Pen and Ink

So. . . You stumbled into yet another Rhysian topic. For that, I am sorry. There is, however, no saving you now.

This topic is for something that I’ve held dear to me for a long time, and am kinda scared to share, tbh. It’s about. . . Poetry.

Mine specifically, but if y’all wanna share yours here too, please do so!

But. . . There’s more to it than just words that rhyme all the time like. . . Wind. . . chimes. Okay, that doesn’t work. Seriously though, these poems aren’t always going to be fun, and here’s a few that deal with hard things. So, please read at your own risk. That said. . . Yeah. I’ll begin posting ASAP!

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Here’s the first one. . . Feel free to leave feedback and stuff. . .


Die, little girl, put a knife in your heart,
Twas what you were made for, right from the start.
Die, little girl, put a bullet in your head,
They’ll only start listening once you’re dead.
Die, little girl, put a slash on your wrist;
Do you honestly think that you’ll be missed?
Yes, little fighter, they will all wish
That you hadn’t been reaped by death’s cruel kiss.
So put down your gun, put down your knife.
Little warrior, it’s time for you to choose life.

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This is really, really good… and very thought-provoking. Oftentimes we forget how much our life affects the lives of those around us. What we do causes a ripple effect into the lives we are apart of no matter how great or small.

"Because if you kill yourself, you’re also going to kill the people who love you." -Unknown

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This is really beautiful. I love it so much <3 <3

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Here’s some of my poetry. I don’t write poetry very often, but I did a poetry course a few months ago, and here are some of the poems I wrote (they’re pretty silly but…)

Inconceivable!

It is inconceivable
When an inspector inspects
your insolation, and insists
it should be Incinerated

Trees

You have planted each tree with care.
Each one intricate and extraordinary, from the roots to the leaves.
Each branch has a purpose, it could be paper, a chair, or just to look at.
Help me see each one and know that you placed it there

Storms

Roll of thunder
I hear you roar
The rain starts to pour
I start to snore

Creation

Lord I thank you for the beautiful things you create.
The flowers, birds, and trees, the list could go on for forever.
The rocks, the skies, the bees, to name only a few of your amazing works.
Help me behave in ways that honor your beautiful world.

Friendship bracelets

Tying nifty knots ‘round the strings,
Crafting some intricate bling.
Designing and creating them for my loved ones,
Is what makes it so much fun.

All the different colors and features,
Making pictures of crafty creatures.
Tie it up, around your wrist,
For it is a promise of our friendship bliss.

Hot feet (true story)

I was with my friends, having a blast.
Wishing these moments would last.
A recently used fire pit has warm ashes, we thought it was neat.
We placed our hands in the ashes and felt the heat.

After that we continued playing, running, and laughin’,
Then I had an idea, what did I think would happen?
So here I go, I’m going to do it, oh me.
Yes, I know I had stupendous stupidity.

So I raced toward the pit, and then my feet crashed,
I regretted my choice as my feet sunk in the ashes.
I ran right back out of the pit while my feet hammered with heat.
I had to cool it with a bucket of ice cold water, so it wouldn’t overheat.

My feet are still attached, do not fret.
But my right foot has a scar, you can bet.
Please take my advice, this is not a challenge of wits.
Do not put your feet in fire pits.

You do you

You do you, and I’ll do me.
We all see things differently.
Understand that, it’s the key,
So we won’t be so weighty.

If we made the fighting cease,
and agreed to disagree,
The whole world would be in peace.
You do you, and I’ll do me.

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I wrote this awhile back, thought I’d share. :blush:

This is just a stupid thought, it wasn’t meant to be. But I wonder, if my life’s a book, who turns the page for me?

Can anything be done about the chaos running wild? Will life go on the same or can I be a little child?

Can anything be done about lost purity of heart? Is it possible to find romance within the realm of art?

Is there any fear that’s greater than the fear that lives within? Is anxiety an illness or is it deep and deadly sin?

Did I forget my soul or am I finally breaking free? Am I falling off the edge or am I finally on two feet?

Is reality an illusion, do I believe just cause I do? Or is there hope for something held around me that is true?

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@PlͥⱥgͣuͫeDoctor, thank you so much, that’s exactly what I was trying to say with the poem. :smiley:

@Pandazz, whoa, that’s some epic poetry! I loved Storms!

@Rapunzel. . . whoa. -munches cheese and thinks about life-

Okay, here’s another one. . .


Take up your courage, take up your swords.
Pray for the mercy of the Caroban Lord.
The blood of your enemies, your duty to pour
For now is the time to settle the score.

