[Poetry] When words say a thousand words..., If you like poetry, you'd always have time to visit and join in Options

[Kewltodamax]

If you are reading this then you appreciate poetry and have some value over it!

So, if you do read this thinking, nice/cool/bad/sucks poem, now lets move on, i say NOW HOLD ON A MINUTE?!

Where's your sense of respect and compassion to literature? Where's your need to dive into her embrace and give her a good kiss?

So make sure you jump right in with your own POEMS and give some useful COMMENTS!

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~ The Shadows ~ by Kewltodamax (aka Neosage)

Moon glaze a broth of shine,
Tis not the darkest hour,
Stillness amidst the drape of pillars,
Not steady shadows but dancing ghouls,

Tis I who wreak havoc in my solace?
Tis them who make me cry?
Tis solace itself attempt madness,
Or tis a devil in disguise?

Not untoworth shall I creep further,
Undeath hath hold me dry,
Before long sanity shall furrow,
The shadows dance demise...

Sing no further you filthy wretches!
Sing no further, GHOULS!
Nay, said the angels fallen,
I am one of them...

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My stance on written meanings of a poetry:

A poem has a unique and different personal meaning to each and everyone! To make it stagnant with one singular meaning is a disgrace to the poetic universe! So, after reading it, when there is a slight tingle of understanding or meaning at the back of your mind, have a good glimpse at it and that will be your meaning for a poem you've just read...

Happy Poetry!
Kewl

This post has been edited by Kewltodamax: Jul 12 2009, 03:52 AM

[wolfblade]

The graves,

clitter and clatter,

as they reach toward the sky,

from six feet underground.

Screaming out in pain,

from not being able to leave.

Their coffins,

clitter and clatter,

as they try to scratch their way out,

push open the casket,

to fall into the hands of freedom.

Knowing they have been forgotten,

since the first shovel of soil,

hit their prison.

The bugs,

clitter and clatter,

as their tenant,

disturbs the cemetery silence,

every night.

For someone to take their hand,

and take them away from the darkness,

that they’ve spent too long in.

Some souls,

grow to hate,

while others grow to accept.

The quiet peace of the graves,

that align this land,

breaks every night,

as the spirits of the dead return,

to clitter and clatter,

six feet under,

clawing their way into,

an impossible sanctuary.

[rockcrazyboy]

Man, I find a sort of yearning in the poem you posted. I'd tell you to write songs in "Death Metal" genre. The lyrics are perfect for such sort of songs. It really gave me some feelings. Thanks for posting this up.

Thumbs up.

This post has been edited by rockcrazyboy: Jul 9 2011, 08:46 AM