Poem of 2024
Ashriyon said:Hello I was wondering if someone could give me some feedback on my poem I wrote?
"In a crowd where no one sees,
I stand beneath the weight of stares,
Like a shadow in a gallery,
A canvas painted with their fears.
A heart, vibrant but hidden deep,
Layered beneath the surface bright,
Knowing the echoes that cut and seep,
Through the silence of a lonely night.
I wear a mask of smiles and jest,
Laughing off the pain I feel,
Risking trust, a daily test,
In a world where wounds remain concealed.
I bend my soul to fit their mold,
Changing colors to blend in line,
With every compromise, I feel less bold,
Yearning for a love thats truly mine.
When the rain falls, my tears align,
A mingling of sorrow, a soft refrain,
But in the depths, a hope will shine,
For one who sees me beyond the pain.
To be embraced for every flaw,
To find a heart that understands,
A hand in mine, without a flaw,
A promise in the shifting sands.
So Ill keep searching through the haze,
For that rare soul who holds the key,
To shatter glass and end the maze,
And love me wholly, just for me."
Hi, that's a great poem. You can put it up in your own page and ask for honest critic. Or go here for comments.
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/forum/workshop/read/12758/#577408
"In a crowd where no one sees,
I stand beneath the weight of stares,
Like a shadow in a gallery,
A canvas painted with their fears.
A heart, vibrant but hidden deep,
Layered beneath the surface bright,
Knowing the echoes that cut and seep,
Through the silence of a lonely night.
I wear a mask of smiles and jest,
Laughing off the pain I feel,
Risking trust, a daily test,
In a world where wounds remain concealed.
I bend my soul to fit their mold,
Changing colors to blend in line,
With every compromise, I feel less bold,
Yearning for a love thats truly mine.
When the rain falls, my tears align,
A mingling of sorrow, a soft refrain,
But in the depths, a hope will shine,
For one who sees me beyond the pain.
To be embraced for every flaw,
To find a heart that understands,
A hand in mine, without a flaw,
A promise in the shifting sands.
So Ill keep searching through the haze,
For that rare soul who holds the key,
To shatter glass and end the maze,
And love me wholly, just for me."
Hi, that's a great poem. You can put it up in your own page and ask for honest critic. Or go here for comments.
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/forum/workshop/read/12758/#577408
The Golden Rule
She went to Northern China in December;
the wind was cold and cut her like a knife.
She shivered violently, could not remember
ever being colder in her life.
Her teeth like castenets were chattering,
her sandy toes had turned a shade of blue,
her teeth would very soon be shattering
and then she'd need some false ones Boo, hoo, hoo!
'I wish I'd put me thermal knickers on!'
the Blue-Sand Girl wailed out in deep despair.
'The ones I'm wearing are of thin cotton.
'I'm feeling a terrific draught down there!'
Then ajay walked into this verse once more,
a pair of thermal knickers in his hand.
'You left these once upon me bedroom floor,'
he said, 'This freezing cold they will withstand.'
'Oh, thank you, ajay!' cried the Blue-Sand Girl.
'Without you, I don't know what I would do.'
She put those knickers on and gave a twirl.
'You've stopped my little er toes from turning blue!' 🙃
Our Hero said, 'Oh, babes, you must remember,
heed this most important Golden Rule:
Don't visit Northern China in December!
Come stay with me in sunny Liverpool!' 🙃
☕
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7F7hDYDzwU4&pp=ygUdaSBkb250IGtub3cgd2hhdCBsaXZlcnBvb2wgZmM%3D
⚽
You're not well over the hill. I bet you can still throw a few shapes on the er dance floor. 🙃
💃🕺
Emptied
..my muse went to timbuctoo and won't be back anytime soon
Emptied of words, all written out
no pretty words, no poems or prose
staring out of the window
thoughts meandering like a late show
showing all the things in the past
and the living room in my cloud castle
just like a train track overgrown
by weeds and wildflowers
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qDIr0yvZ5g
Even a Muse needs a break now and again
or
Steamin' and a-tootin'!
or
Stealin' a line from Grace's poem 🙃
Just like a train track overgrown by weeds,
her poet mind lies sleeping in the sun.
