Narrative Poems
#narrative
Narrative poetry is a style of poetry which tells a story. Narrative poems aim to draw the reader into the imagination of the author, to immerse them in the story being told. Narrative poems are usually written in metered verse, but do not have to follow any particular rhythmic pattern.
Insiderew
Poem Published
23rd Sep 2020 11:01am
23rd Sep 2020 11:01am
my mirror
my mirror faithfully reflects
then, having pondered shows aspects
of self, unseen by other eyes
ah, but , my glass never lies.
I gaze into that scene within
with me without, and looking in
wondering what might come to pass,
if two were there seen, lad and lass.
I angle for another look
and find, not self, but Eastern Suq
no painting this but moving frame
of Eastern delight, of worldly fame.
at first in two dimensions seen
then glass, like water, dropping clean
away, till all surrounds my sight
ear and...
then, having pondered shows aspects
of self, unseen by other eyes
ah, but , my glass never lies.
I gaze into that scene within
with me without, and looking in
wondering what might come to pass,
if two were there seen, lad and lass.
I angle for another look
and find, not self, but Eastern Suq
no painting this but moving frame
of Eastern delight, of worldly fame.
at first in two dimensions seen
then glass, like water, dropping clean
away, till all surrounds my sight
ear and...
#teens
#rhyming
#fiction #narrative
#fiction #narrative
32 reads
0 Comments
oskar
Poem Published
21st Sep 2020 7:47am
21st Sep 2020 7:47am
drugs
Drugs
I never showed my dogs any tricks that appear to please
people I grew from a puppy to an adult, mind I sometimes
patted her and she had the habit of using my feet as a pillow
when I was watching TV. when she got older, she got a bit
grumpy when I moved my feet.
Today I watched how they killed Pablo Escobar, a drug trader
a murderous gangster, all his costumers, live in the USA.
As usual in this cases, someone else took over and it will
continue and this how capitalism work.
there is a hallowed family selling opium in large...
I never showed my dogs any tricks that appear to please
people I grew from a puppy to an adult, mind I sometimes
patted her and she had the habit of using my feet as a pillow
when I was watching TV. when she got older, she got a bit
grumpy when I moved my feet.
Today I watched how they killed Pablo Escobar, a drug trader
a murderous gangster, all his costumers, live in the USA.
As usual in this cases, someone else took over and it will
continue and this how capitalism work.
there is a hallowed family selling opium in large...
#inspirational
#narrative
#confessional #mystery
#confessional #mystery
47 reads
0 Comments
I_IS_ME
Poem Published
21st Sep 2020 5:07am
21st Sep 2020 5:07am
Gave At The Office
I'm the only motherfucker you know that's worse than Action Jackson
Shaft standing between fucking two atoms smashing
Compared to me the big bang explosion was simply an explosive fraction
I'm Chernobyl on crack, I'm several fucking nuclear reactions
Somebody got mad because several fucking dealers got robbed
Bitches patroling the hood ready to squad and mob
Are they forgetting what the fuck these bitches do for a living
Have they forgotten how many innocent babies are no longer among the living
Fucking bandwagon bitches ready to fucking...
Shaft standing between fucking two atoms smashing
Compared to me the big bang explosion was simply an explosive fraction
I'm Chernobyl on crack, I'm several fucking nuclear reactions
Somebody got mad because several fucking dealers got robbed
Bitches patroling the hood ready to squad and mob
Are they forgetting what the fuck these bitches do for a living
Have they forgotten how many innocent babies are no longer among the living
Fucking bandwagon bitches ready to fucking...
#anger
#violence
#narrative
26 reads
0 Comments
I_IS_ME
Poem Published
21st Sep 2020 5:01am
21st Sep 2020 5:01am
Give It Up
Haha hold up Double L let me control this flow
Let me dissect this shit and then put it back where it goes
My boys B-Money and Wavey has the back and the front
Double L is my young rebel in the corner with a sawed off pump
Finger fucking the trigger, dam he wants shit to jump off
You better give up the flow motherfucker, before his patience is lost
Before he bust you in the chest exiting the back with that sawed off
Haha fucking shattering the backdoor taking the fucking hinges off
If you don't know this young one, he's as rowdy as hell ...
