This is a bit of a forum game, but at the same time it has the capacity to result in a bit of poetry, so it goes here. I'm going to supply a line of poetry, and the following poster is to create a poem using the line I gave as their first. Along with their poem, they supply a line for the next person to write poetry on. No restrictions on the type of line or poetry; just keep the line open ended.
money is not what you seek it comes and goes as you blink it never helps, never remains you feel you need it like a lion and his mane it's addictive, a bad drug people steal and mug cause they need more, they are addicted my words are always contradicted because the addiction doesn't go away for more it always makes you pray it makes corruption, it makes war so throw your money out the door
the sun slowly sets over the stadium where play the mets people around NY going to sleep though it all ends with a large "beep" then parties start, he night full of lights everybody forgots about life and rights and goes with the rhythm of urban all around the world from mull to Durban from tokyo to seattle never a battle just fun and joy for girl and boy then rises the sun an end to the run business people walking instead of dance there is talking for the urban cycle of life that never makes you strife
drowned in your own sorrows never waking up for tommorow your depression itself killed you you can now never re-do what you tried to do with your life but didn't go well, now you strife and drown yourself in your own sorrows you are in too deep a burrow
sorry that was short
a bold Italian linking an image pictured by a quotation
The rain falling from the darkened sky, opened up and brought forth the eye, of the one who protects both the earth, and every soul that she does birth.
the man leaned against the wall there was nothing, situation was dull awaiting something, something un-clear maybe for his son, maybe for his dear maybe for nothing, just leaning against the wall worrying about nothing, nothing at all maybe worried about everything, his life a mess like a framed politician in a news press maybe it's poetic, a metaphor perhaps for simply "leaning against the wall and stomping on the maps" maybe his just leaning, no explanation required maybe this situation makes me tired
and that's why I can't finish this poem. Because I am tired.
Bitter days of bitter cold, sunk deep within bones so old. With a shiver and a shake, forgotten bones did awake. A man ****ed not here nor there, From his corpse, his soul won't tear. Thus he wanders this world alone, Never to see that he has sown.
Slayguy, that sounds like a song i know... I forgot the name though...
The flag in the wind, Tossed about Abused by the air But shines for all to see. To say, We were here first! Or This is my castle! Pride is what keeps it flying. Not the wind. Even when it is folded on a coffin, Pride, is the message it sends.
_____
That is one crappy poem. But hey. thats okay.
OHSHIITAKE A HIT AND RUN have fun with that one. :P
