Poetry and Poetic Thoughts


I wanted to create a space for our poetic ramblings. Maybe a poem. Maybe a thought.

Let us inspire each other through the eyes and souls of each.

Let us listen to the red-winged black bird on the coldest day.

Let us shiver in goosebumps immersed in the warmest thought.

Let us sink into the frozen lake and walk on quicksand.

Let us fly without wings and be still without an anchor.

Let us hear the silence and calm the noise.


Whenever I think about poetry, the words that keep bubbling up in my head are “lately poems have lost their meaning…”.

I turned that into a poem back in the day, but then I went weirdly angsty existential and suicidal because I don’t know how to write and end poems properly… :smile:

Here it be:

Lately poems have lost their meaning

Lately poems have lost their meaning
Life had taken a different turn
Slowly all the roads were drifting
Like boats upon a sea of sand
Arabia was getting darker
And the moon shone brightly in the sky
But the lace of life was slowly fraying
Worn and battered by grains of time
The footsteps I walked were all blown over
The water gourd was but run dry
My sunburnt skin was aching, throbbing
With no release, my seams had burst
This inevitable journey I walked, unending
Was no longer exciting
It’s lost its taste
But the flickering lights kept watch, unmoving
To the slow decline of my broken pace
I did not resist nor beg for salvation
For I could not ask for a more beautiful grave.

ENFJ Woman = The Bad Witch, The Villain, or the Temptress

This thread is already making me warm and happy.


Ahh… oxymoronic reconciliation… love…

That is a beautiful image…

Okay Erika… you asked for it… here be some of my recent ones…

This is a stream of consciousness type thingy I wrote while listening to M83’s Saturdays = Youth

The children who forgot to grow up;
Why didn’t you leave me with them?
My shadow is afraid of me
And you are in love with it.
My feet are seeking solid ground,
Yellow flowers, paw prints and stolen kisses.
Webs keep you safe;
Trapping tombs of your own making.
Toe the edges.
Trust the parachutes of Fate.
Freedom. Thrill. Overkill. Made you a star.
A real star.
Your light may take a million years to reach us.
I need you with a burning passion and a fading will.
Our ghosts haunt the spaces that held us;
I am afraid of how little they shaped me.
I am an equilateral triangle.
I forget there are boundaries between those who share blood and those who don’t.
We all share the will to lose ourselves.
Three hundred eager hearts.
Heavy with dreams and love and words,
Unburdened by the lightness of disillusionment.
Fireworks and thunderstorms.
The flashes reveal the machinery of your soul.
It looks like you need some fixing and I have the tools.
Who spilt all that love on the floor?
Don’t move! You’ll hurt yourself!
Wait there till I put the shards in a pan and throw them out the window.
I’m waking up now, to the sounds of feeling.
Is it too late?
12:21. The same forward and backward.
Put these harmful substances in your system. They feel good.
Elephants and whales on a stampede.
Butterflies get the better of them.
I haven’t locked you up in a gray cell yet.
Just a potent sigh inspired by images of sun and snow.

Next… Not particularly evoked by ambience…

You came home dripping.
You said, you drowned yourself till the tempest saw no point in raging where all things have already been destroyed.
You said, light and time are mercurial mercenaries.
You want nothing to do with them.
Only matter matters because it stays put.
So put me to bed, you said,
And rest your head in the crook of my neck.

I try to reconcile the warmth of your pulsing jugular vein with the coldness spreading in my gut.
I hope the fear in my breath does not stumble into the nocturnal warzone between your ears.
But it does… and you forget,
That my skin is conducive to mixed fruit bruises.

This is just something I wrote when I was in a nostalgically romantic mood… was listening to Beach House - Myth… I do feel kinda icky about this one… but… what the hell…

ENFJ Woman = The Bad Witch, The Villain, or the Temptress


cottony clouds drift
along the empty margin
of my tattered notebook

and I’m grounded
by inertia
in late afternoon heat

floating islands
become fakirs,
laughing in the sky

constant transformation
expands my vision
as silver dragons fly


I love poems and throwing phrases together because it’s like sketching, but with words! And because it generally is abstract, a lot of meanings bubble to the surface, a bit like a Rorschach thing!

