Click HERE to see this thread with all of the graphics, features, and links.

Crushing me
The walls draw tight
around me as I weep
my only refuge from the pain
are my tears

A pillow to scream in
through the anger
a pillow to cry in
when the sorrow comes back
a pillow cannot comfort
a child bereaved
Slowly I cry myself to sleep

Who?
Who will be the one
Who shows us the way to the light?
Who will be the one
Who ends the neverending fight?
Who will be the one
to finally open our eyes?
Who will be the one
to shake the stars from the skies?
Who will be the one
who stops us all from
keeping the freedom
under a blanket of lies?

Who?

Carrying Joy
She moves like someone carrying a balloon
light, airy, ad floating
bobbing along up and down
moving from side to side

But she has to grip her
balloon tightly, for while it is light
it is vulnerable to the wind
the wind can take it away

Lonely Refuge
The blazing sun sets
On a white tower
Only to be replaced
By a guiding light at sea

The lonely refuge
Rises high above the rocks
Bringing steady and unwavering light
To those in peril

The keeper looks down
From his high window in his tower
Out to sea
He may be lonely
But he is never alone

Wow U know ur stuff mate I wouldnt b able 2 do any of that even if i wanted 2

You're pretty good Soth

If I had to make a constructive criticism, I'd say the lines are too short... But that's ok if it's just you're style... It's just that I'm not used to it.

I think poems are great. I like your style of writing

Yeah, I know, I write short lines. But my Creative Writing teacher likes it, and it works for me. I guess it's just my style. Once (when doing a critique on Lonely Refuge), she said that I "said so much with so little."

I wish I had your teacher; I am her favourite student because of my writing but she wants me to write happy things all the time it sux

very nice....

Yeah.......as most of you might know, I'm really a peppy, very happy guy. I'm always that way, in fact. You'd be hard-prssed to find me at a time when I'm not in a good mood. I suppose that means I had issues in my childhood, but whatever.

Anyway, despite my always-happy mood, my poems are so serious. And I know I could write hilarious poems if I wanted to. But when I right, it's like all of the pain, or hatred, or whatever unhappy things I'm feeling flows from my hand onto the paper. It's a great experience.

Here's a haiku I wrote a few months ago:

The raven soars overhead
crystal clear azure sky
frames shadowy wings

And here's a haiku sentence (meaning it only has 17 syllables): Dead hands of trees burst from the earth, clawing the sky with fingers of wood

*realizes he doesn't really understand haiku*

I don't understand it all that well either