Writers Challenge #7

Discussion in 'Poetry Realm' started by Mind~$oul, Dec 1, 2003.

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  1. Mind~$oul

    Mind~$oul I'm Pretty

    Apr 10, 2001
    On this writers challenge, imagine you are lookin at your baby pictures or just pictures of a younger you. I want you to write a piece on what you think those pictures of you might think of what you have turned out to be thus far in life.

    Just imagine the pictures are talkin to you.

    SIZZLA New Member

    Dec 8, 1999
    me first?
  3. Nebulaz

    Nebulaz fear God, not man

    Feb 28, 2001
    awesome idea mind, i'll definitely give this one a try.
  4. Novaman: RaWKiLLa

    Novaman: RaWKiLLa New Member

    Aug 24, 2001
    Forgotten Innocence

    From a skinny little, high-pitched voice reflection of my grandfather
    I've gone farther...and farther
    To a wild & crazy young afro-O-mera-can
    With skin dark as raisin, I never been butter pecan
    And my hair stay nappy, never been mistaken for Puerto rican
    Songs by Michael Jackson were first words recited
    My name holds seven letters so I can never be divided
    My name is biblical like Abraham's first born seed
    Remeber days of nusery rhymes and hide&go-seek
    In middle school it turned into hide&go-peek
    Then in high school I tried to ride with them freaks
    Those summers where I kicked off them powerwheel tricycles
    The syrup of popsicles getting stuck to the seat of my bicycle
    Waking up early morning to watch Ninja turtles on TV
    Cook eggos and chef boyardee when we get hungry
    The young prince is now becoming a king
    Trying to cope with reality and do my thing
    I'm trying to find some purpose and reason to this
    And from the stress I start to cry and ball up my fist
    Going through my life, maticulous with it like I'm testing piss
    For drugs, we always use to play cowboys and ingines
    But to see real shots in ya best friend can cause the cringes
    In ya stomach and your heart beat race like hell
    Never knew by the time I was 12 I'de have this story to tell
    Never knew by the age of 16 I would be in jail
    And never thought mama had to sale her house to post my bail
    And mama never thought that the son from her flesh
    Would also be the same son to rush her to an early death
    Never looked in her babies eyes and saw the trouble
    Never held her swollen womb to caress that infinte struggl
    Now I look, from a cracked windows, blanketed by pouring rain
    Seeing my baby pictures, at the time never knew of the pain
    Unexpected, cast aside very often and rejected
    But I'm comming like Lazarus, brand new and resurrected
    Been dead for many days and all hopes were lost
    My life fell into shambles, became a living halocaust
    But I tossed all the anger a side and swallowed hard
    I came out the womb screaming, kicking, and on my guard
    An innocence that use to halo my face as a child
    Is eternally lost in the wicked life of the wild

    SIZZLA New Member

    Dec 8, 1999

    you have come a long way. i have watched you grow as a poet and you are a real treat now a days... thats my word. stay up...
  6. DaJackle

    DaJackle ThoughtS ProcessinG

    Sep 1, 2003
    nu, i really like that...i like the how you transitioned from the different phases, and sounds like you've been through many things that most could only imagine...stay strong man, keep writing
  7. StubbilyMug

    StubbilyMug DayorDollar Records

    Sep 29, 2003
    [Competent feedback appreciated]


    I heard a whisper, behind me:
    "Never turn around."

    So I didn't look back,
    just into ridiculing mirrors.

    And every morning,
    the upper half burned it's frown.

    Now, the evil voice
    rides a hoarse.

    still praying the same one-way changing tune...

    Into the silencing oral fixation
    of a cancerous passion
    Reflecting, and aiding.

    Thick head of straight hair
    Staked atop mountain
    The counting:
    from out decade, -curled sneers.

    Tragic fast-laned life of a cracked-skinned egg.
    A pier:
    falling, still, to be seered on impact.

    can still hear.

    "Shut up, window.
    Get off top my ab-stacked backdrop."

    Autumn brown,
    I remember my mere ears.

