Poetry!

Poetry isn't bad, because it's part of everyday life

I used to write pretty good poems in school xD

Anyway, I like a range of poems, especially the way certain ones are written. I like War poems so thought I'd share this:



Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.



Thought the War poetry fits with CF a little

theJPguy wrote: »

Wow! It does fit with CF, and you're a great poet! Keep up the good work!

I hope many others will post great poems like yours!

Lol sorry, I didn't write that poem, it's by a poet called Wilfred Owen

i dont want to do it because im to lazy Poety is alright

I thought it would never come to this.
The blood that was shed all over that night.
I thought I could protect you.
I thought it wouldn't come to this..
My world has gone dark,
I can almost see my end.
My sword lays down covered in blood,
While I look around, all my fallen commrads, dead, never to be spoken with again.
I look directly at your face after,
My eyes come to tears,
Your face as beautiful as ever,
Never again shall I make this mistake.
I made a horrible mistake, bringing you here
Now I pay the price.
I look up to the sky, the sun is gone, the darkness awoken.
I give her one last kiss,
As I rise up I feel the darkness around me,
The coldness of all the blood around me,
The wind blows through my hair,
I look up to the sky one last time, as I yell at the top of my lungs,
Tears running down the sides of my cheeks,
If I got a second chance, never again, will I make such a mistake.

IITOLKII wrote: »

Wow nice, you wrote that, right?

Yes Sir.

http://allpoetry.com/poem/6552921

Good work JP ^^ There's just something I like when I write poetry/ a song, I get lost in what I do, I'm just always thinking about what I'm doing, but it depends in the mood I'm in. Sometimes it works great, sometimes not so much. But poetry is always fun to do when you're having a lot of emotions.

I had one published in a book from the Library of Poetry or W/e once in a contest in 7th grade, definitely not my best work, I know I could have done better, but we had to write the poem in school so it wasn't like I wanted it.

The camper

crossfire is my game
silly sittin camper is so lame
get the kill with my knife
eys roll back as i take his life
one camper named bumblebeetune
thinks his hid like the big kahuna
thinks hes sneaky got made
blown to pieces with my granade
when i am done i hunt the ghost
hes not bad turned to toast
weak campers they are lame
always messin my crossfire game
hide in the corner cant get none
face blown off with my shotgun
thinks hes hid behind the crate
bullet in the head is his fate
up the stairs down the hall
turning campers to coleslaw
looking at the face with a frown
rpk camper down
i dont care what the mission
killing campers for no commision
knifin campers may be a sin
got to it for the win !!!!!:)

poetry.

DUKEofYORK wrote: »

Every night of every morn
Some to misery are born.
Every morn of every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
W.Blake 1757-1827
(augeries of innocence)

I posted this because of Jim Morrison(singer of The Doors-R.I.P) a fine American poet...
"The killer awoke before dawn
he put his boots on
He took a face from the ancient gallery
And he walked on down the hall...."
The end. by The Doors..
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_5V1vSnumQw&feature=related from a film by Oliver Stone.

oceanbluerider wrote: »

The camper

crossfire is my game
silly sittin camper is so lame
get the kill with my knife
eys roll back as i take his life
one camper named bumblebeetune
thinks his hid like the big kahuna
thinks hes sneaky got made
blown to pieces with my granade
when i am done i hunt the ghost
hes not bad turned to toast
weak campers they are lame
always messin my crossfire game
hide in the corner cant get none
face blown off with my shotgun
thinks hes hid behind the crate
bullet in the head is his fate
up the stairs down the hall
turning campers to coleslaw
looking at the face with a frown
rpk camper down
i dont care what the mission
killing campers for no commision
knifin campers may be a sin
got to it for the win !!!!!:)

It truly illustrates all the polemics revolving the camping issue
Nice one