Poetry Mix (Collection) #2

So today, I wrote some poems.

I don't like poems that have those exact rhythms and the iambic pentameter or whatever.

because honestly, those sound so cheesy and simple.

I like free forming, poems that are just how they are. No rhythm. Just meaning.

So here goes.


For the first two poems, I made them all into one paragraph, as you can see...

Poem 1:
Life is like a roller coaster. Get on the ride, with ups and downs and side to side, soaring low and soaring high, reach into the sky... a quick ride, and when you get off, you're not sure if it's time to leave, when the ride has already ended.

Poem 2:
Look at the flowers sparkling in the sun. Look at the flowers swaying in the sun. Look at the petals swirling in the sun. Look at the fresh smell in the air. Look at the flowers smiling in the sun. Then look at the flowers,, burrowed under, hidden under, the snow.

Poem 3:
Life is a trap you can't escape.
But don't try to, you'll never escape.

Poem 4:
Believe
Believe in the sky.
Believe in the sun.
Believe in magic.
Believe in love.
Believe in hope.
Believe in hugs.
Believe in poetry.
Believe in music.
Believe in learning.
But never believe in hatred.

Poem 5:
Take a petal of a flower.
See its beauty.
Understand its beauty.
Take a part of a sunset.
See it's beauty.
Understand its beauty.
Take a child's mind, her soul.
See its beauty.
Understand it, too.

Peom 6:
Believe in colors.
Believe in gifts.
Believe in laughs.
Believe in love.
Believe in happiness,
believe in doves,
believe in flowers.
Believe in luck.
Believe in hugs,
believe ind reams,
believe in safety,
believe in promises,
believe in People.

Poem 7:
This poem explains the horror of war and the hope in children to fix it, which is always burned into ash.

Bombs fill the air.
Smoke fills the lungs.
hatred fills the mind.
Fear fills the children.
What has this world become?

Born to live,
born to prosper,
born to succeed,
born to kill.
What has this world become?

Shouts fill the air.
Suffocation fills the lungs.
Death fills the mind.
Hope fills the children.

Huddled in a corner,
just a little seed of hope.
A little ointment,
and a bandaid,
and a want to heal.
In every child's hope,
future,
peace,
innocence.

Ruined.

Poem 8:
From now on, the poems, I played with the spacing and the placing. I don't know if it'll show up right on the computer, but spaced it and placed it differently in my notebook.

In a field of flowers, of thorn hatred roses,
is a little flower seed.
Who knows what kind?
It grows to a bud.
green amongst the bloodred, the bloodred with thorns, old,
    yet emitting eerie beauty.
But this bud,
  with simple,
          innocent,
                    beauty.
It sits.
It shuns the roses, with its simplicity.
The way it is more free,
the way it has hope,
it might grow into
         a daisy, a
              tulip, a
                  crysanthemum.
But once it does grow into whatever it is,
its beauty dies,
it loses simplicity,
the beauty,
it gets shunned by the roses,
until it withers
     to the ground,
            regretting,
                   dying,,,...
                         gone.

Poem 9:

(hmm, don't try this at home   [;        )
Peer into the deep abyss,
mind void of hope,
of love.
Mind full of hatred,
of scorn.
Cuts and bruises
in the mind.
Loneliness
in the mind.

Peer into the deep abyss,
peer into the dark,
    red,
         evil eyes of
               Death.
Whisper words of hopelessness.
And fall into
      the peering,
              dark,
                    red,
                         evil eyes of
                               Death.

Poem 10:
Every mind sunken into a deep pool of Reality.
When first born, the mind bobs at the shore,
     taking gasps of
           imagination
                 and magic and
                         hope.
But as the mind gets older,
     it gets heavier,
           it gets less simple,
                it loses imagination
                         and magic and
                                  hope as it
                                           sinks
                                                    down
                                                                          down
                                                                                                down.

Poem 11:
Choking underwater
    suffocating
          losing the air,
               sinking . . .
                     down  .  .  .
                                down
                                          down
                                                  under the sea level of
                                                           individuality.
                sinking . . .
                      down  .  .  .

