Any poetry lovers out there? *update train*

I didn't think anyone hated poetry this much. Reserved for resins.

nice

A poem I wrote, wish it was as good as yours.

The calm blue falls in love with the sailor,
He takes all he wants sensing no danger.
The sea grows jealous, he never cared or
Provided, now waves swell with her anger.
The sorry man falls in with a loud splash.
Tonight the deep, dark blue decides to take.
His craft rips apart, as the waves crash,
This once was his own obedient lake.
The ocean pulls her lover close,
He's trapped under the waves like they're rubble.
He can't reach any air with his mouth or nose.
He sees his life fly past in a bubble.

The sailor takes a breath, he knows he's done.
And the jealous blue mistress knows she's won.

bumps

I usually prefer my poetry a little positive, rather than being about cold blooded murder. Were you looking for thorough editorial feedback, or just surface comments?

I like Saul Williams and Poe, wouldn't really count that as loving poetry though :p

I like it though!

i really tried. really.
can't abide poetry... i just don't get it.
stories i love. books by the hundreds...

I prefer prose, because I'm dumb D:

bump

I like the poetic prose of some authors.

everyone is scared of my little wooden choo choo

Here's your bump.
I hope you haven't been followed. Do you have the money?

Like the Baudelairean themes and the way the poems almost look like songs, with faux bridges and choruses. If I may, sometimes the transition between the metaphoric insight and the literal exposition becomes too rhythmic to the point of being predictable. It might be intentional, as a device to convey the mindset of an angsty person, but when I started to recognise the pattern, some of the verses seemed somewhat formulaic. E.g.
'I get to work, I make my plans.
I set the wheels in motion to take my stand.
I take a drug to make me sleep;
to chase these demons in slumber deep.'

Also, the couplet rhyme pattern (AABB) sounds a tad too merry to my ear and doesn't quite go perfectly well with the sombre themes. But that's me being terribly subjective.

Here, you can critique one of mine in return if you like. Please note it is an acrostic.

Damages

Vessel pristine meets a hammer
Of trauma unforeseen and shatters,
In sharp shiny shards of confusion
Crashes apart all cohesion.
Expectantly waiting, the viewer,
Demanding a thorough correction,
Produces in time in an ewer
A masonry sticky solution.
In patterns the shards are collected.
Nonthreatening now are the edges,
How softened with sutures thinsetted.
Endurance renewed in new pledges
Afar builds a seamless illusion -
Life rebuilt on basis of fusion.
So human can build up a human.

Bump and thank you!

poetry is just not my kind of art, but have a bump anyway :)

The poem Grímnismál (Sayings of Grímnir) is a famous work of the Poetic Eddas. Anyone who has played Banner Saga or claims to love vikings and Norse culture in general and has no idea what the Eddas are needs to brush up. This is my own "Dwarvish" take on it, written using the lore of the Forgotten Realms campaign setting which has deeply rich mythology for Dwarves:

All Samanfolk* does Allfather feed
the far-famed god of old.
On ale alone does the bearded lord
Moradin, forever live.
...forever live

o'er Faerun Clangeddin and Haela both
each day set forth to flay.
for Clangeddin I ne'er fear he'll not come home,
but for Haela my care is more.

there Erackinor stands, the sacred gate,
and behind're the holy doors.
old is the gate, but few there are
who can tell how it's tightly locked.

five hundred doors and ninety there are,
I ween, in Moradin's walls.
eight thousand fighters through one door fare
when to war with evil they go.

five hundred rooms and forty there are
I ween, in Dwarfhome built.
of all the homes whose peaks I beheld,
my Allfather's the greatest meseemed.

there is Soulforge, where Berronar decrees
who shall have seats in the Hall.
the half of the dead each day does she choose,
the other half does Dumathoin have.

there is Mount Clangeddin, and mithril-bright
there stands the Stronghold stretching wide,
there does he each day command
those who fell in fight.

now comes Gorm Gulthyn, Watchful Tower
ere it is he keeps his Vigil
and Dugmaren in Soot Hall methinks,
master of all lore and runecraft learning

hail to thee, for hailed thou art
by the voice of Sharindlar.
where the Merciful Court stands, the peacebound realm
ye will find nine golden doors.

hail to thee, for hailed thou art
by the steps of Marthammor Duin and of Thard Harr
old is the gate, but few there are
who can tell how it's tightly locked.

*Sammanfolk is what Dwarves call themselves in the setting

Bump for you. I wish I could compose poems aswell :D

bbbbbbbbbuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuumpppppppppppppppppp! :P

Poetry train... I like it!^^

bump

Bump :P

No blue heart for you this time baka cirno.