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… :)
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!
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.
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.
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”.
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!
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!
wryness: At least one person will write About sweet ecstasy And, “Hey baby, “You’re my LSD; “High on life, “That’s my girl; “That’s” –...
Pragna Paramita Mondal: The Wind Had swept off. Rust petals, paper cranes, yellow pages. The delirium, and a slice of time, somnolent and sour. The blood had felt the onomatopoeia, when it...
wryness: That has made all the difference – Or maybe it hasn’t; I’m not sure. I need to move upwards, Open a dimension’s eyeful And trace the lines carved In leaves now...
inthenameoftherose: Brick by brick we build our walls, Some are short and some are tall. When communication stalls another brick is added cemented by resentment and frustration. And in order to be...
AintNoNinny: you told me that you have eyes only for me yet I see you staring at that corvette across the street wishing you were with her
inthenameoftherose: All the best laid plans of mice and women Yet life has her own vision. As little girls we were fed on fairy tales But now as women we lie on beds of nails Self sacrifice and...
inthenameoftherose: It began with two for the road It seemed so light then the load When under the shooting star I wished The third came as promised ‘twas bliss Four we wanted to even out our...
BJP123: Lay down icy witch, Promise lost spell unbroken, Filled with regret.
BJP123: Nine and six filed for divorce, such a tragedy. Thirteen lost her beloved ten, a sailor out at sea. It’s been a year since the cancer took four, and seven just isn’t the same....
Provalone: From the summit of him to the valley of me, I feel the wind that connects us. Oh gentle wind, please blow harder so I can feel you: The only thing I share with him.
What’s this all about?
Every night at midnight (Mountain Standard Time), a new topic is posted. Write a poem that has to do with that topic and post it as a comment for that day. Repeat the next day!
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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
Hoping no one notices
the missing ace
in your house of cards
Like or Dislike:
+2
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
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
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
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
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
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
She finishes sewing her poem
and slips it on,
nervously waiting for someone
to take notice.
Like or Dislike:
+2
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