The Poetry Pavilion (Sharing Space)

[Prof. Sky Alton]

Lit from within,
Square, jewel-like:
Gold-red pillars
On the dark grass
Inside, they sit,
On thick, rich rugs
They versify
And share their art.

Welcome to the Poetry Pavilion! This is your space to share any poems or lyrics you might have been working on. Sonnets about love, free-form poems about the ups and downs of life or even limericks about Russian history, anything is welcome! (I really did have to write limericks about Russian history once…I don’t advise it). Whether you’ve taken a poetry writing class here on HOL (or elsewhere) or just write it for yourself, we’d love to see some.

Before you get sharing, please remember to keep everything HOL-appropriate and to keep any comments you make about other people’s work constructive and respectful. Everyone should feel comfortable to post here (and besides, you don’t want to end up with an albatross around your neck).

That’s it, get lyricising!

While you’re here, pay a visit to our other sharing spaces, the Story Circle and Fan Fic Fair.

[Viviana Kingston]

So I’m working on this poem based on a folktale (I got inspired by a poetry collection I read recently) and it’s still a work in progress, I’m actually thinking of scrapping the whole thing and just keeping the first lines of the stanzas but I didn’t want to not share what I tried so far. My ending doesn’t keep up with the pace and rhythm, I know, but hey I’m getting there. Kudos to anyone who can guess the folktale correctly.

Sometimes kindness can go a very long way
When you devote yourself to love someone without a price
Doing everything in your power
To make sure they’re alright
And love without boundaries
Bears some fruit
Stereotypes fall away
Some people won’t bite the hand that feeds them even though their nature says they may

Sometimes too much kindness can make you a prey
When you have gifts you want to share with the world
Generosity is a virtue until it’s a vice
Sometimes there’s people out there who think your magic is unlimited
And ask and ask until there’s nothing left
And you give and give until you’re a desert
The oasis was a mirage
your abundance a lie in their eyes
The price of too much kindness is a price no one should pay

[Hiya Debnath]

I would like to share something that I have been writing for sometime now.

It's not complete yet.

"Being a silkworm and cocooning are just essential stages in the life cycle of a butterfly,

Waves in the sea are destructive, but at the same time productive and powerful,

They can both generate electricity and wear rocks over time.

The sting on a honey bee only stops its enemies from stealing the fruits of its hard work,

The night would have been lonely without the Moon,
Bathed though it may be,in nothing but stolen sunlight.

The muddiest waters are habitat to the prettiest lotus,
And so is aptly necessary,every thing that seems to go wrong in life."

[Hiya Debnath]

We are like rivers, the flowing water,

The Deep blue calmness, hiding the worst currents,

With a trickling spirit, A Simple beauty,

From a frozen source to a watery destination, womb to the tomb,

On our way to becoming totally different from what we were born.

Like the river that knows it's destination, but can't see it,

Loyal to it's banks, as fiery as the number of obstacle rocks on its path,

Bloated out at times by the weight of emotional sediment it carries itself,

Polluted by the dirt of negativity it constantly tries to wash away.

People like dams that only stop us to use us, and leave us roaring in rage as we flush out of the dam gates,

Strengthening our waters and make us keep flowing stronger,

Till we find the sea, instead of getting lost and forgotten in the sands of time.

[Dibyarup James Potter]

I started writing this one about a month ago. But I just couldn't find a good completion for it. But now I finally did, and here it is.

THE LOCKET
By Dibyarup James Potter

In the attic's hush, where the shadows creep,
A tarnished locket, from the corner peeps.
Beneath the dust, behind the locks,
A silent whisper, from inside the box.

Cold, rusted metal, etched with carvings of grace,
It holds the memories of the bygone days.
There’s a hinge that creaks, and a clasp that yields,
With a glimpse inside, a story gets revealed.

[Dibyarup James Potter]

This is an old poem that I wrote some time ago. It had more lines, but I was not sure about them, so I removed those lines, and I was left with this. I must say, I really like this version of the poem. It just feels right.

THE LONE FIREFLY
By Dibyarup James Potter

In a world shrouded in darkness,
A lone firefly has dangers to face.
Glowing softly, with its spirit afloat,
Through the darkness, it must go.

Memories of kindred light,
Guide it through the endless night.
In the void, it wants to cry,
Seeking where its kin may lie.

