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Poetry by Miyuki

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Poetry by Miyuki Empty Poetry by Miyuki

Post by Miyuki on July 9th 2012, 1:37 am

Free write poetry~ Not even sure if wrote any of these right or if they even make any sense to anyone not me. Feel free (if it's allowed) to post what you think they mean or critique...

1. Apples and Chains

Are these chains we carry
simply pieces of an illusion?
If that's so please let me wake up
I don't want to be in this nightmare.
But what shall I do if this is reality?
I think I'll try to break them, but will that cause harm?

I don't want to feel pain.
See Alice.
I don't want to be the Alice.
That's trapped within Wonderland.
Filled with thorns and prickly bushes.

The apples are intoxicating.
But they poison me so much.
They look so sweet and at first they are.
But when I get close to the core.
It's when I soon realize these apples are bad.
I throw them away, with much effort.
I let them rot away.

But if I do not throw them far away enough.
They become another link on the chain.
If I do not throw them away far enough.
The rotting scent poisons me.
And then I feel great sorrow
Deep in my core.
The world turns gray for a day or two.

You my wonderful servant
I feel so much envy for you.
You have chains.
But you have no sense.
And so you feel nothing.

Though the apple you have eaten.
Bears no taste to you.
It's unrequited.
You eat as much as you can.
You even eat the core.
But then you're left with nothing.
And yet
You still yearn for that apple don't you?
How do you yearn without a sense?
Are you blindly reaching for it?

And here we stand in the dust.
The wind of time tries to blow us away.
But we refuse to move.
We stand with our rottness and emptiness.

No matter how much tears I cry.
I still feel it.
No matter how much I scream.
It won't go away.
This is fate isn't it?
But at least I'm not alone.
You're here with me.
Even if you do not talk much.
Even if you have no sense.

I gaze lovingly at another apple.
You stand there so silently.
I want to stop this feeling-but I can't
I sense things too easily.
Which is why I get hurt so much.

Hey are you crying tears?
I need no tears from you.
Hey is that really dust in your eye?
Wait..wait what are you doing?

A chainsaw in your hands
Plugged in, sharp and powerful too.
Aiming it at the chains.
Stop don't do it.
Don't leave me alone.

A fight in this dead garden.
I will take the chainsaw from you.
I will take this sudden act of madness of you.

Cuts, punches, kicks are thrown.
The ground is partially dyed a red.
Beautiful rouge rain pouring from above.
We struggle for the control of chainsaw.
But I swear I will not just give it to you!
Pushing and shoving.
I give it my all.
And a slip comes from me or you.
It goes flying in the air.
Fully turned out and lands on our chains.

2. Road to Poetry
The Painting in my head
Which I turn in Poems.
The poetry seems at first to be a beauty
But then it turns into something ugly.

Like the lady at the train station.
She wears a loose fitting cream dress.
Dress billowing in the sweet wind.
The wind bringing home an old love.
She waits with anticipation by the old clock.
Time passes by
Many trains in front of her stop.
But none of them carry the one whom she loves.

A saddening goes deep within her heart.
As she wonders if it was lie
Perhaps from this life he did part.
The sun begins to set
She realizes waiting...no more.
She must go home
Alone, must open the cold front door.

And so she goes away.
Sadness within her could not stay.
And so they stray and become tears.
Tears that haven't been shed for years.

Soon she sees the building called home.
A cold, hollow shell for her again.
She goes, lays in her bed.

As she sleeps
A sound is sound
She wakes.
A sound is so sweet.
Could it be?
Oh could it be?
The man not lying on treeless land.
Is he here?
Is he here?
Being like the highway man.
Coming to her moonlight
Though hell should bar the way?

But there is no gun here.
No gun near.
Or so she thinks till she hears a clink.
And whiteness floods before her.

She finds herself on the floor
In a place she has never been
Never seen before.
And it is then it hits
As jumbled up words
Messy words hit all walls.

The highwayman is her.
And bess, is her love.
Bess shot by an enemy.
In his old home he did.
An enemy once comrade.
With hate in their mind.
Thinking bess took something of theirs
Claiming it is his.

Our highwayman turned to madness
Once word of news hit her ear.
And a world she soon created.
A world with none of her fears.
Hope of her love was still there.
But soon from this world she would awaken.
Just to find herself going back to madness.
And unknown to her..
Her love is in fact near.

This poem is so beautiful.
The word choice nice and wise.
But when it's read again.
I see it in different eyes.

Everything is sloppy
Everything is unclear.
It is gross and nasty.
A shame to words everywhere.

Yet I can not burn it.
It is something I can not do.
So I shove it somewhere hidden.
And by random, flaunt it everywhere.
So little for it I care.
These long word blocks called poem.
Is done and finished.
Now finally we are through with it!

30 MP
Primary: Dark
Secondary: Fire
Tertiary: Rose/Plant

Post Count : 29

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