                                down

                                          down 

                                                   under influence.

Poem 12:

Grab that life saver,

     the little tube

           bobbing,

               floating.

Before you sink.

     underwater.

          suffocate.

               Die.

Some of them are slightly violent, as the reality of it goes, some of them are thoughtful.

As my favorite line goes, "Don't worry, be happy!"

oh and my other one is "Failure isn't failure; it's the path to succeed." but that's beside the point.

Poetry Mix #1

Okay, here goes.
I decided to make a new type of label thing.
You know,
how ITTY is "Inside Tips To You", and the "Amazity of the Day" and HLD (Hilarious Laugh of the Day), and IceCreamScoop (bits of my life), and Various Viewpoints... so added to that list is Poetry Mix.

Pretty self explanatory as when it comes to what it actually does.
Mix of poetry.

how itriguing.

So the description of this blog is already a poem:
There's no recipe to life. So just go with the flow, do what you know, stay away from staying low, and find the happiness below.
Here's the poem:
Life's a roller coaster. It's a crazy ride, has its ups and downs and side-to-side, the roller coaster just this wide, going to places with nothing to hide, and you soaring there, up high, having the fun of your life. That's life. Live it like a roller coaster. Nevous getting on, reluctant to get off at the end.

EDIT:

Okay, I know this font color will 'stand out' and all, but I'd just like to add for my own self:
These sort of poems were inspired from a book called "The Orange Houses" by Paul Griffin.

HLD-- Duck Song/Scene

I don't know why I like this, I don't know how I like this, and I'm not sure whether I even like it or not.
The song's just catchy.
It's called the Duck Song, and it is likely you have heard it before because to what I see it has gazillions of views. Who knows?

Anyhow, here it is:

And it's kind of creepy and... it has a Duck Song II and Duck Song III, I think. (pretty sure about the Duck Song II, but I'm not sure about the Duck Song III. You should try finding out.)

I was singing it all day on Sunday.
"And he said to the man, running the stand. Bom bom bom bom bom, Got any graapppeess?"

...
I'll leave you there for today.

oh. And. I must share a funny short clip with you.
Only it's in your imagination. Meaning you have to imagine and make the scene inside your head.
Here's the script:

There is a German Coast Guard. He is a grim faced, lonely Coast Guard who is guarding __(whatever he's guarding)___. The German Coast Guard is currently extremely bored. His eyes are halfway drooping, and he's nearly bored out of his mind. No, let me fix that. He is bored out of his mind. So there he's standing, with his gun and all, walkie talkie, belt, stuff (I think stuff covers all the material, don't you think?).
Extreme silence is spread from miles beyond, as he's starting to wish something to happen.
He is boredly kicking a rock nearby.
Cricket... cricket... Crickets chirrup in the background to show the extreme silence and the irony and boredom of this German Coast Guard during war.
Suddenly, his walkie talkie buzzes on. And through static, he can hear shooting and cannons and screaming in the background. It's a very small noise, because the walkie-talkie isn't the number one best type.

And... jump cut.
The scene jumps to a loud, rambunctious (I have to look up that word...) scene in which an American Naval General is on his vessel, which is starting to sink because of the endless attacks from the enemy, and the cannons and gun sounds are deafening. And the screaming and shouting adds to the noise, chaos, and horror. Water is filling up to the general's knees now, and the vessel is rocking. He's holding his walkie-talkie, screaming into it, at the top of his lungs, shouting "MAYDAY! MAYDAY! WE'RE SINKING! WE'RE SINKING! WE'RE SINKING!"

And... jump cut.
The scene jumps back to the German Coast Guard. So what you should hear is Loud Yelling and Chaos, then all a sudden, cut off.
Cricket... Cricket...
The German Coast Guard is staring at his walkie-talkie, which is squealing "mayday! mayday! we're sinking! we're sinking! we're sinking!" in a small-ish sort of voice. Really really small compared to the reality of it.
And so the German Coast Guard stares at it, and thinks for a moment.
He picks his walkie-talkie up off his belt, and stops.
Cricket... Cricket...
"Vat are you sinking avout?"