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Poems

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By (user no longer on site) OP   
over a year ago

Post your favourites or even your own work on here.

2am, green LED hue,

Sprinkles the room and heightens my view,

Alone with my shame and the absence of you,

Took what you wanted and broke me anew.

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By *stellaWoman
over a year ago

London

The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was

Spawning snow and pink roses against it

Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:

World is suddener than we fancy it.

World is crazier and more of it than we think,

Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion

A tangerine and spit the pips and feel

The d*unkenness of things being various.

And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world

Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes—

On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one's hands—

There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.

Louis Macneice - Snow

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago


"The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was

Spawning snow and pink roses against it

Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:

World is suddener than we fancy it.

World is crazier and more of it than we think,

Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion

A tangerine and spit the pips and feel

The d*unkenness of things being various.

And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world

Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes—

On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one's hands—

There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.

Louis Macneice - Snow"

Such an underrated poet.

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By *ensuallover1000Man
over a year ago

Somewhere In The Ether…

William Wordsworth’s classic, ‘I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud’ (sometimes referred to simply as, ‘Daffodils’)

Beautiful.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

Sometimes it has to be big Willie.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,

Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,

When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.

    So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago

From the panes a green mist swirls

Is it a shadow of reflection?

This apparition in moon beams bathed

A voice like wind through trees beckons

Cool rain on hot summer stone

The odor fills my presence

Of freshly dug grave and death and night

These things are her essence

Nocturnal mistress, spirit lover

Your mouth of wine and woodsmoke taste

My goddess of the violet twilight

You are lust incarnate

In the sweat of my bed

The eastern sky hints of dawning

Alone and awake but exhausted I lie

Oh how I hate the morning

I hate the morning (light)

I hate the morning (light)

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