Poetry Submission and Discussion Thread

[New Jewlan]

Dear NS poetry connoisseurs,
(I know you're out there!)

I have searched all over this site's forums for a reasonably active thread dedicated to the submission, and discussion of (user generated) poetry, to no avail.

In an effort to rectify this situation, I am setting up this poetry thread, in the hopes of stirring up a love, and appreciation, for the Art of Poetry, among my fellow NS users. I am by no means a proficient poet, or a poetry scholar, however I feel that poetry facilitates an unrivalled ease of expression. It is the awareness of this ability within ourselves, that I wish to share with you all. Give it a go, you might be surprised.

If this thread gets people writing, and talking about poetry, then my mission will have been accomplished.

Please read the rules below. Feel free to submit a poem at any time; I got this thread started, but I leave it to you, the reader, to make the first few posts.

If it gains traction,
I will get in on the action!

God Bless and Keep You,
Best Regards,
New Jewlan
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
RULES:

- No swear words, blasphemy etc...
- No explicit content - this thread is for all ages.
- Please tell us who wrote the poem - Is it a poem that you wrote, or one which you did not write, but would like to share?
- No content glamourising illegal, harmful, or taboo topics.
- No advertising, low quality, or spam content is allowed.
- Do not attack other poets on the quality or content of their writing. This is a forum for self-expression, not hate directed at others, leave that for Reddit.
- Each poem that you write should have a title - this is more of a challenge than a hard rule.
- Your poem can be as short or as long as you want it to be. Do not worry about spelling or grammar - I am not the Grammar Police, so I would advise you to take the same stance!
- Poems of a political nature are permitted, so long as they do not break any of the rules in bold.

- Discussion of poetry is permitted if it follows the rules in bold. Be civil, and you will have nothing to fear.
- If you want to point out a mistake, kindly be constructive in your criticism.
- Do not worry excessively about grammar or spelling; express yourself, and above all, have fun! As long as you get your message out, and we understand it, spelling and grammar can be ignored.
- Your discussion can be as short or as long as you want it to be.
- Do not expect me to be active on this thread; I created it for the love of poetry, but I want the community to carry the torch! If this thread stimulates poetry-related activity on NS, then I will deem it a success! I am being transparent, make of that what you will.
- I might post my own poems here if this thread generates sufficient interest, but if I do, please do not give me preferential treatment - I am just another NS user like you.

I apologise if the above conditions are not to your liking; start your own thread if you are so inclined.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Dominant Oppressors]

Dear NS poetry connoisseurs,
(I know you're out there!)

I have searched all over this site's forums for a reasonably active thread dedicated to the submission, and discussion of (user generated) poetry, to no avail.

In an effort to rectify this situation, I am setting up this poetry thread, in the hopes of stirring up a love, and appreciation, for the Art of Poetry, among my fellow NS users. I am by no means a proficient poet, or a poetry scholar, however I feel that poetry facilitates an unrivalled ease of expression. It is the awareness of this ability within ourselves, that I wish to share with you all. Give it a go, you might be surprised.

If this thread gets people writing, and talking about poetry, then my mission will have been accomplished.

Please read the rules below. Feel free to submit a poem at any time; I got this thread started, but I leave it to you, the reader, to make the first few posts.

If it gains traction,
I will get in on the action!

God Bless and Keep You,
Best Regards,
New Jewlan
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
RULES:

- No swear words, blasphemy etc...
- No explicit content - this thread is for all ages.
- Please tell us who wrote the poem - Is it a poem that you wrote, or one which you did not write, but would like to share?
- No content glamourising illegal, harmful, or taboo topics.
- No advertising, low quality, or spam content is allowed.
- Do not attack other poets on the quality or content of their writing. This is a forum for self-expression, not hate directed at others, leave that for Reddit.
- Each poem that you write should have a title - this is more of a challenge than a hard rule.
- Your poem can be as short or as long as you want it to be. Do not worry about spelling or grammar - I am not the Grammar Police, so I would advise you to take the same stance!
- Poems of a political nature are permitted, so long as they do not break any of the rules in bold.

- Discussion of poetry is permitted if it follows the rules in bold. Be civil, and you will have nothing to fear.
- If you want to point out a mistake, kindly be constructive in your criticism.
- Do not worry excessively about grammar or spelling; express yourself, and above all, have fun! As long as you get your message out, and we understand it, spelling and grammar can be ignored.
- Your discussion can be as short or as long as you want it to be.
- Do not expect me to be active on this thread; I created it for the love of poetry, but I want the community to carry the torch! If this thread stimulates poetry-related activity on NS, then I will deem it a success! I am being transparent, make of that what you will.
- I might post my own poems here if this thread generates sufficient interest, but if I do, please do not give me preferential treatment - I am just another NS user like you.

I apologise if the above conditions are not to your liking; start your own thread if you are so inclined.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is a really great initiative! Whilst I dont have any poetry of my own at the moment, but in order to support this thread, Ill post a poem I quite like by Siegfried Sasson, its called 'The General':

"“Good-morning, good-morning!” the General said
When we met him last week on our way to the line.
Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of 'em dead,
And we're cursing his staff for incompetent swine.
“He's a cheery old card,” grunted Harry to Jack
As they slogged up to Arras with rifle and pack.

But he did for them both by his plan of attack."

[Respubliko de Libereco]

I used to post a ton of poetry in the writing discussion thread years ago, when it was consistently active and I was in high school/undergrad. Looking back at it now feels very strange.

I mean, here's an alliterative sonnet about zombies:

Post Zombie Stress Disorder

They burst through boards, and broke each barricade,
unfeeling, fleshless fingers flailing wild.
The scratching, soulless sounds they sometimes made
could make a mighty man a mindless child.
These hellish hunters, horrid, hard to kill,
Unliving, lurched and leapt, alert though blind.
Around the ruined roads they roamed, and still
they haunt my head, and hunt my helpless mind.
Each shadow shakes me, shows my shame inside.
Each sudden sound will scare one scarred as I.
I fear these fiends, though false, and flee or hide.
In bed, with bated breath, I beg to die.
I live no life alone; the living dead
still screech and stumble, stuck inside my head.

I wish I could say that my writing has improved a lot since then, but to be honest I haven't written anything substantial in years and I'm kinda sad about that.

[Dominant Oppressors]

I used to post a ton of poetry in the writing discussion thread years ago, when it was consistently active and I was in high school/undergrad. Looking back at it now feels very strange.

I mean, here's an alliterative sonnet about zombies:

Post Zombie Stress Disorder

They burst through boards, and broke each barricade,
unfeeling, fleshless fingers flailing wild.
The scratching, soulless sounds they sometimes made
could make a mighty man a mindless child.
These hellish hunters, horrid, hard to kill,
Unliving, lurched and leapt, alert though blind.
Around the ruined roads they roamed, and still
they haunt my head, and hunt my helpless mind.
Each shadow shakes me, shows my shame inside.
Each sudden sound will scare one scarred as I.
I fear these fiends, though false, and flee or hide.
In bed, with bated breath, I beg to die.
I live no life alone; the living dead
still screech and stumble, stuck inside my head.

I wish I could say that my writing has improved a lot since then, but to be honest I haven't written anything substantial in years and I'm kinda sad about that.

Hey, don't put yourself down, I quite like the Zombie poem it is both pretty funny due the subject matter and well put together, overall, pretty good!

[US-SSR]

I'll post a serious one later but just off the top of my head:

An Irish Poet in Winter

Yeats
skeats
with his meats.

[New Jewlan]

I used to post a ton of poetry in the writing discussion thread years ago, when it was consistently active and I was in high school/undergrad. Looking back at it now feels very strange.

I mean, here's an alliterative sonnet about zombies:

Post Zombie Stress Disorder

They burst through boards, and broke each barricade,
unfeeling, fleshless fingers flailing wild.
The scratching, soulless sounds they sometimes made
could make a mighty man a mindless child.
These hellish hunters, horrid, hard to kill,
Unliving, lurched and leapt, alert though blind.
Around the ruined roads they roamed, and still
they haunt my head, and hunt my helpless mind.
Each shadow shakes me, shows my shame inside.
Each sudden sound will scare one scarred as I.
I fear these fiends, though false, and flee or hide.
In bed, with bated breath, I beg to die.
I live no life alone; the living dead
still screech and stumble, stuck inside my head.

I wish I could say that my writing has improved a lot since then, but to be honest I haven't written anything substantial in years and I'm kinda sad about that.

Wow! I just read your poem all the way through; it is way better than what I could come up with at that age! I think if you could come up with that when you were younger, if you were to give it a try now, you could improve with very little effort :-) We would be happy in this thread to see what you come up with - but the fact that this got you thinking about poetry again is great - no need to share it here though if you do not want to (I am not your boss) :-)

You made my day :-) Reading your poem has helped me to pluck up the courage to post my own here, which I will do as soon as I catch up with the other poems.

P.S. Your poem is not strange in the slightest, I have written some strange stuff that... no longer exists

[New Jewlan]

This is a really great initiative! Whilst I dont have any poetry of my own at the moment, but in order to support this thread, Ill post a poem I quite like by Siegfried Sasson, its called 'The General':

"“Good-morning, good-morning!” the General said
When we met him last week on our way to the line.
Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of 'em dead,
And we're cursing his staff for incompetent swine.
“He's a cheery old card,” grunted Harry to Jack
As they slogged up to Arras with rifle and pack.

But he did for them both by his plan of attack."

Thanks for being the first post in this thread! That's a good poem; war propaganda - whether in favour or against war - often gets my attention :-) Have you tried reading some Wilfred Owen? I think you would like that :-)

[New Jewlan]

I'll post a serious one later but just off the top of my head:

An Irish Poet in Winter

Yeats
skeats
with his meats.

That is an interesting one, nice use of rhyme :-) Three of my favourite things thrown together in one poem - Irish, Poet, Winter

[New Jewlan]

Here is a poem that I wrote myself a few days ago, about the upcoming death of online Flash games websites, Kongreagte in particular. It is this poem that helped spark this thread into existence.

In Memory of Kongregate
-----------------------------
"You acquired this badge on Jun. 20, 2009.",
Reading this, I pine;

A thought shot through my head,
"Better record this before it's dead".

I decided to leave this meta-comment online,
A sweet remembrance, a timely shrine.

11 years gone in a blink,
Time drips by like a broken sink,
No ebb and flow,
A decade gone in one swift blow.

I wonder if these free games, freely made,
Will in times to come be played,
Or will they go the way of the Arcade
And, to our dismay, quietly fade?

Ah, Kongregate,
Have you accepted your untimely fate?
Holding our breaths, we wait
For the dreaded date.

Gone in a Flash,
Erased my cache
Of tender memories.
Many hours spent;
My heart is rent.
-----------------------------
03-05-2020 A.D.

[New Jewlan]

I'll post a serious one later but just off the top of my head:

I am looking forward to your next one :-)

[US-SSR]

I'll toss out three of 'em. Enjoy. Or not.

falling down unscreened chimney
or through some hidden passage
from natural world outside
to artfully ranged interior
our rodent intruder roamed
the few first floor rooms
breaking abruptly into domestic calm
entering wildly into peaceful arrangements
damned beast from hell assaulting
Callipygia’s beloved milk glass tchotchkes
breaking but one and one
of grandmother's fruit plates
that hung on kitchen wall
another fell, whole, into plastic pan for plates
deftly avoiding baited traps
of peanut butter stinky cheese
and days old field corn
set the morning he tried
but failed to escape
through locked screened backdoor
he (or possibly she but masculine
pronoun better suits this marauder)
lunched on softening nectarine
precariously placed on table centerpiece
without upsetting its delicate balance
rolling precious vases
(more so in memories
than collector market value)
onto soft couch so close to marbletopped table
rooting through indoor plants
miniature ecosystems empty of squirrels
or other inconvenient outdoor life
leaping atop the picture frames
that hang oh so tantalizingly
near the basement windows
reaching only to fail again
knocking carefully ordered images
askew onto carpeted floor
upsetting neatly ranked art books
on uppermost bookcase shelf
Magritte’s illusory windows
doubly deluding nutbrained intruder
the quality of light in a Hopper
a Rembrandt or a Caravaggio
is lost on this accidental inmate
he knows only the dull half sun
of cloudy summer afternoon
dimly glimpsed, tempting, unobtainable
filtered through closed suburban bungalow blinds
at last allowed his fearful freedom
through the selfsame screen door
propped open for the purpose
leaving as a last gesture of rebellion
against the housebuilding intruders
one of Callypigia’s tennis shoes deftly nudged
from its accustomed place on the kitchen step

(not a poem)

begat
quarks begat particles begat molecules begat gas clouds begat stars begat
beauty begat
worlds begat water begat storms begat rna begat cells begat plants begat food begat mouths begat
hunger begat love begat sex begat fish begat
lungs begat limbs begat . . . embraces begat
bruises begat claws begat fangs begat
dinosaurs begat insects begat
disease begat medicine begat death begat
wonder begat
thumbs begat fists begat
blows begat sticks begat stones begat
fire begat warmth begat comfort begat
awe begat hope begat religion begat
hatred begat property begat greed begat
bronze begat spears begat shields begat iron begat steel begat swords begat guns begat armies begat war begat fear begat
courage begat kingdoms begat
order begat security begat peace begat
tyranny begat torture begat revolt begat
reformation begat
nations begat ships begat
adventures begat discovery begat conquest begat genocide begat
trade begat wealth begat
art begat music begat culture begat poetry begat
criticism begat
thought begat universities begat learning begat knowledge begat progress begat conflict begat unity begat
republics begat democracy begat freedom begat
slavery begat bloodshed begat poverty begat
compassion begat
corporations begat
budgets begat legislatures begat
oil begat airplanes begat
bombs begat holocaust begat Hiroshima begat Israel begat Palestine begat spies begat corruption begat reform begat
liberty begat license begat porn begat oppression begat resentment begat reconciliation begat
you begat me begat we begat them
begat

1. All the World
The glory and sorrow
of all the world;
A spray of white flowers
at the road's edge.

2. Commuting
Driving the familiar route,
Just as strange as his own face,
Past the corner. Girl with dad:
She looks up, smiles at him, then
Holds out one small, trusting hand.

3. Bodhidharma
Stare at the wall
A thousand years.
The wall won't change.
The stare won't change.
Now, suddenly,
One eye opens.

4. L'envoi
Fourteen thousand
years ago:
Ancient human
artifact --
A lump of shit
in a cave.

Note: The oldest evidence of human beings in the Western Hemisphere is a coprolith found in a cave in Washington state.

[Respubliko de Libereco]

Here is a poem that I wrote myself a few days ago, about the upcoming death of online Flash games websites, Kongreagte in particular. It is this poem that helped spark this thread into existence.

In Memory of Kongregate
-----------------------------
"You acquired this badge on Jun. 20, 2009.",
Reading this, I pine;

A thought shot through my head,
"Better record this before it's dead".

I decided to leave this meta-comment online,
A sweet remembrance, a timely shrine.

11 years gone in a blink,
Time drips by like a broken sink,
No ebb and flow,
A decade gone in one swift blow.

I wonder if these free games, freely made,
Will in times to come be played,
Or will they go the way of the Arcade
And, to our dismay, quietly fade?

Ah, Kongregate,
Have you accepted your untimely fate?
Holding our breaths, we wait
For the dreaded date.

Gone in a Flash,
Erased my cache
Of tender memories.
Many hours spent;
My heart is rent.
-----------------------------
03-05-2020 A.D.

I like the general thrust of this poem. Internet nostalgia is part of why I bothered to come back and check out how NationStates was doing recently, and I've been seeing a lot of other people writing about it (edit: internet nostalgia, not NationStates) lately.

I would, however, strongly recommend not trying to fit an entire date (like "Jun. 20, 2009") into a line of poetry. This is one of the habits of William Topaz McGonagall that (along with many other failings) leads to him being considered one of the worst poets of all time, as in his well-known poem "The Tay Bridge Disaster," which starts as follows:

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember’d for a very long time.
...

More generally, if you want to write rhyming poetry rather than free verse then the easiest way to quickly step up the quality is to use a consistent metre. I think this can sound intimidating at first, especially if your only exposure to prosody is through a bad explanation of iambic pentameter in school, but the basic idea is just that you should try to use a fixed, simple pattern of stressed & unstressed syllables, and that little step makes the whole thing a feel a lot more cohesive and rhythmic.

For anyone not familiar with metre, I'll use the already-shared Sigfried Sassoon poem as an example (stressed syllables highlighted, although this varies a bit depending on how you read it):

"“Good-morning, good-morning!” the General said
When we met him last week on our way to the line.
Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of 'em dead,
And we're cursing his staff for incompetent swine.
“He's a cheery old card,” grunted Harry to Jack
As they slogged up to Arras with rifle and pack.

But he did for them both by his plan of attack."

With the exception of the first line, each line follows the pattern x x / x x / x x / x x / (where x is unstressed and / is a stressed). This particular pattern is "anapaestic tetrameter," because the pattern x x / is called an anapaest, and each line is four anapaests. But if you don't want to bother learning this in depth, a good start is to just count the number of stressed syllables (like a haiku, but focusing on the stressed syllables specifically) and try to follow some sort of consistent pattern (e.g. 5 stresses per line, alternating lines of 4 and 3 stresses, etc.).

(Incidentally, you'll notice that the snippet from William Topaz McGonagall above very much does not follow a consistent metre, which is a major part of why he's considered terrible).

[New Jewlan]

I'll toss out three of 'em. Enjoy. Or not.

falling down unscreened chimney
or through some hidden passage
from natural world outside
to artfully ranged interior
our rodent intruder roamed
the few first floor rooms
breaking abruptly into domestic calm
entering wildly into peaceful arrangements
damned beast from hell assaulting
Callipygia’s beloved milk glass tchotchkes
breaking but one and one
of grandmother's fruit plates
that hung on kitchen wall
another fell, whole, into plastic pan for plates
deftly avoiding baited traps
of peanut butter stinky cheese
and days old field corn
set the morning he tried
but failed to escape
through locked screened backdoor
he (or possibly she but masculine
pronoun better suits this marauder)
lunched on softening nectarine
precariously placed on table centerpiece
without upsetting its delicate balance
rolling precious vases
(more so in memories
than collector market value)
onto soft couch so close to marbletopped table
rooting through indoor plants
miniature ecosystems empty of squirrels
or other inconvenient outdoor life
leaping atop the picture frames
that hang oh so tantalizingly
near the basement windows
reaching only to fail again
knocking carefully ordered images
askew onto carpeted floor
upsetting neatly ranked art books
on uppermost bookcase shelf
Magritte’s illusory windows
doubly deluding nutbrained intruder
the quality of light in a Hopper
a Rembrandt or a Caravaggio
is lost on this accidental inmate
he knows only the dull half sun
of cloudy summer afternoon
dimly glimpsed, tempting, unobtainable
filtered through closed suburban bungalow blinds
at last allowed his fearful freedom
through the selfsame screen door
propped open for the purpose
leaving as a last gesture of rebellion
against the housebuilding intruders
one of Callypigia’s tennis shoes deftly nudged
from its accustomed place on the kitchen step

