MrEff's profile
AGE:
20
LOC: Marstons Mills, MA
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: October 05
LOC: Marstons Mills, MA
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: October 05
Hey. I’m Alan. I live in Cape Cod Massachusetts, which is a pretty cool place. I started writing poetry in third grade, and I’ve been doing it on and off ever since. I think I’m pretty much the shit. You’re welcome to form your own opinion. My poetry is mostly narrative; I never had the patience for wheelbarrows and chickens, so I write mostly about people and all the different ways they interact. If you do like something of mine that you read, don’t hesitate to add me as a friend so we can review each other’s stuff.
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They stood, two rows on two rows Prepared to fight. Their minds burned and their hearts froze-- The black, the white. Steadfast stood they, without a thought Of turning back; It was honor, steeped in blood, they sought-- The white, the black. They felt the noble purity Of divine right. For both, success--a surety, The black, the white. No time remains to hear their story-- Who's keeping track? The ending's either death or glory-- White attacks!
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What do you do When love turns blue And you've lost the best part of your soul? You smoke another cigarette And try to forget That for a minute, you could have been whole
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From dust we come-- To dust we go. Hopeless to some-- They cease to care. But take a lightbulb, turn it on; Enquire when the light has gone: The world remembers it was there.
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When I was young I found a young tree-- A pine sapling on the side of a hill. Fingers red from the winter chill, I bent it back until I pulled it free, And the roots lay bare for all to see, But the pine survived, and it's out there still. And such ideas were brought to mind By the fall of a single, scrawny pine That I bent my body back and back, And farther yet 'til I heard it crack, And like an unrolling ball of twine, I toppled off the beaten track. And when news came from the old town cri...
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1 Comment
One day God thought for an idle laugh He'd shape an Earth from the cosmic bath. He stretched out a planet-spanning hand, And drew it back, and there was land. But the dead earth wasn't much to see And simply sat there silently. So he loosed the fountains in the deeps, And water rose in gushing leaps. Where earth had been, exposed and raw, Now a pleasant, placid sea he saw. And the water sweetly flowed if pressed, But mostly it remained at rest, And after he had drunk his fill, The water again...
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I like it, even though it's completely depressing. In particular I like the "i will not bury you" line and the end. The only criticism I can think of is that I don't really know what you mean by "brick-pile houses". 9.5
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