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All my Poetry from now, Don't know how to get rid of old Posts but I can fix later

Cogari

Bluelighter
Joined
May 19, 2017
Messages
73
Hello everyone, here is everything I've made so far, and I will put the rest down below as I've learned more than 3 posts is not allowed (y) cheers, I didn't figure out how to delete the old posts, but when I do I will take them down. Thank you for the support, you are all magical :)


Hi everyone, just putting my toe in the water really, I'm going to share with you two poems I wrote a while ago. I don't pretend to be good, I'm just an amateur, make a few pieces when I'm emotional, or drunk, or high. Here we go, hopefully they aren't too awful:

Whitstable Shore:
I find being alone quite like the sea
Salty, shallow, heaps of salt and sentiment dumped upon the earth
Tones of apathy, shame, and regret all around a bitter foam.
I feel that were I more of a man
I could be better, in another life perhaps
I could be more
Yet, as I see the ones I love
Follow greater paths, follow more meaningful choices
Or lesser ones, see people pass beyond the horizon
It is not me
Too afraid
Too weak
Too solitary
Too lacking
To make my own odyssey, to sail to shores unknown
I will always watch creatures horrifically beautiful, or beautifully horrifying
Pass out of reach.
It is my destiny to see beings go beyond the horizon
While I struggle to see my own sun

The End:
I see the end
Undignified, alone, in pain
And yet, to give in is worthless.
No gift is like life
And I have no plans of squandering it
Pain hurts, what of it?
At least it’s not the disgusting halt of living
I will crawl, scream, beg at night
Lose dignity, pride and modesty
Just to beg for more life.
“Fate or God is not finished with me yet!”
We simply read the hand we are dealt
I don’t have to be happy about it.
I would love to be beautiful and whole
Not cunning and crippled.
But, at least I actually value life
At least I can love, and can be kind.
I do right for myself, for the hope of heaven, for honour
Things dead in this time, but immortal in the hearts of those who will remember me
I will die young
But not forgotten. Even a fool’s errand
May move the hearts of some
Deep down, I feel I at least did enough to not be nothing
And no matter my pain, at least I lived and loved, and learned
I struggled, bowed to no man, spoke when no one else would
I did everything for those I loved, forged myself into my own figure
The only thing to say is:
I am alive world: fuck you in the ass.
When I fall, It will be surrounded by a host
Of small victories, of friends and family
White lilies, surrounding a stagnant pond.
Fields of gold my soul did not deserve.
I fought every day of my life, I never wasted a second
I knew the worth of every flower
I felt the joy of every lullaby
I saw the wealth of what I held in my hands
At least I can say before I die
I was gifted with life, I was privileged to meet great men and women
And you never have to remind me of it.
I saw the beauty in you long before it was convenient to say it
I just wish I was worthy of you.
If I wasn’t, please know that I tried.
And I never stopped
Never will
Every night I see the lilies coming closer to me.
Every night, I thank the powers above for the gift in you Gods gave to me

Thanks for your time everyone
Second Post:
I thought I may as well put more things down Admittedly, these are a little...well bloody sappy to be honest. And in retrospect..a little upsetting almost. The person I dedicated to them and I parted ways pretty badly. I can't go back to the past, and I'm annoyed at making the mistake of going to far for someone who didn't feel the way I did. But I'm going to share these anyway, as I wrote them honestly, and sharing them with you makes me more used to the feeling and hopefully you get something out of it.

Enjoy, I'm no great shakes but hopefully this amateur is a little entertaining (y)

(Old, sappy, but it took a long time to make and every literature student gets sappy at some point)
My Shelly:

I have heard of women fair
With ruby lips and flaming hair
Women even my meagre charm might snare
I roll my eyes at love so rare

Before I know her, My Shelly comes to me
With sheets of skill unbeknownst to we
I throw what charm I can into lines of wit
And soon beside me my future love sits

She saunters to my place with half a warning
I stumble in the lobby with curiosity calling
We talk of psychology, philosophy and past long kept
That she looked at me from then I still can’t accept

I pluck my courage from depths unknown
Shaking like an eel I ask her home
I hear a yes and things go still
Heart palpitations are kicking in

My Shelly comes with looks of woe
Of battered tomes, titles no mortal man would know
She battles shades with scorn and wrath
While I wonder at the passion she hath

I wonder at what My Shelly sees in me
Only my discontentment at what I see
A thoroughly normal man who aspires to be
Good enough, nay, great enough to earn the love of she

Âme sœur (First Sonnet)

Beloved Muse, wreathed in flame and crowned by light;
Singer of the Empyrean, whose melodies soften my ear,
Sapphire eyes, voice whom makes dream take flight,
I behold a gilded mind, and we become one sphere.

