POST YOUR ARTWORK HERE!!!

Digging the German poetry!

I find german to be a really rough language, but sometimes it works perfectly. You may not consider it poetry, but the poem quoted in the Sascha Braemer song called "Power of Rausch" is definitely worth checking out.
 
yay poetry!

Hallway Glances

There is a certain thing about it

You can’t put a finger on it but you

don’t doubt it.

And when it hits it's like a train.

Your then riding that thing you

can’t explain.

And the tracks meant to take you

away.

Are not going in the direction they

were laid yesterday.

But they keep telling you it's okay.

From nowhere the voices say.

But there is something familiar and

something strange and something about it you just can’t explain.

 
^^^ on the topic of (metaphorical or not) trains....

The rumbling trains echoed over fifty years

Of rusty bolts and roaring waters below

It's as if each hour returned with a vengeance

And tore into the metal years ago

While steel and iron lit streaking sparks across the ground

An angel descended upon wings of glassy sand

Upon decay of foundations dead

Thrived the memories of a foreign land

Now long forgotten behind veils of uncertain truth

Now rediscovered by the rising youth

The weight of one word bringing such strength to the ground

Isn't enough for make believe if there's nobody around
 


REVISED

The rumbling trains echoed over fifty years

of roaring waters below

it's as if each hour returned with a vengeance

and tore at the metal and snow

while steel and iron lit streaking sparks across the moonlit ice

while faceless passengers passed over creation of their vice

an angel descended upon wings of glass and timely melted sand

upon decay of foundations dead thrived the memories of a foreign land

now long forgotten behind veils of truth

now rediscovered by the rising youth

the weight of one word bringing such strength to the ground

isn't enough to make believe if there's nobody around
 
this should be interesting....

hit me with some ideas to write poetry about guys! you can post in this thread or pm me if you have something more specific you'd like me to write about. I am open to translating stories into poems, writing poetry about someone or something, writing about abstract concepts, or writing descriptive poetry. Hell, you can even specify if you'd like it to rhyme or not.

Just hit me, and I'll post up everything I write in this thread

Cheers :)
 
first one is done!

"write something about the beauty of painting, the way an artist creates a piece of art, and what feeling it conveys when it's made. it should rhyme too!'

in hindsight I ended up focusing on the feeling the painting conveys once it's created, but nonetheless.....

It's the addition of color, she says

that nobody thinks they see

blind to the eye but not to the mind

or the bold lines that set themselves free

vivid blue rains from the clouds in black and white

and the smell of oceans mist rises from the tide

a beachfront memory bleeds red and gray onto the sheet

while the canopy backdrop shifts beneath her feet

upon observation many pathways arise

unfathomable connections in blue, brown, and green eyes

the patterns of memory mimic patterns of sight

to one person color shines as brightly as black and white

as the artist struggles to paint in lines

we can't help looking at the image they comprise

and when the finished product stands before us

it's not her life I see, it's mine

 
got bored so made these quickly on photoshop. I'm fairly new at it, took a few classes 2 years ago, started to get back into the hang of it.

638955.jpeg

638955.jpeg
 
"write a poem about how we sometimes feel that we have the option to lay ourselves a kind of safety net to protect us from bad things happening, and the fact that we should avoid doing this, in order to experience a true lifestyle, even if that means sometimes falling flat on our faces and making big mistakes."

A thousand miles of country side

beach front property and were stuck inside

in cardboard houses drawing portraits in foggy glass

and waiting till they fade into the other side and its greener grass

it's a traditional history

yeah this one's for the books

we train ourselves in misery

to question our own dirty looks

a system of foundations built on heavenly paper cutouts

like preschool insults and playground misfits

we all learned how to draw that day

but we never understood the cost that came with it

so meet me halfway between our sides of the fence

and show me your green is my blue

kiss this wasted life right out of me

and show me how it is to see like you

also, i wrote this a while ago for a girl, it addresses the issue of the "masks" we wear everyday.

I wish I knew what went on inside

Cause I've seen the videotape records underneath the green pools; glassy eyed

When the come to the surface

Streaming down once they break free

The mud clouding my conscience never mirrored such a sorrow

Loneliness, left unattended, forgotten but not gone

And replaying tomorrow

For an audience that's fallen asleep at the wheel, the burning rubber, tire tracks

Crash and stand up just to collapse

Pressure building the bends won't let go

So if it's fearful, dark and unfamiliar like the other side of my reflection

Cover my eyes but don't stop whispering

Or cover my heart but just keep on smiling

Replace the broken image with its unaccounted for masterpiece

Like diamonds from coal but still cold on the inside underwater drowning slowly rescue ropes weren't long enough