(not a poem)

begat
quarks begat particles begat molecules begat gas clouds begat stars begat
beauty begat
worlds begat water begat storms begat rna begat cells begat plants begat food begat mouths begat
hunger begat love begat sex begat fish begat
lungs begat limbs begat . . . embraces begat
bruises begat claws begat fangs begat
dinosaurs begat insects begat
disease begat medicine begat death begat
wonder begat
thumbs begat fists begat
blows begat sticks begat stones begat
fire begat warmth begat comfort begat
awe begat hope begat religion begat
hatred begat property begat greed begat
bronze begat spears begat shields begat iron begat steel begat swords begat guns begat armies begat war begat fear begat
courage begat kingdoms begat
order begat security begat peace begat
tyranny begat torture begat revolt begat
reformation begat
nations begat ships begat
adventures begat discovery begat conquest begat genocide begat
trade begat wealth begat
art begat music begat culture begat poetry begat
criticism begat
thought begat universities begat learning begat knowledge begat progress begat conflict begat unity begat
republics begat democracy begat freedom begat
slavery begat bloodshed begat poverty begat
compassion begat
corporations begat
budgets begat legislatures begat
oil begat airplanes begat
bombs begat holocaust begat Hiroshima begat Israel begat Palestine begat spies begat corruption begat reform begat
liberty begat license begat porn begat oppression begat resentment begat reconciliation begat
you begat me begat we begat them
begat

1. All the World
The glory and sorrow
of all the world;
A spray of white flowers
at the road's edge.

2. Commuting
Driving the familiar route,
Just as strange as his own face,
Past the corner. Girl with dad:
She looks up, smiles at him, then
Holds out one small, trusting hand.

3. Bodhidharma
Stare at the wall
A thousand years.
The wall won't change.
The stare won't change.
Now, suddenly,
One eye opens.

4. L'envoi
Fourteen thousand
years ago:
Ancient human
artifact --
A lump of s****
in a cave.

Note: The oldest evidence of human beings in the Western Hemisphere is a coprolith found in a cave in Washington state.

Interesting compositions. They read like stream of consciousness, yet contain depth not usually arrived at in such texts. Your set of poems, "Three Zenlike Pieces" are particularly impressive, most notably "Bohidharma". That one is deep, man!

My favourite bit is from the "housebreaker squirrel" poem,

doubly deluding nutbrained intruder

That line really stands out.

Thanks, US-SSR, for your submissions!

[New Jewlan]

Dear Respubliko de Libereco,

Thank you ever so much for your insightful constructive criticism! Your gentle guidance is exemplary You have taught me more on metre in one comment than I learnt in three years at University :-) Thank you again for bothering to visit this thread, and for going to the effort of writing up your feedback (I really enjoyed reading what you had to say).

I never heard of the anapaest before now; at University, we mostly covered poetry, mixed with theory (which was very vague and nebulous, so I never got the hang of it), and nothing at all on the actual composition of poetry itself (which I would argue is just as important). I should give that Wikipedia article on metre a good look-over. I never bothered with metre in my (very limited) experience writing poetry, it is something that we were taught poorly at school (even at A-Level), and University never picked up the pace, sadly. I am more of a writer than a reader, so that could have something to do with it (I have ADHD - go figure ).

I also wish to show my appreciation for the advice re. not shoe-horning dates into poems. I will do my best to take heed of that advice - and the rest of the wisdom you have imparted - in my future poems. Looking back at the poem that I submitted, it is clear to me now that it is rather lacking in metre. Reading it with metre in mind, it seems that I put an emphasis on the final word's final syllable, perhaps that is because of my focus on rhyme.

You are welcome here any time! You really know your stuff, be sure to share some of that knowledge with us in this thread

God Bless and Keep You,
Best Regards,
N. J.

[Deciduous]

Hey there,

I don't know much about poetry, and the following was one I did in a few minutes. It was for a contest, and maybe you'll enjoy it if you get its meaning:

---

Title: Welcome to the Jungle…’s Outskirts

The seemingly endless rainforest
Comprises of vegetation supposedly
Immeasurable to the human eye,
However, even the largest of biomes
Cannot make space
for a plant like me.

