Miscellaneous Poems by Top Critiquers
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Random, diverse and unusual poetry written by the DU Poetry top critiquers
(members who have given lots of useful comments to other poets this month)
Josh
Poem Published
15th Oct 2018 11:22am
15th Oct 2018 11:22am
Portugal FireStorm (15th October 2017)
The drama circles round our heads
the wall of fire approaches homes
as fate reveals the cards it spreads
we make our choices - gut-felt sums -
to leave, or stay and fight it out?
The wall of fire approaches homes
and grasping straws to claim some clout
midst flying embers, fire and smoke
some choose to stay and fight it out.
The detail in our minds is stoked
by what is noticed in the heat
midst flying embers, fire and smoke
a tragic game of ‘trick or treat’
a shepherd neighbour loses all
it goes...
the wall of fire approaches homes
as fate reveals the cards it spreads
we make our choices - gut-felt sums -
to leave, or stay and fight it out?
The wall of fire approaches homes
and grasping straws to claim some clout
midst flying embers, fire and smoke
some choose to stay and fight it out.
The detail in our minds is stoked
by what is noticed in the heat
midst flying embers, fire and smoke
a tragic game of ‘trick or treat’
a shepherd neighbour loses all
it goes...
#grief
#hope
#courage
#dialogue
#suffering
31 reads
14 Comments
Timagination543
Poem Published
Yesterday 4:08am
Yesterday 4:08am
Time Flies
Two spirits rest in graveyard floors,
though of past days, I do recall
inside the weathered wood back door--
their tuneful words I hear no more.
The back porch swing has lost its thrill--
the see-saw, bikes, and car lie still.
My youth so seems like just a dream,
old family frames display us three--
but sadly, all that's left is me.
though of past days, I do recall
inside the weathered wood back door--
their tuneful words I hear no more.
The back porch swing has lost its thrill--
the see-saw, bikes, and car lie still.
My youth so seems like just a dream,
old family frames display us three--
but sadly, all that's left is me.
#heartbroken
26 reads
8 Comments
Zazzles
Broom
Broom
Poem Published
9th Oct 2018 3:28pm
9th Oct 2018 3:28pm
Wicked
Please listen while reading, thanks
https://youtu.be/YFD2PPAqNbw
She does not dream nor does she follow
She simply lives, life’s time is borrowed
disenchanted, her tiny heart remains
lost among the wreckage, somewhere
between anguish and mental pain.
She cannot show her psychotic face
a thousand sorrows she must erase
hide them away, inside a secret place
a common trait among the human race.
https://youtu.be/YFD2PPAqNbw
She does not dream nor does she follow
She simply lives, life’s time is borrowed
disenchanted, her tiny heart remains
lost among the wreckage, somewhere
between anguish and mental pain.
She cannot show her psychotic face
a thousand sorrows she must erase
hide them away, inside a secret place
a common trait among the human race.
#PowerOfWords
60 reads
17 Comments
poetOftragedy
Poem Published
7th Oct 2018 2:33am
7th Oct 2018 2:33am
only if Jesus never died
If only Jesus never died.
Maybe love would have survived.
we would have had the courage to stand and fight.
To fight for all we believe is right.
this fight would be worth the price.
we would have learnt to dance to the rhythm of the night,
And see the day when nobody died.
Only if jesus never died.
Maybe the deaths of our brothers and sister wouldn't be vein
our sacrifices and prayers would have paid.
we would have learnt to overcome the pain.
this dammed human race would have been saved.
true freedom would have had its...
Maybe love would have survived.
we would have had the courage to stand and fight.
To fight for all we believe is right.
this fight would be worth the price.
we would have learnt to dance to the rhythm of the night,
And see the day when nobody died.
Only if jesus never died.
Maybe the deaths of our brothers and sister wouldn't be vein
our sacrifices and prayers would have paid.
we would have learnt to overcome the pain.
this dammed human race would have been saved.
true freedom would have had its...
#hope
#evolution
#freedom
25 reads
9 Comments
dartford
Paul S...
Paul S...
Poem Published
15th Oct 2018 11:44pm
15th Oct 2018 11:44pm
it'll be fish & chips next ..
