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who else writes poetry
Started by dr.kicia
awasome, at least someone likes it. I find a lot of people not like poetry....i wonder why is that?
I actually am published poet in Poland(many many times).
I recently started writing in english. I showed my work to few professors and they really liked it so maybe one day i will be able to publish in english. 🙂
I actually am published poet in Poland(many many times).
I recently started writing in english. I showed my work to few professors and they really liked it so maybe one day i will be able to publish in english. 🙂
R
Redneck
I write poems for women and I write hunting poems.
If people want to kick back on random threads, check out the doctors lounge at the bottom of the SDN forums list.
If people want to kick back on random threads, check out the doctors lounge at the bottom of the SDN forums list.
I finally got an interview,
The first thing I yelled was feww.
So I whiped my brow
and asked what now?
And I made my way up north.
I interviewed at NY-COM
and I didn't bomb,
but now I wait in agony.
It's been two weeks,
I want that answer everybody seeks!
I check my mail a thousand times a day.
The people in admissions have nothing to say.
I can't sleep at night,
I won't go down without a fight!
I hate SDN,
I check for news every ten!
No, poetry didn't get my mind off of waiting!! 😀
The first thing I yelled was feww.
So I whiped my brow
and asked what now?
And I made my way up north.
I interviewed at NY-COM
and I didn't bomb,
but now I wait in agony.
It's been two weeks,
I want that answer everybody seeks!
I check my mail a thousand times a day.
The people in admissions have nothing to say.
I can't sleep at night,
I won't go down without a fight!
I hate SDN,
I check for news every ten!
No, poetry didn't get my mind off of waiting!! 😀
I started writing poetry to deal with the emotions of not getting any love from any school this cycle, probably because of my MCAT. I have submitted one poem to a contest and am a semi finalist.
Here it is:
Shoes
I was walking on the sidewalk the other day
Going to the store for some curds and whey
On the way I had to stop
My foot was hurting from bottom to top
I took off my shoe and shook it to tremble
When out came a lonely pebble.
I put my shoe back on and continued to walk
Damn it, again! I stopped and balked
This time the other shoe had the grain
I took this one off and started again
Finally I arrived after many times stopping
So is my life with one shoe always dropping.
But so is life, one shoe on and one shoe off
Eventually, the shoes are clean and will just be scoffed.
Here it is:
Shoes
I was walking on the sidewalk the other day
Going to the store for some curds and whey
On the way I had to stop
My foot was hurting from bottom to top
I took off my shoe and shook it to tremble
When out came a lonely pebble.
I put my shoe back on and continued to walk
Damn it, again! I stopped and balked
This time the other shoe had the grain
I took this one off and started again
Finally I arrived after many times stopping
So is my life with one shoe always dropping.
But so is life, one shoe on and one shoe off
Eventually, the shoes are clean and will just be scoffed.
A young man starts a journey
He is Rich, has a lot of money
As he walks on he can see
The trip is longer than he thought is would be
He comes to a fork, which way to go?
The left goes up but the right goes low
I will go up! the young man said
To the left he went with a gallop so stead
What the man did not see
Was that not everything is as it should be
He went up a little and came crashing down
Now he thought, My life is unwound
Unable to find the path through the thicket
He built a home and his life was to live it.
Then one day, while clearing a field
He found the path and in the distance what it would yeild
But what he knew now, as a man of middle age
Was that nothing is easy, life is a guage
He packed up his bags, what was left from the start
And began once again, to look afar
As the journey continued he gained many riches
No, not money, but love tugging his britches
The love would be with him, no matter where the man goes
For he knows, with this love, he can defeat all foes
Sometimes he wins, sometimes he loses
But the man knows what his ultimate goal is
Once again he comes to a fork in the road.
But this time he thinks, where will I abode.
Going up too fast, I once fell hard
But I am not sure, which way to the bard.
The man looks up and finds a sign
It says "have faith that all will be fine.
"Continue on a path it, does not matter
for in the end, you will not starve but rather be fatter"
The man stopped and thought, this time I understand
It's not how I get to the end, only that I can.
As his journey continues, his love by his side
The man had laughed and he has certainly cried.
But in the distant, the man can see
The end of his journey, it is not as far he gleened.
