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| Poetry that you've writen https://pick-up-artist-forum.com/viewtopic.php?f=39&t=121086 |
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| Author: | zebraG [ Sat Nov 19, 2011 5:24 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Poetry that you've writen |
Of course, most of this will come from pre-PUA days, but let's have it and see just how amusing/cringeworthy it all is. Here was my attempt at getting out of the friend zone: I got a box of chocolates the other day, As usual, my mind had wandered far away. Whilst my mouth and jaw were occupied by eating, Quite bizarre and odd thoughts my brain was excreting. They say that life is like a box of chocolate, I started therefore comparisons to create. My friends I compared to the ones that are plain, They are constant and reliable for the main. There is always the risk of the turkish delight, These are as unpleasant as the mosquito bite. The nutty one is an easy comparison, The same for the one this is filled with rum. If lucky, you will find the sweetest of them all, For it is as rare as a Christmas snowfall. C'est le bonbon qui est la plus belle, Ah oui. That's right, it's the caramel. They say that life is like a box of chocolate, If that true then what happened is surely fate. A surprise in a plain choc wrapper on closer inspection, Good god; it was a caramel and it was perfection. |
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| Author: | Jav [ Sat Nov 19, 2011 6:14 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
My pokemon brings all the geeks to the yard. And their like Wanna trade cards? Damn right, I wanna trade cards. I'll trade you, but not my charizard. |
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| Author: | P-Style [ Sat Nov 19, 2011 6:31 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
Quote: My pokemon brings all the geeks to the yard.
Ok I lolled quite hard And their like Wanna trade cards? Damn right, I wanna trade cards. I'll trade you, but not my charizard. |
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| Author: | Breaking Bad [ Sun Nov 20, 2011 2:09 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Poetry that you've writen |
Quote: Of course, most of this will come from pre-PUA days, but let's have it and see just how amusing/cringeworthy it all is.
I stopped reading it after the first verse. Here was my attempt at getting out of the friend zone: I got a box of chocolates the other day, As usual, my mind had wandered far away. Whilst my mouth and jaw were occupied by eating, Quite bizarre and odd thoughts my brain was excreting. They say that life is like a box of chocolate, I started therefore comparisons to create. My friends I compared to the ones that are plain, They are constant and reliable for the main. There is always the risk of the turkish delight, These are as unpleasant as the mosquito bite. The nutty one is an easy comparison, The same for the one this is filled with rum. If lucky, you will find the sweetest of them all, For it is as rare as a Christmas snowfall. C'est le bonbon qui est la plus belle, Ah oui. That's right, it's the caramel. They say that life is like a box of chocolate, If that true then what happened is surely fate. A surprise in a plain choc wrapper on closer inspection, Good god; it was a caramel and it was perfection. why man? |
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| Author: | Lodewijkp [ Sun Nov 20, 2011 2:54 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
i've wrote a shitload poetry... lol .. i enjoyed writing it.. but everytime i look back i realized how gay i was writing that chode shit... i seriously think im gay when i encounter some poetry between my heap of papers. what i do like is autumn poems .. poems about nature , they aren't gay and they are timeless. your poem got a good stucture .. it soundsoriginal [youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=os2Z_Ekg-dM[/youtube] Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. great poetry |
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| Author: | Jav [ Sun Nov 20, 2011 3:15 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
nothing beats edgar allan poe The Raven Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. `'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door - Only this, and nothing more.' Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating `'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door - Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; - This it is, and nothing more,' Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, `Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; - Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!' This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!' Merely this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. `Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - 'Tis the wind and nothing more!' Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, `Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven. Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door - Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as `Nevermore.' But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only, That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered - Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before - On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.' Then the bird said, `Nevermore.' Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, `Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of "Never-nevermore."' But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking `Nevermore.' This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. `Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' `Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! - Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted - On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore - Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' `Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore - Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' `Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting - `Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted - nevermore! |
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| Author: | Heinrich [ Thu Nov 24, 2011 5:48 am ] |
| Post subject: | |
Quote: nothing beats edgar allan poe
^^^By far his most intricate work- brilliantly executed according to his theories of poetry. Heinrich Heine, Goethe, Lord Byron (Don Juan), T.S. Eliot, Dylan Thomas, and Wilfred Owen are contemporary poets worth reading. Those were bad ass motherfuckers (Heine dualed 10 motherfuckers and won- resulting in him being only suspended from University). The Raven Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. `'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door - Only this, and nothing more.' Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating `'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door - Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; - This it is, and nothing more,' Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, `Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; - Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!' This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!' Merely this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. `Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - 'Tis the wind and nothing more!' Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, `Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven. Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door - Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as `Nevermore.' But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only, That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered - Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before - On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.' Then the bird said, `Nevermore.' Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, `Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of "Never-nevermore."' But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking `Nevermore.' This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. `Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' `Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! - Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted - On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore - Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' `Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore - Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' `Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting - `Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted - nevermore! Damn it- I love poetry. |
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| Author: | Efildrah [ Sat Nov 26, 2011 2:58 pm ] |
| Post subject: | |
I had my moments, usually when i was in love i would write like mad, once i wrote 10 poems in 3 days, although that wasn't something of great quality but i love remembering those days, here's one that i wrote for a girl that i was in love with while she was sad and depressed (in hospital after surgery) : I can imagine you, laying in that bed, The world will always wait, so don't be sad, You've got a rainbow mind so don't delay, Try to smile and let your emotions fade away... I always wanted to climb to the top of Mon Blan, They say the view is quite amazing, astonishing one, And forgive me for putting this in such a simple way, But these are the most complicated, words that i can say... Now, why would you trust to such a young and emotional guy, When he speaks of love like some eat apple pie. Though there is only one thing i will miss, And that is one, just one opportunity for , A Kiss... Fuck, i like being in love, but my game is awful then, and somehow when i do ,,game'' it takes a lot of my energy, like it's not a part of me yet...so much more to learn |
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| Author: | ltpqz [ Sun Nov 27, 2011 2:13 am ] |
| Post subject: | |
Leonard Cohen- need the speed need the wine need the pleasure in my spine need your hand to pull me out need your juices on my snout need to see I never saw your need for me your longing raw need to hear I never heard against my ear your dirty word need to have you summon me like moon above the gathered sea need to know I never knew the tidal towing come from you need to feel I never felt you magnet pulling at my self now it fades now it's gone hormonal rage unquiet song |
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