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Poetrrryyyy


HannahG

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So, I do standup poetry at times. I also write poems & short poems (Yes, there's a difference)

I posted a little bit of one of my short poems as my status.

 

"We could walk along the breaking point between the earth and the sea,

I'd hold your hand forever, it would just be you & me.

We'd sit in cars,

stare at stars.

Cause love's forever, forever ours."

 

Wrote the one that little bit came from last night, and, I got to wondering if anyone else writes (Or does standup)

If your shy but you do it, message me some! I'd love to read some from others. You can tell a ton about someone from their poems. Because poetry isn't just written, it's from the heart. <3

 

Not saying to post your most revealing, most private ones. Like, the one I wrote last night is very personal, but I figured that snippet I made is beautiful. The rest is just between myself & another. But post one you're comfortable with posting! Or talk about one someone else posts on here.

 

Please, no criticizing or being rude about posts in here though. For me anyways, poetry is very personal. :) keep in mind, it might be someones first time ever sharing it. If it gets insulted, they will likely never share their poems again. Be respectful, kthxoxo

Edited by HannahG
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I have a family that needs me,

a mom that reads me,

a house that shelters me,

food that helps me,

clothes that keep me warm and cozy,

my dignity that secures me,

inner peace that is why my voice is loud and deep,

no stress my life isn’t a mess,

but, if I were wealthy, I would have trends of loosing friends,

everyone would come for my money not my personality,

I would dress nicely but inside I would be going crazy,

I would show I am happy but inside I would be cranky,

You probably think I am crazy for realizing the good life that I am having,

Thinking the grass is greener on the other side would be imaginary,

I would choose my life over being wealthy, crazy and depressing.

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TIme..

 

 

It doesnt heal a lonely heart

Time takes time to heal

Time is a great healer

Time shed tears if it dont heal well

Tears will be mine

And tears will be drop in the ocean for you to find

Every rain drop, drops that will be me

Sheding a tear for you cause your

not here with me

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Once, in Heaven

 

Once, in Heaven, I was asked,

Had I ever killed a man in my life?

Yeah, I replied, it was back in me skinhead days.

The place was called Hell, me and me cronies,

Were scouring the streets for a package,

Of ice, coke, soap, whatever they call it,

Hidden, the boss gave us a map.

 

Well, we finds it, wrong time wrong place,

For the man who was there,

It was hidden in the drain, under a small nook,

Anyways, me an’ the lads cornered him, jogged his memory,

He said he had lost his ‘ouse keys, we laughed.

 

He said he never seen the pure, uncut, white, parcel hidden under the grate,

Tried to do a runner he did, nuh-uh, wrong time wrong place wrong choice.

I tol’d the boys ta leave us,

A secret is a secret, I said, and it can’t ger r’out,

I told the boys I had gutted him, sliced him from cheek to cheek, not in the usual sense.

We shut down the street, so to speak, e’en the coppers avoided us.

 

Took us a good twenty odd minutes to prise off the drain, in’t end, I took out me piece, and blasted off the hinges.

It was an insignificant package, white and sealed tight,

I know’s something wan’t right, I rummaged around the drain,

Whilst shit poured from above,

It was difficult to see it, but I saw it,

A set of silver sewage stained skeletons,

I returned t’at boss.

 

‘e was a cold man, a smart suit reminiscent of a professional hitman,

Weren’t we all?

His eyes watched me with hunger, a patient intent.

I told him what ‘ad happened,

He asked me, what I did wi’ert body,

I said I had cut it up, and chucked it into the sea,

Wrong answer, wrong time, wrong place, wrong choice.

 

The cops will be crawling all ov’ert this, ‘e said,

There can’t be no links, he declared.

Lay low, hide, anything until the coast was clear,

He smiled,

A secret is a secret, and it can’t get out. He said,

Bang! Dead. He shot me there and then, I didn’t even have time ta blink.

 

A neat hole on my forehead, and a bloody mess at the back.

So why was I in Heaven? I was asked again.

Don’t be a cretin I laughed.

I let the man go.

 

My first poem, not quite finished cleanly, most of it was done when I was strolling in the park - heard it in my head, and I scribbed as much down on my forearm as possible, don't worry, it is my work. It has elements of Lawrence Ferlingetti's "Two Scavengers"... and some of Seamus Heaney's "Hitcher".

 

Since I did English Lit at GCSE and A-level. It's mostly free verse, one case of sybillance, mostly simple diction, dramatic monologue, blah, blah, blah. I'm such a narcisstic for rating my own poem.

 

PS: Noticed the naughty word mid-way, if admin sees fit, please remove.

Edited by darkfang77
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Missing You

 

I really miss you.

and I love you.

I do.

But you've broken my heart

So many times I can't count.

How many times

Have you promised me love?

But you turn away

When my arms are held out

To embrace you,

To kiss you,

To give you the love

I promised you.

When will you look

At me?

When will you look

Into my eyes and tell me how much

You miss me and that I'm

The only you want to be with?

You've broken too many hearts,

Held them in your hand

And crushed them.

But all I've ever wanted

Was for you to love me

Like

I loved you.

 

 

a poem i wrote some time back, based on an ass who left me hanging.

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Oh wow Kristy :3 I adore that :D

I think I'll have to post one of my longer ones soon. Some are a 'bit' too personal >_> But I'll find one in muh scrapbook :D

 

Also ; I'm sorry you died, fang :( R.I.P :( good one though

Edited by HannahG
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