The man looks around at all that he has
Experience abound, and love, and sas.
He says "my love look, the end is coming."
Then love says to him, "I proud of you and with you forever my darling.
"I never doubted that the end you would reach
The Pinnacle of your dreams and a lesson to teach
Faith in others you have always had
but it was the lack of faith in yourself, that has made you sad
Now that you see, the power is with-in you
There is nothing in this journey that you cannot do.
Sometimes you will laugh and other times you cry
But it's your faith in you, that will get you by.
So let's go my love, our future awaits.
Your dream is almost here, we will walk together through the pearly gates."
He is Rich, has a lot of money
As he walks on he can see
The trip is longer than he thought is would be
He comes to a fork, which way to go?
The left goes up but the right goes low
I will go up! the young man said
To the left he went with a gallop so stead
What the man did not see
Was that not everything is as it should be
He went up a little and came crashing down
Now he thought, My life is unwound
Unable to find the path through the thicket
He built a home and his life was to live it.
Then one day, while clearing a field
He found the path and in the distance what it would yeild
But what he knew now, as a man of middle age
Was that nothing is easy, life is a guage
He packed up his bags, what was left from the start
And began once again, to look afar
As the journey continued he gained many riches
No, not money, but love tugging his britches
The love would be with him, no matter where the man goes
For he knows, with this love, he can defeat all foes
Sometimes he wins, sometimes he loses
But the man knows what his ultimate goal is
Once again he comes to a fork in the road.
But this time he thinks, where will I abode.
Going up too fast, I once fell hard
But I am not sure, which way to the bard.
The man looks up and finds a sign
It says "have faith that all will be fine.
"Continue on a path it, does not matter
for in the end, you will not starve but rather be fatter"
The man stopped and thought, this time I understand
It's not how I get to the end, only that I can.
As his journey continues, his love by his side
The man had laughed and he has certainly cried.
But in the distant, the man can see
The end of his journey, it is not as far he gleened.
The man looks around at all that he has
Experience abound, and love, and sas.
He says "my love look, the end is coming."
Then love says to him, "I proud of you and with you forever my darling.
"I never doubted that the end you would reach
The Pinnacle of your dreams and a lesson to teach
Faith in others you have always had
but it was the lack of faith in yourself, that has made you sad
Now that you see, the power is with-in you
There is nothing in this journey that you cannot do.
Sometimes you will laugh and other times you cry
But it's your faith in you, that will get you by.
So let's go my love, our future awaits.
Your dream is almost here, we will walk together through the pearly gates."
R
Redneck
Here's a taste of some good 'ol redneck country poems! -By Me
Ode to the Rabbits of Last Weekends Hunt
The sounds of cautions far the crows did give
The little fluffs of moisture land, do graze
Its in this place I seek for those that live
So, down below betwixt the shoe high maze
Amongst the briars large and brambles wide
Around some brush, too near the moles, my sprise
With thorns of many kind, struggling, I glide
All fur, its hunkered down with small brown eyes
For now the hunt ensues he runs so fast
With beads aligned my shotgun high I aim
The four ten bang now makes the lead fly past
This hunt I say was truly quite humane.
A look my face reveals, for that which fell,
Is not much glad to pick up only shell.
Ode to the Rabbits of Last Weekends Hunt
The sounds of cautions far the crows did give
The little fluffs of moisture land, do graze
Its in this place I seek for those that live
So, down below betwixt the shoe high maze
Amongst the briars large and brambles wide
Around some brush, too near the moles, my sprise
With thorns of many kind, struggling, I glide
All fur, its hunkered down with small brown eyes
For now the hunt ensues he runs so fast
With beads aligned my shotgun high I aim
The four ten bang now makes the lead fly past
This hunt I say was truly quite humane.
A look my face reveals, for that which fell,
Is not much glad to pick up only shell.
JasonUD said:
You should send this poem to NYCOM. It's nice!
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This is the last one I wrote.
Let me know what do you guys think.
"I am Sorry I did not plan for it"
Yesterday I could not sleep
Standing all night on my feet
Asking myself one question
Why she tried to kill me?
I knew her all my life
I believed she gave me life
We walked and ran together
We traveled and came back together
Why she tried to kill me?
