Treasure Island

Teen Poetry and Discussions

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  • Marisa Eutsler (3/27/2014 11:29:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    I lay in my bed
    windows cracked and shattered
    they wished I were dead
    as they petered and pattered

    My covers are white and blank
    there has been no rain
    whispered around like I’m some skank
    there’s nothing to ease the pain

    blood drips down the walls
    holes are in the ceiling
    my hand trembles and falls
    I’ve lost all of my feeling

    you crept in the corner
    avoiding my eyes
    you acted as a foreigner
    I ate up the lies

    my cup no longer full
    I drank it all down
    I’m so tired of the bull
    such a stupid clown

    its time for my life to end
    pull the trigger of death
    these broken pieces cannot mend
    maybe its from all the meth

    here I am whispering goodbye
    you wave with a nasty grin
    I pop the pills and sigh
    dear lord, forgive my sin.

    - - - - - - go comment and rate please this is my second poem ive posted here. thanks!

    Replies for this message:
    • Fiona Schwartzinoff (4/26/2014 5:17:00 PM) Post reply Stage

      How horrible! As a poet, I admire your use of imager to create a deathly effect, but as a fellow human being, I truly hope that you are not considering suicide... Keep the writing coming and maybe a l ... more

  • Marisa Eutsler (3/26/2014 11:33:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Where I’m from is a place full of wonder and light.
    From the streets of Paris in the day, to the ifle tower lit up at night. The gleaming faces around me.
    From the trampoline as a child, to the garden and its glorious blooms. The sounds of birds chirping and singing their tunes.
    From the letters in my books, to the astonishing pages with the unwanted endings. The graceful poets and there mending’s.
    From the sounds of the teapot whistling in a way, I solemnly wish it were there to stay. The tea and its taste so priceless and pure.
    From “Mon ange”, to the whispers of the whimpering wind. The wishes and regrets it tends to send.
    From all the land and the beautiful buzzing bee’s, to the sunset sky and the forest tree’s. The butterflies fluttering around me.
    From the summer heat, to the bitter sweet chill. The angel of death at his kill.
    From “With every beat of thi fiery heart, there is a note meant to be played”, to the strum of my guitar as I quietly laid. The world disappearing from sight in every song.
    I am from peace, nature, and freshly baked bread. The everlasting words my grand mamae once said.
    I bring back these memories each day I live, wishing and praying I had something to give.

    - - - - - - please go comment and rate this poem! its my first one posted on my account and i want feedback before i post further! thanks :)

  • Yash Shinde (3/14/2014 10:56:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Ready for a kiss did sun rose,
    gleaming, shimmering in the April sky,
    had set to bloom bouquets of love,
    a rose among them caught my eye...

    And made me notice for the first time
    the alluring blooms of Angoora van,
    and the dew drops running down her curves,
    glistening in the golden sun....

    They evanesced in the air, left her crimson petals free
    a fragrance in air did she spread,
    the mist left bare a blossom of love,
    ...covered in carmine hues of red...

    And I did feel with my hands,
    the seraph, seraph touch of rose
    In blooms, in showers in waning crescents
    ...made she place in every prose.

    The hand that penned ran across her curves,
    drip-drip the blood it shed...
    ran across a prickly thorn,
    through hands that never hadst wept.

    Left a scar, an impression of love
    deep where no blade could reach,
    I sealed the cracks, oh fool I was,
    dug behind a deeper breach..

    For the kiss awaited was never delivered,
    tears did shed O! mighty earth
    had set to fire myriad hues,
    and had shut close each bud till next birth...

    There as remnant in the carmine flesh of mine,
    the deep impression of the barb did stay.
    ...Love never ends sans pain,
    But ends here the Rosy lay..
    .............................................................I would be glad to receive your comments and suggestions.....yash shinde

  • Hunter Ribbe (3/8/2014 5:53:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Paris, the city of many words... you could call it the city of love, the city of food or the city of Culture. I often travel to Paris it's a wonderful city, the architectur of the buildings gives the entire city a Touch of imagination, we could call it the biggest Museum built from it's history.

  • Tatiyana Wade (2/24/2014 11:30:00 AM) Post reply | Read 3 replies Stage

    This is my first time using Poem hunter.
    " A Girl"
    I see a girl in pain
    you see a girl in the rain.
    a girl that wants to scream while the whole world sings.
    I see a girl that wants to be cool
    you see a girl that looks like a fool.
    a girl that cares, but isn't cared for.
    I see a girl in her place
    you see a girl with a lot to face!

