Woo woo! FREE-BIE! FREE-BIE!
No set topic today. Write about whatever.
The Daily Poetry Club
A poem a day keeps the mind at play.
What’s this all about?
Every night at midnight (Mountain Standard Time), a new topic is posted. Your job is to write a poem that day that has to do with the topic. Post it as a comment under that day's blog post. Repeat the next day! Your don't have to be a great poet to join. We're definitely not...We just created a Facebook fan page!
Spread the word!
-
Recent Poems
- Tristan: I faintly feel my spinning wheels come creaking to a stop. To keep them going, momentum slowing, takes much more than I’ve got. A push, a prod, a smile and nod, I’ll take what...
- D. Edgar Lamp: FAILURE Fortune gathers those who know, All the seasons take their turn, Instant while the moments glow. Logic binds the rapturous burn, Urgent weather aches to go, Rising fractal...
- Meryl: If F stands for FAIL, Why does BYU use E? Does E stand for EPIC FAIL? Could that possibly be?
- Volkam: Traveling up a long winding stair I grow and learn the stairs never end but I don’t care I want to feel the struggle and the burn at times the stairs are smooth or rough my efforts...
- Tristan: They say that it ends. They say that it gets better. I don’t believe them.
- SBgiselle: High School Day by day, It is the longest thing invented. Year by year, It flies by like it never even happened.
- Meryl: I struggle to research; I avoid writing. But soon my paper will be longer than this poem.
- Russell: The other things that put themselves in between the things I actually want to do seem infinitely long
- Volkam: I met him in a house macabre sitting under the dim luminescence of a dusty old candelabra I shuddered at his prescence “What kind of fuerte might you have young man? Enough to escape...
- Volkam: along the grainy beach the ebb and flow of tide eased me to soft sleep in a nearby hotel room I lie I’ve run across the sand late late at night and from this strange land felt the...
Subscribe!
Subscribe to DPC via RSS feed or email and get notified about each day's new poetry topic.
Search DPC:
Calendar
Some Stats
- Members 113
- Poems 1,220
- Topics 178
Recommended Reading
© 2009 The Daily Poetry Club
Top of the world
Becomes true reality
As we stand
hand in hand
looking over the valley
Like or Dislike:
+1
“whatever” is what you say
When you can’t describe how you feel
“whatever” is what he muttered
When losing became real
“whatever” filled the place
of the words she longed to speak
When all her explanations
Became pointless and weak
“whatever” can fix and create problems
Like no other word
whatever.
Like or Dislike:
+4
THE LOST ITEM
there is always solitude
in the centre of the road
crossing over shades and
tones and
magnitudes of light
sometimes there is solitude
in the stream of thoughts
crossing over dreams and
age and
magnitudes of gloom
there is never solitude
on the ways i walk alone
crossing over fear and
loss and
magnitudes of hope
Like or Dislike:
+1
At the moment
I can think
Of nothing
Better
Than world peace
Except perhaps
A hot place
Of Chicken Fried Rice
Or mabye
Some curly fries
Yes.
Like or Dislike:
0
Sometimes I don’t want to write a poem
but I promised myself I would,
and so I end up writing crap like this
and it’s no good.
Like or Dislike:
+3
the tin foil wrapping
protects its candy cargo
only to be trashed
Like or Dislike:
+1
I found myself walking,
Wandering,
Floating,
Dancing on a path unanticipated.
Along the course I found a friend
Who joined in my roaming.
With him I shared a book
And he warmly gave his to me.
Through the pages of each other’s books we peered
And learned and thought and lived.
The world became ours. And the hours were calm.
The man was sincere
For his music was pure and clear as glass.
He had a heart of gold
For he behaved as if I were delicately encased in it.
He was fearless
For never did he shelter his sweet song.
With pleasure we lived in each other’s books.
With deep simplicity we enjoyed the path.
Now I stand on that same course, which has just begun to turn.
I consider dancing longer, but the movement dulls.
And the road beneath feels inconsistent with my feet’s proclivity.
Here I am -standing,
Thinking,
Wondering,
Deciding to dance no further on the path he shared with me.
I impart his book to him
And my book is returned to me.
As I finger through familiar pages, I recognize alterations.
Once secluded pages are now highlighted in vivid yellow.
I discover things about my own book which had once been misplaced.
His music continues unshaken;
The exceptionally genuine melody carries on.
And as I back away ever gently
I hope his book, like mine, is better in some way
Because we had the chance to skim through it.
Like or Dislike:
+1