How about a half-baked song I just found–I’m trying to look for something else and I stumbled upon my trying to write some kinda metal/rock anthem in a character’s POV… as is my usual… So while I enter this in ye olde “Prax’s Poems.doc”, I thought I’d share with y’all too!
(btw, I know very little about music and do not even know if the terms for parts of a song are right)

= Countdown =
Let’s sound
Off the start of our race
We’re bound
To be found
Past the flux of hyper…spaaaaaace!

I’ve carried the weight of the world across my back
The journey’s long and hard but I won’t crack!
I didn’t know it then
But I’ll probably
Never be
Back agaaaaain~!

So fuck it all, I guess it’s just as well
It’s been said before
We’re all fighting for
A spot in hell~!

So countdown!
Let’s sound
Off the start of our race
We’re bound
To be found
Past the flux of hyper…spaaaaaace!

(guitar solo)

Full systems go into the great beyond
And let the swells of dark matter make way
A groaning metal tomb to carry me
A chariot by consumed minds
Because all we have is time
And all that’s left is time…

So countdown!
Let’s sound
Off the start of our race
We’re bound
To be found
Past the flux of hyper…spaaaaaace!

The battle’s lost, the centre cannot hold
The blistering heat of nuclear fire has gone cold!
But I couldn’t give a damn
I won’t bitterly
Go silently
It’s not who I aaaaaaammm~!

So fuck it all, just give me one last go
Because I won’t die
Without a second try
At the impossible~!

So countdown!
And confound
The plans of our nemesis
And resound
Our war cry into the quantum foam of the abyyysss~!

(guitar solo)

(chorus x2)
So countdown!
Let’s sound
Off the start of our race
We’re bound
To be found
Past the flux of hyperspace!

This dude:

I told myself that if my husband and I somehow don’t work out or if he like… died early… I want my next husband to be this guy. lol I have typed him as ENTJ, but what if he is… ENFJ? :0


Not really if this fits here, but they’re just my thoughts…

Rainy day in Chicago. So comfy. Crowded morning commute. Less crowded now. Short day. A new old song on repeat in my ears, in secret. A book. Frizzy hair (thanks rain). No for realz. Thank you, rain. Sometimes I “forget” to hide from the rain. Funny people. Hidden smiles, even from themselves. Kids say funny things. True things. Conversations with work folks about not work. Shed it all. The clothes, the metal, the fortress, the armor. What is left? Who is left? Rainy alleys look safe. Everyone is in their phone. Even I while I type this. Chugga, chugga, stay on these tracks. But man put them here. Because he can see there. He can’t see in the forest. Only smell. An old man just looked at me and smiled. I returned the favor. I’m thirsty. No one here has the eyes I seek. I wonder what all of you are doing exactly…NOW. Perhaps breathing. Beating. Pumping. Crying. Dying. Living. Humping. Dumping. Jumping. I’ll just wait. I’ll wait. Is it safe to wait? Smart to wait? Do I want to be safe and smart? Not really. No. I want to be dangerous and stupid. Stupid. I like sneakers. They’re cool. Like, jean shorts, white tee, and some killer sneakers. My dad is trying to quit smoking. Would it be okay if I started to cry? And you held me. Maybe a glass of cold water would help. And a nap. And a laugh. And chocolate. Yep, chocolate is awesome. Maybe a walk. My kitties are cool. G. She’s the black one. She says hi to me. Only thing a little weird about her is she likes to drink toilet water. Saturday I’ll see my momma and my daddy. Separate. They once told each other they loved each other. I want one. The one. But he’d grow tired of me. Moving on to the next infatuation. And I would die.


I haven’t written any poems since my schooldays, but somewhere I think I kept one of my old school notebooks which might have some of my efforts inside. I’ll see if I can find it when i get home.

I loved writing poetry when I was young, but it was just a bit of creative fun for me at the time. Then one day an English teacher told me she had secretly entered one of my poems into an inter-school poetry competition, and it had won first prize! Unfortunately I don’t have a copy of it anymore, but it was all about a bullfight that went horribly wrong, there was blood and gore and death (all framed beautifully, of course! :innocent:) and both bullfighter and bull were killed. Pretty dark stuff from a twelve-year old boy…


And OMG, the first few words just popped into my head:

Slowly he turned, snorting, stamping, snuffling.


