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  • What kind of poet are you?

    Do you poem for distraction from things best left alone?

    Perhaps for the attraction of creating something all your own.

    Does it drive you like the devil is behind you, lashing tail?

    Does it take you on a journey far away, have you set sail"

    Or are you more prone to anchor your ship on solid ground,

    with form and perfect meter, submerge in sonnets 'til you drown?

    Do your poems tell stories, perhaps appeal to emotions?

    I would like to drift here on these vast verse-ified oceans.

    Answer this with your own poem just to keep it flowing.

    My intentions here are thus: Im lost. Where was I going?

    LOL

    3 AnswersPoetry1 year ago
  • Can poetry transcend time and distance in our minds, through quantum mechanics of thoughts and feelings?

    Going back over pages and pages of verse,

    Having left behind shackles for better or worse,

    Holding my own, with some measure of success,

    There is something missing from life I confess:

    That which was once the only tendril of hope

    That I sheltered in daily so that I could cope.

    Here in this electronic network of friends

    At Yahoo Answers.

    Our connection transcends

    What words can convey. The best would be love.

    It cradles beneath and soothes from above.

    I found this extraordinary group a decade ago,

    And I miss each and every one of you so;

    Alas, my time is taken by work and the cost

    To my spirit is great- a capitol loss.

    Right now I could be out taking care of the mundane,

    Suppressing the nostalgia, swallowing the pain-

    Instead I reach out with a "Remember when"

    If you know me leave a line or two to tell me how you've Ben;

    And if we are strangers, tell me something about you!

    Because people are priceless gifts. I send my love to all of you!

    *feels some sort of something*

    MISS YOU GUYS!

    5 AnswersPoetry2 years ago
  • Have you ever lost someone to suicide?

    A crowd of people gathered closely in the park,

    Wearing colored beads to name the ones they'd lost.

    All had come from places where the land was sere and stark,

    Or sailed upon the waters where hopes and dreams were tossed.

    Orange and green and purple strands, one for each that died,

    Sharing hope from deepest sorrow, beacons in the night.

    Yet my heart was stricken with sensed grief each time I spied

    Someone bearing the mighty burden of a strand that was pure white.

    These brave souls releasing doves in their loved ones' names

    Made me feel connected to something beyond this;

    I grew more wise, and calmer- I will never be the same,

    Watching the flocks soar away, happy just to exist.

    After being a part of the Walk in Remembrance with Hope for Survivors of Suicide Loss.

    16 AnswersPoetry4 years ago
  • Do you know how to untie a 'Neptunian Knot'?

    He came from where the two red suns set as one;

    I met him where the roads all turn to dirt.

    I was contemplating how things come undone,

    he was lying in the sand, and he was hurt.

    His skin was like an old salamander's hide,

    his eyes were staring off into the void.

    He began to stir as I took him inside,

    and with startled grace his weapons were deployed.

    He pointed a poison stinger at my heart,

    then he scanned me with a magnetic field;

    for a moment, my mind came apart

    when I met his knowing gaze my fate was sealed.

    I fell in love that day with a man from space,

    his terrestrial visit, alas, was short.

    Now the child in me will have his face,

    and I was simply a token of his sport.

    I never even knew his given name

    or why he was so very hard to resist.

    He disappeared as swiftly as he came

    with a stinging pain from his last kiss.

    The child will reach the stars someday,

    seeking vengeance upon his sire.

    The child has huge eyes and is quite grey,

    fond of setting everything on fire.

    5 AnswersPoetry4 years ago
  • What was the point I wanted to make?

    Something Profound

    It’s an abstract concept;

    A nuance, a gist-

    A fleeting suggestion

    That everyone missed

    It was in the lyrics to songs

    That I played on repeat

    Spelled out in messages

    That I had to delete.

    If someone had seen it,

    Had heeded the call,

    Had known why I always

    Kept my back to the wall,

    Why pain made me smile

    Why I walked way too fast…

    But no one kept up,

    As I was chased by my past.

    And I could never escape it

    They said just let it go.

    Like it wasn’t embedded

    Body mind and soul.

    I’d have to unravel

    Each strand of DNA

    No pure black-or-white,

    Right-or-left, matter is grey.

