Submissions by Valley
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I am a Growing ground for the Sons of Ole
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Aug 2014 4:49pm
28th Aug 2014 4:49pm
The crowd
As I work on poem galore,
I ponder for the crowd got more.
One man joins with uneven record,
the other one is a complete nerd.
They gather round the bastard's sport,
in which is a game with much hurt.
Two more have joined a crowd Galore,
This time a lady looking of a whore.
Her hair is uneven as if had just woken.
But my train of though will not be broken.
The crowd gets less and less from what it is.
As the time is over, yes it tis.
Yet more join the newly found crowd,
I refuse to say a thing a loud.
another man watches over my...
I ponder for the crowd got more.
One man joins with uneven record,
the other one is a complete nerd.
They gather round the bastard's sport,
in which is a game with much hurt.
Two more have joined a crowd Galore,
This time a lady looking of a whore.
Her hair is uneven as if had just woken.
But my train of though will not be broken.
The crowd gets less and less from what it is.
As the time is over, yes it tis.
Yet more join the newly found crowd,
I refuse to say a thing a loud.
another man watches over my...
461 reads
0 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
25th Aug 2014 2:40pm
25th Aug 2014 2:40pm
The poor man's valley
There once was a poor man a and a rich man.
Both the poor man and the rich man had a valley.
The rich man had trons and barbs in his valley,
when the poor man's valley had a beautiful valley.
The rich man was jealous of the poor man's valley,
so he took all his barbs into the poor man's valley.
But the valley was not effected by the barbs and trons.
The rich man went to the poor man to buy the valley,
The poor man declined the offer, with that the rich man left.
But many years later the rich man came back to land.
The poor had called him back to sell...
Both the poor man and the rich man had a valley.
The rich man had trons and barbs in his valley,
when the poor man's valley had a beautiful valley.
The rich man was jealous of the poor man's valley,
so he took all his barbs into the poor man's valley.
But the valley was not effected by the barbs and trons.
The rich man went to the poor man to buy the valley,
The poor man declined the offer, with that the rich man left.
But many years later the rich man came back to land.
The poor had called him back to sell...
559 reads
0 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
20th Aug 2014 4:33pm
20th Aug 2014 4:33pm
What do I say?
I don't say anything,
yea that's what I'll do.
I'll just keep my mouth shut,
yea that's what I'll do.
I'll just be there when needed,
yea that's what I'll do.
I don't do anything,
yea that's what I'll do.
I will be suicidal,
yea that's what I'll do.
I'll just end it all,
yea that's what I'll do.
I will say something,
yea that's what I'll do.
I'll say these words,
yea that's what I'll do.
yea that's what I'll do.
I'll just keep my mouth shut,
yea that's what I'll do.
I'll just be there when needed,
yea that's what I'll do.
I don't do anything,
yea that's what I'll do.
I will be suicidal,
yea that's what I'll do.
I'll just end it all,
yea that's what I'll do.
I will say something,
yea that's what I'll do.
I'll say these words,
yea that's what I'll do.
639 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
19th Aug 2014 4:48pm
19th Aug 2014 4:48pm
Just another excuse
Its just another excuse.
You blame the other man.
Do try to do what you can,
but I can't change my mind.
Your body they will never find.
Come closer my excused dear.
Come just close and near.
Do walk forwards to my knife,
I will steal your sweet life,
hiding will not help you in any way.
Give me the phone my sweet,
I will feed the dogs your meat!
As you walk along the final line
Drop the phone, let your life be mine
The cops won't help you in any way, it's time
Why did you do it...
You blame the other man.
Do try to do what you can,
but I can't change my mind.
Your body they will never find.
Come closer my excused dear.
Come just close and near.
Do walk forwards to my knife,
I will steal your sweet life,
hiding will not help you in any way.
Give me the phone my sweet,
I will feed the dogs your meat!
As you walk along the final line
Drop the phone, let your life be mine
The cops won't help you in any way, it's time
Why did you do it...
603 reads
4 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
19th Aug 2014 2:47pm
19th Aug 2014 2:47pm
Stranded stranger: Backside of mirror sequal
586 reads
1 Comment
DRUGS POEM
Published
15th Aug 2014 4:30pm
15th Aug 2014 4:30pm
Blood of dust
The sun boils you as you walk the ground,
as you walk, your mind weary, as you near falling down.
Luckily, you stay a foot and continue to walk.
The only shade around is a product of the smallest rock.
