It looks like you're using an Ad Blocker.

Please white-list or disable in your ad-blocking tool.

Thank you.


Some features of ATS will be disabled while you continue to use an ad-blocker.


(Results)Poetry Contest - Reminsce of the Days of Old

page: 7
<< 4  5  6    8  9  10 >>

log in


posted on Mar, 5 2009 @ 06:54 AM

Originally posted by DJMessiah
"Does this count as a poem?" by DJMessiah

Rhymes for DJ - not an entry.

I remember when

People were polite
And had no drive to push their might
Everyone was kind
Even though they spoke their mind
Compassion was the rule
Even if you weren't a fool

I remember when

People believed in justice and right
We all stood tall and feared no night
When courage had nothing to do with height

When love was a goal
And protecting one's soul
And holding the light

When "good" meant more than professional skill
When sex was more than an exercise drill
And lust didn't come from a pill

I remember when

...But this is now
And that was then.


[edit on 5-3-2009 by soficrow]

posted on Mar, 5 2009 @ 08:37 AM
Last Man Stand

The cool wind breeze sweeps across the empty seas.
Along the rigid plains and grassy fields lies a house with one heart that beats
A man cold to his bone sits upon his bed dead asleep,
But open eyes he keeps, starring blankly at his bloody feet
Where scores of roaches gather feast.

With nothing left in his days to come,
Seems he's only bum left in a torn down slum.
He beats his head, like drums that play his wretched end.
No sorrow for a man so dead to his core.
What keeps him from all that is glory?
But the unseen battles on earth that fights his story.
With Pages from books that burn to crisp,
History has finally met its tip.

This marks his point of famine, hunger and thirsty his mind grows weary.
Stationed by his hand is his gateway to heaven,
But to end his life in such a manner he is destined for failure.
In this world so lonely he sits and cries,
For he is the last men on earth, alive.

With images of pain that render his thinking,
His logic is hindered by thoughts from sinners.
He adjusts his frame and rearranges his cane.
And as the sun's rays glicine off the metal,
His finger trembles on the squeeze of the trigger.

With one vibrant sound that seems to travel.
The path, the last stand and the road less traveled.
All is quite in the house along the rigid plains
Not a spoken word, till a knock on the door.

[edit on 5-3-2009 by Armour For Victor]

posted on Mar, 5 2009 @ 10:37 AM
Parasomnia (Liquid NyQuil)

Encounter of lust
passion and fire
opening of doors
deepest desires

Happy beginning
sorrowful end
bliss followed by contempt
my dearest friend

Tortured motives
sickened dismay
waked at the sad things
along the way

Lonely traveler
thoughtless dream
search for a meaning
muffle my scream

Empty with torment
alone as I rock
awaking once more
the tick of the clock

Escaping the prison
reality holds
walk through the pleasures
dreaming unfolds

Come dawn early
to bring with the light
the bleakness of life
abandoned at night

[edit on 01/19/09 by starlitestarbrite]

posted on Mar, 5 2009 @ 02:30 PM
Number Two

A nation was born
For profit and greed
A product they would need
A product called “freedom”

With the nation so young
Not yet fractured
Racism was manufactured
And Slavery meant wealth

When this system collapsed
And slavery died
The racism survived
A country torn apart

This prejudice that was
The root of such hate
Was created by a state
Of rich men years ago

Equal rights came
Centuries after
Crying and laughter
At this “win” for humanity

But what is lost
That which is forgotten
Is why this rotten
System was made

When the profit was gone
From the slave trade
The hate they made
Was equally worthless

So now they conquer
Now they divide
With party lines
And foreign enemies

So let us reminisce
About the course of this nation
Birthed and bred in the name of greed
Let that be your emancipation

posted on Mar, 5 2009 @ 02:33 PM
The Outdoorsman

I was quite the outdoorsman back in my childhood. I built my tree houses and clubs out of scrap wood. I could find any garden hose and get a fresh drink. And it didn’t matter where I lay to catch a wink. Just me and my BB gun and a Swiss Army pocket knife. That’s everything I needed to have the time of my life. No cell phones, video games or computer was required. In the great outdoors I did what ever my heart desired. From catching craw fish, salamanders and frogs all day long. To fishing on the riverbank and singing Bob Seger songs. For food I picked apples, cherries, grapes, blueberries and walnuts. There was no reason to go home unless you were a putz. I knew of every short cut and trail there was to walk. And my huffy bicycle was my ride up and down the block. Yes the great outdoors was my childhood playground. And even today in the wild is where I’ll be found. Now my children are experiencing the outdoorsman style. And when I see them out playing it brings back that smile. A smile that of freedom with the sun shining on my face. It was a smile of an outdoorsman taking me back to that magical place.

posted on Mar, 5 2009 @ 06:45 PM
Second poem...

