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Poetry Slam |
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Heya guys
Welcome to our online poetry slam!
Post your poems here. they can be self written or just something you love.
For those who don't know a poetry slam is like a beatnic poetry coffee shop type event but more funky and modern
Welcome to our online poetry slam!
Post your poems here. they can be self written or just something you love.
For those who don't know a poetry slam is like a beatnic poetry coffee shop type event but more funky and modern
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posted by: Coeurdansant
posted by: Coeurdansant
posted by: Coeurdansant
posted by: Coeurdansant
posted by: Coeurdansant
posted by: Coeurdansant
posted by: Coeurdansant
posted by: CecilHarvey
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Discussion (29)
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October Morning |
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Posted By: Coeurdansant on: 10/23/09 5:48 PM |
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Today - The first cold day; In the pale light, The mixed sensation: Gray sky, cold air, And resignation. Yet the leaves cling Still to the trees; Just a few turned brown, Blown down. Outside - Breezes sting; Newspaper kiosks Through headlines Speak to the sunrise While a bird sings: This week the President, While waging war, Won the Peace Prize. The time is out of joint. O cursed spite That ever I was born To set it right! |
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Around the Block |
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Posted By: Coeurdansant on: 9/16/09 5:33 PM |
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When I was a boy I used to walk around the block So many times far From the ticking clock. Around the bend there was the house Of our neighbors; the two older boys Who washed their cars, and when wet Their sex showed, hanging, as they'd bend Those tall spindly legs moving awkward, and alien, Like the Martian invaders in War of the Worlds. Around the bend again, there was the house Across the street, across the border, Where lived the brown boy, that other. He was not like us kids, white brown, But from South America, brown brown. And so we launched stones and taunts Like missiles launched from our starship That launched from the tree in our yard Lurching at light speed to escape the dark And the calls for dinner. Around the bend again there was the house Of all those children but we never saw the father Except in stories of drinking and sleeping and jail. But we let one of them play with us; Not the others, though, they were babies, and a girl. Around the bend again there was the house Across the street, an ocean away, Where the woman sat on her porch quiet. They said she was an old Russian lady, A little girl in the Russian Revolution, Though none of us knew where that was. So she was the silent witch from Oz. When the radio played static, When my mother's shoe caught my brother's head, When my father bellowed in the living room And my sister cried in her bed, I walked around the block To escape the ticking clock. |
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Rainbows |
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Posted By: Coeurdansant on: 8/15/09 12:19 PM |
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Don't go chasing rainbows In the middle of the night Because you'll not find them. The rainbows were last seen Flying over Belgium in 1917. But other townsfolk say it was An American jet patrol Shot down a rainbow over the desert Near Alamogordo. Only they didn't shoot; there was no fire, And it wasn't the desert. Still others say the rainbows Have little to eat and less to see, Kept in a camp with barbed wire Down the road a few miles out. These reports you just can't doubt. As for our town these days, We light the sky at night With giant lightpoles far too bright: The mutant children of gas lamps Whose contribution to pollution Blinds the turtles, the birds, The bleary-eyed office worker In his tower of glass. Upward, higher, flies the light until From their space orbit the rainbows see: The signals, flares, fires, and flashes - The searing heat that turns glass to ashes. Silently the rainbows turn And return to their home planet, Flying through the dark of night, Guided by the light of the stars. |
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Sad Eyes |
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Posted By: supup on: 7/23/09 3:06 PM |
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His gaudy tide retreated momentously a reflex
As preemptive waters, but non-yielding Moments before, we reclined heads of swept wheat With his tawdry howls of a boastful bull. Silenced by his approaching red tunnel This surge brought about by a stranger Who hunted for the yelp of a wounded bird He cried to me a cautioned song of his broken wing When he flew too high and now cannot sing I spaced myself fearing I'd catch the break He wheeled whilst pecking for his nitched nest Found me searching, but for a different sake Or it was the same, the final pain and rest. I hope I heeled you a wedge to stand on Not a wobbly peg you stood on briefly To jump on to the next Cause you will forget How the heed and ambition used to rummage Individually plucked and PRUNED your plummage -For Eryk |
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Locked in Time |
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Posted By: Coeurdansant on: 7/22/09 10:54 AM |
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To say I will not likely find In the years ahead a being That will appreciate my mind Is to apply the prejudice of time. In the present dwells a certain sadness, The sense that joy will die in future darkness. But if, from the far side of the earth, Your life I fail to note, Then, from a hundred years hence, You remain just as remote. Therein lies the trap of time, Our minds prisoners of the present. From day to day though I may fly, Our meeting - miles, years away - Stays locked beyond this moment. |
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