Impatience and fear;
Anticipation draws near

In heat of battle, your courage will rise
You will never know that you’re fighting for lies.
Your strength and your courage, are but a guise
For deep in your chest swells fear of demise.

Adrenaline teeming
Swords screaming

Raise your eyes, raise your head
Hear the screams, see the dead
Your courage will crumble and leave only dread.
For you stained the snow with still-steaming red.

Regret and sorrow
And no love for tomorrow


As always, feedback is welcome! Let me know what parts you guys like or dislike, and if I can do anything better!

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The battle is coming, it shakes in the ground.
Our hopes and ambitions, soon will be drowned
By the blood that will spill on snow laden ground
If a child screams in silence, is there a sound?

Please, we’re not fighters,
And we’re not heroes.

Carve out your heart, carve out your lungs
The trumpet has blasted, the song is sung
The pure of soul are all on the run
The age of peace is over and done

But we are the fighters
And we are the heroes

Give up your soul, give up your mind
For battle is coming, and now is the time
We’ve lost our voice, the world’s a mime
We wish we could say we’re biding our time

So God save the fighters
And God save the heroes

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My life is full of bloodstains
Blood that was once inside
The scars, they bare my failures
The bleedin’ wounds of pride

My bloodstains show my weakness
But I’m not going to hide

The others see my failures, call me wretched, call me weak
It’s out of my true weakness that God above I seek
I’m not afraid to let them see I’m nothing on my own
I’m living off of Jesus, off of Him alone

My scars still bleed from time to time, it never goes away
That’s why I’m living under His wings all the live-long day
Though light reveals my ugly sins and shows the world my scars
I’d rather live with human scorn then trapped by shadow bars

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Icarus dreamed, his imagination on fire
He had always craved something much higher
Than the dark, dirty dungeon borne of mire
Little did he know, his psyche was a liar

Dreams are gold,
But deadman’s tales aren’t told

Icarus worked, his vision in mind
He toiled in turmoil, he’s running out of time
Little did he know, it would end up a mime
As the wind stole his scream while he fell to the brine

His dream took shape
As he raked it over coal

He strapped the dream on, prepared for flight
He soared to the air, intoxication giving might
He left life behind, his wrong made right
When the sun is up, we can’t imagine night

He was flying,
But dreams have a toll

Then right went wrong, and the tables were turned
If you dance with fire, you will be burned
So please, to whom it concerns,
Know that Icarus, his lesson learned

The sky was a blur
He had lost all control

The ocean grew nearer, Icarus was falling
Even for children, death comes calling
No longer was this vision so enthralling
And then, for a moment, time was crawling

And so the ocean claimed
This little dreamer’s soul

._.

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(This one was inspired by “Satisfaction” by Margaret E Sangster)

Love dug in trenches, sunlight bare,
Toil in soil, the manmade nightmare.
Love fought not by bravery
But by defying cowardice,
And to return one day
To a pearl young child
And a loving wife’s bliss.


(Inspired by Shel Silverstein)

"Plaster Masks"

A boy lived on Big Hill.
A girl did too.

The boy was purple.
The girl was blue.

And they wore plaster masks
To hide their dark hue.

The boy loved the girl,
And the girl loved him too.

And they passed every day, wearing their masks
Without a single clue.


"Behemoth"

And Lo
I saw him.
The Behemoth.

Red his fur,
Fire and bones.
Bringing with him death.

Plaguing masses,
Their victim screams.
Upon his ears were deaf.

“Save us!”
They would plea
To heroes bereft.

Then beast would look down.
ardentem oculis,
And say “No, this end is just.”

For I am the harbinger of Death.
The Behemoth.

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Well done! Well done! Wonderful works, I enjoyed them very much :slight_smile:

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The True King’s Return

The True King of this broken land
The King in glory robed
The Lord with nail scars in His hands
Shall come into His own

His law shall be upholden
His praises shall be sung
His halls shall echo golden
The Living Water run

The trees shall clap for gladness
The sea shall shine and burn
All sorrow fail and sadness
At the Heavenly King’s return

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This came to mind while my father was loading a sub-woofer into our van. I know it’s ridiculous, but I thought I’d share it anyway.

One sub-woofer
Two sub-woofer
Three sub-woofer
Four sub-woofer
Five sub-woofer
Six sub-woofer
Seven sub-woofer
Woof

Don’t turn the volume up too high
Up too high, up too high
Don’t turn the volume up too high
Me ears will burst

Big base needs a sub-woofer
sub-woofer, sub-woofer
Big base needs a sub- woofer
Sub-woofers go woof

One sub-woofer
Two sub-woofer
Three sub-woofer
Four sub-woofer
Five sub-woofer
Six sub-woofer
Seven sub-woofer
Woof

Now that I think about it, this is probably the silliest parody I have ever put into writing.

