Narrative Seeking Honest Critique Poems
#narrative
NP_NP
Poem Published
24th Feb 2025 4:41am
24th Feb 2025 4:41am
The Watchful Soul
Dear reader, let me tell you now,
Of a soul who watched, yet wore no vow.
A lover’s call, a secret scheme,
Crafted in the shadows, part of a dream.
She had fun, leaving clues behind, Little whispers, a careful mind. No one saw, no one knew, the puzzle built for a chosen few.
Always observing, sharp and keen, a glimpse of words, a hidden scene. “Am I a genius, or just insane?” The question lingered, but none could claim.
From a young age, she began to learn, psychology patterns,...
She had fun, leaving clues behind, Little whispers, a careful mind. No one saw, no one knew, the puzzle built for a chosen few.
Always observing, sharp and keen, a glimpse of words, a hidden scene. “Am I a genius, or just insane?” The question lingered, but none could claim.
From a young age, she began to learn, psychology patterns,...
#narrative
#ShortStory
#spiritual
68 reads
3 Comments
fianaturie8
Fia Naturie
Fia Naturie
Poem Published
17th Jan 2025 7:46pm
17th Jan 2025 7:46pm
Life Lesson Part 7 UK (f**king Ang)
It has been a while since I wrote a life lesson. I want to remind you that the year is 1989. I just made it back to the UK because my mother was not in the mood to deal with me.
I believe it was a chance for her to get her groove on without prying eyes.
My sister and I have been in the UK for over a week, and I started to feel…antsy. I wondered what David was up to.
I called the number he gave me the last time I was here, and his mum answered. Why did I call?
“Hello, is David home?” I asked
...
I believe it was a chance for her to get her groove on without prying eyes.
My sister and I have been in the UK for over a week, and I started to feel…antsy. I wondered what David was up to.
I called the number he gave me the last time I was here, and his mum answered. Why did I call?
“Hello, is David home?” I asked
...
#narrative
202 reads
11 Comments
fianaturie8
Fia Naturie
Fia Naturie
Poem Published
13th Jan 2025 2:25am
13th Jan 2025 2:25am
Sunday Night
You are my Sunday night.
Monday begins a grind of necessity.
Tuesday are meeting ‘s of improbabilities
Wednesday is the hump that is starting to maim
Thursday is the breaking point of talking in vain
Friday is the day that will relieve some stress
Saturday waking up in a tangled mess
Sunday night is where my heart lies
Staring and knowing I will continue...
Just as you look at me that way...
with those eyes.
Monday begins a grind of necessity.
Tuesday are meeting ‘s of improbabilities
Wednesday is the hump that is starting to maim
Thursday is the breaking point of talking in vain
Friday is the day that will relieve some stress
Saturday waking up in a tangled mess
Sunday night is where my heart lies
Staring and knowing I will continue...
Just as you look at me that way...
with those eyes.
#narrative
225 reads
16 Comments
Betty
Poem Published
27th Dec 2024 4:16pm
27th Dec 2024 4:16pm
In a world of Juliets, call me Lady Macbeth
I had to sub a Sophomore Lit class
when the professor was out
with COVID
And my inner literary snob
screamed a thousand
deaths when the 20-year-old zygotes
romanticized about
Romeo and Juliet.
I smiled and fluttered
my eyelashes
and smashed those
cute little bitches
who thought they
invented thought
with actual arrogance.
You see children,
Shakespeare...
when the professor was out
with COVID
And my inner literary snob
screamed a thousand
deaths when the 20-year-old zygotes
romanticized about
Romeo and Juliet.
I smiled and fluttered
my eyelashes
and smashed those
cute little bitches
who thought they
invented thought
with actual arrogance.
You see children,
Shakespeare...
#dark
#narrative
#lover
#revenge
#identity
297 reads
27 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
4th Dec 2024 4:06pm
4th Dec 2024 4:06pm
Babuska's sarmale
In a snowy Romanian village, during Christmas cheer,
my Babuska spun tales, both delightful and queer.
