Any poetry lovers out there? *update train*

A bump is like life
It serves its single purpose
And then it is done

Plumb Bump :/

I don't like poetry in general, but here's a bump for all your efforts =) !

bump
nice poetry ride ;)

There's this website where you can write small poems and stories to. I like it. I wrote a few things (that actually didn't make it to the website, I believe) and, since I can't seem to find anything else of mine's, here goes nothing:

Mood (classical) Tune since yours was so damn good

Theft
The dagger hit her heart and so did the pain.
The copper coins laid on the floor
what was her to gain?
He watched her blood pour
Eyes as cold as what she died for.

This one suits up for a 8 word or less thing:

A Mazed
She was a maze -
and it amazed him.

I think you should partake on MicroTales too!

Here goes some prose because I'm better (although not yet great) at that and your mood music was actually one hell of an inspiration trip. I'm writing this at random as I listen to that "Everyday" song, so bear with me.

After finishing, this ended up pretty disturbing.

Read at your own risk.

Calloused hands scraped the paint off the wall, his legs failing with every move. It was unfair they told him to rest and yet he kept on pacing, working, scraping. Living. It had to be done, however, and the luxury of a rest for the restless worker was far too much to ask for.

She asked him when would he finish scraping the wall. He told her it would be done when it was done. His hands trembled to think of what he was doing, but he was being handsomely paid - and God knew how much he needed the money.

He took a step back to survey his three-day long work. It was nearly done. The pain of bearing with it would soon be over.

When he asked her how did the human skin get splayed across the wall like that, she replied she had hired a painter, not a gossiper. He could do little else but agree. Scraping, scraping, scraping. The flesh, the blood, the pain away.

The next day she woke up, stretched her body on the empty queen sized bed, and went for the phone.

"I'm looking for a painter. I new to redecorate, you see."

Another painter was sent. She splayed him on her bed, he splayed the paint on her wall. And so the days went on, for every trust there was a brushstroke, and for every painter, there was new and fresh paint.

Her wall was redecorated every month, and it was bloody beautiful. Scraping, scraping, scraping.

A beautiful shade of crimson red.

"Hello, I'm looking for a painter! Did I call the right number?"

Am I disturbed? Yes.

Bump cause poetry is cool :D

This is intended to be a slam poem titled "bump"

bump
-KroganAlly

bump

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
GA train is sweet,
So I bump for you.

I'm bumping because I enjoy poetry. Thank you for being brave enough to share. :)

Have a bump

Dots.

Hey. There.
I'm Tony. Blair.
I'm sorry that I've. Been away for so long.
But I just had. Nothing interesting. To share.
With your. Lovely asses. Which are pretty rare.
Oh. How would you dare. To say that I'm not as good as my old man Blair.
He would've been. So proud. Of the difficulties that I bore. And still bear.
Just because. I liked. Sher.
But. Even if you said that. That is illogical.
I'd say. And so is a. Circular square.
Take. Care. Obama care.

The. End.
No offense intended to any country/person. I made this while being a little drunk.

Thanks!

Not a big poetry guy, still liked the poem. Thanks for whitelist also!

I believe that poems got much more meaningful if they remind you some memories from past and preferably on your native language:)Its nice to see someone creative like you keep up the good work!

Bumping the little heart <3

I guess these are my 2 favorite that I have written thus far, I don't guarantee the quality:

-On the Ocean Floor-

Surrounded by the darkness
and by the swirling waters,
always lost, never to be found.
The lone, young diver who dove
too deep; for too much ambition
he had in his heart. Now, no one
will see him alive again.
His mission ending
after a joyful start.

At least he can feel that he’s not alone
for there are other fish in this sea.
Great monsters of various size
just waiting for his looming demise,
to take him without a struggle—
to gain what little he has left.

Knowing this he may fight,
but for him it is already too late.
The mistake he made cannot be
corrected in this situation.
He just should have known
that no one can go so deep,
but he had to overreach.

Slowly drowning,
the pressure is coming down.
He waits patiently for the end,
when the fish will swallow him up,
the currents sweep away the pieces,
and what he had is lost—forever.

-The Rights of a Flower-

Why are other flowers not as pretty as a rose?
Why are others not as lovely, as beautiful to the sight
of Man, who are looking upon; to cause the blight
of criticism and of strife. To stir within such woes,
even though all the flowers become the same when it snows.
For in this season of their lives, aren’t they all lost to light?
The beauty of all is lost, their days become eternal night.
But the spring will come when no one knows

the differences in the flowers, all so good and fair.
No longer will the scornful criticisms of Man defame
those flowers and buds and petals who became
the marvels of nature that we know and love.
For even though, no two the same, all are equal for a name
in wonder, and in majesty, and in personality to claim.

On Steamgifts there once was a leecher
A level10 decided to teach her
When you up level high
the competition runs dry
All alone he enjoyed his fa'vrite feature

bump

bump

Things that go 'bump' in the night
Should not really give one a fright.
It's the hole in each ear
That lets in the fear,
That, and the absence of light!

• Spike Milligan

Have a bump

Bump'd for poetry

Bump, thank you for nice piece of... poetry and nice soundtrack on YouTube! One of my favorite little known songs for you :)

Sneaky bump