Then bugs start to swarm, closer to you,
they start biting away at your shoe.
They crawl up your leg but you don't see,
oddly enough they don't see me.
They crawl into your skin, many of bugs.
I was frightened so I threw our last few water jugs.
The bugs climbed up up to your head.
I was sure you were dead.
Unfortunately, you weren't dead yet,...
as you walk, your mind weary, as you near falling down.
Luckily, you stay a foot and continue to walk.
The only shade around is a product of the smallest rock.
Then bugs start to swarm, closer to you,
they start biting away at your shoe.
They crawl up your leg but you don't see,
oddly enough they don't see me.
They crawl into your skin, many of bugs.
I was frightened so I threw our last few water jugs.
The bugs climbed up up to your head.
I was sure you were dead.
Unfortunately, you weren't dead yet,...
537 reads
DARK POEM
Published
13th Aug 2014 4:29pm
13th Aug 2014 4:29pm
The Prodigious Several Shadows
557 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
13th Aug 2014 2:30pm
13th Aug 2014 2:30pm
You are sick, thy Duke!
You are sick, thy Duke!
For with sickness we rebuke
waiting for family, we do puke.
With uncured sickness at the hand of a Duke.
The Duke, the Duke, you are sick!
For the pain is as a prick
on a torn of UN-found stick.
With the hand of the duke, you lay in bed with doth kick.
The Duke, we are dead!
For Disease that has now spread,
coming back to rotting bread.
For the black plague is reason for the cut off head.
You are sick, thy Duke!
For with sickness you can't rebuke
Waiting for family, you do puke.
For he is dead our only Duke.
For with sickness we rebuke
waiting for family, we do puke.
With uncured sickness at the hand of a Duke.
The Duke, the Duke, you are sick!
For the pain is as a prick
on a torn of UN-found stick.
With the hand of the duke, you lay in bed with doth kick.
The Duke, we are dead!
For Disease that has now spread,
coming back to rotting bread.
For the black plague is reason for the cut off head.
You are sick, thy Duke!
For with sickness you can't rebuke
Waiting for family, you do puke.
For he is dead our only Duke.
406 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
11th Aug 2014 8:47pm
11th Aug 2014 8:47pm
What I was and still am
Growing out and up,
water poured out of the cup.
I am not the one that grows,
months bring highs and lows.
The sprouts grow tall and strong,
with me to help all along.
A stepping stone am I,
this is what i say without lie.
Weeds grows in this place,
cut them down, with them I full disgrace.
Weeds will fall in pattern, row on row.
With beatings, blow after blow.
The crops spread far and wide.
With the water come in with tide.
The weeds corpses have been found,
when you find me, the perfect growing ground.
water poured out of the cup.
I am not the one that grows,
months bring highs and lows.
The sprouts grow tall and strong,
with me to help all along.
A stepping stone am I,
this is what i say without lie.
Weeds grows in this place,
cut them down, with them I full disgrace.
Weeds will fall in pattern, row on row.
With beatings, blow after blow.
The crops spread far and wide.
With the water come in with tide.
The weeds corpses have been found,
when you find me, the perfect growing ground.
490 reads
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
11th Aug 2014 4:25pm
11th Aug 2014 4:25pm
Does anybody care & Why should I care
Does anybody care?
Are you even close to aware?
The light doth falling in,
in the sights of spirits, we din.
The attic has nothing in it at all
we have a life without a call.
Is it strange how no one gives a shit?
When life is theirs the motto is: Fuck it.
Life is going to continuously going faster,
followed up by an endless laughter.
Wasting time as if it is endless,
our fate is no longer a guess.
Does anybody care?
Are you even close to aware?
That life is a game and it is halfway done.
Here you are having succeeded...
Are you even close to aware?
The light doth falling in,
in the sights of spirits, we din.
The attic has nothing in it at all
we have a life without a call.
Is it strange how no one gives a shit?
When life is theirs the motto is: Fuck it.
Life is going to continuously going faster,
followed up by an endless laughter.
Wasting time as if it is endless,
our fate is no longer a guess.
Does anybody care?
Are you even close to aware?
That life is a game and it is halfway done.
Here you are having succeeded...
548 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
8th Aug 2014 5:47pm
8th Aug 2014 5:47pm
Ticktock Nannybot (THIS IS A WARNING PLEASE DO NOT TAKE AS FAKE)
592 reads
DU Poetry : Submissions by Valley
