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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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What is poetry?


Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
Not every citizen can become a poet. If almost every one of us, at different times, under the influence of certain reasons or trends, was engaged in writing his thoughts, then it is unlikely that the vast majority will be able to admit to themselves that they are a poet.
Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


There are poets whose work, without exaggeration, belongs to the treasures of human thought and rightly is a world heritage. In our electronic library you will find a wide variety of poetry.
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Read books online » Poetry » wert by ddd dghgh (beach books .txt) 📖

Book online «wert by ddd dghgh (beach books .txt) 📖». Author ddd dghgh



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ODE

I looked down on my body from afterlife,

broken and battered on the altar of sacrifice.

broken while trying to fix broken world.

watered the fields with sweat.

irrigated it with tears

whilst mine plagued with drought.

 

heart for food,

soul for wine.

 

Became enemy to self,

merchandised my soul for its love,

funeral of pity.

i died a fool.

 

 

LIFE

It's a misery

Slithering off like a sly snake,

sought coming to bite the ignorant.

 

Its terror.

inducing shudders imposed on mortals.

its pleasantness, served on a gold platter.

A bubbling sweetness.

Like a clear spring trickling over a bed of black rocks.

 

Capitulating at the gentle tug,

Reigning back in disgust.

indifferent to the undertow of the desperate.

 

Like a firewater pool.

its beauty and sweetness out of proportion.

A grim lover,

A pleasant reaper.

 

The least earned.

 

 

CHAINED THOUGHTS

 It de-potentiates change while it deprives,

Yet shaming is the best policy but caters dolour,

Never say die for dolts whom are shallow,

Twofaced yet subliminal,

it rains cats and dogs.
 
    The wish is father to the thought, by the skin of your teeth deceiving,

Though controversial,

once in a blue thoughts.

Blurring the credulity in one’s self, a perfect storm,

Like shallow tourniquet around the arteries.
 
    Credulousness orientated mind,

let it breathe.

Rather than barking up the wrong tree,

While being creed, thus possessing a birds eye view.

looks before it leaps,

keep up with the joneses. 

UNDETERRED

 Seven times around the wall

Many times around the hill

Seven times we may fall

But we go forward still
 
     Helmet for my head

Breastplate for my chest

Shield against the darts

No plate for my back 
 
     He who runs from a fight

Runs from his life

The part of you that fights

Is the part of you that slaves 
 
     Seven times around the wall

Many times around the hill

Seven times we may fall

Not enough reason to leave the hall 

CURSE

I watched her prepare a gift,

She was working on the night shift.
 
     I looked closely,

And realised it was you.

Of all things in the world it had to be you?
 
     I curse you.

Curse its wings and tentacles.
 
     I hate you,

Either you take your pills,

Or be drowned by your obstacles,

May your dreams and loved ones be crushed 

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW

 Where am i?

Dispatch where am i?

Shadows dance in a translucent haze,

There's something here with me!

 

Dispatch are you there?

shadows and phantoms,

Move so fast but, oh i see;

Long robed being of black smoke!

 

Dispatch i'm hearing voices!

Dispatch please!

Don't you hear that?

 

Listen!

Meat so fresh, plump red and hot

Blood so hot, so hot to lick and drink

Brain so soft, so sweet to suck and chew!

 

Dispatch get me out of here.

They're getting closer.

please!

 

SILENCE AND VOICES

 
 Silence…
 
Our heads are lowered,

Fake societal signs of modesty.

Dried tears soak into the pores of our rosy,

Bushing cheeks.

Home cooked meals, clean house, no house help,

Worn and tired to the bone,

They say be content.
 
Mama didn’t raise a coward.

Yet, we cower.

Be not too strong,

Be not too weak either.

Fighting ourselves.
 
We are in a boat steered by society

We might drop, we might fall.

Yet, we aren’t alone
 
Voices…
 
Their heads are raised.

Fake bravado hiding cowardice,

Broken hearts and crumbling bones beneath layers of skin.

They should keep mute even in the face of adversity,

They’re the beast of burden,

Even their grunts are subdued.

He can’t be shy…he must make the first move,

They are rejected
 
Their sobs are quiet as against our cracking sobs,

Big boy don’t cry
 
We’re selfish

They’re selfish

Our view of each other is jaundiced.

Clouded by our own pain, we don’t see their hurt

Immersed in their agony, they are blind to ours.
 
Humans are selfish.

Gender is a curse

…a raised red flag separating humankind.
 

SEASONS

 Everything’s eventual:

Seasons soon vex inexhaustibly,

And winter’s clobbering hands despise us

_perhaps intimacy was lost before these fading kisses.
 
Winter with a rubber breast.

Than timid under eyes.

Sweeter among as sherbets and paleness

Sky with diphtheria.
 
Everything’s eventual.

When time’s chisel take thy brows and jaws

Death twirls home w/ tragic minuteness

DEATH

 Give me a mansion

I will burn it down

Give me a car

  I will get It wrecked.
 
Give me a vegetation

  The plants will wither

Give me a job

The company will go bankrupt. 
 
For karma served me

What I ordered

The sins of my past Were forgiven.
 
But I’m being haunted,

With the consequence

CURSE

What is I? Tell me!

Or you I demand!

You who looks upon me with scorn!

For how low will you chastise me with your seeds and words?
 
Hoorah!

Tis time of joy,
 
Bittersweet it may be,

But in it I find release,

For I have made this choice,

It’s my bed of thorns, and as I lay,

I do say,

Your words make it soft,

Come morrows dawn,

I shall remain free.

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