The Poetry Place

This is a place for poetry of all sorts. I wasn't really sure where to put it, so I put it in original stories. Poetry tells stories, all one of its own. Share favorite poetry, written poetry, any poetry at all! I recently wrote something about Frostemort.

I stab once for every lie
This thieving beast has told!
She has tried to ruin me, but why?
I will ponder as I grow old

She takes the truth and twists it
Till unrecognizable lies be lain before my eyes
As she ages I can see her long-awaited visit....
To a burning hell when she dies!

But a grudge I will not hold
Against my nemisis, my foe
Lest I drop to her level of cold
I just silently await, no longer letting her cause my woe


And this is my favorite poem by Edgar Allen Poe, the mentally insane poet:
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore —
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door —
Only this and nothing more."




Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore —
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore —
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door —
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door; —
This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide the door; ——
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" —
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore —
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door —
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door —
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore —
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door —
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered —
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before —
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore —
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never — nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore —
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite — respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil! —
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted —
On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore —
Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore —
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore —
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting —
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted — nevermore!

Contrary to popular belief, Edgar Allan Poe was NOT insane.

He just wrote crazy-ass stories.

The reason that people think he's crazy is that one of his enemy authors wrote a fake biography on him saying all kinds of nasty stuff so people would stop reading his books, but most people were all 'OOH, BOOKS AND POEMS BY A CRAZY GUY? YUM YUM!'

Edgar Allen Poe was NOT crazy, or insane.
He was a freaking genius.
He had some amazing imagination, and a troubling childhood.


From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were -- I have not seen
As others saw -- I could not bring
My passions from a common spring --
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow -- I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone --
And all I lov'd -- I lov'd alone --
Then -- in my childhood -- in the dawn
Of a most stormy life -- was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still --
From the torrent, or the fountain --
From the red cliff of the mountain --
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold --
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by --
From the thunder, and the storm --
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view --)

I wrote a random poem. It is a poem, even though it doesn't rhyme.

Do you feel my pain?
As you stare into my eyes?
Do you feel the depression?
Gnawing at my soul
Do you feel anything?
That I feel, because you should
You could, you should.
But you won’t

And I wrote another one, Burned is fueling my inspiration.

It’s gnawing at my soul
It’s just out of reach
I’m drowning, I can’t find my role
In the pathetic world, where from others we leech

Hunger, disease, pain, it’s all the same
When that in our hearts the anger does flame

It can’t be contained
And I always take the blame
When the anger can’t be sustained
When our hearts do flame

When the anger takes control
It’s something radical
To watch all out hearts torched out
To watch the entrails strewn about

To see the seething rage of man
When we see what’s been done, the flames we fan

I realize that none of this is real
It’s just a mystery to be revealed

That's deep man, real deep.
*tips beret to you*

Thanks, took me half an hour to write, because I had to find just the right words.

I made this up in like 2 minutes..... I'm having a horrible day. 2 of my friends are moving away and it just feels like my life is....like....crumbling. Also I haven't seen my baby brother in 3 years and I'm scared he doesn't remember me

The sadness I feel,
The pain I spared,
A barren field,
All dreary and gray,
A cold, cruel world,
Full of hatred and anger,
In which is my heart,

My family has gone,
Split apart and dead,
It feels like no one gets me,
Knows me,
Loves me,
A family twisted,
By an evil grip,
I'm trapped inside,
With no help,
As I wither away,
I try to remember the last day,
I saw my brother.....

I know I'm not the best poet, but here's a poem I wrote about two months back and I just dug it up and decided to post it here as well as on DA.

Child's Sweet Savior

I really like this Poem... it's just awesome.

Why thank you I wrote it after feeling upset (I don't remember why) and decided to star playing my old Emerald game, the memories flooding back to my mind, me playing the old game every second of the day when I was younger, looking to it for comfort when I was upset or frightened...

Games must bring you the same comfort that books now bring me.

I love books too, I'm just extremely picky. Right now I'm reading Inheritance.

Awesome book. I finished it a while back.

Ergh I got to sleep.

Night Mew ^^

Night

I love that poem....so much.....

When I'm sad I play PMD: Red Rescue Team, and when I'm frightened I play Pokemon White, and when I'm angry I play Ruby......
I'm still scared that Soul is gonna jump out at me on Ruby.

Amazing poem.

Like Rose, I go to books for comfort... I did once go to my old Pokemon games for comfort, but I can't exactly do that when every last one of them, including my very first game, Leafgreen, is missing. Even if I did have them, I think I'd just go to books.
That's exactly what I've been doing recently, because, as Tor found out awhile back, I am seriously depressed.

I hate being depressed. I've somehow managed to not be depressed all month, though I'll probably get depressed on valentine's day. I hate seeing everone so happy when I'm so alone.....god damn stereotype TV love drama.

I used to get depressed.......now I feel no emotion.....it sucks....

Psh, Chibi, I always see you laughing and cracking up XD

As for me, I tend to get depression spells every so often. Just the other day, I cried like 6 different times during school, once cuz my friend said something, another cuz I got hit in the head with a soccer ball (it didn't hurt, just triggered my emotions), and when I started to eat at lunch. I'm fine now.

The past two weeks have not been good weeks... And it really doesn't help that one of my few ACTUALLY sympathetic relatives starts to cry if I talk to him on the phone for too long.

That sucks...Sorry you're feeling sad, Sheyna. *gives over da internet hug*

*Gives Sheyna another internet hug*
I was randomly depressed for two hours last night, and I don't know why. Well, I kinda do know why....
It's because I'm playing PMD again. God, the story is so epic it always makes me cry. Everytime. Last night they finally came back from being outcasts, and the gardevior dream came telling Katrina that she would soon be leaving....which got me thinking about the end of the game, which made me cry.

Shut up Mew, you don't even know the fucking half of it T_T Haven't you ever heard of hiding behind laughter? Duh

@Tor- Ah, I remember that part... I haven't played my Blue Rescue Team in so long.

@Chibi and Mew- Hiding behind laughter... So completely and positively true; I've been doing that awhile now.

I feelz bad for Chibi now...
I have that damn South Park song stuck in my head....
THe day's looking brighter
Gray skies are turnin' blue...
Cuz I'm not(He's not)
The poor kid in school!
Kenny's back and it's such a thrill
Now I'm rich like Stan and Kyl
Everyone knows I'm not a tool...
Cuz I'm not(He's not)
THe poor kid in school!!