The Daily Poetry Club

10 Poems

1. Sir Ascot says:

   February 22, 2010 at 3:48 am

   Tonight Your Face

   Tonight your face,
   looking at mine,
   like a glimpse of moonlight,
   shone through the trees,
   of my hardened soul;

   And by your grace,
   in nick of time,
   though fears posed to affright,
   pure love did cease,
   painful years of dole;

   So shall your place,
   once crossed the line,
   giv’n last of mortal might,
   with God increase,
   our eternal goal.

   … amor vincit omnia …

   Like or Dislike:   +1
2. Sorgie says:

   February 22, 2010 at 7:40 am

   Hoping no one notices
   the missing ace
   in your house of cards

   Like or Dislike:   +2
3. Ember Daley says:

   February 22, 2010 at 12:13 pm

   Blinded by Fears

   Standing in front of all these people,
   Getting ready to release my voice.
   The piano starts to play,
   I begin to sing.
   My face portrays my fears,
   My voce gives nothing away.
   My eyes blind themselves,
   Just to block out all the people.
   As I near the end of the song,
   My trembling limbs finally stop shaking.
   The song ends,
   The people clap and I wander off.
   Accomlishment is my prize,
   And my fears are released never to be seen again… :)

   Like or Dislike:   +2
4. SBgiselle says:

   February 22, 2010 at 4:08 pm

   I’ve never been so nervous
   As I was when I looked
   Over the edge of a balcony
   And saw the zooming cars below.
   I never thought I was afraid
   Of such insane hights!

   Like or Dislike:   0
5. Meryl says:

   February 22, 2010 at 5:12 pm

   And I sit in this familiar chair
   hard as marble,
   growing cold while hours pass.
   Still, I need more time.
   My nervous arm cannot stay calm.
   It is no match for
   the clock’s steady hand.

   Like or Dislike:   0
6. wryness says:

   February 22, 2010 at 5:49 pm

   Ooh, I hope everyone likes this poem.
   Already I am getting nervous before I even write it
   Because I am thinking of the beautiful poem I read yesterday
   And I will feel failure if I can’t reproduce that -
   Reproduce it? No; I have to be unique.
   I cannot say what others have already said
   Because then I am just a rip-off.
   Already I feel the shadows looming over me
   Of Keats, and Frost, and Collins and a million others
   Burying me in darkness;
   Darkness. I am sick of poems that are dark
   And explore my own neuroses
   And confessions
   And inadequacies
   Because in doing so I only fuel the fire
   And gazing at the monster
   Makes him bigger.
   And they will compare me with Frost, and Keats,
   And the rest,
   And I will feel so minisculey small.

   Maybe I don’t want to write a poem after all.

   Like or Dislike:   +2
7. Russell says:

   February 22, 2010 at 6:52 pm

   Steven’s fingers finally overcome
   his stomach’s spiraling somersaults,
   but with each number dialed
   they gradually lose
   a little more of their strength.
   and right after he presses “Send”
   his thumb shoots to the red “End”.

   Like or Dislike:   +5
8. deepgreen says:

   February 22, 2010 at 9:03 pm

   Grey was the morning of that first battle
   Shadows crossed the field, foretelling death.
   Soldiers arose early, feeling the tension
   Squinting their eyes and holding their breath.

   Anxious glances float to the opposite sides
   Everyone is too scared for glaring
   Intimidation threads itself through the hearts
   Of a group of young boys, staring

   The sun shines coldly, which is hard to imagine
   Guns are polished, horses shoed,
   Swords are sharpened, hats straightened,
   Prayers said, consumption of food.

   A bugle sounds, “To your stations!”
   Boys turn to men as they get in formation
   They square their shoulders, fearful,
   Yet stand tall to serve their country and nation!

   Like or Dislike:   +1
9. Tristan says:

   February 22, 2010 at 11:27 pm

   She finishes sewing her poem
   and slips it on,
   nervously waiting for someone
   to take notice.

   Like or Dislike:   +2
10. Volkam says:

    February 23, 2010 at 12:14 am

    He can move calmly in the face of danger
    Hands holding his blade with practiced poise
    Yet when it comes to meeting a female stranger
    His sable hair is lost amid a sea of friendly decoys

    With performing flare, he can shake her hand
    Look her in the eye and say “Hello!”
    But at the table he’ll fiddle with an armband
    and chat but little with the closest man fellow

    When she has an inquiry
    He says either too much or too little
    Revealing either a personal mystery
    Or make her work for each jot and tittle

    And when it comes to dancing oh my!
    The great knight is hopeless!
    A farm boy could do better by and by!
    The poor knight trips all over her dress!

    Battle clad he prefers wars of steel and blood to fight!
    Rather than social gatherings in the dancehall
    Where try as he might
    His feet cannot stay under him at all!

    Even when instructed under teachers best
    All is forgotten in a panic of nervousness
    As he sees the smile of a lady royal
    Immediately his feet and tongue become disloyal!

    Like or Dislike:   +2