Writing Poetry of mine

AzziaTheAwesomeAsteroid

AzziaTheAwesomeAsteroid

Planter
Golden Grove on the Southern Downs
Deep inside my world of peace,
Is a broken sky,
One day I'll find the cracks,
But today I will not try.

I am safe upon these rocky hills,
Sunshine overlain,
But as cracks spread across my heart,
All I feel is pain.

One day becomes two,
Three,
Four,
For me.

For my love of my art,
The golden Grove on southern downs will be my resting place,
Give me my heart,
And give me my space.

I am not harmed, nor hurt,
But pain comes in forms,
I see you trying to help,
Bit by bit, my heart, it warms,

The golden grove on southern downs will be my resting place,
I want to be a tree,
Give me my space,
And I will be me.
 
AzziaTheAwesomeAsteroid

AzziaTheAwesomeAsteroid

Planter
Truly
Love.
A reason to believe
In me
Why?

Why do you love me?
Why do you care for me?
Why do you respect me?
Why?

Because you are.
You are everything
If someone doesn't treat you like this,
Doesn't care

They are not real
They are not worth it
You need someone
(Or multiple someones)

Who can just say because
Say because
If you mean it
Truly.
 
Cuddlebug

Cuddlebug

Farmer
AzziaTheAwesomeAsteroid said:
Golden Grove on the Southern Downs
Deep inside my world of peace,
Is a broken sky,
One day I'll find the cracks,
But today I will not try.

I am safe upon these rocky hills,
Sunshine overlain,
But as cracks spread across my heart,
All I feel is pain.

One day becomes two,
Three,
Four,
For me.

For my love of my art,
The golden Grove on southern downs will be my resting place,
Give me my heart,
And give me my space.

I am not harmed, nor hurt,
But pain comes in forms,
I see you trying to help,
Bit by bit, my heart, it warms,

The golden grove on southern downs will be my resting place,
I want to be a tree,
Give me my space,
And I will be me.
Click to expand...
This one really speaks to me—it has a good rhythm, and I find the “images” (or metaphors—what do you call them in English?) of the shattered sky and the cave as a place of rest very appealing. And becoming a tree is a beautiful ending. 🥰
 
AzziaTheAwesomeAsteroid

AzziaTheAwesomeAsteroid

Planter
Cuddlebug said:
This one really speaks to me—it has a good rhythm, and I find the “images” (or metaphors—what do you call them in English?) of the shattered sky and the cave as a place of rest very appealing. And becoming a tree is a beautiful ending. 🥰
Click to expand...
I've never believed in reincarnation, but I do believe that I can become a living thing. I enjoyed writing that one, thankyou!
 
AzziaTheAwesomeAsteroid

AzziaTheAwesomeAsteroid

Planter
The Golden Grove on Southern Downs is about me figuring out who me is, and all the people who supported to me along that journey. The tree part is for fun, but also reflects the future to come. Finding the cracks is about figuring out what's right and wrong, hence the will not try means I don't believe in those boring shades of black and white. I can be me and I can be free.
 
AzziaTheAwesomeAsteroid

AzziaTheAwesomeAsteroid

Planter
The Rocking Chair (A narrative poem)
On the veranda of the abandoned house sits an old rocking chair,
Woven and laced with silken webs,
And murmurs of despair.

In spring, overgrown flowers, which peek through the floor,
Wind around its wooden base,
So it may be a tree once more.

In summer, it becomes a home to a wonderful butterfly,
With wings of red and pink and gold,
One day it left to fly.

In Autumn, as the nights get darker and colder,
It creaks and moans, it's plants now dead,
The house joins with its symphony, and the rocking chair grows older.

In winter, chill blows through the air,
But the rocking chair's unfazed,
It looms above the street from its rickety lair.

No matter what season, no one sits down,
Because no one owns that house,
Not one single person in the entire town.

"I bet a witch lives in there and never goes out" One child whispers to another,
"Well I bet it's haunted by a ghost" the child pauses,
"Or maybe the wizard, the witch's brother!"

In truth, there is a living being in the house of the rocking chair,
Just not a human,
Which is expected and fair.

But what lives in the house, I will not tell,
Dark as midnight in looks and personality too, standing gracefully on four paws
She can cast a many a spell...
 
Last edited:
Cuddlebug

Cuddlebug

Farmer
AzziaTheAwesomeAsteroid said:
In truth, there is a living being in the house of the rocking chair,
Just not a human,
Which is expected and fair.

But what lives in the house, I will not tell,
Let me just say she is midnight on four paws
And can cast a many a spell...
Click to expand...
Why not be a little more subtle at the end? Maybe like:

In truth, there is a living being in the house of the rocking chair,
Just not a human, more like midnight on four paws
And can cast a many a spell, which is expected and fair.
 
AzziaTheAwesomeAsteroid

AzziaTheAwesomeAsteroid

Planter
This-> But what lives in the house, I will not tell,Let me just say she is midnight on four paws And can cast a many a spell... to this-> But what lives in the house, I will not tell,
Dark as midnight in looks and personality too, standing gracefully on four paws
She can cast a many a spell...
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top