Poetry Thread
Feb 5, 2019 2:17:30 GMT -5
Post by ✯~Rippleshadow~✯ on Feb 5, 2019 2:17:30 GMT -5
I've been writing poetry for a long while now. Or at least, I used to write poetry a lot. Now I just think about writing poetry 
I made this thread because I need motivation to write more poetry. I think I will try to write poetry than I can post here once a day (more realistically like once a week probably), regardless of whether or not anyone is interested.
If you ARE interested, feel free to comment. And feel even more free to add your poetry as well. I would love for this to be a thread for everyone to share there poetry. I've taken a few poetry classes at my university so if anyone wants a peer review I could definitely try helping with that.
Anyway, to get started, here are a few poems I wrote last year. I color code my titles based on who they're about ;p
.:#momzoned:.
He called me a mom.
Like, a fun mom.
That makes me think of Kali Belladonna.
Maybe I should put on my cat ears in that case.
But really, what does that mean?
It’s been more than a week and I’m still thinking about it.
I asked Vanessa for help,
she said a fun mom acts like her kids.
But she’s also super invested in the lives of other people.
I definitely act like a kid.
In fact, I just turned 6 this year.
My roommates made a cake for me.
I asked Brittany to draw Marth on it like one of her French girls.
Nobody questioned it because it’s me and I have 38 husbandos.
Admittedly one of them is the father of my son.
So I guess I’m a mom after all.
.:Summer Idleness:.
Four wooden stools sit along the kitchen bar, and there’s a child to accompany each one, hands resting against your chins as four pairs of eyes stare restlessly out the window. The quiet growl of your stomach screams “is dinner ready yet?” because none of you will say it out loud. Well, you could, but is invoking the annoyance of your selfless mother really worth it? She’s in front of the oven all day for your sake, alongside that soothing Aloe Vera plant with its droopy green frond gel she lets you apply to your sunburns and the flies buzzing around the compost of rotting carrots and cucumbers until she asks your sister to empty it in the horse pasture. She doesn’t want to but she does, and when she walks back inside, dinner still isn’t ready.
.:Careful Calculations:.
I am a liar
and I enjoy it.
Seeing the way she
absorbs deceptions.
So I’m left alone
no longer badgered
by her incessant
meddling questions.
Let go of your guilt.
Shame will just hinder.
Reword your morals
when you need a lie.
No-one will stop you
if they don’t find out.
Be a good actor.
That’s your solution.
Her naïve mindset
has nothing to lose
if you imprison
the truth that destroys
her honest perception of you.
I made this thread because I need motivation to write more poetry. I think I will try to write poetry than I can post here once a day (more realistically like once a week probably), regardless of whether or not anyone is interested.
If you ARE interested, feel free to comment. And feel even more free to add your poetry as well. I would love for this to be a thread for everyone to share there poetry. I've taken a few poetry classes at my university so if anyone wants a peer review I could definitely try helping with that.
Anyway, to get started, here are a few poems I wrote last year. I color code my titles based on who they're about ;p
.:#momzoned:.
He called me a mom.
Like, a fun mom.
That makes me think of Kali Belladonna.
Maybe I should put on my cat ears in that case.
But really, what does that mean?
It’s been more than a week and I’m still thinking about it.
I asked Vanessa for help,
she said a fun mom acts like her kids.
But she’s also super invested in the lives of other people.
I definitely act like a kid.
In fact, I just turned 6 this year.
My roommates made a cake for me.
I asked Brittany to draw Marth on it like one of her French girls.
Nobody questioned it because it’s me and I have 38 husbandos.
Admittedly one of them is the father of my son.
So I guess I’m a mom after all.
.:Summer Idleness:.
Four wooden stools sit along the kitchen bar, and there’s a child to accompany each one, hands resting against your chins as four pairs of eyes stare restlessly out the window. The quiet growl of your stomach screams “is dinner ready yet?” because none of you will say it out loud. Well, you could, but is invoking the annoyance of your selfless mother really worth it? She’s in front of the oven all day for your sake, alongside that soothing Aloe Vera plant with its droopy green frond gel she lets you apply to your sunburns and the flies buzzing around the compost of rotting carrots and cucumbers until she asks your sister to empty it in the horse pasture. She doesn’t want to but she does, and when she walks back inside, dinner still isn’t ready.
.:Careful Calculations:.
I am a liar
and I enjoy it.
Seeing the way she
absorbs deceptions.
So I’m left alone
no longer badgered
by her incessant
meddling questions.
Let go of your guilt.
Shame will just hinder.
Reword your morals
when you need a lie.
No-one will stop you
if they don’t find out.
Be a good actor.
That’s your solution.
Her naïve mindset
has nothing to lose
if you imprison
the truth that destroys
her honest perception of you.
are u gonna do all the seasons?