Brave and bright, it journeys on,
Hoping to find its kin long gone.
For even in the darkest sea,
One small light can set hearts free.

[Dibyarup James Potter]

TIME
By Dibyarup James Potter

Time is a river forever flowing,
Moments passing, always going.
It whispers of the days gone by,
It echoes in the twilight of the night sky.

Moments lost and moments gained,
Life’s brief dance, by time constrained.
Ticking clocks and the alarm’s chime,
Mark the endless march of time.

Seasons change, and years fade,
Our memories, the future’s foundations laid.
Yet in its flow, we find our place,
Then we die, with time’s warm embrace.

[Dibyarup James Potter]

ROSES
By Dibyarup James Potter

Roses bloom with a scarlet hue,
Petals soft, with morning dew.
Colours whisper, red and bright,
Stories of love, in the night.

Thorns that guard their tender heart,
Not just beauty, it’s a work of art.
In the garden, the roses are dew-kissed,
They are blushing, in the morning mist.

The fragrance lingers, in the breeze,
Carrying romance through the trees.
It’s a symbol of love, for ages bygone,
In each petal, many memories have shone.

Days pass, and the petals fall,
Yet their memory outlives us all.

[Dibyarup James Potter]

This poem talks about the discrimination against black cats that is still prevalent in many parts of the world, because of superstition and prejudice.

A BLACK CAT WITH EMERALD EYES
By Dibyarup James Potter

In the shadows, a black cat roams,
With emerald eyes, like shiny verdant stones.
Silent steps on stone-filled streets,
A creature hated, by those it meets.

Yet whispers follow wherever it goes,
Prejudice blooms like a withered rose.
Superstitions cling like webs spun tight,
Fearing its being, hating its sight.

For centuries, this stigma's weight,
A burden borne, a cruel fate.
But in those eyes, a spark ignites,
Defiance against unjust slights.

For beauty lies in the depths of its heart,
In the black cat's gaze, love takes part.
Discrimination fades, in a girl’s embrace,
Now the cat has found its place.

[Dibyarup James Potter]

This poem is about a post-apocalyptic world, where the idea of music has been lost. The survivors happen upon a lost auditorium, where they find old musical instruments, which leads them to find some enjoyment amidst the unforgiving state of their lives.

LOST MUSIC
By Dibyarup James Potter

In the wreckage of a world undone,
Where sorrows dance and hope is gone,
A group of souls, with hearts still bold,
Seek the whispers of a tale untold.

Through vast ruins, they search and roam,
They look for echoes, where music has its home.
Amidst the broken and rusted beams,
A hidden chamber, a silent scream.

There lie the forgotten instruments,
A remnant of the musical events.
With trembling hands, they gather 'round,
And their spirits get lifted by the sounds.

From broken strings and tarnished brass,
A sweet melody begins to pass.
In harmony, they find their voice,
A beautiful symphony, a reason to rejoice.

[Dibyarup James Potter]

THE WHISPERS OF WAR
By Dibyarup James Potter

In the quiet of dawn, where fear looms,
War's cruel echo fills all rooms.
A dance of death, a bitter strife,
Where once was peace, now chaos is rife.

Soldiers march with their heavy tread,
Their hearts weighed down, with fear and dread.
Beneath the skies, stained with a scarlet hue,
The toll of battle, mental and physical, is a price they'll rue.

Families are torn, at conflict's hand,
In distant lands, the soldiers make their stand.
Yet in this darkness, a flicker of hope remains,
Love and peace will set them free from their chains.
For in the ashes, new seeds may grow,
A future where peace and love may flow.

[Viviana Kingston]

I had this fun time taking random prompts off the internet and experimenting, so here’s one of the poems I came up with. The prompt is the title of the poem.

Love really never dies

There’s a skeleton in my garden
Where the buds have dried out
And the stalk’s withered
Even though I poured on it most of my time
My lack of a green thumb shines through
There’s a graveyard in my blooming garden
With a plaque dedicated to you
But when winter comes
And my flowers die
Life still flickers in the corner I’ve started to neglect
New sprouts appear
Petals open up
Despite the frost that weighs it down
In your name, it grows
No matter how much I try to pull it out
It fastens to the ground, refusing to leave
I may try to hide it
But love never really dies