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.


Freestyle Poetry: Give it a go....

page: 1

log in


posted on May, 12 2011 @ 08:33 AM
Just an idea I had right now. Every now and then I write poetry and sometimes I'll fill a page in 10 mins with free flowing rhymes. Here's my ATS effort feel free share your own whether already written or authored on the spot like the following... Enjoy

Illumination of the Night

When the hour presents that of our setting sun
The mysterious blue abyss shall drown the flaming one
Time awakens the few who through the dark can see
Truth beyond reality the meaning to be free

Night soaks the sky and if you look you'll find
Innocence hibernates as darkness chimes
Strange creatures come to life nocturnal mankind
Something eerie fills the air then you know it's time

Mother natures sibling illuminates our realm
Soon after our solar father is extinguished from his helm
A canvas of colliding diamonds cast a mesmerizing spell
Even demons stare in awe way down from the depths of hell

That's it so far will add more later.

posted on May, 12 2011 @ 08:49 AM
Remember, remember the 11th of September..
Bomb's, Planes, Treason, and plot
For i see no reason why bombs and treason
should ever be forgot..

I wrote this a few years back.. it came to me when i was reading V for vendetta for the 100th time..

posted on May, 12 2011 @ 09:03 AM
Freedom is Salvation!

an abomination of desolation
of our own creation
enslaving a nation
through all the hatin'
this hell we're creatin'
this evil is enslavin'
so please stop debatin'
start the love makin'
stop all the fakin'
let your light shine and get to wakin'
the future is yours for the takin'
freedom is salvation!
edit on 12-5-2011 by wearewatchingyouman because: clarity

posted on May, 12 2011 @ 01:09 PM
reply to post by TOMFROMOZ

im am not a poet, but i do love this thread,
ive now got to think of some rhyming words instead.
this thread makes me think of what i want to say,
ive probably thought more in 5 minuites than i do in a day.

i dont post much here on the ats boards,
i do however visit whenever time affords.
the topics are varied, interesting and provoke lots of thoughts,
speak about them in the street though, and get back lots of taunts.

as for a thread on poetry, i find it diverse,
my rhyming aint good, and will surely get worse.
there is a reaon poetry aint in my blood,
i can never get the ending to finish in rhyme

posted on Mar, 1 2012 @ 12:58 AM
My bloodclot leaks it, I done stocked decent, amounts of accounts from abovetopsecret, I love to read and think, no longer do I drink, I quit substances but I know my ish stinks!

I'm like a big thing, also a pipsqueak the truth I did seek left me up ish creek, I always been weak but I'm tryna gain strength, I like to paint fake suckers into great lakes

posted on Mar, 15 2012 @ 04:04 PM
Some poems almost write themselves, like this one:


the number “Pi” is irrational, like us
transcendent too, like us (sometimes)
it’s a long Russian novel of digits
or the post office lobby at 3:14 PM
see how each new patron carries
ten times the packages as the last?
if your life followed Pi then, early on
you’d swing ‘round the circle on tip-toe
brake at the decimal point – screech!
walk through the .1, stumble into .14
crawl the threshold of .141, and so on
later, life’s loaded, staggering
(turning the micrometer so slowly)
each little step, little number
past the 3.1415926535897932384626…
each little step, each little number
a tenth the difference of the previous
until your days reach the infinitesimal
at last, and what’s the difference?
waiting for that 3 AM phone call
that’s almost, but never quite, a relief
and all too soon, full circle

Note: I wrote this almost spontaneously, and its origin is a mystery to me. “22/7,” by the way, is a fraction (much used by the ancient Egyptians) yielding an approximation of Pi. The reader can find patterns of 22 and 7 in the poem. DD 11-22-2010

posted on Mar, 15 2012 @ 04:09 PM
I enjoy writing poetry the old fashioned way. It "feels" different when I try typing as opposed to writing. My thoughts always seem so jumbled when I try typing off the cuff so to speak. That being said I would like to say thanks for this type of thread. Judging by the rants that have been posted lately, this site could use more calming, fun type threads, just to help try to turn attention from anger over small issues that seem to be blowing way out of proportion lately.

S&F for you, OP

posted on Mar, 15 2012 @ 10:27 PM
Pick it up and leave it as that will be the standard,
if you do not need it then smash it with a hammer,
if you can't believe it then can't is in your grammer,
if your seed is fiendish it's me i'm in the slammer

posted on Apr, 28 2012 @ 06:35 AM

There's a magic that I can't explain without getting all philosophical. First you give away all hope of being anything, so you can be the thing you spent all your life avoiding. How does anything make sense when life itself is a headlong rush towards mortification? Nonsequeters abound without  hi plate wrapped chocolate jump suits.
All in the poker hand of government slides. And they say letterman is a funny man off camera. Is poetry really in motion? Why not potion. Or lotion? Commotion. Promotion. Just a drop in the ocean.

posted on May, 16 2012 @ 04:44 PM
I write battle lines for fun so here's some rhymes,

yo you defeat is inevitable as the process of evolution, you fist line will embark your careers conclusion, come against me you will certainly see knowledge is key, im more autoimmune then the sickness after HIV, Hurry up come and contest but proceed with caution, I shoot rhymes with with the percison of a marksmen, I would rase the bar with faster accelaration, your as slow as the heir with no determination, I'll tko your whole crew only using my tounge, been a razor sharp assassin since my trainings begun, strike your spine and disorentate your chakras and make your whole body numb, what up son why you still battling after we all know I allready won,

posted on May, 16 2012 @ 09:32 PM
I was bored one day at work, so I decided to write a poem. I decided, against my creative writing training, to not use the vital organs of nouns and verbs, but the connective tissue of conjunctions and articles, for the most part.

