Regular poetry thread
Chatterbox: Pudding's Place
Regular poetry thread
Regular poetry thread (because I'm tired of not editing my poems)
This is exactly what it sounds like! A thread to post poetry. I'm excited to read all of your work!
submitted by Bluebird
(April 30, 2017 - 8:51 pm)
(April 30, 2017 - 8:51 pm)
Thank you!
(May 10, 2017 - 5:12 pm)
ii. We're Okay (For Now)
Jack's his best friend,
even if
Ben doesn't understand him
a lot of the time.
Jack is smart,
but doesn’t like answering questions in school,
even if he thinks
he has the answer.
“What if I’m wrong?” he whispers,
wide-eyed, one day during math.
The second grade class is crammed,
cross-legged, onto a purple carpet.
“People get mad at you
when you’re wrong.”
That can’t be right,
and Ben tells him so,
because the teachers are always insisting
that mistakes are good
and help you learn.
Jack only frowns and shakes his head.
The subject is not pressed further.
Jack is sweet and shy
and doesn’t talk much but
doodles on everything. His arms
are always covered
in smeared drawings
in Crayola marker, of smiley faces
and bunnies and toast.
Whenever he messes up,
(even if it’s just a little thing),
he freezes,
his eyes tense— Just for a second,
like he’s bracing himself for an impact
that doesn’t come.
Ben notices
but never says anything, because Jack
never says anything when Ben’s brain
starts ticking,
the white noise rises up around his ears
(too loud, too loud), and
he
can’t
breathe.
Jack just taps his fingers
on Ben’s arm
like he’s playing piano.
Tap
tap
tap.
It’s grounding.
It makes him feel more
there,
makes him feel
okay.
They make a nice duo.
He does the speaking,
Jack does the dreaming.
(May 9, 2017 - 6:23 pm)
I'm really not sure about this Okay, Okay, Okay series... Maybe it would work better as prose. Advice, please?
———
iii. Not Okay (Never Was)
And it goes.
They grow up
and things change.
Jack stops tapping,
(Ben starts losing himself inside
his head,
breaks down in class because
it's too much, too much—)
Ben discovers that
the only way that
the noises in his head shut up is
if he’s louder than them.
Jared Winstone skips a grade
and joins their class.
(It wasn't his choice, but
nobody needs to know.)
Ben walks with a swagger
and talks big
and starts to scowl
and play sports
and chase girls.
He gets friends
(and an ego).
Jack shrinks in on himself,
getting smaller and smaller until
it’s almost as if he
doesn’t
exist
at all. He hunches his shoulders
and looks at the ground
and ignores the world. It wouldn’t care
if he disappeared, anyway.
(So why shouldn’t he?)
Jared knows
all the answers in class.
He commands a sort of...
reluctant admiration
from the others.
They respect him
but they don’t like him.
He stays out of their way
and reads, instead. Things are better
inside books
than outside them.
Ben watches
as his former best friend disappears.
He talks bigger,
makes weapons out of words,
the only things that
he knows how to use.
He spins lies and people
believe them. He teases the kids
that don’t have anybody
(he has nobody, either)
to defend them. He spits out taunts
as fast as he can so he
doesn’t have time
(he's never had time)
for regret.
He’s hurting himself too,
doing this.
It’s poison—
he knows, he knows,
it's slowly corrupting him,
destroying him from the inside
out, but
he can’t get enough of the pain.
It’s mean,
it’s bad,
it’s awful,
but he enjoys it,
(in a twisted way).
He hates himself for that,
hates himself more
than he has ever loved anything, ever,
but it doesn’t change a thing.
Everything
is spiraling
out of control
and it's all his fault.
(It's always his fault.)
(Always, always, always.)
