#ameteur poetry

[cosmoechi]

early-morning walk for the waking.

[littcaffeine]

This is the sun that I swallow every time I take a breath, hoping it sits on my lungs.

This is the love that I crave and wish stayed with me forever.

This is everything sweet, pure, and real.

[rystiv]

I've never been in love.

I do not know if I have loved.

I don't feel any different when I look at a friend

Or a sibling

Or a parent.

They ask me for help;

I reach out my hand.

I do not grieve their absence.

I know their faces, their names,

Unlike the rest.

Do you miss me?

Do you think of me?

Do you ever conjure up my image?

I can't say I have.

Is this, too, a form of love?

[uncl3tend3rtouch]

Every time I form words to

Express my love,

I find myself wishing I was

Instead

Wrapping my lips

Around

The curves of yours,

Swallowing your passion in response

~Tend3rTouch

[cevans-is-classic]

Little known fact

I've been trying to put a poetry book together and yesterday I finally got all I felt needed to be in it.

Maybe some love to get my stuff out there?

[atticus-grae]

Verbal Asphyxiation

My lips are sealed, 

But words still form.

Beautifully empty.

Kindly meaningless.

My truth is my poison.

It flows through my veins.

My heart beat is weakening.

But the world is spared.

My mind is caged by words unsaid.

Twisted and ugly.

They form barbs and chains.

My personal prison.

My throat is swollen shut.

From the venom in my veins.

My fangs deep in my tongue.

Choking on the rising bile.

Lay me in my silent grave.

Bury me with my truth.

Paint me fair with my lies.

Dress up my calculated nothingness.

My lungs have collapsed.

Drowning in words unsaid.

Poisoned by their meaning.

Verbal asphyxiation.

[poetrypostsporfavor]

Does the sun seem to shine ever so bright

as the day before last?

If ev'r may i wander, will I find this

longing feel and hope; this light?

I'm told start new, and leave things in the past,

lest to conform to their wishes, that they don't concede,

Those that they who preach but do not follow.

That their simple and joyous lives of bliss

Are but a facade of endless sorrow.

Through this precede I find love not to last.

Many kisses, affections, affirmations

Are nothing if not hollow,

All for a fragmented idea of love,

A love that may have ne'er came to exist for me?

A love for love's sake, a love of love; but not of me?

A love of movies, of fiction, of image,

This; a vain love, a shallow love, a love

purely of one's reflection.

This ideal that took over, who is your once loved?

Who; what human has been tosséd aside

in your delusional search of perfection?

It is me who forgives, who wishes a light

To return. For I loved you, more than love.

I loved you, in all, even in quiet.

As do I now, in despite all I've cried.

[gorbajorp]

Summer's Song

I feel the late July heat flood the humid room I take refuge in; still the scorching waves dance to an unknown song. Next to me the cheap electric fan sings as it weakly alleviates my heat-stricken body, The pores on my body cry sweat from the sensation in brief respite. The bed holds my back, wth the duvet strewn across my floor as an act of desperation and disgust, I can’t help but stare at my chipped ceiling; off white from cadence of smoke from previous tenants, I see the particles of dust pirouette delicately to the aria of the inescapable light.

Outside I can hear the melodies of insects reclaiming their land as people seek shelter from the rampant sun, The smell of smoke and fire from poor attempts at barbecues suffocate the melancholic air, Distant whispers of indistinguishable echo across the cloudless skies. The summer rhapsody chants in dominance, overwhelming any who dare to listen.

[quantaspark]

i hope i live long enough for us to meet aliens

not for the goal of dissecting them

no

but for the goal of falling in love with life once more

the miracle of the cold void

the lovechild of starstuff and chemistry

i want to fall in love with you, i want to be there when our probes catch sight of each other

“hello?” “hello?” “please” “hello?”

they say the way to tell if a signal comes from a civilization is by if it repeats

it almost reminds me of that two year old girl who would scream for mommy over and over no matter how badly it hurt her little vocal cords

the relief when we’re answered

“hello. i love you. i’ve been waiting for you. don’t hurt me. you’re beautiful. you’re everything i’d hoped you’d be.”

cold titanium reaches out to cold titanium, would they hold each other on instinct? collide and become the first child born of both societies

maybe we’ll laugh about it under the stars

“we were so far away. how could we have been so far away? i’ve known you my whole life.”

[littcaffeine]

Don’t worry sun

You’d be loved as much

If only you appeared

Once or twice a month

Like the rain

We would glorify

Awe in your presence

We would say

The sun has arrived

Bright and encompassing

Her beaming light a golden

The way we say

Its raining tonight

What a bizarre form the sky has taken

All around us

She falls as if though she has a mission

In beautiful unison

The rain, she is so moody

Pathos

Like melancholy poetry

Powerful

Extreme she is, and thunderous

Rare

Beauteous

So unlike you, sun

But even then, sun

she comforts us

In the way she

Swallows the earth

While you kiss the plants

The way she

Nurtures

While you lighten

She glistens

The way you burn

While she embraces

She is a mother

You are an absent father

The earth drinks her

And in you,

Passively receives your overbearing affection

In her absence

The earth smells of aromatic love

Lingering

The scent of her touch

- something I wrote when I was sixteen and pretentious, on the kitchen table, the morning after a storm.