I have read that yet another
south london pie and
mash shop has closed
I am sorry, not just
for the pie, but as well
for the potatoes ..
south london pie and
mash shop has closed
I am sorry, not just
for the pie, but as well
for the potatoes ..
#memories
22 reads
8 Comments
TheMuses22
Muse
Muse
Poem Published
11th Oct 2018 9:56pm
11th Oct 2018 9:56pm
Purgatory
The garden gate to heaven
Is through a cornfield
Stalking through desecrated husks
Of past indiscretions and sins
Trampling empty shells
Of insect memories
A few good golden ears left
Those pure joys in life so rare
Seeking to hold tight to
The right choices made
The garden gate to heaven
Is through a cornfield
The question remains
How to escape the maize
Is through a cornfield
Stalking through desecrated husks
Of past indiscretions and sins
Trampling empty shells
Of insect memories
A few good golden ears left
Those pure joys in life so rare
Seeking to hold tight to
The right choices made
The garden gate to heaven
Is through a cornfield
The question remains
How to escape the maize
#God
#angels
#ghosts
50 reads
11 Comments
AnonymousBystander
Poem Published
10th Oct 2018 8:51pm
10th Oct 2018 8:51pm
LBC - Leading Britain's Condescension
Forever leading Britain's condescension,
every story is an ace in the hole.
Peddling propaganda by repetition,
uniformity of thought is their goal.
By open invitation a new caller -
not as articulate as the broadcaster -
raises a sensible and cogent point.
An alternative thesis out of joint
with the monopoly of truth prevailing.
This unleashes scorn and belittlement,
tuts and sighs are added to the torment;
the host turns boorish and starts complaining.
In short, Peter Dale Scott's 'conspiracy
of denial' from this...
every story is an ace in the hole.
Peddling propaganda by repetition,
uniformity of thought is their goal.
By open invitation a new caller -
not as articulate as the broadcaster -
raises a sensible and cogent point.
An alternative thesis out of joint
with the monopoly of truth prevailing.
This unleashes scorn and belittlement,
tuts and sighs are added to the torment;
the host turns boorish and starts complaining.
In short, Peter Dale Scott's 'conspiracy
of denial' from this...
#sonnet
#philosophical
20 reads
2 Comments
Inkerpoet
Poem Published
Yesterday 1:17am
Yesterday 1:17am
sometimes nothing boils down to something but very rarely
Circling the
Chicken booths.
Counting the
Monkey teeth.
Lamps richochet
Condom wrappers
As a smoking clown
Burns his pants.
Ice melting in the dish, I
Sleep on a bed of nipples.
Creeping through the walls
In the nightmares of past lovers.
Liver quivers. My kidney cried
And then I gave it something
To cry for.
Chicken booths.
Counting the
Monkey teeth.
Lamps richochet
Condom wrappers
As a smoking clown
Burns his pants.
Ice melting in the dish, I
Sleep on a bed of nipples.
Creeping through the walls
In the nightmares of past lovers.
Liver quivers. My kidney cried
And then I gave it something
To cry for.
#LifeAsAWriter
13 reads
0 Comments
Underdog
Poem Published
Yesterday 5:00pm
Yesterday 5:00pm
Fissure
it's the intangible
that speaks from just beyond this here and now
the enigmatic sphere lurking between us
charismatic with its own gravity
drawing us into these inevitable conclusions
time and time again
magnetizing our spiritual fluidity down
its yellow bricked labyrinth
electrifying every iota roaming the sensory spectrum
that is the human condition
it burns us alive..back to life in vivid emotions
it is the ever-encroaching event horizon
foretelling tales of the fated
manifested as a circular eternal flame
invisible...
that speaks from just beyond this here and now
the enigmatic sphere lurking between us
charismatic with its own gravity
drawing us into these inevitable conclusions
time and time again
magnetizing our spiritual fluidity down
its yellow bricked labyrinth
electrifying every iota roaming the sensory spectrum
that is the human condition
it burns us alive..back to life in vivid emotions
it is the ever-encroaching event horizon
foretelling tales of the fated
manifested as a circular eternal flame
invisible...
#spiritual
21 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Miscellaneous Poems by Top Critiquers - Random, Diverse and Unusual Poetry
Page:
