Poetry thread!

[MentaGlaciajxo]

Most of my poetry is in Esperanto, but here's a haiku I wrote sometime back:

FREEDOM

Finally, the sun
Washing over my whole skin
Brings cheer to my heart.

-—-—-

Oh for the day when that becomes reality!

[MentaGlaciajxo]

And on a sillier note, a poem I wrote back in... 2011, I think.

THE SPAM SAGA

One morning somebody did wail,
As he started to check his email,
"How tired I am
Of all of this SPAM
Coming into my box without fail!

"This really has gone to excess!
I must put a stop to this mess!
And I know just how,
If it doesn't stop NOW,
I'll just change my email address!"

To change it he then set about,
But somehow the spammer found out
His new one, and then
There was spam there AGAIN,
Flooding in as from a spout!

But our hero did not despair.
He then said "Why should I care?
Before I'm a day older,
I'll make a JUNK folder,
And all of that spam can go there!"

So that is just how it went.
The spam to that folder was sent.
And now you can see,
that on every PC,
It's standard equip-a-ment.

[MentaGlaciajxo]

More like a train of thought than a poem, but you can make your own assessment:

MORNING

for a time I was free
in a world strange and unpredictable -
adventure, surprise, excitement
until -

consciousness of pillows and alarm clocks;
the dream fades away,
away from mind and memory
to disappear forever...

NO!
under the pillows, I close my eyes —

let me be free
for just a little longer -
free from the prison of the everyday.

[Caliboy]

Wow, some very talented people here! I LOVE poetry, to read and to write. Although I have been more into prose of late.
The problem with poetry... is that it takes its own form. I have trouble typing, it is a difficult thing to do.... I do most writing via voice recognition, and poetry does not flow from the lips as easily as rough prose.

That said, here is a contribution from a bit ago.

Cracked Glass

Buildings with their eyes blown out
Or caved in, shards on the sill
Mouths gaping open, too warped to close
Peeling paint and rusted steel.
Glass cracked in a line across the pane
Jarred by wind eight floors up
Dark splatter-circles on painted sill
From small fingers repeatedly tracing
Along the crack’s knife edge.
Garbage cans along the block
Tipped over, to spill out wasted lives
Into the uncaring street.
Rusting fire escape loosed from the wall
Ladders that no longer move.
Jagged cracks in the mortared wall
Make designs between aged bricks
Faulted by the crack’s jutting edge.
Empty twelve-pack in the gutter
Brown bottle broken against the curb
Half-hidden under immobile cars
A reminder of last night’s youth.
Hostile eyes masked by thin drapes
Peek from a window across the way
Suspicious of the children’s play
Of war and soccer in the street,
One goal an old car and a lamppost
The other a delivery van
Broken down there just last week
Since lost hubcaps, lights, and mirrors
To neighbor's cars that needed them.
Innocent eyes watch their world
From behind a smudged, cracked window.
Glistening drops splatter fresh on the sill
From a child's finger tracing cracked glass.

[tkh]

I'm loving to read poetry, especially the one of the German comedian Heinz Erhardt, which are not to translate to English because he uses wordplays which can be used only in German. His poems have titles like "the maggot" or "Why the citrons got sour".


From time to time I'm also writing poems, but only for myself.
I'm trying to translate one as example:


Hanging Around


The sun shines so red,
and she,
the girl,
passing like
a star.
I saw her
at
the nudist beach
shining like
an angel
and now the sun
is not any more
the only one thing being red
because a very important part of mine
contains more blood
than every other.


As you,
dear reader,
certainly did
just understand
moored on the feet
the rope fixed
under the roof,
I'm hanging around
because I
should have
done
certain things
you know,
that someone
should never
do
and there is nothing
to discuss about

And so
Not only
the ennui
seems suffocating


and the red thing
I spoke above
was my little brain
and not
my ...

Thanks to God
it was only
a dream
and I woke up,
hanging around
at the beach
with the sun shining red,
and the angel,
from all the distance,
looked at me
and sent me
a feeling
I would never forget
her

[barethomas98]

Nice poem I would aprecciate it if you or someone else  could help me keep this topic going, like tell people about it please.