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The Poetry Club

The Poetry Club is a group for those who love poetry, anyone who is just curious, and everyone in between.

Members: 110
Latest Activity: on Thursday

FEATURED POEM

 

Severed Selves


Two separate divided silences,
Which, brought together, would find loving voice;
Two glances which together would rejoice
In love, now lost like stars beyond dark trees;
Two hands apart whose touch alone gives ease;
Two bosoms which, heart-shrined with mutual flame,
Would, meeting in one clasp, be made the same;
Two souls, the shores wave-mocked of sundering seas:--

Such are we now. Ah! may our hope forecast
Indeed one hour again, when on this stream
Of darkened love once more the light shall gleam?
An hour how slow to come, how quickly past,
Which blooms and fades, and only leaves at last,
Faint as shed flowers, the attenuated dream.

-- Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Discussion Forum

Our Core of Masculinity

Started by Tim Dienes on Thursday. 0 Replies

Broken Wing

Started by Michael J. K. on Thursday. 0 Replies

Old-Middle English Poetry

Started by Vytautas. Last reply by Alberto Aug 12. 1 Reply

Some of my poems

Started by Michael J. K. Mar 31. 0 Replies

The Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams

Started by Ralph Lawrence. Last reply by Michael J. K. Mar 28. 6 Replies

Favorite Poets?

Started by Jack Kardic. Last reply by StaggerLee Jul 8, 2013. 2 Replies

Goethe: DAUER IM WECHSEL (translation)

Started by Iosephus Lvcs Gonzalez. Last reply by Iosephus Lvcs Gonzalez Apr 13, 2012. 7 Replies

Away I Fly.

Started by Michael S. Hilton. Last reply by Iosephus Lvcs Gonzalez Feb 6, 2012. 3 Replies

Pablo Neruda: PIDO SILENCIO (translation)

Started by Iosephus Lvcs Gonzalez. Last reply by Iosephus Lvcs Gonzalez Feb 3, 2012. 1 Reply

PAUL CLAUDEL: VERS D'EXIL (translation)

Started by Iosephus Lvcs Gonzalez. Last reply by Iosephus Lvcs Gonzalez Feb 3, 2012. 1 Reply

A poem by Hafiz, the Persian poet

Started by Pourdad Vafaee. Last reply by Pariah du jour Sep 16, 2011. 1 Reply

Slam Poetry?

Started by Ken Anon. Last reply by Moquary Mar 8, 2011. 1 Reply

What do you guys think?

Started by Michael S. Hilton. Last reply by Ralph Lawrence Nov 18, 2010. 1 Reply

The Arrow and the Song

Started by Ryan Slye. Last reply by Pariah du jour Nov 5, 2010. 5 Replies

Then Wear the Gold Hat

Started by Ryan Slye Nov 4, 2010. 0 Replies

I call this one: Goat

Started by Ken Anon Oct 14, 2010. 0 Replies

This is my first poem in a long time

Started by Michael Gardner. Last reply by Pariah du jour Oct 14, 2010. 1 Reply

Add Your Poems

Started by C. Wayne Lammers Aug 23, 2009. 0 Replies

Comment Wall

Comment

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Comment by Tim Dienes on March 28, 2014 at 5:25am

Feel free to check out my poetry at timdienes.com

Comment by Joseph Dean Phillips on June 19, 2013 at 1:43am

Here is a poem that I found a little while ago, very fitting for Father's day. It was written by someone that I know quite well.

The Working Father
By Bjorn Faknam

He wakes afresh each new morn,
With body clean and hair short shorn.
Then goes to work, with mind and arm,
And works all day, though it holds no charm.
He started the day fresh and clean,
With thoughts and deeds far from mean,
But work is hard, the hours long,
And by the time he hears the gong
That signals the work days end,
His arms are sore, his clothes he must mend.
His hair is drenched in sweat,
His arms are stained by grease he let
Fall upon him through the day,
And he said some things he shouldn't say.
He is tired and drained, and wants to rest,
But when he gets home, kids will leap upon his chest.
He can't stop yet, His work is far from done,
But first he lets the water run,
To wash away the grime of the day.
Relax, so he can see his kids and say;
"Hello", I love you", How was your day?"
And all the other things he longs to say.
He will watch over them, one and all,
Protecting, lifting them out of life's falls.
He gives his life to his family,
Devoted to them eternally.
He puts himself last of all,
Drawing strength from the God of All.
His nation is his next line of duty,
Followed by his wife, his supportive beauty.
His children are his next devotion,
His next focus is his vocation,
Leaving himself at the bottom of the pile,
But for his family he always has a smile.
He does it all for them, they are his life,
And for them he works his way, and faces strife.
He is their father, and always will be,
For now, through all life, and eternity.