    I shouldn't have turned...
    ...but I wondered.
    ...if I did.
  8. MisterEThoughts

    MisterEThoughts MysteryOfUntoldTruth

    Jun 20, 2003
    damn all nice poetry i will hit u up with something later too...
  9. FukkedUPKidR

    FukkedUPKidR Guest

    This is super personal, not emotionally.. but just events..and..things.. Don't know how understandable it is, but here -

    Another day of grievance for the ship
    I had so boldly sunk
    It was a simple year for a funeral.

    Existence subsisting on the soles of my feet
    Hoping to showcase my creativity.

    Buck teeth, unfortunate hair, and desperate eyes
    But every word spoken as President
    I wanted to lock in a box for times
    She may not get to dream up.

    In more childish terms…

    I own a red balloon
    Roaming a vast California, perhaps
    Halting at San Diego because I found a home
    With stairs

    I discovered a boy named Jordan Reyes
    If a Jehovah witness wants me
    Then consider him stolen
    We will go out at night.

    A million pardons
    But my children have no desks
    I have three, and they all study

    I am still stuck out at sea
    In my lifeboat, minus the life
    Someone throws a saver,
    I devour it completely.
    Sinking the chance of ever having a future.
    But it was sooooo sweet.
  10. MisterEThoughts

    MisterEThoughts MysteryOfUntoldTruth

    Jun 20, 2003
    On this writers challenge, imagine you are lookin at your baby pictures or just pictures of a younger you. I want you to write a piece on what you think those pictures of you might think of what you have turned out to be thus far in life.

    when i was little i was sweet...
    and now i turned into a total tweeb...
    i had some meat bones...
    and some wieght...
    but i didn't relize i was such disgrace...
    when i visit my grandma she tells me things...
    and then when i hear it i begin to blead..
    internall bleading out of my mouth...
    like a blood of poison was put into my mouth...
    why does she say bad things like that..
    i was just about 5...
    and now i relize i am nothing but a dumb shmuck...
    she aint in my life no more and i am happy to be free...
    because now i relize how good freedom can be....
  11. 6ftground


    Jun 22, 2003
    I’m lost in my Polaroid​
    Oh! I’ve been growing so much, yet the summer’s winters come so close
    why boast about my youth …oh look this one here the one filled with tears
    the one with mother and father standing near …it’s Christmas and the tree is full,
    look here is one where I had a visit from my neighbor no longer living, no longer here, sigh….Oh man I remember this the one with me, my father, my best friend and his father winter Ice fishing, me skinny holding a bass weighing about 50, look at me man I’ve grown over the centuries, can I take this last picture with me dad?
    The one where moms still looks alive and the wind immortalized, swiftly blowing through her hair or may this one, the one when I just turned 20 smoked out in the 66 Cadillac. Dad never found out about that and this picture the one, the last one this I put on the one, honest all I need is a pair of scissors to cut a path to where I’ll wind up, the past this picture represents, trapped is my future towards the present, the now- because if the past is to help me progress to what went before and beyond then I’m shyt out of luck….I’m lost in my Polaroid…
  12. FukkedUPKidR

    FukkedUPKidR Guest

    ^^ I liked that. Well written, pz.
  13. Den-S

    Den-S .:.The Chosen One.:.

    Aug 16, 2003
    Staring back into the glaze of my eyes...
    Is the youth of a prisoned soul and mind...
    Lost innocence that in a sense brought me to life...
    What was wrong is now right, what's exposed now hides...
    The heart, a virgin to the encounters of pain and agony...
    Wealth is but a mere word, love but an enigmatic reality...
    These pictures of fixtures of my presence are lost...
    Amidst the realm of a world to which death pays no cost...
    Pupils of prominence that a mother enriches with stories...
    Of kings and castles, a warrior's queen and their glories....
    Skin smooth with the essence of a firm surface, untouched...
    Fingers, the grace of harmony that feels Heaven in one touch...
    Tears run the surface of the rugged exterior of a man's elapsed life...
    Scorned by the terrors of struggle and strife...
    That now lay hidden through the glaze of my eyes...
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