Love is down and out, no longer in the Spring Sprout
Fun is all dried up, no longer in the Summer Sun
Creed is swept away, no longer out in the late Fall Night
Bliss is frozen deep, no longer flying through the Winter air

Stars are hiding deep
Haze blinds us but they cant hear a weep

Waiting for the day something comes our way
A light from above to strike us deep

Key to the lock in me petty little heart
Open up the past with a loud bright blast

No use of talk today
Waiting for that ship to take me back way

posted on Mar, 5 2009 @ 10:06 PM
Once upon a time there was no crime
no need for deception, fabrication or exaggeration

truth was not a failure and lies were not our savior

freedom was a birth right worth a fight
and kingdom was a internal eternal source of light

where our needs proceeded wants
without being tied to sycophants

possessing possessions without possessions possessing

and over time
it's all been twisted by design
for us to be behind and benign
to the degree we see no time when there was no crime

[edit on 5-3-2009 by The All Seeing I]

posted on Mar, 5 2009 @ 10:21 PM
Along The Waters' Edge

'twas twilight and the moon was full
Her eyes a doorway to her soul
Innocence telling, I coudn't resist
Drawing her near, She had never been kissed
Slow and deliberate until our lips met
Together, attraction becomes infinite
As calm as a whisper, the moonlight dancing
Upon mirrored ocean that sparked romancing
We fell in love in that moment in time
As our lips parted our smiles a rhyme
Since that moment our love we did pledge
Twelve years ago along waters' edge

posted on Mar, 6 2009 @ 12:46 AM

Originally posted by masqua
Thought, brought to life by word, whether in prose or rhyme, is the connection through which strangers may meet. Poetry, in all its forms, is thought made manifest.

Is thought not the greatest of voices for what the heart yearns to say?
For when the heart chooses to speak, who is there to hear?
Love, fear, sadness are all the senses of our heart,
forever entrapped within the shell of our bodies.
There is no greater despair than that of a lonely heart.

posted on Mar, 6 2009 @ 10:46 AM
Reminiscence from 2100 on 2009, the Year the Globalists Fell!!!!

* * *

There once were some Ladies and Lorders,
Who did try for a New World Order,
They failed with tanks,
and they couldn't with banks,
So they ran for the borders of Mordor.

[edit on 555.513f20095am by HiAliens]

posted on Mar, 6 2009 @ 11:05 AM
She sits alone in the shadows
I wanted to point and say, "you are a poetess"
I wondered, did she know?
It was inconceivable that she could not
I've come here to console her
Have you heard of Rimbaud?
Do you know why religions fail?
Nothing belongs to anyone
There are no eternal truths
Can you endure the impossible creative silence?
Have you ever tasted poetry?
Of course she had
She looked so unhappy
Did you consult the Universe
before you were born a poet?
I have no idea
perhaps in a previous life
I loved her and I loved her isolation
We are alone in the museum of wrong words

posted on Mar, 6 2009 @ 01:09 PM
Sitting here.
"Sitting here resting my bones, this loneliness won't leave me alone . ."

It was a good idea, coming out here to watch the sun set. Thank you for
asking me to join you. How's that rocking chair holding up ? Still
comfortable ? I remember when I made that for you. I used the best wood
and it took me three months to finish. Still comfortable though ?

"My it's been a long, long time . .How am I doing ? . .Oh, I guess that I'm
doing fine . ."

The sunset is making your hair beautiful again. Like when you were young.
Those lines in your face, they remind me of everything we've done
together and everywhere we've been. Been quite a trek, hasn't it ? You
know I love you don't you ? Always have, since the first day I saw you.

Lordy, you were something back then. You turned everyone's head every
time you moved. Took my breath away ! I'm sure glad you chose me !

