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This is not to take away from any of the other poetry forums, but to talk about ideas/ struggles you could be having with your poems. Feel free to leave your own, or even other poems you adore and want to share with the others who ejnoy poetry as well. You may unknowingly help spark an idea into someone's head with a new story or a detail that they could use. All forms of poerty are exepted here, and so is every genre. 

My last love 

forgiveness, 
our time has come; darkness descends 
tear stained, soulless 
sordid 
My last love

I was thinking about getting it across my shoulders

lol

All you gay poetry people should take these as inspiration.

Clickety-typeity
Endmaster, Endmaster
Rules all his subjects, a
Dark antipope.
Spewing his vitriol
Omnidirectional
Should I just log off or
Should I just rope? --Gower

There was a young man named Hill
Who thought live women quite shrill.
To the cemetery
He fled with heart merry,
And went on to consume his fill.

The sweet ambrosia did flow,
And with this dear Hill did show
That he was not sexist,
Nor very selective
In his choice of undead beau. --Cricket

And because everyone loves this so:
I was a cucc
She wanted to fucc
I got the succ
It burns when I pee
I have no lucc --Corgi

Thanks Jiminy, but we all know you love poetry too.

Not the gay kind

I see now, the darker side of things then? Or more erotic?

Those are hardly mutually exclusive

To whom?

Normal people

Ah

Well different people like different things so my apologieze for assuming the style you prefer.

You require strong alliterative heroic verse, Beowulf style.  I think I understand what kind of poerty (sic) you ejnoy (sic).

Thank you, Gower. You understand what I exept.

The winter wind blows,

And the poor man sells his coat.

Wealthy, but now cold.

I like this, it's concise  but has a multitude of applications depending on one's expirences. 

Have you ever tried drawing your poems? Or even the stories you make? I tried it once, but I'm no artist with a brush, music and writing are my arts.

A Variation Haiku on a Theme by Ficsean

The winter wind blows!

Seriously, fuck that wind.

Freezing my ass off.

I can imagine my grandpa showing this to me, to show tha he can write poetry too, but he'd say "but I'm doing it my way bitch!" Well done well done

Yeah, fuck that wind!

You remind me of that dude in my haiku; you are the exact kind of person who would just sell their coat in a snowstorm for some quick fat stacks.

Maybe that was the storm your person was in.

What a curious sight,

That I saw that night,

A man prancing in the street,

Who no one would want to meet,

Sharing his countless poems,

When folks hoped he'd go home,

But there's no rhythm or reason,

To call it a poem would be treason,

And so to that man I must say,

You really are fucking gay.

In a fierce battle of word,

There's only slight to be heard,

For no man is spared,

Nay; all ears are to be flared.

Chris was no different,

His insults abhorrent,

So what is this man to do,

If not return what is due?

Returning the favor,

(With a tad bit of flavor!)

What else is to be done,

Until this man can say he won?

It was clear he was gay,
This Castor of clay.
His rhymes were all muddy,
His spelling was cruddy.

His message - incomprehensible.
His posting - reprehensible.
Reading comprehension poor.
Vast delusions a bore.

'No homo!' he'd cry, yet kept on trucking,
Still given away by all the sucking.

There was a noob fucktard named Castor
Who thought that with poems he was master.
Yet his choice in the duel was the poem of a fool,
And it's certain to end in disaster.
EDIT: Too similar to Ficsean's. For that, I apologize.

Castor the noob was a faggot.
Although not a poet, he'd fake it,
But when time for a duel, he knew he the fool,
And acrostics were his one hope to bag it.