Forum Replies Created
-
Posts
-
Another prose one.
Metaphorical Definition
Deppresion is____________. What is it? No, it cannot be said in a single sentence. Its not just a dark tunnel with no light at the end. Not a black pit, totally dark and cold. A bubble closing around you, suffacating you. No, not that either. Not a dark fog weighing you down. Not a big black garbage bag, where your stuck inside. Not a chemical making your body feel like lead. Not like death either. It is not a single sentence. But maybe, its all of them together that describes a fraction of it.
Blabla: ur poems always have me in tears, especially ur last one. they were amazing. remember im always there for you.
thinkfirst: very inspiring. u write really well. wow.
saysme: hi wasp? how ya doing? its so nice that you always have something positive to say for everything and everyone.
When I die,
do not eugolize me.
Dont pretend,
I meant everything to you.
Dont praise me,
for all the traits I never had.
Dont fake,
and say you loved me.
Dont cry,
over everything you’ve done.
Dont feel bad,
for everything not yet done.
Dont try to make amends then,
cry at my grave and ask forgiveness.
Dont spend money,
on my tombstone.
Dont have anyone,
try to console you.
For you know, I may die today.
This one I wrote to my friend. (hi! luv u.)
A wanderer falls,
into a crevice,
all alone,
badly hurt.
rescuers come,
some to get fame,
others money,
as a reward.
they bring a ladder,
short peice of rope,
poisonous berries to eat…
all thinking they can help.
the wanderer cries out,
hes bleeding,
thinking theres help,
but gets wounded more.
one rescuer looks,
sees no hope,
he falls in too,
to comfort from within.
Locked in a box,
do the status quo.
Repeat, repeat, repeat,
do no different.
Go thru the motions,
do as your told.
Please set me free.
this one I wrote a while ago. its not really a poem, just prose.
A teeming mass. A droning swarm. The streets are full of faceless people. Walking, talking, texting, doing everyday stuff. An endless sea of humanity.
Each common does have a face. A life. Struggles, joys, issues. He has a heart with feelings. A brain with thoughts. He is an individual.
i havn’t checked out the cr recently (been busy) but i read everything i missed now and i just started tearing up. you people are amazing! the talent here is incredible. im totally embaressed to print anything. but i will though cuz no one really knows who i am here. i hope. thats whats good about this place, you can say anything cuz no one really knows who you are.
shes cool,
hip,
chic.
shes smart,
funny,
cute.
shes happy,
laughing,
silly.
but who is she?
blabla, i feel for you. hang in there. and remember your special.
observanteen, i really liked that. i cud tottaly identify.
saysme, where do you get you positivity from? you sound really special. i like your writings too. keep it up!
Sitting alone,
a sea of tentacles,
everyone speaks a different language,
drumming to a different beat.
Moving on with life,
while i sit stuck.
shmoozing and eating,
while i’m dumb and fat.
going forward,
while i sink.
running and jumping,
while im lazy and slow.
smiling and laughing,
while i cry.
Blabla: that was amazing! totally.
saysme: that was really nice. i liked it.
A thousand words of kindness.
will not take away hurt.
A thousand words of love,
will not take away hate.
The hate,
latches on,
digs deeper,
searing pain,
sends you in a spiral,
downward.
The love,
touches the surface,
gently caressing,
warm and cozy,
slides off quickly,
leaving a gaping hole.
its all people in the world in general. were all not what we seem to be
tnx.
i agree with all of that and a lot more.
but i think he was placed here by yeshiva world.
he knows too much, is too nice and is always around.
Blabla- ur really good!!!!!!!!!!! i get so much strength from ur poems. u sound like an amazing person.
They live behind white fences,
pretty gardens and manicured lawns.
Polished windows and mahagony doors.
They live under sunny skies,
chances of showers here or there.
Warming suns and fluffy clouds.
They live in turbulent houses,
broken furniture and leaking roofs.
Shattered dinnerware and torn wallpaper.
They live sarrounded by nightmares,
haunting them wherever they go.
Frightening cries and silent ghosts.
All depression hates
the jubilant face,
the smile stretching wide,
the peace felt inside.
All depression resents
breaking of the dark fence,
letting light seep thru,
personality be true.
All depression reviles
putting sadness in file,
doing what is meant,
endless chattering be sent.
tnx. well i used to have lots of questions but now i just am fed up.
I dont believe,
what they say.
Its a lie.
But im still following.
I dont believe,
what they teach.
Its a fable.
But im still learning.
I dont believe,
what they practice.
Its a fib.
But im still doing.
I dont believe,
what they believe.
Its false.
But Im still praying.
this place so supportive!
blabla and observanteen: i dont really have anxiety but i do get headaches all the time. tylonel doesnt really help and i asked my phsyciatrist and he said theres nothing you could really do about it.
btw does anyone know any frum support groups for teens with eating disorders? would really appreciate it.
hi. its my first time checking out the coffee room and these poems are amazing!!!!!!!!!!!! i cud identify with so many of them especially blabla. amazing!
blabla: ur talent is outstanding. u should write proffesionaly. seriously.