    My unreplicable sequence

    Is not coded to norms,

    I love the destructive

    Nature of heavy storms,

    The tingling when the lightning

    Bolts get much too near,

    The static flowing in my hair

    The cracks that hurt my ears.

    It’s not that I’m self-destructive

    (Anymore) Something profound

    About the power of this universe,

    Is how quickly we could drown.

    I’m fine in the fire

    And don’t remind me that I’m 50

    I don’t want nursing when I’m ill,

    I know they’ll have to try to ‘fix’ me.

    Like I should start to live my life

    By what the majority believes,

    They haven’t seen my flashback dreams

    Where I can’t run and I can’t scream;

    Not because I’m bound or threatened

    But because I don’t want others to know

    What happened to me behind doors

    That closed so long ago.

    5 AnswersPsychology4 years ago
  • Hmmm, are you wondering if our supervillians are winning like this poem says?

    superheroes never initiate,

    they wait for bad guys to launch sinister plots

    then bust out of mundane existences

    in a cape and black tights that reveal muscles

    but never THAT one

    they are smooooth aroiund the bend

    am I the only one that ever noticed?

    perhaps they left the man-tool

    with the spinster aunt, or the butler

    lois lane was a dominatrix

    and we all know about batman and robin

    fat chance catwoman,

    go claw your way out of ultra-feminiity

    and turn your purr into a roar

    forget that we were put here for

    our progeny

    will we all die out

    before we travel to the next galaxy?

    I bet the supervillian gets there first

    and he wears armor

    and groupies

    where is your teenage daughter?

    his balls are the size of Jupiter...

    if he shoots that weapon

    Big Bang Theory. Proven.

    Meanwhile cowering from the Kryptonite

    that exposed his faked machismo

    Superman begs lois to whip him with the pink leather strap

    she obliges smiling

    with a hand-rolled cigar gripped in her sharp teeth...

    5 AnswersPoetry4 years ago
  • Does anyone relate to my poem?

    The intimacy of a secret shared

    A furtive glace

    While unaware

    That I, having known you

    In the same sense, long past

    Feel the bonds of your distant obsession

    Grow strong, cutting the wave like a surfer

    So I run from the place where the crests break on the sand

    Reach higher ground, trying not to show my tears

    Trying to suppress the fears

    That surround me, amplified like this place

    Of isolation is an amphitheater

    Once I wrote symphonies

    With sexuality and tenderness,

    Felt your caress like a melody

    We harmonized

    But the discord of a hidden thing

    As you taught me, made me believe

    The hidden thing haunts at the place where waves form

    And poisons the waters

    In such fluids I drown

    And the song is an echo

    From the belly of the whale

    Where her unborn young are trying

    To renew the lost connection

    Intimacy

    I caught you in a moment of it, tied the ends and adjusted the knot

    But as we swam together

    A hook dangled; as I fought

    To get to you

    Could not

    And now you hide the secret

    That is shared in other dimensions

    You swim and surf without me

    And I collect old seashells, few and mostly broken

    I hold them to my ear and hear

    The sounds of your absolution

    7 AnswersPoetry4 years ago
  • Is it too late for a Valentine?

    STUPID CUPID

    (a Valentine’s poem by LCF 2016)

    Your arrows are dull little boy

    Your bow is now merely a toy.

    Can’t kill a dove

    Much less inject love

    Into a heart that you aimed to destroy.

    Your shot fell too short to stick in

    Love without forgiveness, a sin.

    Your silver lined puffs

    Smashed into the bluff,

    Diverted by sudden cold winds.

    Cease fire! This heart you’ll not pierce;

    Its shell has grown thick, its beat fierce.

    No longer played fool

    Or slave to love’s rule

    The storm ends, the sky at last clears.

    13 AnswersPoetry4 years ago
  • Do you like to read story-poems?

    THE UGLY BROTHER lcf 2017

    Donny was born at 5:59 and Johnny at 6:02;

    Hard to tell them apart wrapped in baby blue.

    Mom had little letters embroidered in their snugs

    (And Donny screamed every time she gave his brother hugs)

    They got matching train sets, and toy boats with little sails;

    Donny like to knock Johnny’s train right off the rails,

    And never let his sibling sail his boat in the bath…

    But Johnny would just flash his guileless grin and laugh.