I like your beginning, Stewart.

Right NOW I am in a running suv with my sleeping nephew in back. He will wake if I get out to even stretch. I drove to the lake for some peace. Left my girls at the end of the street to walk home.
The boy fights sleep like no one I have ever seen. Like it is dangerous for him to leave conciousness. He has been this way since birth. But he is a holy terror when tired and a major handful often. Better he gets more than 15 minutes nap.
He is four. My pets are wondering when they are going to wake up from this new nightmare. He adores my Peanut pup. She is five pounds. He chased our grey cat through three rooms before I even got the kids out of the house for school. am wondering if he is an ESTP. Charming. Adorable. Handsome. And tests/pushes bounderies from dawn to passing out. Prolly to early to tell yet but that is my first guess.
My INTP is fighting me over taking a mini vacation since we were just on a bigger one. She wants to stay home alone. She is 13. I am GRRR! She is frustrated. Using logic and not understanding why I am refusing without listening. I am frustrated. It is happier for everyone for me to be here telling you things. Even if you were only asking proverbially. That may not be the wanted word but its all I’ve got for now.

And lastly, I totally understand and sympathize with her POV and remember being a capable, mature 13 year old… and understanding this is what makes my position difficult.


Your four year old nephew sounds more like how my ENTP partner describes his early childhood. They share many traits with ESTPs, so you could be right about that as well. But it’s these comments that make me think ENTP: “fights sleep” and “tests/pushes bounderies from dawn to passing out”.

ESTPs are more aware of their bodies, and actively pursue sensory pleasures, so they’re perhaps more likely to enjoy sleeping when they are genuinely tired. Just don’t expect this to coincide with an adult’s idea of “bedtime”! ESTPs love to test boundaries just as much as ENTPs, but are less willing to waste energy arguing their case with stubborn adults. If their assertiveness isn’t working, they’ll turn on the charm, smile sweetly and pretend to comply. Then when no-one’s looking, they’ll just quietly sneak away and resume their mischief-making from a safe distance!


Hey Stewart, wanna answer but will do so in the kiddie thread where it belongs when I get a moment. I am babysitting said four year old and don’t get enough minutes to respond. So, soon as I can.


Unwanted Musings

I want to see you
Unadorned with the frills of romance
I want to meet you
In a land where death will not call our name
In a place where time won’t count our sighs
I want to feel you
And squeeze until you burst into my arms

Carnal Expression

What kind of contents do you have?
I want to memorize them all until they are scorched in my mind

God damn, you’re beautiful
What being put your tempestuous being in my way
I catch your eyes as if it is the assignment of the day
Your garments are tight
and accentuate
the pieces of you
i will claim

Grating Love

is it so wrong to say that you save me
your voice helps hang on when my thoughts get hazy
your the only reason why i would laugh when i should cry

i feel like your presence is my favorite blanket
its warm and safe
although a bit worn
it will not fray

Sin of Old

i hate that picture
that yells and screams
a thousand sins

i could not
hide the pressure
of bursting a dying dream

if i were
to tilt
that jar of misery

would it become
a new beginging
or a sad and bitter

Exoskeleton of Desire

I want to twirl
on the lake
that reflects
the white moon

i could almost
become the ghostly
and haunting child
that sips the cup of destruction
that way

i can’t stay
where the moon does not touch

I am just a memory
meant to fade

Morning Thought

i am so tired

i just want
to sink
the comfort of
my bed

but then

life is asking
too much
from me

can’t i just
eat and


These are so good jumpman! I really like the imagery… delicious…


I’m glad ya like it Piggie! Eat those images to your heart’s content.

Also, I haven’t forgotten about you on the ENFJ thread!


I feel like we all need a good fucking. I’ll meet y’all in 20 minutes. Bring your toys, lingerie, rope, heels, lip gloss, bonsai tree shears, bonsai tree, crow’s feet, rabbit’s foot, snacks, water, oil, soap, pH strips, floor fan, and bird cage.


That would be a good fucking indeed :smiling_imp:.


Really, all we need are our VAGINAS.


@Jumpman, I very much relate to Grating Love and Morning Thought but all of them are interesting. Thank you for sharing.


Au naturel, that’s fine :grin:.