[cottoncandylesbo]

LISTLESS SCREAMS, FEARÉD CRY,

ANOTHER FRIDAY DOTH ARRIVE,

WAVE THINE STANDARD, CARNAGE NIGH,

FEEL TREMOR BREAK FROM ON HIGH,

AGAIN A WEEK WE HAVE SURVIVED,

PALEOFREAK. LET IT FLY.

HAPPY PALEOFREAK FRIDAY! GET A LIL FREAKY WITH IT!

[cevans-is-classic]

Maladaptive daydreaming

I dream of touching your hand

Feeling your lips,

Listening to your laugh.

I dream of long nights,

coffee mornings

And movies at noon.

I dream of the smell of you on my clothes

To know your secrets

Of your favorites

And your dislikes

I dream with my eyes wide open

Begging to be normal

To get over the dreams

But they bring comfort

Not much else will bring

I dream of a life

Where you know me

And say my name

With a whisper

I dream of calling you

Messages back and forth

Wondering when I'll see you again

I dream of you

Far more than I should

I dream one day you'll think of me

And all my maladaptive daydreams

[goldendunite]

The page is covered in sketched concepts and little snippets of ameteur but still pretty poetry. He’s currently doodling a sleepy bunnie.

*Dunite tries to stifle her smile as she watches him doodle.... he's so cute.*

[teaboot]

4 1 1 2 1 (9A)

3 3 1 1 1 (9A)

1 1 1 2 1 2 (8B)

2 4 1 1 (8B)

2 3 1 1 1 (8C)

1 1 1 1 2 1 (7C)

Reasons I Hate this Poem, Beyond The Fact That The Poet Is a Dipshit:

AA-BB-CC rhyming scheme is basic as hell, but can be fun if used for a focused purpose or with a catchy rhythm, which it hasn't been

Syllables start at 9 and then abruptly switch to 8, then 7, like he didn't read it past the first draft.

Tempo is out of alignment from line to line- No two lines flow together freely, leaving a clunky stop-start that's hard to read through without losing pace.

First couplet says atheism was replaced by religion, which is the opposite of our current reality wherein secular religion is in declining popularity.

Rhyming "sad" and "bad" in a poem intended to criticize the impact of secular religion on social welfare is weak fucking sauce

Poem makes statements without any metaphor, symbolism, example, imagery emotion, evidence, narrative, irony, or symmetry, which is less like poetry and more like just saying words that miraculously happen to rhyme by coincidence

In conclusion: Musk writes poetry the same way he does anything else at all: He takes hold of some lofty concept beyond his grasp because associating himself with classically intellectual topics makes him feel smart and relevant despite his ameteur comprehension, presents it in a way that imitates something clever he's seen before, and fails to understand that walking, talking, and quacking like a duck doesn't make you a duck any more that being underground makes a mole into a potato.

TL;DR: Kiss my ass, you stupid fucking turnip, or better yet, just give it a rest.

[theghostofaname]

My body

This is my body.

All mine.

From the soles of my feet to the crown of my head

I own this.

And I can do, whatever I want with it

I can feed it, or starve it

I can nurture it, or let it waste away

I can hurt it, or protect it.

I struggle with that, I know which is the right choice, but sometimes I fail to make it. That is my burden to carry.

My choices will have consequences,

the scars may fade, but they will always be there,

on my body.

In the past, people have tried to take it from me,

claim it for their own.

grab it

use it

control it

But I will not allow that again.

No one will take my body from me.

Not again.

And if they try,

I'll cut off their fingers, so they cannot grab me

their arms, so they cannot hold me

their legs, so they cannot chase after me

and their tongue, so that not even their words can touch me.

My body.

In the future, I may choose to offer my body to others

but I will do so with the knowledge that it is mine to give and refuse

that while I may let them touch it, it will always be mine.

This is my body.

I can do, whatever I want with it.

[gorbajorp]

The Grass in my Garden

The grass in my garden is overgrown, I can see it from my window. The blades of grass and wildflowers bend to gravity’s command. It’s better for the environment I justify, ignoring my numbness and inability to act.

I watch it grow slowly from my kitchen window, like the frames of film in a movie. My mind grows a deeper shade of blue and red with each observation, Tears well from my eyes as the simplest tasks evade me, “why can’t I do this?” echoes across my mind, feeling the world grow colder and heavier each time.

Then I feel it, the warmth of sunlight on my pale skin, Alleviation rushes through me, as I turn and look at the sun, The entrancing light engulfs my body once again as the cold thoughts fade. The sound of the lawnmower erupts in my garden and the tall grass bows to the blade of the machine.