I knew we were different
I did not know she considered me deviant
I did my best to make her feel good
I made lot of efforts to make her look good
Why she tried to kill me?
We were born on the same day
We grew old by the same way
She wanted to run back to be young
But I loved being bright
Why she tried to kill me I did not plan to be
Her first gray hair
Let me know what do you guys think.
"I am Sorry I did not plan for it"
Yesterday I could not sleep
Standing all night on my feet
Asking myself one question
Why she tried to kill me?
I knew her all my life
I believed she gave me life
We walked and ran together
We traveled and came back together
Why she tried to kill me?
I knew we were different
I did not know she considered me deviant
I did my best to make her feel good
I made lot of efforts to make her look good
Why she tried to kill me?
We were born on the same day
We grew old by the same way
She wanted to run back to be young
But I loved being bright
Why she tried to kill me I did not plan to be
Her first gray hair
I wrote a lot of poetry/prose in high school and had a handful of things published, but my efforts began to taper off in college. I'm trying to pick it up again. What I noticed was that it helped me to be more introspective as well as to appreciate more of the subtlties in the environment and my life. I really miss that, and goodness knows I'm going to need something that is a little more slow paced to balance the hecticness of school.
Megustamaiz said:
The Lonely Woman
A perfect crystal of moving liquid,
Falling from her eye,
Casscading down her cheek to land on the ground...
Salty remorse,
Wet pity,
He is no where to be found.
The tears continue.
One for each new scar in her heart,
One for each new hole in her soul.
Her heart shutters with each sob,
Like tender china...breaking.
Another crystal tear...
Another scar...
Another memory gone from the one that left her...
Another hole in her tender soul, never to be replaced....
Jamers said:
I generally write what people consider to be depressing poems. I take these from people around me, from things they have told me. I guess the most depressing thing I wrote was about a friend of mine who was dealing with depression and thoughts of suicide. It isnt much of a poem but, I believe it makes most people think:
Oh loneliness, thou art a true friend. Ever there when I am down, never to leave my side, no matter how much I try to push you away...
Pique
My deliriousness factor
Is increasing
Everyday when I am running
Allnighters
On a red bull fuel
Between final papers exams
and
unresponded emails
Im digging into my sexuality
following your fingerprints
on the map of my body
I can find my way to bed
where on the pillow
before
falling asleep
I take out of my mind (and reconstruct)
All of your smiles to lacerate the pleasure
So little we need time
Now go to hell
My deliriousness factor
Is increasing
Everyday when I am running
Allnighters
On a red bull fuel
Between final papers exams
and
unresponded emails
Im digging into my sexuality
following your fingerprints
on the map of my body
I can find my way to bed
where on the pillow
before
falling asleep
I take out of my mind (and reconstruct)
All of your smiles to lacerate the pleasure
So little we need time
Now go to hell
from jama's current issue:
Intensive Care
JAMA. 2006;295:865.
A quiet place for dying, glass walls reaching into the sky,
the slow pump of machines, the occasional low-pitched beep,
the ebb and flow in the urine bag beneath the bed waiting
to be emptied.
Still breathingslow gasping sounds
of air escapingin his deep sleep, the room eludes him,
its coils of tubes winding and unwinding, moving
his life from one container to another.
Perhaps he has thoughts
somewhere, not here, but thoughts the sound
of my voice may recall, the quarrel of a shattered day,
the long drive through the Central Valley in the late afternoon
of a summer haze
when neither of us spoke of tomorrow
when neither of us knew that tomorrow was here, in this room,
glass walls breathing to the sky, and the nurse, softly,
tells me to speak to you, and I speak,
and there is nothing to say
except words, sounds thrust out of my body like gentle hooks
to catch you.
Claudette Mork Sigg
Berkeley, Calif
Intensive Care
JAMA. 2006;295:865.
A quiet place for dying, glass walls reaching into the sky,
the slow pump of machines, the occasional low-pitched beep,
the ebb and flow in the urine bag beneath the bed waiting
to be emptied.
Still breathingslow gasping sounds
of air escapingin his deep sleep, the room eludes him,
its coils of tubes winding and unwinding, moving
his life from one container to another.
