Poetry



  • We have a topic for movies, talented people & music but it seems there isn't one solely for poetry; thought this might be a good thread after seeing a post of poetry in the sports bar this morning.

    Do you love poetry? favourite poet? do you write yourself?

    Feel free to share your thoughts and/or others work ☺



  • @d-chosen-1

    Yes, I do write and have a lot of inspirations. So let's start with a guy who I had the pleasure to hear and hang out with at Manchester Metropolitan University -

    And the last one with a great message about the form itself -



  • @d-chosen-1
    Well if you ask for own poetry, once in one strange day at 3 a.m., inspired by one song, I wrote something, in which better don't search much sence, but anyway it was just a trial 😄

    THE WOLVES DIE ALONE

    There where the winter's sun
    meets the dark horizon
    is our omnipotent panacea.
    Staring in the dark shadows
    of centuries-old trees,
    I am trying to find
    the hard and excruciating way
    to the majestic knowledge.
    The knowledge of happy death
    and non-existence…
    In front of me, LOVE
    measures for a moment,
    I reject it with a swish.
    What is even this, whether
    it is something subjective,
    it's just another person -
    a bag of blood and bones!

    I climb up the ladder and
    she! she stays behind me ...
    I yell: what a secret is
    hiding this cursed universe?!

    I hear moans and pain…
    somewhere far away
    a lonely wolf is crying
    He is not so different than us,
    another creature of the mother nature.
    His life is losing sence ,
    the death is coming,
    he won't survive.

    And we will all die?
    But how: sad or maybe…
    happy, defeated by the life
    or with a smile on our faces.
    It all depends on us ,
    but for him is already later:

    The wolves die alone!



  • Great stuff guys!

    Here is a poem I wrote for a song with my band (poem/rap)

    Violet Daze

    The violet hill
    It stands so tall
    A violent kill
    Yet we really know it all
    Shades of blue
    It quenches through the flames
    Shades of red
    As we venture to the games
    A mountain dew
    A quest to the fame
    True and undead
    How we feel when it rains
    Feels of dred
    Run deep through your veins
    A little bit of lead
    We'll make it to planes
    My soul is growing thin
    Too small
    From treacherous things
    Will I fall?
    I'm seeing rings
    I made that call
    To glorious kings
    I will busk
    Even if I fall
    From dawn to dusk
    I will stand tall
    If you hear me out
    I can prove it to you all
    If I win this bout
    I can crash through this wall
    This is the start of the quest
    The phoenix and the goddess
    The way I'm laid to rest
    Reborn with the test



  • @alexander-6666 Oh, that's really good! I love the metaphors 🙂



  • @d-chosen-1 That last line gave me chills. Great work. Keep writing!



  • My only football-related poem -

    Legend passed

    A blood tarnished broadsword and battered shield lie in a lost tomb.
    The Knights now wear their shield on their chests.
    A club emblem replaces their breastplate.
    A black band is worn like a Queen's ribbon, laced around the arm.
    Shirts and shorts their battle dress.
    Shin pads their rusty spurs.
    A match their honour fight.
    The pitch their battlefield.
    The defence their armour.
    The strikers attack the back line like the siege of an enemy's castle.
    A pass replaces a parry.

    A dribble and tackle is footwork
    like fray and clash of metal was swordplay.
    A foul is a Black Knight's deed.
    A red card is banishment, like Lancelot, to the tunnel.
    A free kick like a lance in a joust;
    breaks through the wall, knocking the Champions off their steed.
    A shot cuts into the net like a blade into a foe's chest.

    The shout of female fans is the siren of modern damsels.
    Feet wound supporter's pride.
    Knights no more.
    Teams fall through the divisions
    like Kingdoms through history
    Blood is spilt but no men fill the open graves.

    copyright 2004
    Stewart Tunnicliff

    Another example on a different topic can be found on a webzine I have wrote for -

    https://leipglo.com/2015/09/02/poetry-alcohol-loving-dependable-partner-or-treacherous-mistress-of-the-night/



  • @manchester-munch
    tnx, buddy 🙂


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