You have until Saturday afternoon to post a poem on here before the Topic changes. Please post it directly onto this topic, rather than posting a link. You're welcome to discuss poems on here also. This week's Topic is Beauty. If anyone has any objections to this topic, please go to the Poetry Topic Objections post.
Poems can be as long and short as you want them to be. This is not a contest, it's just for fun and to show off our own poetry.
Hmm, my dear hairdresser, what shall I do?
My hair is long and gold,
With dark streaks in it too.
Chop it off! I say.
Take a razor,buzz it all,
Beauty is overrated,
and is our downfall!
Her eyes were big and brown,Her hair was black and tangled,
Her clothes were out of date,
And her glasses thick and round.
She stared across the room at the girls with golden hair.
The skinny ones, the "pretty" ones, she saw perfect everywhere.
But when she stared at her reflection
All she saw were imperfections
And I wonder...
Why?
Make-Up MirrorA girl sits in front of a make-up mirror,
Obsessing with her hair.
A girl sits in front of a make-up mirror,
Why does she care?
A girl sits in front of a make-up mirror,
Painting her nails.
A girl sits in front of a make-up mirror,
Why does she care?
A girl sits in front of a make-up mirror,
Just sits and stares.
A girl sits in front of a make-up mirror,
Why does she care?
A girl sits in front of a make-up mirror,
Putting on some color.
A girl sits in front of a make-up mirror,
Why does she care?
A girl sits in front of a make-up mirror,
Making her life a beauty contest.
A girl sits in front of a make-up mirror,
Why does she care?
A girl sits in front of a make-up mirror,
All she does is care about how she looks.
A girl sits in front of a make-up mirror,
Why does she care?
A girl sits in front of a make-up mirror,
And she doesn't even ask herself the question.
Why,
Why,
Why?
quick, out-of-no-where, 2 line poem: The beauty lie within the soul,
To cleanse it thoroughly is my goal.
Beauty of COFFEE!! (wow, poems are coming outta my ears now! XD This one I actually used in my Cuppa Joe group) * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Coffee, O beauteous, wonderful thing!
Fit for a peasant, fit for a king!
Chocolate, treats, pizza and tea,
None of these compare to thee!
For your brew, people will wait,
Risking being half past late.
Around the corner, lines do wind,
Leading up to your shops of every kind.
Take our Espresso, Cappuccino, or black,
We’ll fight to the death to get it back!
Add some sugar, and add some milk,
Drink it down, feels just like silk!
Ooh and aah, the pleasurable sigh,
Everyone’s addicted, do not deny.
If you give us coffee, you’re a sun ray,
Take it away, and we’ll make you pay.
But SAD is the day when coffee’s like water,
Made so weak the balance does totter.
Only three spoonfuls for twelve cups full?!
A pathetic taste, it’s bad for the soul!
I won’t point fingers at this unsuccess,
Cough cough, it was the Neumann Press!
But strong and lovely, I can’t get enough,
To put down my cup is oh so tough!
But stop I will, of all this praise.
Will I ever get over the Coffee Phase?!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Note to everyone who doesn't know: The Neummann press is my Grandmpa's book making shop. I work there, and I love the fact that I make one of my favorite things in the world, but they make their coffee PATHETICALLY weak... it's quite sad really....
Foothills in the RockiesEvery morning,
I am awestruck
by the palette of colors
from the rising of the sun.
They are brilliant and bold,
yet soft and gentle
at the same time.
There are reds,oranges,blues,
yellows, pinks, and purples
sweeping across the sky.
The mountain peaks
are of a purplish color.
The mountains stand there
majestically daring anything,
except astral objects
in the sky,
to be higher than them.
The peaks stand with
a snowy layer that lasts most of the year.
As we head grocery shopping,
the car gets closer and
nearer to the mountains.
The ride is a crap shoot
whether you will come back alive.
It whirls and twirls like girls
throwing a baton.
The thoroughfare also undulated
like a roller coaster.
Some guy is passing us on the
path at a much too dangerous speed.
As we go further and further
up the mountain,
we see a beautiful green covering of trees.
Pine trees abound,
with their sharp, little green needles
in a swirling pattern around the trees.
There are also the pine cones
with tan layers upon dark brown undercoats
in a somewhat triangular shape.
The aroma will make your sense of smell purr.
These trees go higher and higher
up the mountain,
but they are not near the peaks.
As we head back to the house,
there is the sun going down.
Once again there are a multitude
of spectacular colors.
There were blues, purples,
grays, pinks, oranges, and reds.
They form a swirling motion
much like stirring
the dough for cookies.
We returned home safe and sound.
I did what I have been
trying to do all day: respire.
It is hard to inhale
from higher elevation,
and as much as I try,
I never find a good breath of air.
I loved seeing my sister.
It was really a blast,
but I'd rather breathe than stay.
Randi
The waves roll in, The stars rise up,
As God empties the sapphire cup,
From it's daily golden burden.
He paints a picture in the dark sky,
With spots of light, and color too,
That creates our night sky’s silvery hue.
Like the waves,
Upon the beach,
The new sky rolls in,
You must not blink,
For that would be a fickle thing,
To miss this beautiful,
Phenomenal
Thing.
Falling gently to the ground are the tears Tears of pain
Tears of hurt
Tears of death
Sing so sweetly my beauty girl
Oh so strong
Oh so calm
Oh so precious
Gently you are so perfect
Head held high
Grace so great
Love so warm
Stand tall my angel you are you.
Forever love my beauty you.
true beauty cannot be seen,it doesn't come from a special gene.
it's not about looks,
it isn't defined in books.
it's more of a feel
deep inside of great zeal.
it can't be taught,
it can't be studied in deep thought
it's like a sunset,
or getting out of debt.
it's something noone can perscribe,
and ive done all i can to describe.
it makes a friendship mend,
and now it's time for this poem to end.