He was talking to himself. He knew that she was not sitting in the rocker
next to him. She had passed away a month ago. Sitting here, watching the
sun set, . . with him, had been one of her favorite things to do.
He found himself out here every night, talking to her anyway.

He got up and walked over to the radio, turning up the volume just a bit.

This is for you honey. You always did like Frankie.

"When I was seventeen, it was a very good year,
it was a very good year for small town girls . . . . . ."

. . . . . . . .hmmmm . . . .hmmmm . . . . .hmmmm . .

"And now I think of my life as vintage wine,
from fine old kegs,
from the brim to the dregs,
and it poured sweet and clear,
It was a very good year.

It was a mess of good years."

He looked over and smiled as her rocking chair began to rock slowly.

posted on Mar, 6 2009 @ 01:38 PM
We were never told
of the men who were bold
Who stood up to oppression,
of their stories suppression

We believed what we were taught
of the victors who fought
But of those that they felled,
Will their story be withheld

Perhaps now at last
They can't cover the past
The tale of their strife
After they came for their life.

Logged 'to computers and books
Far away from the crooks
The world can hear of their pain
Their efforts will not be in vain.

[edit on 6/3/2009 by Irishwolf]

posted on Mar, 6 2009 @ 04:04 PM
Short second one


Jumping on turtles
Crossing the last hurdle
Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A
Retro is the old new

Platforming was the rave
Harder to beat than a knave
Setting new precedents
Frustration and victory all around

posted on Mar, 6 2009 @ 08:53 PM
WOW!!! All these poems are AWESOME! I laughed, I cried and it took me back to heartaches, fun in the sun, simple times and our childhoods. It shows how different our childhoods were but how much they were the same
I love these kind of contest and wish that a " POETRY " thread would become permanent on this site. Life is poetry in motion and I'm so glad I took the time to read every single one in here and all that might come along. Man I miss those days.

posted on Mar, 6 2009 @ 09:57 PM

Originally posted by Solarskye
I love these kind of contest and wish that a " POETRY " thread would become permanent on this site.

That sounds like a great idea. Maybe this thread can stay sticky after the contest and become the "official" ATS Poetry Web.

I agree too that there's a lot of great work here and it's awesome that so many have come out to share pieces of themselves. It's an honor to participate

posted on Mar, 7 2009 @ 08:49 AM
I remember when the truth was not for sale
but a code that people would live by.

I remember when I was naive and conspiracy was just a game
and not a code that some people lived by.

I remember New York when I was there in 99', the friends, the people, those times.
And thinking of them, after 9/11 I realised that what I was told was a total lie.

I remember when I hit the net on a truth quest
and that it brought me to so many others when I found ATS.

posted on Mar, 7 2009 @ 09:08 AM
Your ghost in recollection
Why am I so sad?
it is because I recall
is it because I recall happiness
is it because I recall that I have lost happiness
is it because I recall that I have lost happiness, I am this sad
I have lost you.
And all I can do is recall

I have lost you
And all I can do is recall

I have lost you my love
And all I can do is recall that

My happiness now is your ghost in recollection.

posted on Mar, 7 2009 @ 10:43 AM
We Are Shadows

My dancing flame burns bright again ~ to recall what has been
Returning wanderlust of thought ~ begin again to dream .

That freckled king who reigned within ~ the kingdom of my mind
To teenage angst ~ a Major Tom ~ I left the Earth behind .

An archetype by twenty-one ~ a man who knew it all
A borrowed ladder missing rungs ~ an Icarus ~ a fall.

Knowledge of grief , became the thief ~ who stole away my prize
To bury three , ripped chunks from me ~ 'twas more than flesh that died.

Yet Joy again , returned a friend ~ and friend became ~ my lover
My satellite ~ my guiding star ~ i knew there was no other .

Acclimatised by grief and joy ~ no cotton woolly blinds
Just a simple man ~ a grain of sand ~ in the hourglass of the mind.

Umbra ~ Sumus .
(We are shadows )

I feel naked

posted on Mar, 7 2009 @ 05:09 PM
reply to post by blupblup

That was beautiful dude, give me a 'swoon' moment. Well done,
you get a smiley face aswell a star

top topics

<< 4  5  6    8  9  10 >>

log in