Poetry Forum

Go fuck yourself with a large extra wide sledge hammer, or alternatively try to be constructive. If you don't like it, don't comment on it. Personally (and this may be big headed of me), but I prefer the big cliched stuff to the bog standard boring no imagination read. But do you see me writing comp...

I'm beginning to think this is not the forum for me, not that I'm after a love-in forum, but a forum that denies anyone to have melodramatic poetry, will not like what I have to write. I write what's in my head, or from past experience, but that is the way I write, and how I've always written. I'm n...

Your welcome.

I'm not surprised at the comment, as it was a drunken post just after the new year. But then again, not much of my writing seems to raise much of an opinion in anyone else it seems.

If you look through the poem again there is also

All thinking as one,
An enormous individual,
A world united.

That is the "One". The collective mind of the people of the world.

Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we spend time, Put effort, Try, To harm each other, And ourselves? What joy do we gain? But we continue, We follow our ways, Our traditions, Our fathers And mothers, For we have no individuality, Not anymore, No self, No alone, Just groups, Crowds, Numbers, All...

When looking up the definitions of the term faggot this is what i found: Definitions of faggot: ornament or join (fabric) by faggot stitch; "He fagotted the blouse for his wife" fasten together rods of iron in order to heat or weld them fagot: offensive terms for an openly homosexual man b...

The bells chime, The silence following Deafens the surrounding public, As all welcome the change. A fresh start, A time to resolve the old And shape the new, To fit a familiar mould. A cheer, A wild cry Pierces the silence, As a wave of histeria, Jubilation, And manic depression Sweeps the nation, A...

heh heh I find it hard enough to write a good poem in English, so god only kows how the French one might go. Could take another decade to write

I think I'm going to have to start writing things in French, just to be different. Now where did I put my old French degree work?

I never realised that poetry could induce so much confrontational hostility amongst forum users. Does no-one just enjoy reading/writing anymore? As well, of course, as offering guidance along the way?

As to the capitalisation at the start of every line, I'm not trying to shout or write in some awful newbie/text format, this is just the way I've always written, for the last decade or so, and was how I learned way back in my school days. The intensity probably came from the mood I happened to be in...

Don't worry about the negativity and thanks for spotting the obvious mistake (now amended). I usually class myself as one of those people who hate those who mix up there, their and they're, and here I am doing it... ho hum. As you said, not all poetry appeals to everyone, and to be honest this littl...

What a charming and eloquent reply.

The poem is either deep beyond my imaginings, or it is extracting the urine out of the poetry process.

As for one of the more bizarre lyrics, you can try this from The Cure:

You look so cool
Oh i don't think!
Just fall over
Be like me
Mr. Pink Eyes.

I saw near the top of this thread

Though it definitely reminded me of our days in Hull

- Was this Hull Uni? I graduated there back in 1998.

Interesting methodology. I'd be the first to admit I'm not a technical poet, and haven't really studied any form of poetry or prose since I was 16 (nearly half a lifetime ago), I just write, so I wouldn't know if there was a standard terminology for this kind of work. I'm sure if there is, you'll te...

All hail they cried, As the beast from the pit arose, Their heads Touching the bloody soil, Still damp From the murderous ravages Of the previous dusk. All hail they whispered, As they stared in mute horror, At the creature They had summoned, Human in stature, Standard in appearance, Pain incarnate....

The dawning troubles, Of the few, Tempted by the knowledge, The truth, Spoken onto the wind, And exchanged Along the currents and flows, Of more temperate times. They listened, Aurally intaking, Breathing, The very existence, Of a learned nature. The forbidden, Whispered through the mist, Clinging t...