Post Reply Writer of the Month Poems
6079 cr points
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29 / F / Taipei
Posted 2/9/08 , edited 2/9/08
Well people seem to be posting their poems for the competition all over the forum, so could you all please post them all here ^___^. It would make our job a lot easier if we could just read them all in one place.

So far, we have:


The White Canvas,
A beauty in her own mind,
Permiting no color of any kind.
The White Canvas.

The White Canvas.
Her exspessionless beauty sadly does fall,
Short of any particular beauty at all.
The White Canvas.

The White Canvas.
Suddenly splashed with a bit of color,
Becomes a beauty like no other.
The Blank Canvas no more.



Sitting by the river bank as cool as it could be
a river's mouth is always sweet cause its close to the sea
it seems to me a storm is coming but those clouds are not gray
theyre huge and white with large canoes and theyre coming to the bay

these strange things get stranger still, as weird creatures still decend
their skin as pale as milk... are they enemy or friend?
they surround me where im sitting there, in my own land
i try to run, but its too late theyve binded both my hands

they drag me through the swampy land as much as i resist
they seem to know their way around, even stranger...through the mist
they find the village easily and point their sticks towards the clan
the ones that try to save me fall to the smoke and a loud bang

their weapons are strange, their clothing still, our arrows and spears cant pierce
we soon give up we've lost the fight the women are in tears
weve all been bounded, our leader smiles as they give him colourful stones

we've been sold, a price on our lives and by our very own people
they drag us all back, the way they came back to those strange canoes
we lost to their power these men of white, they had much better tools
our women stripped of dignity, the men are made to slave
when will we see a day, when we all just might be saved?

By Death98923

1977 cr points
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25 / M / Tulsa Ok
Posted 2/9/08 , edited 2/9/08
The soldier boy was sitting calmly underneath that tree.
As I approached it, I could see him beckoning to me.
The battle had been long and hard and lasted through the night
And scores of figures on the ground lay still by morning's light.

"I wonder if you'd help me, sir", he smiled as best he could.
"A sip of water on this morn would surely do me good.
We fought all day and fought all night with scarcely any rest -
A sip of water for I have a small pain in my chest."

As I looked at him, I could see the large stain on his shirt
All reddish-brown from his warm blood mixed in with Asian dirt.
"Not much", said he. "I count myself more lucky than the rest.
They're all gone while I just have a small pain in my chest."

"Must be fatigue", he weakly smiled. "I must be getting old.
I see the sun is shining bright and yet I'm feeling cold.
We climbed the hill, two hundred strong, but as we cleared the crest,
The night exploded and I felt this small pain in my chest."

"I looked around to get some aid - the only things I found
Were big, deep craters in the earth - bodies on the ground.
I kept on firing at them, sir. I tried to do my best,
But finally sat down with this small pain in my chest."

"I'm grateful, sir", he whispered, as I handed my canteen
And smiled a smile that was, I think, the brightest that I've seen.
"Seems silly that a man my size so full of vim and zest,
Could find himself defeated by a small pain in his chest."

"What would my wife be thinking of her man so strong and grown,
If she could see me sitting here, too weak to stand alone?
Could my mother have imagined, as she held me to her breast,
That I'd be sitting HERE one day with this pain in my chest?"

"Can it be getting dark so soon?" He winced up at the sun.
"It's growing dim and I thought that the day had just begun.
I think, before I travel on, I'll get a little rest ..........
And, quietly, the boy died from that small pain in his chest.

I don't recall what happened then. I think I must have cried;
I put my arms around him and I pulled him to my side
And, as I held him to me, I could feel our wounds were pressed
The large one in my heart against the small one in his chest.

by takumoto
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27 / M / Florida
Posted 2/17/08 , edited 2/18/08
If you wanted to
you could smell the roses
but they reek of death
Their red petals fall
like blood pouring from a wound
Thorns... causing pain to those who try and help
If you wanted to
you could smell the ocean
but the air is heavy and stagnate with depression
The waves crashing on shore are like the horrible memories
that one never forgets
Rip currents drown those who try
to pull you back to sanity
If you wanted to
you could smell the spring air
but it stinks of putrid unwanted emotions
It's the last breath your friend took
The breeze is full of death everyone's last breath
And for those who want to save you from this
they are suffocated and claimed by the souls of the dead

By: tattooedheretic
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