The train that's full of Inspiration's seeds
won't come. It seems her poem life is done.
That train which always rattles down her track
and fills her mind with images and light
has gone to Timbuctoo. Will it come back?
It's carried off her Muse, so she can't write.
But wait! What's this that's thun'drin' down the line
and puffin' out a smokyfiery cloud?
The Inspiration Train is bang on time,
its whistle shrilling out, both clear and loud!
Her track's no longer overgrown by weeds;
now poems bloom from Inspiration's seeds.🙃
🚂 🌼🌻🌺🌹🌸🌷💐
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m4tJSn0QtME&pp=ygUNZG9vYmllcyB0cmFpbg%3D%3D
🚂 🌻🌹💐🌼🌺🌸🌷
I've sent the Train to fetch her, travelling first-class. 🙃
🚂 🌼🌺🌸🌷💐
Rise
.... Muse ain't here yet maybe she fell off the train.. methinks she ran into the woods to amuse the wildlife...🤔🫢🤓
ghosts danced in the peripheral light of her eyes
tugging at her heartstrings
asking her to remember things
best left in the box of memories
and buried in an unmarked grave
there was a time when she'd linger
and read each diary page, smile or weep
wishing to go back to relive
instances of bad decisions
this time she refused to turn written pages
and force herself to stare at the next unwritten piece
you're not alone she whispered
and started to write
ghosts danced in the peripheral light of her eyes...
and she swept up to the sun
🌹
https://youtu.be/8L6KGuTr9TI?si=sPOksAHOq58Isvfz
.... Muse ain't here yet maybe she fell off the train.. methinks she ran into the woods to amuse the wildlife...🤔🫢🤓
ghosts danced in the peripheral light of her eyes
tugging at her heartstrings
asking her to remember things
best left in the box of memories
and buried in an unmarked grave
there was a time when she'd linger
and read each diary page, smile or weep
wishing to go back to relive
instances of bad decisions
this time she refused to turn written pages
and force herself to stare at the next unwritten piece
you're not alone she whispered
and started to write
ghosts danced in the peripheral light of her eyes...
and she swept up to the sun
🌹
https://youtu.be/8L6KGuTr9TI?si=sPOksAHOq58Isvfz
Flying
Meanwhile, our boy kept dancing down the track
and travelled all the way to Timbuctoo
in search of Grace's Muse, to bring her back;
but where she was, exactly, he'd no clue.
He hunted in the woods, most everywhere,
and looked beneath each leafy bush and tree,
but Grace's Muse alas! just was not there,
that much, at least, was plain for him to see.
But as he sighed he looked up into space
and saw a hat, a girl, go flying past,
a great big writing smile upon her face.
He grinned. She'd found her missing Muse at last.
In unexpected form her Muse had come
and swept the Blue-Sand Girl up to the sun.☀️
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2Cti12XBw4&pp=ygUPc3VuZGF5IG1vcm5pbmcg
☀️🐬🖌️
Be sure to keep your hat on. It's hot up there. ☀️👒
☀️
Blood Sacrifice
...I laughed looking up the sun. I wonder if I flew up, would they see my knickers from below
maybe I should try when its moonlight clear...
At church today, I remembered incense from the altar
I remembered the long chants of Agnus Dei
the songs that we sang Tantum Ergo Sacramentum
and the Litanies of the Saints
I remember someone who said when faced with darkness
inevitable illness and death one wondered
to whom shall we speak to and beg surcease
from pain and all the hurt that our soul carried
the sermon was not short
I confess I napped for 15 minutes
I bed forgiveness for being inattentive
Eyes closed with internal prayers
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZcunzYdxAU
...I laughed looking up the sun. I wonder if I flew up, would they see my knickers from below
maybe I should try when its moonlight clear... At church today, I remembered incense from the altar
I remembered the long chants of Agnus Dei
the songs that we sang Tantum Ergo Sacramentum
and the Litanies of the Saints
I remember someone who said when faced with darkness
inevitable illness and death one wondered
to whom shall we speak to and beg surcease
from pain and all the hurt that our soul carried
the sermon was not short
I confess I napped for 15 minutes
I bed forgiveness for being inattentive
Eyes closed with internal prayers
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZcunzYdxAU