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I wrote this at 1:30am because Tim Burton was on my mind and so was a rhyme. It’s part of a larger series of poems set in a fictional town called “Burton” (yes, also inspired by Tim Burton). So I’ll post them as I continue to write them.

This poem is fun to read out loud, so people tell me.


“Bed Bugs”

I say it once, I say it again.
(For I wouldn’t want you hurt, my friend).

Shut your doors, lock them tight,
Never come out when day is night.

For when darkness falls and people sleep,
Fouler things on hepta-legs creep.

Check your sheets, keep them clean,
Leave no space in-between
For the smaller bugs with sharper teeth
To find their way underneath.

Rinse your sinks, purge the pipes,
Clear the gutter, rinse the grime.
For every blemish left to its own
Invites a bug to make its home.

But sometimes in a house that’s clean
A bug might get in,
(Unfortunately).

If that’s the case, be sure to trace
The bug in its own disgusting wake:
A trail of grub, slime, and larvae–
All which you must burn in utmost haste.

Suppose the bug survives
And you, my friend, are yet alive.
Not to worry, you still have time.

Find a sword, a knife, or axe,
(Whatever can chop, or slice, or hack)
Attack the crustacean and its brethren head on
(Be sure to avoid their toxic venom)
From there you kill them one by one
And hope to God that it’ll soon be done.

I hope this serves as sufficient warning
To prevent screaming nights and silent mornings.

So when you go to bed each night
Make sure to sleep very tight
For bed bugs in Burton do indeed bite.

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By Helen Keller

They took away what should have been my eyes
(But I remember Milton’s Paradise)
They took away what should have been my ears
(Beethoven came and wiped away my tears)
They took away what should have been my tongue
(But I had talked with God when I was young)
He would not let them take away my soul.
Possessing that, I still posses the whole.

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Full on Stars – a Cosmonaut’s journal

When I was a child,
I ate dust.

Face upon the floor,
I saw nothing.

Hours would go by,
I couldn’t get up
Pushing.

Years later
I remained.

Far from home
It stayed the same.

I found myself
In heavy shadow,
Thinking.

My mind goes back,
Remembering.

I see no sky,
I have no eyes.

The world remains dark,
I fall asleep,
Dreaming.

The sun.
Find me.

Burning fire,
He speaks.

Irreverent,
I rise again
On my knees.

I look up
Before the push.

I gaze,
Marrying the sky.

Heaven’s gates
Full on Stars,
They beckon me

To travel far.

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Come, little child
Let’s palaver.

There’s tricks in me hat
And pearls in my fur.

Fly with me to Neverland
Where ruby crabs sleep on golden sand.

A world unlike any you’ve seen.
A world made solely for you and me.

Chocolate bars and granola trees
Alongside milk rivers and candy breeze.

We’ll ride on Mercury, my personal train.
It’s very fast – safe from rain.

Look out the side.
What do you see?

Amethyst horses
And diamond sheep.

Animals of all shapes and sizes,
Succulent trinkets and other prizes.

A province of pure renown
Free from rules and other downs.

Come, come, come with me!
Palaver a bit.
I promise, you’ll see!

Cast aside your daytime worry!
Journey your dreams!
Palaver a bit.
Then you’ll be free

To play here

With me.

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Oh nameless star, to be as thee
Up in the sky, so free
I long to ride thee through the sky
And why, would I fly
To escape this robe of flesh
And be made fresh
At last, complete in Him
Who knew no sin

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The Sky Realm

Have you ever mapped the endless sky,
Or stood upon its clouds?
Have you seen its gilded realm,
And measured out its bounds?

Have you watched its fleet of tow’ring ships
Surmount the stormy winds?
These moon-chasers, sun-wakers,
Are every dreamer’s friend.

Perhaps the sky-king’s snowy-white hall
Has captured your delight,
Where the sunset’s lambent hearth
Glows red with firelight.

When the heavens weep for joy and grief,
Its storerooms overflow
With the sky-realm’s precious goods
Of ice and rain and snow.

The kaleidoscopic arc painted
In every hue of light,
Shows the brushstrokes of a king
That make your dreams take flight.

No mortal artisan’s crowning work
Could ever be compared
To the beauty that our God
Has painted everywhere.

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