Abigail
06-02-2003, 09:29 PM
Here is a sampling of my own personal poetry. I am by no means a talented writer, simply an individual who enjoys this particular form of expression. I am just beginning and have only written two poems which I am honestly proud of. Feel free to read them and comment on them as you wish.
Existence
What truth exists, no one knows.
We lie beneath our own despise.
Restless thoughts live deep within,
Troubled minds weigh heavy with foe.
Gentle pleads break no walls.
Innocent cries go unheard.
Tender hands embrace no more.
Simple sighs evolve into anguished woes.
You and I, we know no bounds.
We venture on from day to day.
Painful memories are pushed aside.
All is forgotten that breaks us down.
We mend our wounds.
We walk with pride.
Deep down, though, we live in fear, confusion, frustration,
And pain.
What truth exists, no one knows.
Who truly cares?
Does it really matter?
You and I, we know no cause.
This will make all things better.
A child is born, while another dies.
A woman is loved, while another despised.
A man lives on, standing so tall,
While another falls down, beaten by all.
The moon will not fade.
The stars will not tarnish.
The sun will always rise and set.
The oceans will never go dry.
The mountains will never crumble.
But you and I, we will dismiss these things.
You will die, as will I.
There comes a time when all things must end.
What matters to you, should matter to me.
Will it ever come to this?
No one knows but you and I.
You and I are all that exists.
*The following poem was selected by The International Library of Poetry scam artists. How foolish can such individuals make one person feel? For me, they made me feel quite foolish. Fortunately, I did not fall for their scam and opted not to purchase the so-called anthology.
Blind Idiocy
We live in fear of the implausible scenarios
and ignore those which are of obvious harm;
We complain about the tribulations which befall upon us
and forget to give thanks for the everyday miracles which transpire;
We ramble on incessantly in regard to meaningless meanders
but when called upon to speak of importance, we remain hushed;
We detest those who we do not understand
and offer adoration only to those who assure us they will adore us in return;
After falling into these intolerable human patterns of day-to-day life,
we sit by with idiocy as we wait for fortune, prosperity, and rapture
to bog us down.
Existence
What truth exists, no one knows.
We lie beneath our own despise.
Restless thoughts live deep within,
Troubled minds weigh heavy with foe.
Gentle pleads break no walls.
Innocent cries go unheard.
Tender hands embrace no more.
Simple sighs evolve into anguished woes.
You and I, we know no bounds.
We venture on from day to day.
Painful memories are pushed aside.
All is forgotten that breaks us down.
We mend our wounds.
We walk with pride.
Deep down, though, we live in fear, confusion, frustration,
And pain.
What truth exists, no one knows.
Who truly cares?
Does it really matter?
You and I, we know no cause.
This will make all things better.
A child is born, while another dies.
A woman is loved, while another despised.
A man lives on, standing so tall,
While another falls down, beaten by all.
The moon will not fade.
The stars will not tarnish.
The sun will always rise and set.
The oceans will never go dry.
The mountains will never crumble.
But you and I, we will dismiss these things.
You will die, as will I.
There comes a time when all things must end.
What matters to you, should matter to me.
Will it ever come to this?
No one knows but you and I.
You and I are all that exists.
*The following poem was selected by The International Library of Poetry scam artists. How foolish can such individuals make one person feel? For me, they made me feel quite foolish. Fortunately, I did not fall for their scam and opted not to purchase the so-called anthology.
Blind Idiocy
We live in fear of the implausible scenarios
and ignore those which are of obvious harm;
We complain about the tribulations which befall upon us
and forget to give thanks for the everyday miracles which transpire;
We ramble on incessantly in regard to meaningless meanders
but when called upon to speak of importance, we remain hushed;
We detest those who we do not understand
and offer adoration only to those who assure us they will adore us in return;
After falling into these intolerable human patterns of day-to-day life,
we sit by with idiocy as we wait for fortune, prosperity, and rapture
to bog us down.