Perhaps he has thoughts
somewhere, not here, but thoughts the sound
of my voice may recall, the quarrel of a shattered day,
the long drive through the Central Valley in the late afternoon
of a summer haze
when neither of us spoke of tomorrow
when neither of us knew that tomorrow was here, in this room,
glass walls breathing to the sky, and the nurse, softly,
tells me to speak to you, and I speak,
and there is nothing to say
except words, sounds thrust out of my body like gentle hooks
to catch you.
Claudette Mork Sigg
Berkeley, Calif
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Wow, I really like Jamers and dr. kicia's poems. My amateur foray into writing cannot compare, but here goes:
One moment
Is all it takes.
Hes turned your life
Upside down
Inside out
Vertigo.
Everythings off
A little bit different
A little bit wrong.
Whats left is right
And right is gone
Youre lost in thought
And suddenly found
The end is never the end
Only time can heal the pain
The bruises may fade
But the scars remain
And a sappy motivational one:
The Bittersweet Irony that is Life
There are a lot of things I'll never understand,
A lot of people I'll never comprehend.
Sometimes when life drags you down,
You search and seek and look all around.
Your legs are weak, you cannot stand,
So you reach out blindly for a warm hand.
When theres noone there to fill your grasp
You meekly place your hands in your lap.
But never stop trying, never stop searching.
Keep hoping and loving and yearning.
I know that when love and hope subside,
You are left all alone, a part of you dies.
But people come and people go,
Its part of the endless ebb and flow,
Without loss there would be no gain
Without love there would be no pain.
Its a bittersweet irony, I know,
But through all of the pain you will grow.
One moment
Is all it takes.
Hes turned your life
Upside down
Inside out
Vertigo.
Everythings off
A little bit different
A little bit wrong.
Whats left is right
And right is gone
Youre lost in thought
And suddenly found
The end is never the end
Only time can heal the pain
The bruises may fade
But the scars remain
And a sappy motivational one:
The Bittersweet Irony that is Life
There are a lot of things I'll never understand,
A lot of people I'll never comprehend.
Sometimes when life drags you down,
You search and seek and look all around.
Your legs are weak, you cannot stand,
So you reach out blindly for a warm hand.
When theres noone there to fill your grasp
You meekly place your hands in your lap.
But never stop trying, never stop searching.
Keep hoping and loving and yearning.
I know that when love and hope subside,
You are left all alone, a part of you dies.
But people come and people go,
Its part of the endless ebb and flow,
Without loss there would be no gain
Without love there would be no pain.
Its a bittersweet irony, I know,
But through all of the pain you will grow.
Ahh, my fellow beatniks, where have you been?
Here's a little something about getting lost in the application process, exhausted by the traveling, and keeping the hope that it'll turn out alright.
Untitled
Thinking about the distant lands that hold my future and my past
Where the people I miss, wish for, and imagine near,
Live distant lives and fates.
And I swirl through these life events, half-awake and waiting,
Losing touch with familiar eyes,
Their grounding and comfort,
Like the harness of my heart tied to the Earth
Silently broken.
In criss-cross paths around the country,
Tomorrow's home awaits me, the passion and the feelings abate me.
In a time of my life where feeling lost is norm,
It's only fitting that I get a little lost
In geographical anonymity.
But across those desert plains, over mountain pass,
Through light years and time and heartaches away,
There's a place where I belong, where midnight streets
Spotlit by sidewalk lamps humming their subtle song
Set the stage for the story yet to be told,
The beauty left to unfold,
A flickering warmth amidst the cold.
Here's a little something about getting lost in the application process, exhausted by the traveling, and keeping the hope that it'll turn out alright.
Untitled
Thinking about the distant lands that hold my future and my past
Where the people I miss, wish for, and imagine near,
Live distant lives and fates.
And I swirl through these life events, half-awake and waiting,
Losing touch with familiar eyes,
Their grounding and comfort,
Like the harness of my heart tied to the Earth
Silently broken.
In criss-cross paths around the country,
Tomorrow's home awaits me, the passion and the feelings abate me.
In a time of my life where feeling lost is norm,
It's only fitting that I get a little lost
In geographical anonymity.