Let me dissect this shit and then put it back where it goes
My boys B-Money and Wavey has the back and the front
Double L is my young rebel in the corner with a sawed off pump
Finger fucking the trigger, dam he wants shit to jump off
You better give up the flow motherfucker, before his patience is lost
Before he bust you in the chest exiting the back with that sawed off
Haha fucking shattering the backdoor taking the fucking hinges off
If you don't know this young one, he's as rowdy as hell ...
#violence
#narrative
29 reads
2 Comments
MyEyeDelight
Poem Published
16th Sep 2020 6:38am
16th Sep 2020 6:38am
A Creeping Death
A Creeping Death
Have you noticed?
How the angle of the sun is changing?
Once warm and incandescent
Now is all
Hard edges
And stark shadows.
Summer weeps in mourning,
So Autumn may exhale.
Breath that holds an icy promise.
Wrapped in warm flannel,
Served with pumpkin spice,
Surrounded by fall color,
That only really portends of imminent death.
Drunk on cider,
Plied with these distractions
You are caught unaware.
Lest you pay heed,
Best you be...
Have you noticed?
How the angle of the sun is changing?
Once warm and incandescent
Now is all
Hard edges
And stark shadows.
Summer weeps in mourning,
So Autumn may exhale.
Breath that holds an icy promise.
Wrapped in warm flannel,
Served with pumpkin spice,
Surrounded by fall color,
That only really portends of imminent death.
Drunk on cider,
Plied with these distractions
You are caught unaware.
Lest you pay heed,
Best you be...
#Halloween
#narrative
65 reads
13 Comments
Peanut
Poem Published
1st Sep 2020 10:51pm
1st Sep 2020 10:51pm
90 Something Blatent...
Truth has a grit
filled in soil and stone;
thick, course, and dirty.
It lives rough in some hearts
whose faces wear lines
twisted as gravel roads,
which left honest living
in scars and stretch marks.
Yellow nicotine infected skin
reflecting faded ink
of 40 year old tattoos
(once dark and pretty,
now streched and worn
to shreads and threads.)
Netty was one of those women.
She wore the odd beard hair
in grey and spoke with the
word "muthafucka" peppered
in her...
filled in soil and stone;
thick, course, and dirty.
It lives rough in some hearts
whose faces wear lines
twisted as gravel roads,
which left honest living
in scars and stretch marks.
Yellow nicotine infected skin
reflecting faded ink
of 40 year old tattoos
(once dark and pretty,
now streched and worn
to shreads and threads.)
Netty was one of those women.
She wore the odd beard hair
in grey and spoke with the
word "muthafucka" peppered
in her...
#alcohol
#narrative
#aging
#metaphor
#wisdom
48 reads
0 Comments
nikkimoe
Poem Published
31st Aug 2020 5:42pm
31st Aug 2020 5:42pm
Stainless
Metal.
Cold.
Just a sheet of steel,
living life without the feels.
Unaffected,
like aloof, only worse.
Cold.
Just a sheet of steel,
living life without the feels.
Unaffected,
like aloof, only worse.
#death
#LifeStruggles
#narrative
49 reads
5 Comments
BeginningPoet
Poem Published
31st Aug 2020 4:25pm
31st Aug 2020 4:25pm
Sleight Of Hand -
Countless names, countless faces
will bleed through their craft
and join names that have marked
history with their words, here,
gathering their moments, giving
their lives to be seen, to be heard.
Who gives you their voices from
their souls, gives each beat of
a heart, emotions brought, whether
from the the heavens or from hell,
these words can nourish minds,
entertain souls, like a beacon
calling you on those starless nights.
Writers, giving their insights to raw
beauty, war, famine, love,...
will bleed through their craft
and join names that have marked
history with their words, here,
gathering their moments, giving
their lives to be seen, to be heard.
Who gives you their voices from
their souls, gives each beat of
a heart, emotions brought, whether
from the the heavens or from hell,
these words can nourish minds,
entertain souls, like a beacon
calling you on those starless nights.
Writers, giving their insights to raw
beauty, war, famine, love,...
#motivational
#inspirational
#narrative
#mystery
#tragedy
52 reads
4 Comments
VeronikaB
Poem Published
23rd Aug 2020 9:58pm
23rd Aug 2020 9:58pm
The Secret Truth
Memoirs of a Fairytale Princess
I was born in a Palace,
a dream come true,
for my parents and fairy godmother.
