A poem I just wrote
-
Renegade_Turner
- Gramps
- Posts: 6942
- Joined: Tue Sep 27, 2005 11:59 am
A poem I just wrote
I just wrote a poem and I'm not sure how to get the best feedback on it. I figured people here would probably be the best.
It's called "Trapped Inside Myself".
Here it is :
Everything that we've seen and felt happened for a reason?
I find myself petrified of challenging you there.
Would I dare? Used to be you would not care,
But our bond has changed, today we live in a new season,
Scraping through each nightmare day, the outcast heathen.
Dared to live as an alien who gripped the seem,
Now it seems trying that chance was but a young fool's hope.
I find myself fighting the invading avalanche and cannot cope.
Nightly as I sleep, I battle that rampaging stream.
Am I but a drunken madman with a drunken dream?
I push wearily down a ragged hall to a damp, decaying room,
Searching in vain for some last morsel of hope.
Knocking comes the avalanche (I cannot cope),
Knocking on my bedroom door, knocking comes the monsoon,
What for does it knock at my bedroom door? Answers, I assume.
I fall silent, sickly still, and hope for it to pass,
Will it go away, thinking I am gone, or knock again if I delay?
Is it the creeping tide come to sweep me out from my decay?
'Twas fear set me here. I go to answer, but alas,
Fear averts my gaze from a knob of faded brass.
'Twas fear that's set me here, now 'tis fear that's kept me here.
And what is this I spy while on my stoney bed I lie?
A notice from her mind, one seemingly of desire,
Should I toss it on the fire? No, not a precious letter so austere!
Were these words a noble truth or a common ruse as it appears?
Set fire to my life, burn it down before I discover
Creeping lies, thin disguise, a vicious charade, your final act
Of this tragic one-shot play, directed to make this fatal impact,
To distract me from the fact you're not my lover,
To pretend there was a loving partner to uncover.
Now I hate myself, when 'tis clear this was not my fault at all,
Sorry, but could I ask you, if it is not much trouble,
To help me up from beneath this shattered rubble?
This was my house. It was once firm, gigantic, unbreakable.
Now this withered El Diablo has crumbled from that last fall.
Suddenly like it's my fault, I'm shrugged to the side,
As if I wanted all this, like it was my plan for us to go this way,
Ignoring, pretending it didn't happen, our tragic one-shot play.
I think it's called life...Struggling for a place to hide,
I searched for meaning and now I'm trapped inside.
It's called "Trapped Inside Myself".
Here it is :
Everything that we've seen and felt happened for a reason?
I find myself petrified of challenging you there.
Would I dare? Used to be you would not care,
But our bond has changed, today we live in a new season,
Scraping through each nightmare day, the outcast heathen.
Dared to live as an alien who gripped the seem,
Now it seems trying that chance was but a young fool's hope.
I find myself fighting the invading avalanche and cannot cope.
Nightly as I sleep, I battle that rampaging stream.
Am I but a drunken madman with a drunken dream?
I push wearily down a ragged hall to a damp, decaying room,
Searching in vain for some last morsel of hope.
Knocking comes the avalanche (I cannot cope),
Knocking on my bedroom door, knocking comes the monsoon,
What for does it knock at my bedroom door? Answers, I assume.
I fall silent, sickly still, and hope for it to pass,
Will it go away, thinking I am gone, or knock again if I delay?
Is it the creeping tide come to sweep me out from my decay?
'Twas fear set me here. I go to answer, but alas,
Fear averts my gaze from a knob of faded brass.
'Twas fear that's set me here, now 'tis fear that's kept me here.
And what is this I spy while on my stoney bed I lie?
A notice from her mind, one seemingly of desire,
Should I toss it on the fire? No, not a precious letter so austere!
Were these words a noble truth or a common ruse as it appears?
Set fire to my life, burn it down before I discover
Creeping lies, thin disguise, a vicious charade, your final act
Of this tragic one-shot play, directed to make this fatal impact,
To distract me from the fact you're not my lover,
To pretend there was a loving partner to uncover.
Now I hate myself, when 'tis clear this was not my fault at all,
Sorry, but could I ask you, if it is not much trouble,
To help me up from beneath this shattered rubble?
This was my house. It was once firm, gigantic, unbreakable.
Now this withered El Diablo has crumbled from that last fall.
Suddenly like it's my fault, I'm shrugged to the side,
As if I wanted all this, like it was my plan for us to go this way,
Ignoring, pretending it didn't happen, our tragic one-shot play.
I think it's called life...Struggling for a place to hide,
I searched for meaning and now I'm trapped inside.
-
Renegade_Turner
- Gramps
- Posts: 6942
- Joined: Tue Sep 27, 2005 11:59 am
-
Viking Zippy
- Wooter
- Posts: 1215
- Joined: Sun Jan 25, 2004 5:56 pm
- Location: Milky Way
- Contact:
-
Renegade_Turner
- Gramps
- Posts: 6942
- Joined: Tue Sep 27, 2005 11:59 am
-
Renegade_Turner
- Gramps
- Posts: 6942
- Joined: Tue Sep 27, 2005 11:59 am
Yeah man, it was about my last relationship. She was my best friend and then I kinda just fell in love with her. She wasn't too happy though when I told her lol!
And Crill3, it's funny how you actually know my habits like that, because you were bang on with what you said. The ":(" smiley is very uncharacteristic of me.
I suppose, come to think of it, I do kind of know the personality traits of various people around here by now...
And Crill3, it's funny how you actually know my habits like that, because you were bang on with what you said. The ":(" smiley is very uncharacteristic of me.
I suppose, come to think of it, I do kind of know the personality traits of various people around here by now...
-
Renegade_Turner
- Gramps
- Posts: 6942
- Joined: Tue Sep 27, 2005 11:59 am
Well, if Robert Frost said that, that's a funny thing, because many of his poems, like the one about mending the wall (thin it was called "Mending Wall"), had a noticable absence of any recognisable meter. I don't get it.Nayr wrote:As robert frost once said, "a poem without meter is like a tennis match without a net."
That said, there's not much a person can do to critique a poem.
You can critically analyze poems. It's all about peoples' opinions. It's what we do in poetry in English class. Personal responses to poetry etc. It's all valid as long as you have evidence and reason to back up your points.