I lack the beauty or delicacy
That characterizes the orchids,
I do not possess the capability
To be strong and assert my confidence
Like those stuck-up palm trees do,
I fail to impress the public
With insurmountable treasures
In contrast to those cacao beans,
And am not as nearly reliable
As those vines whom
Never cease their smiles
From being climbed by
Their animal counterparts,
Nor do I ensnare the ladies
With my snappy wit
Or aggressive lifestyle
Such as those venus fly traps,
And perhaps the worst of all,
I cannot blend in to the community
no matter where I venture
So there is no hope for me
To socialize with the near-infinite
Grasses that dwell amongst my presence.

Perhaps when I wither in the fall
May I truly be part of a group,
For all withered minds think alike
In the form of nothing,
Nothing at all.

...

Oh, and a little phrase to say to someone who betrays you:

I gave you my all,
but you gave me my fall.

[US-SSR]

...

Oh, and a little phrase to say to someone who betrays you:

I gave you my all,
but you gave me my fall.

I always liked:

Champaigne for my real friends, and real pain for my sham friends!

Also this classic:

A man may kiss his wife goodbye,
The rose may kiss the butterfly,
The sparkling wine may kiss the glass,
And you, my friend, may kiss my ass!

[New Jewlan]

Hey there,

I don't know much about poetry, and the following was one I did in a few minutes. It was for a contest, and maybe you'll enjoy it if you get its meaning:

---

Title: Welcome to the Jungle…’s Outskirts

The seemingly endless rainforest
Comprises of vegetation supposedly
Immeasurable to the human eye,
However, even the largest of biomes
Cannot make space
for a plant like me.

I lack the beauty or delicacy
That characterizes the orchids,
I do not possess the capability
To be strong and assert my confidence
Like those stuck-up palm trees do,
I fail to impress the public
With insurmountable treasures
In contrast to those cacao beans,
And am not as nearly reliable
As those vines whom
Never cease their smiles
From being climbed by
Their animal counterparts,
Nor do I ensnare the ladies
With my snappy wit
Or aggressive lifestyle
Such as those venus fly traps,
And perhaps the worst of all,
I cannot blend in to the community
no matter where I venture
So there is no hope for me
To socialize with the near-infinite
Grasses that dwell amongst my presence.

Perhaps when I wither in the fall
May I truly be part of a group,
For all withered minds think alike
In the form of nothing,
Nothing at all.

...

Oh, and a little phrase to say to someone who betrays you:

I gave you my all,
but you gave me my fall.

That last stanza really got me.

Perhaps when I wither in the fall
May I truly be part of a group,
For all withered minds think alike
In the form of nothing,
Nothing at all.

I followed your idea all the way through the poem, and it hit hard at the end! Thank you, Deciduous, for sharing your poem with us. I like how your poem and your nation name are both related to plants ;-) Your phrase on betrayal is also linked to deciduous vegetation; their leaves fall off every year.

It's cool that you entered a poetry competition, I did too a couple of weeks ago.

[New Jewlan]

...

Oh, and a little phrase to say to someone who betrays you:

I gave you my all,
but you gave me my fall.

I always liked:

Champaigne for my real friends, and real pain for my sham friends!

Also this classic:

A man may kiss his wife goodbye,
The rose may kiss the butterfly,
The sparkling wine may kiss the glass,
And you, my friend, may kiss my a**!

Hi US-SSR, that champagne one is a good play on words Real friends are few and far between. If I had the money, I would buy them a round of champagne, but none for me as I am teetotal :-)
The last one is very good; I would like to memorise it for use, in the event of a particularly heated situation. The words certainly flow like sparkling wine. Too bad I do not swear, though! Thanks for posting back here, your variety of humour and wit puts a smile on my face

[Respubliko de Libereco]

Reading it with metre in mind, it seems that I put an emphasis on the final word's final syllable, perhaps that is because of my focus on rhyme.

It's definitely more common for rhyming lines to end with a stressed syllable, but it's not required.

