted,
In the great supremacy.
Over the under,
And through the holes.
It bursts,
From the thin geyser,
In great fountains and streams,
Released and spreading.
Happiness.

Twirl it around,
Shape it,
Form it as if clay.
Make it a thing to be held,
To keep,
To remember.
It is a rare thing,
A pot of gold,
That even mystics miss.
No little people guard it,
Only large.

A fire to be tended,
It burns.
Providing drive,
Restoring life,
Making man more than it was,
So it can be he.
But it must have substance,
Something to maintain,
And more revival to live.
It will fade if unchecked,
So restore it with more.
Though laborious,
Keep yourself lit.

The victory is great,
You cannot fail it,
Don’t worry,
Just try,
It comes when it comes,
And goes when goes.
But to grasp it is terrible,
Worse is to pursue it.
It is the greatest mirage,
If you look too closely,
It fades.
But if held like water-
With its smooth surface
But empty interior-
It can be a wondrous thing,
Incredible,
As long as you simply maintain.
Keep it calm,
And keep it mild,
And it will go
And it will come
With ease.

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Phtt!

Tsunami?
What of it?
Water on my back goes rolling,
All I do is duck.

I shed worry,
I slither out,
Let it mold and irritate,
But not on me,
I sneak away like the hidden snake.

For I know one thing,
As I know anything,
That we live for something without the “i”,
Live – I
= love.
And what burdens you have,
Is not living,
Like a mule’s carrying,
Is not the mule,
Just his saddlebag.

When a hole is unearthed,
And you trip in,
They will say from the hearth,
“That’s life.”
But then, how can little things,
Make this “life”
Go away?
You are not dead,
So is that life?

But,
A child to comfort,
A hand to hold,
A smile to greet you,
A cold calmed,
That is real to us,
What we care about when living,
Not our striving,
That is our daily loaf,
That’s life.

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