So drag me down if you're losing grip I'll pull back

The water is only getting colder

It wasn't my fault

But I'm right here with you

It wasn't my fault

But when it hurts I'm right here with you

And all I see is the surface and the light ripples of blue

And all I see is the rest of the world and you

 
in hindsight i'm really not proud of this work. i'll probably redo it or rewrite on the same topic because this really isn't that good at all. third stanza is okay, i'll probably keep that, but otherwise, nopeeeeee
 
here's one I just finished in photoshop

312292_10152856057870650_1570358687_n.jpg
 
Rewritten

Take your broken crown off

And step down from the iron chair

Crafted out of every plunge you took into the spotlight of their heavy gaze

That freedom and that fear

But you're still dancing around the point

Avoiding the weight of the world crushing the room you now sit in

And second guessing your own doubts

You could taste it on your tongue if it was really your own

The bittersweet burning of weakness

The thirst to swallow more of the poison

Suicide never felt so great

And now you're no longer falling

It's a leap to the other side we know we'll never make

So id rather just shut my eyes and wait

I'd rather wait for some girl with a knife and sharp words

To cut me open and stain the walls red

The weight of the world lifted and I'm still here listening

To the softest voice I've ever heard

Birds could dance along her words and sunshine won't stop biting at her heels

So meet me halfway between our sides of the fence

And show me your green is my blue

Kiss this wasted life right out of me

And show me how it is to see like you
 
I am so ridiculously jealous of the amount of talent showcased in this thread. A lot of you guys have absolutely beautiful work...this is my new favorite thread and I hope it never dies.
 
back to the old style!

the clouds have barely stopped crying

the fog tied on a chain, the trees bleeding from their fallen

death lingers in the air and I can taste it

only it's sweet serenity laced with a touch of salt

caustic tingling along the surface of our skin and blanketed shirts

light tore holes in the rolling thunder across the plains of barren land

through the greenest green and the softest of skies

it's machete chopping its way into our simple canopy

without a thought to present but its eyes on the prize

everyone knows it and we rejoice

an unquestioned religion of devastation masking in beauty

a kiss of the ocean and a slap from her cousin

the haunting silence as heavy air settles into the puddles

and reflections under quiet placidity

wondering

and waiting

the doubtful birds remain sheltered and so do we

but it clings to thick mesh and damp hair

the water dripping down rusted metal

and over covered walkways
 
the train station; a man falling asleep in the corner

the open door closed shut halfway between

burning down and moving forward

time frame lost in wooden desks and office supplies

the cabin hurtling faster while the copy machine churns out life-stories on burning papers;

the forewarning

the meaningless meaningful double sided sheet of copy paper we've heard about but only dreamed of one day seeing -

- separation

-the looking glass

is it a smile or tear streaked face behind the lens-

- inversion

-who are you to question it

confused, betrayed or satisfied;

but that's hardly the case based on our inhibitions

and you've been guessing the wrong question for quite some time
 
someone give me an idea

i want to try to write a faster paced rhythmic/rhyming piece and see if i can put it to a beat.
 
All this poetry is pretty cool. Here is a Petrarchan sonnet I wrote for high-school last year. It was supposed to have a double entendre and be in the Petrarchan form. It's not so deep like the other stuff posted but I had fun with it. Also Jed is my brother, and Sir. Sidney is a poet that we were learning about when I wrote this.

Your curving shape, it calls to everyone.

A perfect par-a-bola is your form,

And yet your love I never need when warm.

When I’m with you I always have such fun.

I’ll stay with you I’ll never let you run.

I’ll take you with me to my college dorm.

I know my love for you is not the norm.

I need you more than sky, or snow, or sun.

I wax my skis before the winter chill,

And stow them clean and close beside my bed.

I’ll never let them be defiled by Jed.

If silly sonnets make your soul feel ill,

Then suck it up and read Sir Sidney’s stuff,

He doesn’t fear that fruity, frilly, fluff.

My teacher chose me to read a poem to the whole school, she didn't specify which one so I read this one, She was expecting something deeper.

 
Well in that case....

I didn't write this, my brother did the other day but I'd like to share it anyway cause I think it's really good.

Sometimes in dreams

We are born as children, fragile once more

Like the porcelain weaves of midnight plans

Or the cunning wind, mustering courage to stir in the night

Intruding in its subtle breeze through the twisted folds of your hair

A candid, sweet reminder of the snapshots of life

Catching us as damp thoughts in our eternal, neon coated youth

I’ve got you in my sights

Treading on ice and the aging snow, heavy breaths painting the bitter cold

Like a drug you dare, with mirrored eyes and cigarette stench

And a smile that would crack the day in half

And keep me until morning cast its shadow on our hours before

Rich romances we tucked away from the curious, glowing sunrise

I stroke your skin

A soothing, gentle fabric

Like the solace of a blanket from the bleak, steady world

A fostering beauty in the face of a deep gray

Electric threads of radiant color

On the days I wish I didn’t wake up

I taste the flavor of your lips

Endless like a fountain, never quenched enough

Like a veil of explosion, secluded in tragedy

As our scenery came crashing to the floor

And the shaken weather was never better

On a royal season with your hand in mine

I feel the sound

Bold and reverent, the echo of your name without words

Vibrating through my vacant room

Like the heat of the day sweating through the pores of my window

As your intoxicating, deep greens linger in my mirror

A swell in my heart so full it could burst

Panicked breaths

Waking with a twinge, escaping a night’s worth of growing up

Sweat like bullets, trickling away with my fading thought

As the walls of our romance crumble behind the comfort of my pillow

A candid, sweet reminder of the snapshots of what was

As I breathed the last of our breaths

Sometimes in dreams

 
dope.