    Replies for this message:
    • Red Skye (5/13/2014 6:29:00 AM) Post reply Stage

      This is good. Everyone judges people before they even know them. My best friend and boyfriend used to hate me before they saw who I really was. t

    • Tanya Gupta (3/28/2014 10:40:00 AM) Post reply Stage

      very nice tatiyana, i totally agree with this. i have also written a poem paradise girl based on same theme and emotions. go through it and match your veiws

    • Ritika Mendjoge (3/12/2014 11:34:00 AM) Post reply Stage

      @ Tatiyana, I really liked the contradiction and the irony. Moreover, it depicts the " girl behind mask" which is worthy of appreciation.

  • Dami Lola (2/13/2014 12:41:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    New here. Wanna know what's good. All help is welcome :)

  • Bo-edward Lawrence (2/7/2014 12:03:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Hi im an inspiring spoken word poet.

    is this a place where i can show one of my YouTube performances of spoken word. I hope you like

  • Kathleen Neff (2/3/2014 12:19:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Hey everyone I'm back. It has been long while since I posted anything so I hope you like my new poem.
    " Come sing with me."

    Come sing with me,
    Under the trees,
    Where the birds sing,
    And the leaves fall around,
    while the branches cover the sun.
    Come sing with me under the trees.

    Come sing with me,
    In the meadow,
    where the grass is green,
    and where the flowers reach for the sun.
    Where the deer graze,
    and the butterflies flutter.
    Come sing with me among the meadow.

    Come sing with me,
    By the sea,
    where the waves touch the shore in a loving embrace,
    and the sand settles upon the shore.
    Where the fish live under the sea,
    Jumping up to see.
    Come sing with me by the sea

    Kathleen Neff.

  • Iñigo Rivera (2/1/2014 7:02:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    Hi there!

    I'm new over here and I'd like to share what I've written with you. I know there are many things I must improve, so please, tell me. Ah, and if anyone writes in Spanish (my mother language) or German, please, let me know, I'm really looking forward to read poems in those languages.

    Ghosts & Creepy Shadows

    I’m sorry,
    that there are ghosts in here.
    They’re everywhere.
    I see them every time I close my eyes,
    I mean,
    every time I lie to you,
    I mean,
    every time I feel bad.
    They are there, whispering words heard once back in time,
    and they scare me,
    they frighten me so much.
    They scare me when they touch me with their ice-cold hands,
    when they pierce my ears
    or reach beyond the flesh through my chest.
    I feel uneasy,
    quite dizzy,
    as tears rush all the way to my eyes
    and I can’t help it but snivel and cover my face up.
    Oh, I’m not scared, you see, of death
    but rather of what’s just next.
    I fear to become one of those grey figures,
    expressionless, with only growing sorrow to measure the passage of time.
    You see that man over there?
    He’s waiting for a never-coming-wife
    and never-coming-children,
    a never-coming-life.
    That women sitting on the rotting chair?
    She was hit to death because of forbidden love,
    an unsuccessful passion that brought no fruit but deadly hunger.
    There, that’s her unloved son.
    Oh my dear, that beautifully static child hasn’t spoken to me yet
    and I guess he’s never doing such a thing,
    he’ll never reveal me the secret why he always cries at night.
    I’m so terrified of becoming one of them, one day.
    Doomed to wander this sinister place, amidst the fog of sobs, whining and dreadful silence.
    I tell you,
    my head is haunted,
    filled with never-invited ghosts who now enjoy themselves taunting me.
    How am I supposed to escape this place of death?
    I fear, oh, I fear I can’t! !
    And that is, indeed, what terrifies me the most,
    what keeps me from sleeping since I can remember.
    I’m too scared to close my eyes when night falls
    if I’m alone.

    If I’m alone I’m lost
    and there’s no hope nor expectation,
    only morbid plays in a forgotten theatre built aside the normal world.

    If I’m alone.

    Replies for this message:
    • Kolade Seun (3/28/2014 7:21:00 PM) Post reply Stage

      Oh yea, thats true... All these thoughts swim when we are alone... I guess this is a confirmation of Percy Shelley definition: '... The record of the best and happiest moments of the best and happiest ... more

  • Austin Eseke (1/27/2014 3:38:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    Poetry is rap

    I am not feeling dope at the moment
    Writing various poems with no comments
    Depression and confusion wanna catchup on me
    Niggaz trying to gang up on me

    The World is becoming hard to live in
    Crisis everywhere, people saying different shit everyday, what do i believe in?
    Different feelings coming
    Even worse times are approching
    My heart and mind dont agree and that makes no sense
    Who else can i rely on, if not the divine providence.

    Replies for this message:
    • Shelley Stanworth (2/1/2014 3:19:00 PM) Post reply Stage

      Everyday to enhance my brain I'll smoke weed, sniff cocaine Have a beer to mask hidden pain Higher than treetops, insane Different day, same old shit Still outside the circle, a misfit I'm not ... more

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