The tradition was sarmale, a savory delight,
Cabbage wrapped treasures, cooked all through the night.
Meat and rice nestled in leaves so green,
simmered in tomato, a feast so serene.
But woven in laughter and holiday charms
were Babuska’s stories with their quirky alarms:
"Behave well, dear children, lest you wish to be seen
in the pot with the sarmale, simmering and lean."
The children would giggle, eyes...
my Babuska spun tales, both delightful and queer.
The tradition was sarmale, a savory delight,
Cabbage wrapped treasures, cooked all through the night.
Meat and rice nestled in leaves so green,
simmered in tomato, a feast so serene.
But woven in laughter and holiday charms
were Babuska’s stories with their quirky alarms:
"Behave well, dear children, lest you wish to be seen
in the pot with the sarmale, simmering and lean."
The children would giggle, eyes...
#children
#Christmas
#culture
#family
#narrative
96 reads
9 Comments
rosegold
Poem Published
29th Nov 2024 2:18pm
29th Nov 2024 2:18pm
The Journey
You slowly ooze
your sludgy head and foot
out of the hard yet fragile home
you carry on your back.
Eyes cautiously extend,
slimy feelers emerge and reach out
examining the air around:
all is still but the sun softly rising
so you start your long journey
across the walk in search of leafy greens.
Morning dew keeps you wet and content;
golden rays make your trail sparkle.
Thump, thump, the sidewalk shakes;
you feel the pounding getting closer.
A shadow overhead covers you in darkness,
and you crawl as...
your sludgy head and foot
out of the hard yet fragile home
you carry on your back.
Eyes cautiously extend,
slimy feelers emerge and reach out
examining the air around:
all is still but the sun softly rising
so you start your long journey
across the walk in search of leafy greens.
Morning dew keeps you wet and content;
golden rays make your trail sparkle.
Thump, thump, the sidewalk shakes;
you feel the pounding getting closer.
A shadow overhead covers you in darkness,
and you crawl as...
#fate
#fiction
#narrative #nature
#narrative #nature
79 reads
0 Comments
ThePalestRider
Poem Published
20th Nov 2024 10:18am
20th Nov 2024 10:18am
Feuer mit Schwertern
Das Feuer tanzt auf blankem Stahl
Ein Funkensprung im finstren Saal
Die Klinge singt, ein Lied so wild
Im Flammenschein wird Blut erfüllt
For the English speakers:
The fire dances on the blade
A spark ignites where shadows fade
The sword it sings, a song of strife
In fiery glow, it drinks of life
Ein Funkensprung im finstren Saal
Die Klinge singt, ein Lied so wild
Im Flammenschein wird Blut erfüllt
For the English speakers:
The fire dances on the blade
A spark ignites where shadows fade
The sword it sings, a song of strife
In fiery glow, it drinks of life
#fire
#metaphor
#narrative
#rhyming
#strength
87 reads
0 Comments
ThePalestRider
Poem Published
18th Nov 2024 6:47am
18th Nov 2024 6:47am
Dynasty
Upon the throne of shadows, doubt did cling
The Valois heir, a flame in tempest vast
Erect in poise, as marble gods in spring
Bore fate's great weight, unyielding to the blast
Beneath his feet, the soil of France did groan
A kingdom cleft by war’s unholy strife
Yet, like the Parian stone, his form was shown
Unmarred, a sculptor's dream brought into life
The Seine did whisper, winds through arches vast
Of triumphs yet to come, of crowns foretold
And every pillar, every stone, held fast
To echo Valois' tale in ages cold
...
The Valois heir, a flame in tempest vast
Erect in poise, as marble gods in spring
Bore fate's great weight, unyielding to the blast
Beneath his feet, the soil of France did groan
A kingdom cleft by war’s unholy strife
Yet, like the Parian stone, his form was shown
Unmarred, a sculptor's dream brought into life
The Seine did whisper, winds through arches vast
Of triumphs yet to come, of crowns foretold
And every pillar, every stone, held fast
To echo Valois' tale in ages cold
...
