Go to page:

Favourite DU Poem?

Duncan
Duncan Alexander
Dangerous Mind
South Africa 1awards
Joined 4th May 2010
Forum Posts: 2144

I don't know if this is my favourite but I think the end lines ring true and we all have to man up and face that at some stage in our lives. That or die.

http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/9239-solitude/

bastardofbodom666
Helvete Blod
Fire of Insight
United States 5awards
Joined 6th Apr 2011
Forum Posts: 804

I don't know why but this is my favorite of mine. It's one of my oldest works so it's a lot different in style than my modern stuff.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/17306-prepare-for-the-nightmare/

mjs211
MikeTheEngineer
Dangerous Mind
United States 20awards
Joined 22nd Aug 2010
Forum Posts: 1572

http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/28611-madman-diaries/

I agree with Abra in a different thread (forgive me if I misquote, it's been awhile since I've seen it) when he said "my latest is generally my favorite." But I remember the feeling of accomplishment upon finishing of this one, so I'll go with it for now.

Whitewand6
Dangerous Mind
India 16awards
Joined 1st Nov 2011
Forum Posts: 2251

poet Anonymous

hey opheliac
I love your willow tree .
Blue Skies

Duncan
Duncan Alexander
Dangerous Mind
South Africa 1awards
Joined 4th May 2010
Forum Posts: 2144

Whitewand I really enjoyed that..
Oblivion sounds a bit lonely though.
;)

siphondarkness
Levi
Dangerous Mind
United States 14awards
Joined 6th Apr 2011
Forum Posts: 2026

Fate and true love- 1tornheart

opheliac
Dangerous Mind
9awards
Joined 29th Aug 2009
Forum Posts: 2122

AliP said:hey opheliac
I love your willow tree .
Blue Skies



Im so grateful
thanks a bunch

Karrabear
Question
Fire of Insight
United States 7awards
Joined 29th Aug 2009
Forum Posts: 416

http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/32051-rummors-feed-your-death/

this one, becasue i got really angry at some kids at school who i guess couldn't really understand the gravity of the situation that a kid was dead. Didn't matter if he went to our school or is it was almost halloween. A kid was dead and would never come home again.

http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/10566-the-future-belongs-to-the-present/
and this. hahaha...not sure what i was thinking, but i guess its okay.

(and if anyone wants to look, would y'all take a look at some of my poems {first two pages? recentish} and make a suggestion on what I can turn in for my english poem assignment? I haven't a clue)

Tallen
earth_empath
Tyrant of Words
34awards
Joined 15th Oct 2018
Forum Posts: 2326

Drivel

O my fucking God!
I scribbled another piece of shit on the parchment
And when the monk returns from the city
He’s gonna kick my ass…again!
 
I am a brain dead scribe - still...
Still jotting down shit for a monk in a dank cave
In a mountain in Tibet.
I AM NO MONK! I am not even certain I wanna be (pompous Fuck!).
I haven’t been formerly trained and this fucking monk
doesn’t show me shit (damn selfish bastard).
 
Perhaps, my lack of correct syllable
Comes from way too much drink!
Hah!  As if that monk saw through my dribble
Of which I continue (to think).....
 
to scribe.
Written by Tallen (earth_empath)
Go To Page  

gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Thought Provoker
United States 10awards
Joined 26th Nov 2018
Forum Posts: 184

Psyche of the Dark Poet

Sanity is an unsympathetic creature lurking in our blind spots.
If the dusky rays of Gothic art can’t cast out this relentless foe,
Then our gift of imagination and will of expressionism
will ignite its stalking shadow with a vengeance.

I’m proud to be of another psyche.
Without it, would we write
with such metaphorical beauty?
I think not.

In fact,
all these words
would be ordinary.
The hell with ordinary!

I want my head to whirl around without the sense
of what is in front or in back of me.
Can a head spin 360 degrees?
Imagination could.

It can turn this head again and again
until it screws off its spine and lands by my feet.
Even then, I’m not spitting dirt,
I’m chewing what the world has discarded,

Whether it be taboo or the unspeakable,
it belongs to me.
My words, my feelings, my thoughts,
there’s no defined script for imagination.

Latch the hooks into our mouths
with what you think is true
but they will not open for you
or in a way in which you’d perceive.

The distinct silhouette of reality will be within sight,
the metaphor, however;
will have a shadow which blends
into the most potent of light.

Wherever the creature may lie,
its white eyes illuminated in some dark shadow.
Now and again
its claws sting the outer reaches of my body.
Written by gothicsurrealism (Daniel Long)
Go To Page  


Still feel this piece is underrated!

Go to page:
Go to: