Here is a thread dedicated to my work as a writer. This thread will mostly be filled with my poems which vary in theme but I try to fashion myself after my favourite poet T.S Eliot, who I believed captured human nature in his words. I aspire to do the same. Please feel free wo citique and review my work. However, simply saying "I like it" is not good enough, as a writer I must grow and develop so I beg you readers to give me a reason as to why or why not you liked the poem. To start off I shall provide you with one of my personal favourties.
These Are The Boring Bits
Call life what you will, A joke, A curse, A gift, An adventure. Take from it what you will, Joy, Sorrow, Love, Hate. Lose yourself in it Find your purpose Or, Find nothing at all.
A man asked, "What is the meaning of life?" A woman told him, "Whatever you make it to be." A child asked, "Is god real?" A parent told them, "Only you can decide."
Personal opinion is what we use to guide us, The opinions of others are what lose us. We can never be certain That we are certain of anything Because of change, And because things stay the same. What makes sense one day, Will confuse us another, And so it goes on. People tell others to: Get in line, Grow up, Get our lives straight, Who told these people these things? And why tell us the things that broke them?
Is it human nature to be unhappy?
Two men sit on a bench, In a park, Under a tree. They talk about family and friends They talk about work and dreams. One man says, "It is a waste of time to dream," The other says, "Yes, but to have dreams is not." Dreams are what the world is made of Bad dreams, Good dreams, Lost dreams.
Hope is never far off, As the old die, The young are born, The young grow, They become old, The old die. But while they are young, They change the world. Some for the better, Others for the worse.
Inspiration is a dream.
The only inspiration in life is life: What to do? How to do it? Can we change the world? How to change the world? Is there purpose? Are we real? Or a figment of imagination? All questions do not need answers.
Call life what you will, These are the boring bits.
And if it is titled the Shadows of men, I'm wondering why it ends with shadows of a lonely god.
I'm being extra subtle and confusing. I'm implying men are shadows of said god, and then men cast their own shadows by their failures upon which the world is built upon. It's a never ending cycle.
Well if it is what you enjoy, Go for it. But, if you want to NOT make people depressed and tired of reading your depressing poetry, you might wanna brighten up and make something less confuzzlin. It hurts mah brain, so that is another reason to not have so much of it. Cause my head can only take so much you know... And trying to be happy while everyone is all "Death." is hard to do here. I know I have my moments of sadness, but hey, I'm working on it. I don't see you though. Get to it.
We have drawn line after line All through the good times. And there they sit like scars Reminding us of our past wars. We have done nothing at all, Save engorge on our ever Increasing egotistical madness. Who am I to give such things Aside from the cynical eye of my words. Words that fall on deaf ears. Aside from all this, Of course I give you hope. My advice is this: Live for the moment
Yayyyyyyy! It has a bright outlook! I'm so proud of you wolfie. ~eyes well up with tears~ /exaggeration I like it, but why did you drop the little shreds of your rhyming scheme?