To do, but for the nor -
for be it so than with!
Not now and then,
is thru (or through) into!


posted on May, 17 2012 @ 12:25 PM
You are a unique, bold and beautiful creation
I tell this to you, no matter your nation or your station
Even this a child knows
No one can see while their eyes are closed
The powers that be took your powers to see
Why does it feel like no one is listening to me?
Am I caught in absurdity?
Destined for obscurity?
Without a doubt I'm hurtin', gee (wiz)
What is wrong with these kids?
Thought my generation was wild until they opened up this:
Babies having babies
While running in gangs.
My own government made unsafe to get on a plane
Unless I feel like getting felt up by the TSA
Something is wrong with world
And we all can feel it
I just hope instead of complaining
We stand up and heal it.
A block at a time
It won't cost you a dime
A little effort, a little love, and this world can be sublime
Or maybe my head is just up in a cloud.
But if that's the case, don't bring me down.
edit on 17-5-2012 by Lasr1oftheJedi because: what else? spelling!

posted on May, 29 2012 @ 04:44 PM
I wrote this a little while ago:

Thank you, dear God, for these few sensational delights
in my sensa of tastes, textures, sounds, smells and sights:

Strawberry snow, more squishy than the sunken sea.


Epic, like the ever-enduring eternity.


Nature's nimbus, as notable as Norma Jeane.


Sweetly sobering, like serene serendipity.


An amiable accessory, as appeasing as angel wings.


I'm gonna think up two more and return! I like poetry. In the meantime, I double doggy dare a demon to sneak me a sneaky, and that's not code for do the exact opposite (anymore). You know, they say fortune favors the bold...

Its not a number. It is the free choice of a bunch of fools playing a game with malice and intent to harm others for entertainment. Although, it is all going to backfire on them. They want be able to buy their way into Heaven!"

"This is the second time I have had to complain about someone commenting on this post without having actually read it. PLEASE read what I have said before commenting, you don't even know what you are commenting on..."

This needs to be taken into context before you judge it. The italics were added by me. If demons have been afraid of spending the rest of their lives suffering in Hell for the last 6000 years, and if word has spread that they're being saved, then they might want confirmation by "sneaking" to each other in their "coincidence" ways that everybody conveniently ignores. If.

Well firstly, there were two trees we were banned from. The tree of life and the tree of knowledge. And the bible says nothi about which fruit it was.

Remember, contexts. Not + high = This demon is pointing out that the Bible doesn't confirm (as far as he knows) that demons are going to be saved. It does symbolically. Want to help me play eye spy with them, my human friends? Don't be afraid, they're naturally good. They just think emotions are natural, like you, and that's why they misbehave. Try to look at it from their point of view.
edit on 29-5-2012 by Underdoggy because: (no reason given)

posted on May, 30 2012 @ 09:01 AM
For some reason I can't edit my post again, so maybe this reply will clear something up. I didn't realize all quotes are italic. When I mentioned that the italics were added by me, I was referring to these three attempted italicizes: "....they want be able....", "....PLEASE....", and "....nothi....". Also, I meant I spy, not eye spy. Hmmm.... Take the "I"'s out of italic, and you have "talc" (pronounced "talk"). Oh, and I've discovered happiness to be our only natural emotion, so when I said this:

They just think emotions are natural, like you, and that's why they misbehave.

I wasn't inferring that apathy is our natural state. Everything aside from happiness in this category I call emotions.
edit on 30-5-2012 by Underdoggy because: clarification

posted on Jun, 1 2012 @ 11:07 AM
Bloodstained, love drained, and whip trained
Prisoners out of sight
Doom chained, soul strained, and sorrow reigned
Why won't anybody treat them right?
I'm not very strong, but for them I'll fight
I'm not very smart, but I'll try with all my might
They've been cast out into the dark
So I'll burn to bring them light
edit on 1-6-2012 by Underdoggy because: (no reason given)

posted on Jun, 19 2012 @ 05:50 PM

You complained I never wrote you any poems
But love is the glue of a broken home
Tears roll down the surface and create canyons
On a soul of ancient ruins long abandoned
So burn me up like a cigarette
While my life is a complex ziggurat
You hear whispers in the fire while I sit alone
And still you complain that I never wrote you poems

My soul is kerosene and your personality's the match
Detonator attached to an itch that I can't scratch
Let the flames kiss the sky until the clouds cry
Leave not one inch of me dry

There it went, another day gone
As I'm engulfed in the napalm
Swirling in the neutrons
I've everything but moved on
There's no desire like this fire
I'm a slave to your evil empire
I can no longer stand; I'm a burning man
Wash me away, a castle of sand

My soul is kerosene and your personality's the match
Detonator attached to an itch that I can't scratch
Let the flames kiss the sky until the clouds cry
Leave not one inch of me dry

What will you do when there's no God to cry to
And memories are the shadows that you lied to
When you stumble hoping someone will find you
There will never be another to stand behind you

When the casket's closed and covered with dirt
What will be your refuge from the hurt
You feel for the one you slammed into the earth
Because everyone gets what they deserve

My soul is kerosene and our personalities don't match
Detonator attached to an itch that I must scratch
Let the flames kiss the sky until the clouds dry
Leave not one inch of me alive

J. Stewart © 2012
edit on 6/19/12 by shaluach because: (no reason given)

posted on Aug, 14 2012 @ 07:44 PM
This is long overdue, but here it is:

The Yummiest Cookie

I found a Cookie that looks incredibly yummy
She's the kind that pleasures your heart, not your tummy
This Cookie can never be baked by any mummy
It can only be bought, with love as the summy

I'm not very good at poetry, but she's definately worth it. I love you Cookie


log in