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Writing Hey, Who Here Is Into Poetry Blogs?

Taliesin

Registered Member
I ask because I'm hankering to read some poesy. So, go ahead and hit me with your best. Better still, if you have a poetry blog then post your link. I'd love to check it out.

I also have a blog, but I wanna see some of yours first.
 

Hilander

Free Spirit
Staff member
V.I.P.
I don't have a poetry blog but I like to read people's blogs when they use poetry to talk about their lives and things that have happened to them. It can make even a bad situation sound romantic. Sometimes I use poetry to talk about how I feel but I never let anyone see it, kind of personal.
 

Laine

Registered Member
I do not have a blog or poetry, but I have written a few that are in my facebook notes. I can post them here for you. When I write these, it was a different time and I was in a different place than now but I wrote with the feelings and things I was going through at this time.

I Sit Alone:
I sit alone, wanting to smile now.
I sit alone, I think I've forgotten how.

I sit alone, for all the world to see.
I sit alone, even I would not want to know me.

I sit alone, a girl broken inside and out.
I sit alone, unable to be whole again, without much doubt.

I sit alone, wishing it was all just a dream.
I sit alone, knowing it's not makes me want to scream.

I sit alone, not able to deal and cope.
I sit alone, a girl, with very little hope.

I sit alone, the pain, more than I am admitting of.
I sit alone, nothing left inside, nothing left to love.


Monsters Are Real:
Darkness falls and so the fears begin,
And with this night could be my very end.
Monsters lurk though you wish them sleep,
They do exist, this is all fact that I speak.

He creeps in the hall just outside my door,
I close my eyes and hope my room he will ignore.
The knob squeaks, the door creeks, this night of fright,
It only makes it worse should you struggle or try to fight.

Above me he sits now with breath to make me choke,
My Monster almost always smelled of vodka and smoke.
I can only lay there now, scared, knowing not to cry,
For I know what would happen if he saw a tear drop from my eye.

Moving in close he whispers "not a sound if you wish to survive."
But all I can think of is how I wish I was not alive.
His hands clammy and cold, they make me cringe at the touch,
I don't understand how a father can hate his daughter so very much.

Monsters are real, please believe me they do exist,
I pray they never find you too, for this I insist.
 

Taliesin

Registered Member
I don't have a poetry blog but I like to read people's blogs when they use poetry to talk about their lives and things that have happened to them. It can make even a bad situation sound romantic. Sometimes I use poetry to talk about how I feel but I never let anyone see it, kind of personal.
Ah, I can appreciate that. There are some things that are important to remain personal, for sure. However, if you ever write anything that you feel you can share, I'd love to see it here. :)

I do not have a blog or poetry, but I have written a few that are in my facebook notes. I can post them here for you. When I write these, it was a different time and I was in a different place than now but I wrote with the feelings and things I was going through at this time.
Hi Laine, I never knew your sister as she was before my time here, but I've read about her and I've read your own story, and I must say I've been moved. It would be a privilege to read your words.

I Sit Alone:
I sit alone, wanting to smile now.
I sit alone, I think I've forgotten how.

I sit alone, for all the world to see.
I sit alone, even I would not want to know me.

I sit alone, a girl broken inside and out.
I sit alone, unable to be whole again, without much doubt.

I sit alone, wishing it was all just a dream.
I sit alone, knowing it's not makes me want to scream.

I sit alone, not able to deal and cope.
I sit alone, a girl, with very little hope.

I sit alone, the pain, more than I am admitting of.
I sit alone, nothing left inside, nothing left to love.

Monsters Are Real:
Darkness falls and so the fears begin,
And with this night could be my very end.
Monsters lurk though you wish them sleep,
They do exist, this is all fact that I speak.

He creeps in the hall just outside my door,
I close my eyes and hope my room he will ignore.
The knob squeaks, the door creeks, this night of fright,
It only makes it worse should you struggle or try to fight.

Above me he sits now with breath to make me choke,
My Monster almost always smelled of vodka and smoke.
I can only lay there now, scared, knowing not to cry,
For I know what would happen if he saw a tear drop from my eye.

Moving in close he whispers "not a sound if you wish to survive."
But all I can think of is how I wish I was not alive.
His hands clammy and cold, they make me cringe at the touch,
I don't understand how a father can hate his daughter so very much.

Monsters are real, please believe me they do exist,
I pray they never find you too, for this I insist.
I don't know what to say. It's better if I don't. Laine, thank you so much for sharing, and I hope you never go through this kind of trauma ever again. Both of these poems chilled me to the bone.

In light of Laine's startling honesty, I feel I can share one of my more personal poems here. I plan to share it on my poetry blog in a few weeks so I guess this is kind of a sneak peek. (Please don't cringe everyone.)

i don’t want

i’m angry at you all
i’m not allowed to be
my lot's a sterile ground
your words lay shallow over me

you throng along golden paths
high above my burial mound
i rot, i gasp a plea
in hopes that you might come around

but everything’s the same
love’s for the living it seems
and i still have to be me
quiet now in this grave of dreams


If you want more bad, melodramatic poetry like this, then feel free to check them out on my poetry blog.
 
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Laine

Registered Member
What I love so much of poetry is not just reading words, but to put myself in the place of the writer, how they must have felt at the very moment the words poured out onto paper. That to me is what Poetry is. Your poem is beautiful Ephemera.
 

Taliesin

Registered Member
Thanks so much, Laine, and I agree. When you read a poem, you really can get an insight into the heart and mind of the person who wrote it. It's a privilege whenever someone decides to share that kind of stuff in the public domain.
 
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