From thereon, however, things went downhill.
Mama got sick, a difficult birth,
and Papa, with his power, wealth and all that,
would have given his crown, I was told.
Couldn’t save her though.
My mother died, I was nursed
by a maid, wish I knew her name.
Then the Queen took over,
became my new mum, can’t tell exactly when.
Didn’t see her much,
and anyway, she’s all I’ve ever known.
My...
I was born in a Palace,
a dream come true,
for my parents and fairy godmother.
From thereon, however, things went downhill.
Mama got sick, a difficult birth,
and Papa, with his power, wealth and all that,
would have given his crown, I was told.
Couldn’t save her though.
My mother died, I was nursed
by a maid, wish I knew her name.
Then the Queen took over,
became my new mum, can’t tell exactly when.
Didn’t see her much,
and anyway, she’s all I’ve ever known.
My...
#LifeStruggles
#narrative
#historical #tradition
#historical #tradition
81 reads
13 Comments
VeronikaB
Poem Published
20th Aug 2020 10:28pm
20th Aug 2020 10:28pm
Boho
a brief history of the English word boho, how it found a home in central Europe in the era of the Roman Empire, became homeless in Paris and London in the 19th century, and is currently gallivanting around luxury homes of the rich and famous
If you have seen the film Les Miserables you'll have caught a glimpse of what life was like in Paris for poor people in the 19th century. From this urban landscape a counter-culture was born. It became known as Bohemianism.
The French Bohemians were not poor people by birth. They weren’t ‘miserable’ because they had no choice....
If you have seen the film Les Miserables you'll have caught a glimpse of what life was like in Paris for poor people in the 19th century. From this urban landscape a counter-culture was born. It became known as Bohemianism.
The French Bohemians were not poor people by birth. They weren’t ‘miserable’ because they had no choice....
#narrative
#PowerOfWords
#historical
49 reads
8 Comments
VeronikaB
Poem Published
19th Aug 2020 3:10pm
19th Aug 2020 3:10pm
Assassin (chapter from a book on English words)
A brief history of the English word assassin, including its legendary connections with cannabis and writers
Assassination is “one of the oldest tools of power politics.” It’s been around for thousands of years. In the year 336 B.C. the King of Macedonia, and father of Alexander the Great, was assassinated by one of his own bodyguards.
Around 650 years earlier, Absalom, a Judaic prince and son of King David, was assassinated by one of his own cousins. And the perhaps most famous assassin in the history of Ancient Rome is Brutus, one of three men who killed Julius...
Assassination is “one of the oldest tools of power politics.” It’s been around for thousands of years. In the year 336 B.C. the King of Macedonia, and father of Alexander the Great, was assassinated by one of his own bodyguards.
Around 650 years earlier, Absalom, a Judaic prince and son of King David, was assassinated by one of his own cousins. And the perhaps most famous assassin in the history of Ancient Rome is Brutus, one of three men who killed Julius...
#narrative
#PowerOfWords
#historical #nonfiction
#historical #nonfiction
47 reads
6 Comments
Pimp2ThaFuture04
Poem Published
8th Aug 2020 1:29pm
8th Aug 2020 1:29pm
Storytellers Vs Storyswitchers
Life is deep like flowing water
forever infinite still focused
on me because homies are impertinent friends have turned foes society exposed
So now I'm even more antisocial
my first eye stay open
I never let it close
Still bringing the wisdom
I am one of the Solar children
My Soul travels through closed doors
my ancestors are proud they smile
how I am nice with the metaphors
I spit behind bars my floetry's penitentiary more alkaline for my mind cause it boosts up my memory so I can congregate my Cypher as a
Street...
forever infinite still focused
on me because homies are impertinent friends have turned foes society exposed
So now I'm even more antisocial
my first eye stay open
I never let it close
Still bringing the wisdom
I am one of the Solar children
My Soul travels through closed doors
my ancestors are proud they smile
how I am nice with the metaphors
I spit behind bars my floetry's penitentiary more alkaline for my mind cause it boosts up my memory so I can congregate my Cypher as a
Street...
#narrative
#ShortStory
#philosophical
170 reads
13 Comments
DU Poetry : Narrative Poems
