Poetry Club
kom bij
New Post
Explore Fanpop
The Core Of What It Means To Be A Writer door Adam Skelter via FilmCourage.com.
posted by sahil7459
The first time I saw you
I just can’t take my eyes off of u
I don’t know what to do
I think I’m in love with u .

I know this isn’t a good thing
For I am only just dreaming
Dreaming , that I can be with u
That’s all I can do .

If only you’ll noticed me
If only you’ll see me
You’ll know you’re worth everything to me
But still , u didn’t see me .

Is it always be like this ?
Always hoping that someday somehow
You’ll be able to look at me dearly
Like , how I see u perfectly .

Everything is impossible
Way too far from being possible
I don’t know how to stop my feelings for...
continue reading...
added by Bobbety
In the seconde of my series which mixes poetry and gameplay, I give u Rudyard Kipling's 'If' and Capcom's Dead Rising. 'If u can keep your head while all about u are losing theirs...'
rudyard kipling
dead rising
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Creative juices aren't flowing into my brain.
To create that electrical spark.
That makes the light bulb go blink.

Should the verses rhythm.
This poem is not sublime.
What the heck am I doing?
All I know is that roses are red.
And violets are indeed blue.
Just a poem I wrote for a school project that I thought was good and funny enough to share with the rest of u guys. I hope u somewhat enjoyed it. Thanks for reading regardless, and have a delightful, magical day. Cheers yo.

 Roses and red and violets are blue.
Roses and red and violets are blue.
added by lapisazumarill
added by lapisazumarill
added by lapisazumarill
added by lapisazumarill
added by sunil2017
added by DamnItzMia
posted by emmab13
I sit here. At my computer. How u may say "stuck" of "blocked". Not knowing what to say, what to write, what to pour onto the page. But I just sit, think, and eventually, I lay my hands on the keyboard and just start . . . typing. Typing away. Letting my hart-, hart and mind spill all over the now heavily damp worded page. I say what I feel and type what I think and maybe . . . just maybe the words I type turn into something that make sense. Words that turn into something beautiful, like a desert flower, slowly blooming, waiting for the rain to come to push it through.

Sometimes, as I type away...
continue reading...
This poem is written door me

My eyes are heavy
Can't hold load of tears
Plants look so blank
And autumn winds can be hear.

The flowers will no meer bloom
I'll keep myself locked in room
They just love theirselves
Knows my story each book of my shelf.

Why every time spring ends,autumn starts
I wish I could buy happiness from some marts
Smell the same those flowers beside the stream that flow
I wonder how every time they grow .

These hard winds of sorrows make me shatter
Every time flowers and petals scatter
But I know I'll find the plants the same
I'll make them toon the me and my fame.

I know someday the flowers will bloom again
It's a cirkel attached door a chain
Someday the spring will come back at my door
I will then say my worries are no more.

Autumn leaves scar but spring recovers each flower
Leaves will sure be green,flowers will bloom
Hopes will find their ways
Spring will come again someday.....
posted by australia-101
we tie time
in knots and try
to connect the dots,
but time was meant
to measure between
things and all
we’re measuring
is the difference
between his time
and my time
of between this time
and last time.
30 seconden in the microwave
means nothing
until those 30 seconds
could have been spent
eating the food,
talking to a sister,
of practicing that new
dance verplaats which is only
new because it is newer
than those other moves
because its distance
is shorter to the present
than the other dance class
and not because
it is the volgende big thing,
although that makes a different
verplaats new.
what i mean to say
is that time is overused,
overemphasized. we give
time the throne
and it rules and makes rules.
we follow them
because we like to think
that time is important
and we are important
and our time is gold,
but even gold
would have no value
if there were an endless supply,
and time is endless, but
not for us, but
time is endless nevertheless.
added by Rehan_yousufzai
added by Rehan_yousufzai
added by Rehan_yousufzai
added by Rehan_yousufzai
added by Rehan_yousufzai
posted by RainSoul
My hart-, hart is heavy.
My mind is numb.
My spirit's weak.
Body tense.
Will shattered door a system I can't create myself to fit into.

Why do I continue on for?
What's success compared to joy and satisfaction?
What am I living for?
How do I survive in a reality that I hate?
Is mental stress and anguish worth experiencing through for my promised supposedly bright future?
Will it be all worth it?
It it all worth it now?
Who's to say whats in store when we all stride blindly forward?
All I know is that I just wish for some clear answers..
But none came.

Don't tell me to quietly deal with it.
Don't tell me it's expected...
continue reading...