Comment by Samuel Chapman on April 8, 2013 at 4:18am

Do many of you write poetry? I'm writing quite regularly at the moment but looking for guidance on how to improve.

Comment by Liam Strain on September 15, 2011 at 1:04pm
Yes, an oldie.
Comment by Liam Strain on September 15, 2011 at 12:52pm

The Fly


impossibly quick

agile steps

the fly jumps

onto my plate

hungry feet searching

my dinner

immense

cordially inviting

sweet peas

are devoured

delicately, tiny

bites tasting

without my notice

sated and stalwart

adjusting his stance

to a more defensive

pose, should I turn

unfriendly, somersaulting

into the air, the acrobat

departs.

Comment by Eric Jobes on February 5, 2011 at 9:20pm

i am an avid horror fan and as such i write horror poems. WARNING: i have been told that this is a very graphic poem.

 

Killer's Nocturne

With macabre scenes of grizzly deaths
You alone take away the last breaths

Burning,stabbing,cutting,biting
Your methods are quite harrowing

You hold the unholy power over life and over death

You can set them free and bestow the breath of life
Or you can rip out their souls and cause eternal strife

With deceiving eyes and saccharine grin
You wait for their backs turn so your sacred massacre can begin

Stores of hardware,sporting goods,and convenience are the best
For you to stock up your torture chest

Terror explodes and makes people conflicted
About who is next to have your torture upon them inflicted

For the horrors you've done
Bring memories of atrocities from the minds of Nazi scientists and the land of the rising sun

Bloody curdling screams and gritty evisceration
Acid eaten flesh and jagged decapitation

After all the inhuman,unholy things you've done
Your punishment is banishment to the realm of the black sun

Comment by Danny E. Mason on December 15, 2010 at 12:50pm

I had a Friend when I was younger, I carred a lot about her. She would get real depressed and cut her wrists...Ended up in a Psych ward for a while. She is doing good now....This was about 20 some years ago. I wrote this then.

 

YOU NEEDED ME

You needed me and I was there.

To help you was my only care.

To get you well was my request.

But my emotions would not rest.

I slipped and let my feelings show.

You're alright now and I must go.

But when you need my love again.

You just call out for I'M your friend.

 

Comment by Jeff Meehan on December 11, 2010 at 9:30pm

Drummer Hodge by Thomas Hardy.

They throw in Drummer Hodge, to rest
Uncoffined – just as found:
His landmark is a kopje-crest
That breaks the veldt around;
And foreign constellations west
Each night above his mound.

Young Hodge the Drummer never knew –
Fresh from his Wessex home –
The meaning of the broad Karoo,
The Bush, the dusty loam,
And why uprose to nightly view
Strange stars amid the gloam.

Yet portion of that unknown plain
Will Hodge forever be;
His homely Northern breast and brain
Grow to some Southern tree,
And strange-eyed constellation reign
His stars eternally.

Comment by Mark Last Name on October 25, 2010 at 3:04pm
Music box

My childhood tune
Lost and forgotten
A music box now in ruin
And all memories where sunken

Yet this happy tune turned into sorrow
As I remember it more and more
The box might be my ego
For it feels the same as I, as it lays there broken on the floor

Shattered memories and a broken down melody
Humming along with my heart
It always was so catchy
Yet I and that box are so far apart

For I am here in a adult world of sighs
While the box has been left behind in a world of happiness
But when they both meet life might capsize
And they fuse together just like this

So where do I go when I'm stuck between the two

- Mark
Comment by Michael Gardner on October 14, 2010 at 10:44am
I was watching "Dead Poets Society" today, and between the movie and my recent all around inspiration, I wrote a poem about one of the characters. Hope you like it, it's mostly unedited.

Mr. Anderson
The timid man, but with heart of gold,
Needs simply to be shown his own worth.
He cowers behind a mask of fear,
Waiting to be unearthed.
He scurries forward, a fearful mouse,
Astounded by every move.
Drawing back with each new day,
Starting forever anew.
But one fearful leap, one bound forward,
A glimmer slowly shines through.
A second step, nose in the right direction,
suddenly the man, the mouse,
feels his own glow of life.
 

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