5 minute poetry

[bang91]

Why do I live when I feel so dead?
I think that is all that needs to be said.

[BlackMageGirl!]

One of my favorite poems of all time, I'd thought I would share it with y'all. (Note, I didn't write this.)

Poem from "A Nonny Mouse"

Eye halve a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques four my review
Miss teaks eye kin know sea

Eye strike a key and type a word
And weight four it two say
Weather eye an wrong oar write
It shows me strait a weigh

As soon as a mist ache is maid
It nose bee fore two long
And eye can put the error rite
Its rare lee ever wrong

Eye have run this poem threw it
I am shore your pleased two no
Its letter perfect awl the weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.

Tells you how overrated spell-checker really is, eh? =P

[Overcast]

Kinda Lost:

I have lost my mind right now
It fell out of my head
It died over a question on how
We live after we're dead
For what big use can we be for
An askance towards the skies
My soul all by itself feels tore
As I ruffle through the lies
The truth itself may be too much
For the world to take today
So I’ll just walk inside of such
Until I find my way

[Funka Genocide]

tap it
so slowly
careful not to break

toss it
nonchalantly
irreverence in your stride

bang it
vehemently
tear it down again

lose it
carelessly
and want it all the more

[Cloud Strife]

In the past, back in the mind,
minor thoughts against the grind
Slowly it's healing, just going on...
But sadly, too late, the caring is gone.

Drifting and dreaming,
Painful and screaming
"Just make the pain go away
So I can get through the day..."

But the call is unheeded,
The warmth has receeded,
Unaware in my naiveté,
Missed the chance I wanted to set.

So now, as it comes, as the time grows nigh,
Only one thing to say: What a fool, am I.

[Bob The Mercenary]

USA Today now prints reader-written haikus in the Life section every week. I know you guys can outdo the current picks, so here's the link. Also, I read the paper every day because we get free issues here at my college so I'll be able to get the word out if one of your's gets printed.

[slightly aboveaverage man]

The Butterfly.

A single butterfly floats by my gaze,
It flutters and soars a sight to amaze.
It twinkles about, as it flits over my book,
And twirls in a circle, like a coiled fishing hook.
It floats in the sunlight, and rests by a flower,
Then takes to the skies for another hour.
It matches my gaze, like a curious kitty,
And I scream in a rage, "STOP BEING SO PRETTY!"
It retreats away from the thrust of my pen,
As I grumble and swear. Exam time again.

[Overcast]

Afterwish:

The voices are invading
Telling me my after fate
They speak in different ratings
And yet I don’t relate
“Come among the living,”
“Or be lost with dead,”
“Up above singing,”
“Down below in dread,”
Yet whether in heavenly high
Or hellishly below
Whether the world has just arrived
Or has started its final show
I only wish for you my love
Just so you may know
Yes I only wish for you dear dove
To let my feelings show.

[Ink_Blot]

The Dreams


Supposedly, this is all a dream world.
You come into life when you die.
That there is life outside of this one.
This one is not the real world.

Being born is going to sleep,
Dying is waking up.
It is the strangeness of the world.

There was once this family,
A family of destiny.
A grandfather could sometimes remember
When everyone else would not.

He remembered on his deathbed every time
Never being able to tell anyone.
Always he woke up with regret,
Hoping that the next time might be different.

Being born is going to sleep,
Dying is waking up.
It is the strangeness of the world.

His son just thought it weird,
How could the old man could be so different?
During the dreams he never remembered
So he never cared.

Once he found a wife and married,
He had a son.
A son of great insight, one that could, possibly,
Follow in his grandfather’s footsteps.


Being born is going to sleep,
Dying is waking up.
It is the strangeness of the world.

Eventually, the grandson started to remember.
At first it was just like the grandfather.
But with time, he finally got to tell someone.
That person who he told was me.

Now I am telling you,
In the hopes that you will tell others.
Once we wake up, I will say hello.
You will know that we have met before.

Being born is going to sleep,
Dying is waking up.
It is the strangeness of the world.

Now that son is still telling people.
Listen to your elders,
You never know, someday,
One of them might be him.

[Funka Genocide]

I made your mind
I took the choice
as my prize
my cost of loneliness
me for you?
no, him for me
I deserve this nothing
so hate me now
or love me still
just feel
just feel