Rhyming lines ending in a stressed syllable are known as masculine rhyme, while rhymes ending on an unstressed syllable (but with the preceding, stressed syllable also rhyming) are feminine rhyme. The weird names come from French, where they're used a bit differently. More info here.

Also this classic:

A man may kiss his wife goodbye,
The rose may kiss the butterfly,
The sparkling wine may kiss the glass,
And you, my friend, may kiss my ass!

Reminds me of another classic, relevant to the theme of this thread:

Sir, I admit to your general rule
That every poet is a fool.
But you yourself may serve to show it,
Every fool is not a poet.

(I've seen this variously attributed to Alexander Pope and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and I don't think it's known for certain who the actual author is).

[New Jewlan]

Hi Respubliko de Libereco,

Thanks again for your input, I have much to learn! I am pretty sure that the last quote is from Pope, because as soon as I read it, it screamed Pope :-) I suppose, in a mad world, the fool is king ;-)

Best Regards,
N. J.

[US-SSR]

I always liked:

Champaigne for my real friends, and real pain for my sham friends!

Also this classic:

A man may kiss his wife goodbye,
The rose may kiss the butterfly,
The sparkling wine may kiss the glass,
And you, my friend, may kiss my a**!

Hi US-SSR, that champagne one is a good play on words Real friends are few and far between. If I had the money, I would buy them a round of champagne, but none for me as I am teetotal :-)
The last one is very good; I would like to memorise it for use, in the event of a particularly heated situation. The words certainly flow like sparkling wine. Too bad I do not swear, though! Thanks for posting back here, your variety of humour and wit puts a smile on my face

Not to seem pedantic but a** isn't "swearing," it's vulgarity. Too bad you can't read Shakespeare, what with all the swearing and vulgarity and such. Kent's speech in Scene 2 of Act II of Lear is my personal favorite.

[Respubliko de Libereco]

Not to seem pedantic but a** isn't "swearing," it's vulgarity. Too bad you can't read Shakespeare, what with all the swearing and vulgarity and such. Kent's speech in Scene 2 of Act II of Lear is my personal favorite.

Not to seem pedantic, but Merriam-Webster simply defines swearing as "using profane or obscene language," so depending on the somewhat subjective determination of what is considered obscene, "ass" could well qualify (although most people would probably consider it pretty mild). Other dictionaries will also agree on this.

Also, NJ didn't say that they don't read literature containing swearing, but rather that they don't swear, which would prevent them from using that "kiss my ass" poem "in the event of a particularly heated situation."

[Soviet Haaregrad]

It's a shame that OP insists on only including G-rated material. I'm sure I'm not the only user who read the rules and immediately realized that my work will not be welcomed here.

Oh well, if you've got material that isn't G-rated there's now another poetry thread that doesn't shackle your hands needlessly.

Actually, here's one with a wordplay:

If he ain't got a car he get caught at the bus stop;
no need to hesitate, lick shots when the bus stop
slugs hit the roof an' rip through the bus top
caught 'im in the dome an' leave 'im with a bust top

I don't know who the original author is and it's possible I've altered the phrasing since I came across it years ago and only remembered the turns of phrase and not the exact wording.

[Baja California Autonoma]

Bitter arguing
Rages in the neighborhood.
Who will stop
The killer cop?

[Soviet Haaregrad]

Well, I didn't swear...

they say this artist is menacing because i'll dump your carcass in minesing;
i'm a butcher like benny, carving you apart like venison
sniffing raw medicine until I feel like a homicidal doctor, i mean running low on patience
i'm impatient; an escaped in-patient perpetually wasted with no time for wasting
i'm volatile - a mix of bitter and sour
you're a liar and a coward and this is your final hour
i got straw buyers online to acquire firepower (ptrrrrrrl)
my clique forms militant; like parenthesis we surround yah
and spray so many rounds under the house collapsed to the foundation is where your remains are found
until the neighbours wonder aloud 'was that thunder clouds just now?' from all the multi-layered gun sounds it's so loud

Or, if you'd rather listen to it:
https://voca.ro/fcmMtFmVjQc