But across those desert plains, over mountain pass,
Through light years and time and heartaches away,
There's a place where I belong, where midnight streets
Spotlit by sidewalk lamps humming their subtle song
Set the stage for the story yet to be told,
The beauty left to unfold,
A flickering warmth amidst the cold.
C-section Code
They say he cried out, and lifted his head
And sat on mommies chest
Though he was always pale.
He was dead before we left the bay.
Compressions seemed to crush his chest,
His soft ribs bending like a plastic dolls,
He lay in a pile of bloody trash
As we tried to think of something else to do.
Pasty, unhealthy-looking skin and a useless heart,
Flogged with epi and atropine, tossing out
A beat now and then. The tube sends air
In and out, but theres no one there.
The white limp child is allowed to be dead.
Cleaning begins.
The suddenly idle crowd reacts
The nurse cries, and the OB cries
And the attending.
We pack our gear and leave.
Across this city uniforms alight like birds
Darkening the skies at the threat of death.
Yet elsewhere other experts in other clothes
Undo the work that others do.
This great cross-purposed machine, with equal care,
Tools and time, with the selfsame uniformed speed,
Makes more dead babies, dead boys, and dead men,
Stacking doughy white flesh like cordwood to the sky.
They say he cried out, and lifted his head
And sat on mommies chest
Though he was always pale.
He was dead before we left the bay.
Compressions seemed to crush his chest,
His soft ribs bending like a plastic dolls,
He lay in a pile of bloody trash
As we tried to think of something else to do.
Pasty, unhealthy-looking skin and a useless heart,
Flogged with epi and atropine, tossing out
A beat now and then. The tube sends air
In and out, but theres no one there.
The white limp child is allowed to be dead.
Cleaning begins.
The suddenly idle crowd reacts
The nurse cries, and the OB cries
And the attending.
We pack our gear and leave.
Across this city uniforms alight like birds
Darkening the skies at the threat of death.
Yet elsewhere other experts in other clothes
Undo the work that others do.
This great cross-purposed machine, with equal care,
Tools and time, with the selfsame uniformed speed,
Makes more dead babies, dead boys, and dead men,
Stacking doughy white flesh like cordwood to the sky.
72 hours.
Shes been awake for 72 hours.
Sobbing like a mad woman, her mind is drifting further
To the place she to used to be
To the man who said forever.
Lying down looking at the lights.
Her mind wouldnt rest.
Its running faster than she can keep up.
She feels her soul leaving,
But her body wouldnt fight.
With each sob, her heart bleeds
In velvet red,
But she cant feel the pain.
Numbness surrounds her,
Like the velvet red that bathes her.
With the each drop of blood was her sorrow.
As the last drop leaves her body,
She sees light outside her window.
No more sadness running through her vein.
No hatred, no disdain.
72 hours was all that she needed
To mourn the past.
Tomorrow will be a new day.
Shes been awake for 72 hours.
Sobbing like a mad woman, her mind is drifting further
To the place she to used to be
To the man who said forever.
Lying down looking at the lights.
Her mind wouldnt rest.
Its running faster than she can keep up.
She feels her soul leaving,
But her body wouldnt fight.
With each sob, her heart bleeds
In velvet red,
But she cant feel the pain.
Numbness surrounds her,
Like the velvet red that bathes her.
With the each drop of blood was her sorrow.
As the last drop leaves her body,
She sees light outside her window.
No more sadness running through her vein.
No hatred, no disdain.
72 hours was all that she needed
To mourn the past.
Tomorrow will be a new day.
In the air,
The SUV flies and whirls.
A boy flies out the window like a rocket,
Fifteen feet high in the air.
On the grass, he lands.
Men and women jump out of their cars,
Cell phones in hand,
Calling for help.
Car-crashes, injured kids, mile-long traffic.
Chaos is the norm on the road that leads to Miami.
Everyone rushes to the city of meet markets.
When traffic dissolves,
Live goes on until another crash.
Everything repeats in a cycle
Like the SUV spinning
In the air.
The SUV flies and whirls.
A boy flies out the window like a rocket,
Fifteen feet high in the air.
On the grass, he lands.
Men and women jump out of their cars,
Cell phones in hand,
Calling for help.