#freedom
#military
#narrative
#passion
#responsibility
98 reads
0 Comments
ThePalestRider
Poem Published
15th Nov 2024 1:40pm
15th Nov 2024 1:40pm
Hear It Calling
Beneath the loam, where silence breeds
A shadow stirs in restless plight
I buried him, my crime unheeds
Yet feel his clawing in the night
His voice, a rasp through fetid air
A specter’s hymn, a curse untamed
It bids me down the stairs in despair
Yet no tongue speaks the damned unnamed
Scratch, scratch beneath the floor’s tight grain
The boards do shudder at his call
Each groan and creak becomes a chain
That binds my soul to rise and fall
The grave exhales its rancid breath
A miasma cold, my guilt laid bare ...
A shadow stirs in restless plight
I buried him, my crime unheeds
Yet feel his clawing in the night
His voice, a rasp through fetid air
A specter’s hymn, a curse untamed
It bids me down the stairs in despair
Yet no tongue speaks the damned unnamed
Scratch, scratch beneath the floor’s tight grain
The boards do shudder at his call
Each groan and creak becomes a chain
That binds my soul to rise and fall
The grave exhales its rancid breath
A miasma cold, my guilt laid bare ...
#death
#narrative
#night
#nightmares
#shadows
73 reads
0 Comments
Alois_inwriting02
Poem Published
15th Nov 2024 5:18am
15th Nov 2024 5:18am
Avid Readers Staring into Glory at 1600 Central; myself
They rest atop a smoothly weathered rock with intials carved in its face from a time long since quietly forsaken where amidst the dying leaves they bask in a chasm of words between better left unsaid as it’s nourished by the tacit bond of the experience the two share and the sun recedes in jaded capitulation behind the foothills to the sunken west. Before I can indulge an internal inkling of misanthropic malice with which to cast aspersions she reaches her rays as if to lay a calming hand o’er my heart.
I
start away, sauntering
without aim. Soon I’...
I
start away, sauntering
without aim. Soon I’...
#fall
#narrative
102 reads
0 Comments
ThePalestRider
Poem Published
12th Nov 2024 7:55pm
12th Nov 2024 7:55pm
Blood In The Loch, Freedom Flowing Fjord
By loch and glen, the shadows grow
The heather drinks the twilight’s glow
With Robert’s men, we ride as one
Beneath the moon, behind the sun
The confessor marches with blades of steel
Their boots do crush the Highland’s keel
But o’er the fjord, the echoes ring
With battle songs we proudly sing
Through mist and stone, our paths are made
The sword our guide, the bow our trade
The stag does leap, the raven cries
And freedom lights the coldest skies
We strike by night, a shadow’s blade
In Bruce’s name, the price is...
The heather drinks the twilight’s glow
With Robert’s men, we ride as one
Beneath the moon, behind the sun
The confessor marches with blades of steel
Their boots do crush the Highland’s keel
But o’er the fjord, the echoes ring
With battle songs we proudly sing
Through mist and stone, our paths are made
The sword our guide, the bow our trade
The stag does leap, the raven cries
And freedom lights the coldest skies
We strike by night, a shadow’s blade
In Bruce’s name, the price is...
#death
#environment
#narrative
#rhyming
#war
54 reads
0 Comments
Vision_of_insanity
Poem Published
12th Nov 2024 7:48pm
12th Nov 2024 7:48pm
King Crimson- In The Wake Of Poseidon
During the US tour in late 1969, King Crimson imploded. Ian McDonald and Michael Giles had too much too soon and would depart to record an eponymous record. Similarly, Greg Lake had met up with Keith Emerson (formerly of The Nice) while on tour and agreed to form a band upon their return to the UK. (Emerson, Lake & Palmer) Robert Fripp & Peter Sinfield were left with the reigns of the band and faced the task of recording the follow-up. (though both Lake & Giles did make contributions to the album with the latter's brother Peter adding bass). In March of 1970 Robert Fripp was asked...
#historical
#music
#narrative #nonfiction
#narrative #nonfiction
91 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Narrative Seeking Honest Critique Poems
