uranusbluedanger1
New member
Heh, I still write a ton more prose than poetry. But, i would like to get better at poetry so... here are the new sets that still need some work... any comments are appreciated.
Untitled #12
A poet's sea
Let's him float on the waves,
Sink his body into the lace
Of ravelled grace.
Let's his soul embrace
The make-shift society
>Of a place.
A singer's notes
Gives him his loves,
For who needs gold
When you can hold
The gentle sound
>Of Strauss?
An artist's somber scenes
Depict the noble growth
Of some twenty summers
Casting their shadows--
Like thick moss growing
>On ivied towers.
And what of the prose writer
Whose pen is mightier
When put to paper?
Why does he have neither
Water or air
>To rule forever?
[1] > Is not part of the poem, but simple a tool so that the sentence can be indented.
Untitled #13
Love blooms like a flower,
Known to die in an hour--
But if folly is known to the heart,
Then, whose rose
Could ever bloom
Behind bastioned walls?
So, talk to me of war,
Of winter's despair--
I'd rather hear the sorrows
Of life from the ones
Who praise strife!
Instead of the solemn
Ambitions of golden
Brides bathed in
Silver rays...
Untitled #16
Baby, our minds are a business
Ready to hit bankruptcy;
They could not become less
Even if we gave away sanity.
Baby, our minds are a mirror
Losing their way to error;
A movie of our every terror
With the protagonist a whore.
Baby, our minds are breaking
Somehow they are now dead;
I think I hear them leaking
Hitting the pavement like lead.
Untitled #12
A poet's sea
Let's him float on the waves,
Sink his body into the lace
Of ravelled grace.
Let's his soul embrace
The make-shift society
>Of a place.
A singer's notes
Gives him his loves,
For who needs gold
When you can hold
The gentle sound
>Of Strauss?
An artist's somber scenes
Depict the noble growth
Of some twenty summers
Casting their shadows--
Like thick moss growing
>On ivied towers.
And what of the prose writer
Whose pen is mightier
When put to paper?
Why does he have neither
Water or air
>To rule forever?
[1] > Is not part of the poem, but simple a tool so that the sentence can be indented.
Untitled #13
Love blooms like a flower,
Known to die in an hour--
But if folly is known to the heart,
Then, whose rose
Could ever bloom
Behind bastioned walls?
So, talk to me of war,
Of winter's despair--
I'd rather hear the sorrows
Of life from the ones
Who praise strife!
Instead of the solemn
Ambitions of golden
Brides bathed in
Silver rays...
Untitled #16
Baby, our minds are a business
Ready to hit bankruptcy;
They could not become less
Even if we gave away sanity.
Baby, our minds are a mirror
Losing their way to error;
A movie of our every terror
With the protagonist a whore.
Baby, our minds are breaking
Somehow they are now dead;
I think I hear them leaking
Hitting the pavement like lead.
I think you go in depth about certain things that make the poem stand out. They remind me of songs. They would be really good songs if they had a chorus LOL