Anointed seer and Queen of Sighs, who does teach
To hold the many hopes. Silken threads do run,
Into our special home, of a great future within reach;
In a life of moonlight, we walk into the Sun.
Your frantic form, ruby lips reveal porcelain smiles;
Flocks of magpies, spun starlight shades and threads of rose;
Scarlet spirit, you who so sweetly and wittily beguiles,
In speech, in thought, in deed I lie enclosed.

Regardless of what pains or pleasures come to be
We are joined in Love, I to you, and you to me.

Always. x


Thank you for taking the time to read guys, and thank you anyone who read my first poetry post.
Third post, and up to date:
(I made this after a very lovely time with a few close friends of mine. Most poems I think revolve around romantic love, but there aren't really as many dedicated to friends, and I feel that I managed to convey at least a little of my affection for people around me at the time pretty well)

Evening:

There is no silver tongue
Nor crimson shift, nor spice of life
No golden words, no rush of blood
Only a ruddy sky, and the sounds of sighs
A small day gone by, uneventful and lukewarm
But this is the ideal time
When there is no cold, no black at all
The greatest love is found in the most ordinary places
And I prefer to sit with a belly of microwavable food
Than in an overpriced restaurant with expectations tugging on my arms
No need to dream of days to come, when the evening is so sweet
Not spent in solitude, but with friends
Warm and familiar, like a strong leather shoe
More worth in present today than any “might be” or “may happen”
And Sheba herself would weep for want of the love I have in my heart


(I wrote this anticipating a lot of the changes and troubles that were to come, and this was always an off the cuff reflection of my thoughts at the time)

Gibbous Waning 22:43

Feel a burning ligament, straining the eye to spy two bronze candles
Told one’s a planet, know another’s the moon
The wisdom of a blasé burning mind older than mine, chanting wisdom
Wisdom of the ages
Wisdom told to tribes in the past
Watching the moon creep over the brick wall and the top of the estate
He’s right, it is moving constantly
I can see it better, tip toes on the doorway
While he’s perched on the tile with a cigarette and slippers
He says it rises because the world is rotating at the speed of a minute hand
And much like our conversation, I’m leaving the Earth and floating beyond
Feeling a chill setting in, real cold and cold realisation
The familiar comfort at being small
Wondering at who you are, and how you place into space, even that more complicated by time as well not sitting still
Wondering if the universe feels the same
As the wise man shares his knowledge of the unfolding Empyrean, I am floating from wonder to cold, the cold that occurs when we leave this world
Suddenly feeling very human chills in place of academic wonderment
And, because all philosophy becomes attracted and pulled to the minute details of a single observer and sight, I wonder how she is
Wishing she was with me
Knowing that she wouldn’t want to be
Feeling that the distance may as well be that gulf between the moon and its partner
Lost in time and space as another year dies, and more importantly, I become aware of the things to come
Lost in the terrifying size of objects pulled by impossibly powerful strings, energies that would fry everything I know
Surges and bursts, attraction and negation, things beyond humans that will always be
If only we were less linear, more lasting.

For a moment or many I pretend to be the Earth itself
Watching its satellite, unencumbered by fundamentals
The rising is constant, yet the moon is waning
No longer the chalky angel
The battered moon is signalling a new time to me, not to the Earth
My engagement is over.
I turn a new leaf in an hour.
And I don’t want to be the moon, fragmentary and forced
I’m bathed in bloodless light for a change, and feel the connection between me and what is greater
I want to capture the moment forever
Because men aren’t circular motions
We don’t go back in going forward
My old self is fading, and I hope
That the next year's man isn't waning.
 
''Wisdom of the ages
Wisdom told to tribes in the past
Watching the moon creep over the brick wall and the top of the estate
He’s right, it is moving constantly
I can see it better, tip toes on the doorway
While he’s perched on the tile with a cigarette and slippers
He says it rises because the world is rotating at the speed of a minute hand
And much like our conversation, I’m leaving the Earth and floating beyond
Feeling a chill setting in, real cold and cold realisation
The familiar comfort at being small
Wondering at who you are, and how you place into space, even that more complicated by time as well not sitting still
Wondering if the universe feels the same''

Wow. <3
 
I don't know how I wrote it honestly, at the time I was left in limbo after a relationship, and thinking of her while my drunk dad was having a cigarette and talking to me about gravitational effects on the planets. Half of poetry (at least to me) is the crazy and beautiful stuff you see, I can tell you at the time of writing the "wow" was right there when I wanted to capture the atmosphere of the night.
 
Wrote something else, something short about the forum, the experience in general:

The Forum

You’re older, probably. I’m younger, definitely
Experiences from different times
Different continents maybe, different worlds, times, people, places
Hell, I don’t even know –but I guess- our hobbies and tastes are divergent
You have an order to life in opposition to bubbles of spontaneity and the odd signpost

Yet we’re alike
No real face, no real persona, just muddied emotives of informal conversation
And we find solace and humour in the art of talking
Perhaps we drink the same, drink to get drunk
Sing badly for the enjoyment of singing badly
Love to laugh
Laugh at love
And occasionally go to the uncharted room in abstract territory to evade colder lives

What is shared?
What all humans share
Tears
Pain
Hate
Humour
Joy
All in words and sounds of knowing, of didacticism, or the brutal slap of shit that should be said.
Whether one is aware of their boiling in hell, or is smiling at crawling bloodied out of the hole
These personal anecdotes both pain, save or startle those who see them and drink them in.

