The Heavy Metal Poets Poetry Thread

[Spike427]

Alright, from this day forth i'll be posting some of my poetry on here. Im open to suggestions and constuctive critism.

This is a lil somethin I wrote while depressed about a girl:

Tonight, I Don't Sleep

Distance, it kills my soul
I fall, far away from eternity
the drops, rain falls from the sky like etheral evenings
these the tears I spill for you

Nothing apon this earth, nothing apon my life
The darkness clouds over my weary hopes
My dreams, my heart, something to be thought on
I think, I pray, someday something better

For us, right now, things fall quickly
My heart, it bleeds, nothings better
the distance it kills, and nothing is ok
I fall so fast,nothing lasts in this world

It hurts, it pains, the space between us
Right now, right here, Im dying slowly
For you I bleed, for you I fall,
I'll give my soul, I'll give it all
One chance, I ask, for something better
The hope, I have, is all thats left

....Ask me what you mean to me and I'll give you the world
Ask me what you are, and I'll point out a star

To me, somethings different, to me somethings changed
Everything,......you mean more to me, everything,....... so small in comparison
What I feel, its love, and nothing purer,..lives on in the heart, of this diehard romantic

At night, shallow breathes, deep in thought, I do not rest
I dream, yet cry, its a nightmare from within
So close my goal, so close my love, yet inches still draw apart
the half you are, that makes up the whole, of my life, Im empty, without you as my core
You're more then you know, you're more then I can express, Im bad at words,my emotions are hard
For me, its hard to put into words, the feelings I have, its all in my thought, I cry out in the night for your touch
For your thoughts, Your voice, your breath, all special, all unique, your laugh, your cry, they all mean something to me

If im alone...If im without you, I'll die inside, just like I feel like doing right now, but im never giving up
I love you with all my heart, with all my soul, I'll love you to the day I die.
I'll never hurt you, and no matter what, I'll always be here

This night I won't sleep,this night is my special tribute to you
All night I'll think, all night you'll be on my mind
Some parts, I'll cry because I can't bear to loose you
I've waited, so long, for the chance to be with you
Its my last, I'll do anything to make you happy
Just know, right now, you own my soul
What you choose to do with it is your decision.

[Spike427]

Day in the Valley of Death

Digging, I hear it. The sounds, an unease trudge as the shove hits the dirt. This place, its so, so, lifeless. An ironic word to use really, in a place like this, a place where no one really speaks. This place, where dead is more then just a figure of speech. Irony, the story of so many lives, each one telling something different, all of them leading to the same end. They come to rest, here, the tears shed here endless in supply, endless as the groups who come in, endless as the holes dug. The sound of the shove echoing for all eternity.

You know not the people who suffer, you know not for whom they sob, you know only this place, a place of grief where they all come to morn. Theres nothing like it really. Nothing so inciteful as the will they leave behind. Lessons a many are learned. You think you know, you really think you know until it ends, here they come, down the rows of stone again to the still empty hole freshly dug the morning before. As the ground we feel the tears fall upon us, as the wind we hear the crys of the mournful loved ones, and as the sky we look down on the face of one who will soon return to the earth. This is all natural, in a course just like any other. This place, its amazing the way we conduct it, its amazing the sights and sounds it hears, be amazed at how dirt and stone comes to mean so much to us after we're gone. If not to us, then the ones we love.

Here we stand, once again the morbid entrance to this place. The trees scattered randomly several years before by an unskilled groundskeeper. Here we are, look upon the rows of stone, ages aparts, each one the name of someone who may resides as a spook depending on belief. We'll morbidly walk the rows and look down upon the names so neatly etched, wondering if the dead really care about all the flowers and wreaths left neatly at their resting place. Set a flower and say a prayer, its a tradition so many do. We'll sit upon this spot, in this place quietly and wonder. Find a flower desolately placed in need of attention, and give it life. For life in this place means more then we know.

[Byakuya7]

I like your style of poetry. One thing I would suggest though is that you break away from those archetypes that poems usually fall under. Having all of your writing focusing on suffering and internal pain is effective, however an experienced writer tries to use all kinds of different genres. I'd like to see how you would do with a different style of poem, because I think you have a lot of potential and skill. The poems themselves that you wrote were very good and morbid.