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  • Showing only topics in ~creative with the tag "seasons". Back to normal view / Search all groups
    1. Winter poem

      A little pretext. I wrote this poem in november 2017, and I slightly improved it today. I enjoy creating stories and poems are a way that I did not try much before. I don't know much about it,...

      A little pretext. I wrote this poem in november 2017, and I slightly improved it today. I enjoy creating stories and poems are a way that I did not try much before. I don't know much about it, except the few things I learned in school and i can't remember most of it. Also english is my second language and there might be some words that don't fit in.
      The changes in lines and rythm are intended to match the story.
      If this does not meet the high-quality content and discussion and therefore doesn't fit in with ~, let me know and I will remove it.

      To stop my rambling: Feel free to leave criticism. I plan to make poetry my hobby so any tips, comments, feedback and thoughts are appreciated.

      Somewhere,
      deep in the wild
      Layed there,
      Cold a little child.
      
      It wasn't very long ago,
      The rotten did not show,
      All consuming deafening silence,
      Pierced only by crows crying violent.
      
      What happened here?
      She ran from fear.
      To escape the grasp,
      Of the ones she hold dear.
      
      One soul has passed before her,
      Taking with his life,
      The only thing she ever strived
      Her mother, father and her brother
      Two of these caused the disaster.
      
      It began with a fight,
      In a cold winter night,
      Snow falling lightly,
      And the ice growing wildly.
      
      Suddenly the moment
      when all seemed to fly
      Death was potent
      Coming in the blink of an eye.
      
      Crushed by the car's roof,
      Not needing any more proof.
      The little boy left,
      She cried over his death
      
      Sad things passed
      and bad will follow.
      To escape the sorrow
      Two chose their paths
      
      Alcohol in mornings and nights,
      Followed by overbearing fights,
      Inbetween this shit
      Was one little kid
      
      Treated like air,
      It was just not fair
      Her family's break,
      Was the last thing she could take
      
      She ran into the woods,
      Only on foot.
      Soon she lost her trail
      And soon after she wailed.
      
      In her last thoughts
      she met her god.
      Looked him deep in the eye
      And pierced him with a knive
      
      Somewhere,
      deep in the wild
      Layed there,
      Cold a little child.
      
      

      Edit: Formatting mistakes

      17 votes