Car-crashes, injured kids, mile-long traffic.
Chaos is the norm on the road that leads to Miami.
Everyone rushes to the city of meet markets.
When traffic dissolves,
Live goes on until another crash.
Everything repeats in a cycle
Like the SUV spinning
In the air.
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dr.kicia said:
My One True Friend
Talk to me my friend,
The silence is deafening.
We once walked together,
You always in my ear.
Where are you now?
My questions go unanswered.
The pain of life has forced you to hide,
I feel you beat but you are no longer alive.
The light of love awoke you,
The pain of loss killed you.
Be reborn my friend!
Come to me!
I feel as a lost soul without your guidance,
Alone I place my feet down.
The lights sparkle ahead,
The path rolls on.
Just another lonely night,
Without my one true friend...
Talk to me my friend,
The silence is deafening.
We once walked together,
You always in my ear.
Where are you now?
My questions go unanswered.
The pain of life has forced you to hide,
I feel you beat but you are no longer alive.
The light of love awoke you,
The pain of loss killed you.
Be reborn my friend!
Come to me!
I feel as a lost soul without your guidance,
Alone I place my feet down.
The lights sparkle ahead,
The path rolls on.
Just another lonely night,
Without my one true friend...
dr.kicia said:
Ode to Writers Block
Cross out
Erase
Start over.
Ideas just wont flow,
The pen just wont write.
Correction wont write.
New paper,
New pen,
Damn this wind
Close that window!
Where was I?
A million thoughts
And not one makes sense.
Where is my Thesaurus?
What the hell rhymes with time?
Lime
Dime
Mime,
**** time!
Bastard of a headache,
I need an aspirin.
Make that a shot,
Or two,
Or three
Where was I?
Cross out
Erase
Start over
Cross out
Erase
Start over.
Ideas just wont flow,
The pen just wont write.
Correction wont write.
New paper,
New pen,
Damn this wind
Close that window!
Where was I?
A million thoughts
And not one makes sense.
Where is my Thesaurus?
What the hell rhymes with time?
Lime
Dime
Mime,
**** time!
Bastard of a headache,
I need an aspirin.
Make that a shot,
Or two,
Or three
Where was I?
Cross out
Erase
Start over
ok here are few, first two translated by my friend(i write in Polish too and had trouble translating, i think she did pretty good job with it):
Love is an Invalid
You shook yourself off of me
like a child that was playing in the sand box
even invalids
have to keep going
sometimes
backwards to go forwards
to live
with a mind in a chair
on wheels
I would like to meet
the idiot
who said that love
is beautiful
(translated from Polish by Ina)
Fathers
Mothers are in reality men
they smoke cigarettes
and leave the country
fathers always love
when other red heads
curl their brains comfortably
around their long fingers
the father ceases to exist
only names and dates remain
(translated from Polish by Ina)
Embryo-logic
in between the lines of your words
i folded my body
in embryo position
the wall is cold on my back
like a polish november
rain
i learned how to smell you under my skin
between drops
so i discovered the approaching methods (possibilities)
marketing my self for next session
when your eyes keep the color of my father
like those butterflies we chase in my dreams
in my dreams
you can push me away as much as you'd like
here
i am aboriginal
in embryo position
waiting for usage minutes
Love is an Invalid
You shook yourself off of me
like a child that was playing in the sand box
even invalids
have to keep going
sometimes
backwards to go forwards
to live
with a mind in a chair
on wheels
I would like to meet
the idiot
who said that love
is beautiful
(translated from Polish by Ina)
Fathers
Mothers are in reality men
they smoke cigarettes
and leave the country
fathers always love
when other red heads
curl their brains comfortably
around their long fingers
the father ceases to exist
only names and dates remain
(translated from Polish by Ina)
Embryo-logic
in between the lines of your words
i folded my body
in embryo position
the wall is cold on my back
like a polish november
rain
i learned how to smell you under my skin
between drops
so i discovered the approaching methods (possibilities)
marketing my self for next session
when your eyes keep the color of my father
like those butterflies we chase in my dreams
in my dreams
you can push me away as much as you'd like
here
i am aboriginal
in embryo position
waiting for usage minutes