(May 9, 2017 - 6:29 pm)
I love these so much! About the prose, your poems do have a prose-y feel to them (I think I mentioned this before), but some of your lines have a really nice rhythm to them, so I'd suggest doing maybe a super cool prose-poetry hybrid! Anyhow, I love your poems and your story! :)
(May 10, 2017 - 7:48 pm)
Welp, here's a thing:
Fires of My Heart
Glowing embers, deep inside
Caves of darkness, shadows hide
Look into my wounds and see
The fighting powers that will be
Ashes spread over my tomb
Fresh from a new fire’s womb
Roses red and coal dust black
Everything in life I’ve lacked
Burning heart of blood and fire
A piece of each that I admire
Burn ‘till nothing’s left within
Spread my ashes to the wind
Burn through life and into death
Cinders in my final breath
More beauty in the sun-bathed rose
Than wilting into soft repose
Forget my smoke, forget my shine
But your heart will still be mine
In the embers of my fire
Mixed will every deep desire
Burning down to dying ash
I will fly and I will crash
My life is nothing but a dream
A flaming game, a fiery gleam
(May 9, 2017 - 10:25 pm)
That is so beautiful, Booksy. I love how you made everything flow so smoothly, keeping to this throbbing rhythm. I love it. I applaud you.
(May 10, 2017 - 3:51 pm)
How do you people write such good poems while rhyming?? (I probably spelled that wrong, too) I love the fire theme, there's a lot of great imagery in your poem. Amazing!!
(May 10, 2017 - 5:15 pm)
Whoa. . . This is great, Booksy, especially the rhyme! I could never do that!!
(May 11, 2017 - 8:50 pm)
In Love With the Darkness
Your night black skin,
Speckled by stars like freckles.
Your beautiful eyes,
Hold the world within them.
Your silver hair
So soft and fine,
Filters through my fingers.
Like the silk of a fine dress.
You smile,
And the world--no.
The universe brightens.
Your soft voice,
The whisper between the stars,
Like the wind sighing
Through the trees.
The way you act,
So gentle,
Yet unforgiving and hard.
You walk out of my life,
The way the night leaves at dawn.
We can never be together,
For we are the day,
And the night
~~~~~
I don't know why I like writing random poetry so much. But it's just fun, I guess.
(May 10, 2017 - 10:30 pm)
I had to reread this a couple times, Epic Fangirl, it's beautiful! I want to draw this person (or personified being??) Aww, this poem is awesome.
(May 11, 2017 - 6:43 pm)
Oh, wow, the imagery is beautiful! I can totally imagine this person in my mind!!
(May 11, 2017 - 8:52 pm)
Thank you for the complements guys. You can draw them if you want Bluebird, I think that would be a really cool drawing, so go ahead.
(May 11, 2017 - 10:58 pm)
I wrote this in my mind as my older brother was bringing me home from my job today (I work at a karate studio). I've always loved the color of the sky. Tell me what you think:
I am coming home after four hours at the studio,
and I am tired. But then I look up and see the melting sky-
blue at the top, fading to
creamy white-pink,
puffy soft white clouds far in the background.
(Why do clouds look so soft and fluffy but then are so cold and gray when you fly through them on a plane?)
There is muted lavenders washing over delicate pinks which turn to rose and then gold at the bottom.
The sun is a brilliant golden jewel- glowing, golden, molten lava-burnished gold.
And I wonder how this whole scene would look 300 - no - 600 years ago, when there were no cars,
no telephone wires criscossing and trying to bring order to the glorious color in the sky,
no electricity,
just the sounds of nature and trees and a beautiful sunset.
There is a sunset happening literally every second, if you think about it
There have been trillions of sunsets since the beginning of time, so mine shouldn't really be different. And it's not really.
But also, if you think about it, out of all the trillion quadrillion sunsets that have ever happened, no single one has EVER been the same.
(May 11, 2017 - 8:46 pm)
Ooh!! Pretty! I love the part at the end!
(May 12, 2017 - 10:03 pm)
The last part hit me like a brick. I love love love all the colors in this. Also the way you wrote it in sentences (sort of?) is really cool! This is awesome, Caroline!
(May 13, 2017 - 9:18 pm)