The Daily Poetry Club

7 Poems

1. deepgreen says:

   January 30, 2010 at 3:01 pm

   Top of the world
   Becomes true reality
   As we stand
   hand in hand
   looking over the valley

   Like or Dislike:   +1
2. SBgiselle says:

   January 30, 2010 at 5:28 pm

   “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
3. Jonahh says:

   January 30, 2010 at 5:49 pm

   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
4. TREVOR says:

   January 30, 2010 at 6:55 pm

   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
5. Tristan says:

   January 30, 2010 at 8:12 pm

   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
6. Russell says:

   January 31, 2010 at 12:56 am

   the tin foil wrapping
   protects its candy cargo
   only to be trashed

   Like or Dislike:   +1
7. Meryl says:

   January 31, 2010 at 1:53 am

   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