i've found that one of the hardest things in writing poetry often is recycling words - I often catch mysel reusing words I'm familiar with and ones I have used in poetry before. your brother used really good words, a lot of which I've never seen used in poetry, that fit the mood and meaning of the poem really well.

he made it easy to sympathize with the melancholic feel of the poem as well. really well done.
 
unreal. diction was on point, your rhyming scheme was complex yet it still flowed well, and overall the tone was set perfectly in coordination with the message of the poem.
 
well quite frankly no, I didn't, but that's because you captured such complex meaning in multiple levels of symbolism that I haven't quite had the time to unravel. it would take great minds many many years to fully explore your work, kudos.
 
i couldn't sleep last night so i wrote this instead. i dunno how good it is but whatever, considering i was so tired at the time i was quite pleased with it:

_________________________________________________________________________________

5am

I’m lying awake in my bed, thinking about you and how i know

we’ll never be together, and about how much i hate myself and how tired

I’ve become. I can’t sleep, and i’m sure i’d feel better if i did, but

right now my mind is stuck in the present and the past.

Any thought that passes through my head feels distant and fake, and

lingers only for a second before disappearing as suddenly as it came.

Earlier today i was full of grand hopes and fantasies for the future but

now they have gone. Anything happening beyond this moment is now an

impossibility and a lie.

Like my thoughts, every inch of my body feels drained and empty. Not

only am i tired in the sense that i need sleep, but i sleep and i wake

up and i still feel the same. I struggle to remember a time when this

wasn’t the case, and that thought is so unbearably crushing. Only

thinking of you, or rather your absence, is worse.

Even without you I rarely feel truly alone, as i genuinely enjoy my

own company, but again right now everything, and everyone, seems so

distant. The silence, broken only by the birds outside heralding the

onset of the dawn, was once friendly and comforting but now feels cold,

vacuous and threatening. The crack of light through my curtains serves

as nothing other than a reminder that the clock is slowly ticking.

I look in the mirror, hoping that even in myself i might find some

empathy, but it hangs there like a vivid, hollow portrait of someone who

once knew something, trapped in a moment that has long since passed.

I stare into his eyes hoping for a glimmer but there is nothing, just

a blank shell of a man staring back, cursed to forever look upon this

world knowing that he is not i, and i not he. Only once i realise this

do i feel anything in common with him, and for a second the loneliness

almost dissipates. I look away, not able to hold his gaze for a second

longer. The atmosphere thickens and i’m drowning again.

I’ve become almost resigned to the fact that i feel this way now. I

just want to lie and learn as much as possible from it because pretty

soon this moment will pass, just as his did, and this will be no more

than a memory to be kept locked away, safe from the world, only to be

dwelled upon when this inevitably comes round again. Then, and only

then, will i stand and face that man once more.

_________________________________________________________________________________

can i just add that the "you" that i talk about is not a specific person but more the idea of someone, so please don't ask who "she" is

 
word dude. real deep, especially if it is about a specific someone. i'm sure many many people can relate or at least partially relate to that feeling.
 
also, new stuff

you could almost say it's religious

the taste of your skin and thick music sinking through the air

the smile and a kiss overseas

searching blindly for direction and an empty belief

it's as if the tide retreated to my footsteps

washing away every path I traced in fragile stone

through drowned out nights and a tendency to occupy the time

the broken record replaying from the foot of the bed

in an empty room in an abandoned house

the waves washed over when you carried them with you

but you floated just out of reach of my voice

I was drowning in oxygen and circled by death

and you pushed me under the surface to teach me how to hold my breath

I wish I could teach you how to swim

I wish, then, that it'd bring you back to me

when you have to go so many miles away
 
thanks man, i quite like leaving things open like that. in one way its super personal but at the same time pretty much anyone could relate
 
Was talking to NinetyFour because I was really diggin' his boot icons on NS, fucked around in Illustrator for an hour and came up with this.

Full%20Tilt%20Boot.png
 
monochromatic 'n stuff. I believe it is Eric Pollard in Ideahttps://www.newschoolers.com/memberphoto/610674.0/Idea-Monochromatic?s=195891&o=8 upvote if you like it :)

View attachment 610674

My scanner wasn't big enough so it is two images put together in MS paint haha
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top