The Peotry DUMP!

[ʟɪɢʜʈ]

Ok so I love peotry, and I took a poetry class at school last year, so I also have a lot of poems written, and I write more all the time. And I figured there are story writing threads and art threads, so there might as well be a peotry thread. Feel encouraged to post your poetry, this is not an individual person thread. So post away!

The Antsy Pig

One day one pig had nothing to eat.

    He grew restless and danced on his feet.

    But that only made him fall on his seat.

    Then he opened the door through some old cheat.

 

    The antsy pig! That raskly thing!

    That genius thing of now we sing.

    The antsy pig! Never been caught!

    Through all the hands of those who sought!

 

    He ran out of his little pen.

    He ran where no pig’s ever been.

    He ran on tools, crops and men.

    (They don’t like it, now or then!)

    

    The antsy pig! That raskly thing!

    That genius thing of now we sing.

    The antsy pig! Never been caught!

    Through all the hands of those who sought!

 

    The farmer chased it off his crops.

    His work. His tools- it all he drops

    To get that pig, he dives and flops!

    The pig again did end on tops.

    

    The antsy pig! That raskly thing!

    That genius thing of now we sing.

    The antsy pig! Never been caught!

    Through all the hands of those who sought!

 

    And so the whole place joined the fight!

    They sought the pig now out of spite.

    All through day and all through night.

    Never thinking to set it right.

 

    The antsy pig! That raskly thing!

     That genius thing of now we sing.

     The antsy pig! Never been caught!

     Through all the hands of those who sought!

 

     Then with a bolt he ran right out!

     Out the clearing sure and stout.

     He was gone without a doubt-

     Set upon a new wild route.

 

     The antsy pig! That raskly thing!

     That genius thing of now we sing.

     The antsy pig! Never been caught!

     Through all the hands of those who sought!

Edited September 9, 2023 by ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ

[Through the Living Elan He/Him]

Fight choking shadows, alone, shadows choke. Fight.

 

Quote

Poetry is awesome.

 

[ʟɪɢʜʈ]

This darn crick in my neck:
 

THIS DARN CRICK IN MY NECK,

In a way like nothing else, it pains me.

It makes me such a wreck.

 

It pains me with a constant peck;

Unavoidable- it will not let me free.

This darn crick in my neck.

 

Whenever I turn, it puts me in check.

Anything we do, we cannot agree.

It makes my neck a wreck.

 

Anywhere I go, wherever I trek, 

It’s there- invisible- where no one can see.

This darn crick in my neck.

 

Anything I do, to pain it will direct.

Peace for my neck! I’ll plea and plea, 

Yet I feel the painful wreck.

 

You’ll say “it’s just a speck!”

And maybe that's the key,

But I hate this darn crick in my neck;

It makes me such a wreck!

 

When I wrote this I was not happy, and I had to tone down the anger a little bit.
 

[Yourfeatheryfreind]

There was a man.

He ate ham.

He likes the ham, 

so he tried spam.

He did not like the spam.

[ʟɪɢʜʈ]

11 minutes ago, Yourfeatheryfreind said:

There was a man.

He ate ham.

He likes the ham, 

so he tried spam.

He did not like the spam.

Beautiful.

Also I will go ahead and double post here, but all people are welcome.

Verses I wrote for a tune that would go to the tune of the shire. 

When the fight is ended at last,

When we finally forget the past, 

When at last we go to sleep

Into slumber, peaceful and deep, 

When we no longer are forced to fight.

When all has been set to right,

When contention and all throng 

Has vanished along with wrong,

We will find our peace at last, 

And no more be troubled by our past.

But until that joyful day

We will hope for hope and pray.

When the fight is gone and cast, 

Only then, will we find peace at last.

 

Edited September 7, 2023 by ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ

[ʟɪɢʜʈ]

A traveling one that I wrote backpacking.

Another thought kept.

 

Another step,

Another rep,

Another pep,

Another thought kept.

 

Step again,

Through mud and rain.

Another step, 

Another thought kept.

 

Look around,

See what you’ve found.

We’ve jumped and leapt.

Another thought kept.

 

We’ve been through all:

From forest to hall 

By many a step.

Another thought kept.

Remember where we’ve gone.

Remember what we’ve done.

Remeber how and where we’ve stepped.

Another thought kept.

 

 

[Edema Rue she/her]

Here's one! It's already in my own thread, but I wanted to put something here because it's a cool place and I write mediocre poems kind of a lot  

Lies:

Spoiler

21 days.

It takes 21 days.

21 days,

and you’re back to the start.

21 days,

and any strength you had is gone.

21 days,

and that trap bar may as well be a mountain

21 days, 

and it’s like the last 6 months never happened.

21 days, 

and suddenly all your work is for naught. 

21 days, 

and what little ground you’ve gained is gone.

21 days,

And the calluses have disappeared;

21 days,

and you can’t say no any longer.

 

You can’t 

rest for even a second.

You can’t

stop or it’s like you never started.

You can’t 

imagine a life where you don’t hurt.

You can’t.

You can’t.

You can’t.

Can’t.

Can’t.

Can’t.

 

Won’t.

 

If you try,

You will fail.

If you try,

You are naive.

If you try,

You’re only wasting time.

If you try,

Make sure I don’t see.

If you try, 

You’ll only embarrass us all.

 

Shut up,

World.

Shut up,

Demons.

Shut up,

Brain.

Shut up,

Heart.

Shut up.

Shut up.

Shut up!

 

Ache,

No longer.

Scream,

No more.

Stay

Out of my head.

Out of my heart.

Out of my life.

 

Your lies

Cannot hurt me

Your knives

Cannot cut me

Your words

Will not stop me

Your truths

Won’t always be true.

 

And my lies

Won’t always be lies.

 

I hope.

 

[Thaidakar the Ghostblood he/him]

Dreams ascending is heaven; paradise; heaven is ascendant dreams.

[ʟɪɢʜʈ]

That Boston Night

 

In the dead of the night,

Those who had not a right

Did choose not yet to fight-

Just make the tension tight.

 

In the dark of the night,

They went to ships for blight.

With devious cunning slight, 

They destroyed crates of tea, hoping for British freight.

 

In the dead of the night,

They hauled with all their might.

Then they made their quick flight

In the darkened quiet night.

 

The British didn’t act right.

They made their old more tight

So boston got the bite,

And now they had not a–wanted still–deserved right.

 

But the rest had good light.

They gave them food at night.
So while they had no might,

They now still did alright.

 

In the end they did fight.

For harshness gave them sight.

It came from Boston’s plight.

It all came from that one resisting Boston night.