    When they were 4 years old, they got a babysitter;

    When she tried to put them to bed Donny fought and bit her

    Johnny kissed her boo-boo, his big eyes filled with tears.

    They went through many sitters over the next few years…

    In middle school, Donny excelled at lots of sports;

    But had a few black marks on behavioral reports.

    Johnny got good grades but didn’t make a lot of friends,

    Donny always kept on top of the latest trends.

    9 AnswersPoetry4 years ago
  • Can the responses to a poem beget new life within an old soul, returning 'home'?

    Serenity and grace, my sword and shield;

    Mindfulness and reason choose my fights.

    If I understand and empathize, I yield;

    Every soul on Earth has equal rights.

    Mindfulness and reason choose my fights.

    I bear the scars of battles I have lost.

    Every person here has equal rights.

    I stand for this, no matter what the cost.

    I bear the scars of battles I have lost.

    The ghosts of fallen allies haunt me still.

    I stand for them, no matter what the cost.

    Their spirits help me manifest my will.

    The ghosts of fallen allies haunt me still.

    Bravely they once battled by my side

    Their spirits help me manifest my will.

    I speak of them with reverence and pride.

    The bravest souls once battled by my side;

    To honor them, I protect the innocent;

    I fight for them with reverence and pride.

    I bear the banner of the dissident.

    I honor those who protect innocents;

    My enemies are those who corrupt laws.

    I bear the banner of the dissident;

    I gladly risk my life for the right cause.

    My enemies are those who corrupt laws.

    If they fail to empathize I will not yield.

    I gladly give my life to the right cause;

    Serenity and grace, my sword and shield.

    4 AnswersPoetry4 years ago
  • Can you visualize where this poem came to be?

    60 MPH by LCF 2016 (for 5 more hours)

    The feeling I get

    careening down a dark road slick with rain

    windshield wiper metronome

    melodic squeal of tires

    I revel in terrified delight

    knowing a slight turn of the wheel

    could stop all possible futures;

    in that moment, no worries can assail me

    the bills that I can’t pay,

    the aches and pains as I wake,

    the people I can never please no matter how I try

    fade to insignificance

    as I watch the headlights of the other cars

    and the reflecting arrows

    all happening in slow motion

    at 60 miles per hour

    9 AnswersPoetry4 years ago
  • Can you write me a poem that helps with time and stress management?

    I know it is not polite to ask for gifts from friends you have not seen in a long time, but I would like to be asked for one and btw yes I got the urge after Caz's question. Miss you guys!

    21 AnswersPoetry4 years ago
  • When you pay a holding fee to hold an apartment until they run the credit check, can they raise the monthly amount?

    They also have a clause saying that the holding fee and credit check cost cannot be refunded if you pass the credit check and refuse the rental. Also when I asked to speak to a manager, they said there was not a manager because she had just retired.

    3 AnswersCredit5 years ago
  • Can you suggest an effective title for this piece on the cycle of abuse?

    The boy could see the bottle getting closer

    Below the empty holes within those eyes;

    Fingers clenched around the ashed remains

    Of the past, burned into skinless cries.

    Sounds, like sugar in the blood, getting thicker,

    Undissolved- seeing red, too hot to wrangle;

    Branding iron fist, big mark on small jawline,

    Fractured filaments in flashback, oddly angled.

    Brittle bones gnashed, behind toothsome snarls,

    Malnutrition, breathing dread in frothing spittle.

    A dangled doll, broken; and now..... he says 'so sorry'

    With an earnest grin that splits him down the middle.

    The father dies, the damaged son carries on the curse,

    Doing to his own son what his father had done worse.

    5 AnswersPoetry5 years ago
  • Is Sun Sonata a good title for this?

    Scheme a sordid scene, revenge and war,

    patented impending doom du jour.

    marching endless sea of ordered troops,

    scavengers fed fowl kept clipped in coops .

    Dress the brass in tactless shabby blues,

    nom de guerre, new alibis assumed.

    execute plan 'x' in section 'y'

    genome locks and neural networks die.

    Rocket to the moon or south of Rome.

    Cosmonauts create a cache of clones.

    Evolutionary trade secrets are sent

    to bigger solar systems, trillions spent.

    Contained within a space-junk littered haze,

    The coda of the sun sonata plays.

    Poetry5 years ago
  • Do you like poems with strings?