I see no difference to the Greek forums or the hacienda
Where broken or bloodied men would bond and rail
The Parisan palace where tears and smiles and tuts were shared
And in a world even removed from the physical plane
It seems that human socialites all seem the same.
 
i take it this one isn't dedicated to this whole forum, but an individual yes?;)
and look mate i'm flattered by i just got out of really hectic thing a while back and i just feel i need to start focusing a bit more on me heroin. a lot more on that actually,, =D
 
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Ahahahha, I don't want to burst your bubble but I'd started it up a couple of days ago, but I pushed to finish a few hours ago as I was enjoying myself reading and writing on here :) That is probably the biggest inversion of "I've got a lot on right now I've ever seen", you know it's bad when you get turned down unknowingly by people you've never met :')
 
New poem that I wrote after I finished my work for the day. Hope you like it and cheers for reading it:

Love

We are the neck, love his the hand
That chokes us slowly into submission
The true reality. Far too often does the grit and sand
The stink of abuse, the pain of the fission

Be the end result of the joke we call the “partnerships”
We monkeys still jump off cliffs for the lies of love
Mistaking its true nature, wanting the lips but forgetting the whips
Wouldn’t it be better to make ourselves what we uphold above?

Before chasing the sold notions of cynics and the monetarily motivated
Should you not just love yourself, your family and friends?
Is it truly so bad not to rush, to better yourself and mock the taboo of ‘waited’?
Happy is happy, that lasts no matter the people who cohabit or warm our dens.
 
A small thing I wrote as the day went on, has no name but enjoy:

What are the wonders of the stars
The hopes in the dark of our dreams
What are the treasures of our eyes
When through the mire our happiness still gleams.

Night gathers, the cold and fear and pain of loss
And no life has lack of chill
You think yourself alone, life dust and dross
Look up, the stars shine bright still.
I think small victories and words banish true terrors because
It hurts, but no pain the soul can kill.

Cheers :)
 
Awake:

I wake up with whiskey and heat in my head
Not really alive until after the shower, the steam and the drink
In the serious time when there is no other options
And weariness gives way to possibility.
I’m too drunk and fearful of failure to hesitate
At the roadblocks, the additional things holding me back when I really start something
But the words keep flying
The reading, researching, the thoughts, planning and finding
It’s congealing, and I couldn’t answer if people called me
Couldn’t move from my seat on the bed if you hounded me
Not listening for things, save for the new connections and things pushing me to something
Can’t stop, until hours later when I feel wired and weary and the thing’s clearly finished.
The bookmarks are the worst thing, the uncomfortable start and beginning
When you’re in that moment, when your mind is turning
You don’t actually care
Until you’re afraid what you made is terrible.
But giving up isn’t even an easy option
Pointless and tedious, live in discomfort and uncertainty
It’s much easier to try and fail
Or just bloody try, and feel yourself win
And when you start pulling out of that rut, the creamy middle becomes more of your day
And you start feeling better
Start running faster
And day by day
Minute by minute
Word by word
You’re defeating the envy and scorn of the people who doubted you
Second by second, as you toil and expand your thought
You’re even telling your own insecurities to shut up.
Then you can throw the drink and the vultures out
And people suddenly want a lot more of the person who isn’t afraid.
Who doesn’t give a fuck.
Because you mastered your enemies, and bit by bit you’re even beating the mirror, your worst enemy.
And hopefully one day, it feels sweet to just have the middle
To not feel the fear of failing
Defeat the person who beat you
And face yourself with skill that has no chance of waning.
 
Gonna dig this up with a new poem, well something new on here. Having been busy, up's and downs, *shrug*. I'm here again, there's quite a backlog, and I made this to add odd peices I wrote. I made this a few months ago, if newer things come up I might put them in here.

The Red Angel

Beloved Shade, cracked chalk mask devoid of light;
Low Harpy, whose blacked barbed tongue lashes my ear,
Gleaming revenant, voice whom begs all forms of flight,
I summon silver shades, and feared affection comes near.

Fallen Fiend, Lady of Love, who does teach
To despair and curse the self. Scarlet threads have pierced
My neck and my dreams, no faded hope strays from reach;
Dead nerves and dead dreams, old love and present anger rears.
Your fevered form, tears for tears and smiles for bites,
A single wing, fallen strands beside a faded rose;
Bloody spirit, bittersweet enough to know too well of fights
In speech, in thought, in deed I lie enclosed.


Because of pains and pleasures come to be,
We are broken. You are without. And I weep for want of “we”.

Thanks to anyone who reads through these.
 
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