    Cat Revision of String Theory

    (It’s a bit of a yarn. A tall tail. Outside the box. Skinner’s and Shroedinger’s)

    They say that dreams are self-contrived:

    Mine are the eight lives I have survived.

    I still chase my tail, and I don’t care how it seems-

    I’ve faced trial by fire, in those dreams!

    Consciousness, so far from thoughts

    Controlled so carefully, these plots

    Are rows of six foot holes, then mounds,

    Unsettled, quaking, shaky grounds.

    Conception smiths our coded bits,

    The feeble fetus forms, forgets,

    And learns to follow lesser desires,

    Repress the surging inner fires.

    They say it’s silly that I feel feline;

    That there is madness burning in my mind.

    Curiosity kills, they advise…

    I’m just biding my time- counterclockwise.

    Human is just a shape I chanced to wear

    When the feral kitten left its astral lair.

    I still want to follow those creatures with wings,

    Who aren’t held to ground by theories with strings.

    Tick-tock, talk about time, future, past,

    Divining our answers on devices, forecast

    To swindle us out of living with purpose,

    By promising us happiness can be purchased.

    I don’t buy in, I’d rather fall to bones,

    Trampled by masses as they rush to cast stones,

    Judging, demanding we slave, struggle, pay.

    Life is a big ball of yarn. I must play…

    Poetry5 years ago
  • Do poems written from the heart read as well as professional crafted perfect poems?

    I managed to come back at last,

    and saw some familiar names were cast

    on the pages like old times.

    This is just a greeting. BUT IT RHYMES!

    I'm back...

    3 AnswersPoetry5 years ago
  • Do you like storm poetry?

    COLOSSAL LOSS

    It gathers swiftly overhead, from all sides,

    Roiling clouds in every hue of gray…

    So many more than fifty shades.

    This storm reminds me of you.

    Holding back until, with a flash, the sky is rent;

    Lash-whip blasts, bolts that break the walls…

    The apocalypse or a continental avalanche;

    Thor’s Hammer in the power of a clenched fist.

    The storm doesn’t last long; despite all the fury

    Released into being, mindlessly and without mercy,

    It subsides as suddenly as it set in-

    I am left drowning in your emotional floodwaters.

    A chasm, rifted earth where my garden once grew,

    Mud and roots, tiny shoots that won’t live to bear fruit;

    But I will grow others from these seeds I held on to

    While your colossal torrent was ruining the rest of my world.

    6 AnswersPoetry6 years ago
  • Can you decipher the meaning in this poem?

    Longing for but knowing the folly

    Of knowing you are never sorry

    For hurtful words and cold, dark stares…

    For thinking only of your own affairs.

    Long lonely nights when I am here;

    The different loneliness of being there.

    You were always someplace I couldn’t reach,

    In need of a lesson I could not teach.

    So we go our separate ways

    Yours secured, mine a haze

    Of uncertainty or a possible fate

    That I came upon a bit too late.

    But at least I have a chance

    Of returning to the dance

    Of life, while you shun belief

    And stand, alone, denying grief.

    5 AnswersPoetry6 years ago
  • Does this poem have any irrelevancies that I should edit out?

    Nothing is beautiful enough, it seems,

    They Photoshop landscapes,

    Edit out nature’s touches

    If they adversely affect the desired effect;

    You can make a killing Arctic wasteland

    Seem like a magical kingdom

    For unicorns and mermaids

    Maybe they existed once

    And were banished there

    That’s why they’re dead now.

    They capture the ruins

    Of temples dedicated to various deities

    And make the architecture stand out

    Like no blood ever ran in rivers in the courtyard

    After the impious and the blasphemous

    Were slain to appease some sanctimonious faction.

    Fractional expressions that leave the sum of the whole

    In an answer book that is accessible

    Only to the few initiated into the administrative fold.

    Is burning the flag treason?

    Not if you were burned by it first.

    Countless victims of a sovereign’s ideals

    That were not well thought out,

    We wave banners not in defiance

    But in complacency

    Or ignorance.

    Soldiers return from a war

    Waged upon our minds

    And pocketbooks,

    The cost economically minimal when compared

    To the spiritual fees paid by the warriors.

    They are treated like debtors, never free.

    5 AnswersPoetry6 years ago