Old NELG Gallery of Poetry

[Dennis]

We all do ...

[chex]

?
I know she is canadian
why should i have forgotten that?
*confused*

Bella (who is German, and is fluent in both German and English) spent a lot of time helping you translate poems.

[Dennis]

Bella spent even more time than mouse
you are so right

i do apologize most politely dear bella...
i sometimes confuse things an look VERY stupid like now.
I didnt mean to underestimate your work -.-

so sorry

so this is right:

the AWESOME BELLA translated A LOT of my stuff some time ago because SHE IS GREAT with POEMS and! languages.

well if you take it this way ... maybe somebody should ask her out for a dinner once huh?

[Dennis]

This is the dream
this is reality
this is all the clouds
and all the heavens
this is as good as it gets
its your hell
its your life
its all your wonders
its one of a kind
its you
and step by step
its a new day.

[Dennis]

If you want a poem to a specific topic or with specific words just let me know. Dont make it too much fun though. Im not good at peoms who dont have anything to say but nonsens.

[Donden]

I've changed by myself
I've lived by myself
I've discovered my path by myself
I can see my talents by myself
My mistakes must be seen
My failures must be cleared
I'm confused
I can't see what's wrong
What is all right
What could I do
Leave me here
It's my mistake
It's my life
It's my choice to walk alone

[Dennis]

i like the end a lot

[Donden]

I'm confused
I'm lost
I've lost sight of my own future
I've forgotten my past
I'm cursed with no memories or dreams
I've lost my reason
Lost my hope
I'm not worth being remembered
I'm not worth to be seen
Not even worth to walk this earth
Where could I go?

[Dennis]

The next step
into the dark
into the mist
into the nowhereland
of forgotten dreams
the next step up
or down
into the head
or the cold
into that frightening
blackwhite
the next step
is always the hardest
it begins
it ends
everything.

[Wesley]

Brachiating monkeys
Swinging overhead
"Oooh! Oooh! Oooh!"
They say to you
"Time to get out of bed!"

[Beany]

Every night I lay awake at night,
Wondering when this will ever end.
She treats me and my mates like trash,
But still thinks she is our friend.

I can't forget what she did to me,
Making everyone hate me wasn't a joke.
She thought she could just be nice to me,
And we would both make up.

Friendships can't be fixed like that,
Cos lying to the teacher's mean.
The surprise was that it was all true
To her, as my friends had seen.

I couldn't have managed this without my friends,
They did a lot for me.
They showed me that the feelings of one nasty girl
Could be changed, but could they be?

I am so grateful to one friend,
Who made everyone see the truth
I owe her a lot, and I'm glad too
Cos since we were a group again
I feel free______________________

Will finish this later.

[Clovvach]

Based on a true story?

[Beany]

Yeah, I like writing my thoughts down as a poem. It helps me get them clear. A lot of it is from the past though.

[Beany]

Every night I lay awake at night,
Wondering when this will ever end.
She treats me and my mates like trash,
But still thinks she is our friend.

I can't forget what she did to me,
Making everyone hate me wasn't a joke.
She thought she could just be nice to me,
And we would both make up.

Friendships can't be fixed like that,
Cos lying to the teacher's mean.
The surprise was that it was all true
To her, as my friends had seen.

I couldn't have managed this without my friends,
They did a lot for me.
They showed me that the feelings of one nasty girl
Could be changed, but could they be?

I am so grateful to one friend,
Who made everyone see the truth
I owe her a lot, and I'm glad too
Cos since we were a group again
It's been easier - back then.

She picks faults in our friendship
Then expects us to stay on her side.
Does she not realise
That we have feelings that we have to hide?

She told everyone that I was mean to her,
Always jabberwocky to her face.
One Thursday she just tried to make up with me
And expected me to say yes.

This year for her birthday,
- August the 6th, I believe.
She told me to give her earrings,
Without thinking of asking first.

She said the first pair 'broke'
- a fact I know is not true.
The second pair apparently 'cut her ears',
Although if they had her ears would not still be pierced.

Recently I was told
That she threw away my gifts
- They're gathering dust under the piano.
Yet she still expects me to give her some more
After the time I spent making the others before.

Will finish this later again.

[Donden]

I wanna hear the rest of it

[Beany]

I haven't finished it yet - can't find the time to write it down. And I don't know what will happen at the end yet. I need to wait a few weeks and find out for myself.

[Donden]

As the moon brightens the night
As the moon brightens our road
We walk our path in shadows
As you enjoy the sun
We enjoy the darkness
As you see the beauty of a blue sky
We see the beauty of the night
As you enjoy the sound of a crowded day
We enjoy the silent night
As you see the sun go down
We see the moon rise
As you are restricted by laws and order during day
We rule the nights

[sizz]

I was pretty pleased with this one. It started off with the narrator being the good one, but then i switched it.

'Bent Cigarette Stubs'

Out go my bags in the drive of the house
And slutty apparel in assembled heaps,
Plane tickets thrown out of window left from
Tender nights in the city that never sleeps.
Bent cigarette stubs lay cheap in the gravel,
Twisted, disfigured like your head in the sun,
I sighed, you're cross-eyed, let's take a look
At envisions of knifes as sharp as a tongue.

No wonder you didn't want marriage to me,
I wasted my voice on vows to others,
But you stopped like treacle left in the cold,
Because it was me, not you, with other lovers.

I'll never be as apt a soul as you are now,
Or see you come back or cry a river trying,
Running like water into my arms, and in return,
I know I'll always stand back and watch you dying.

'To Whisper War'

I am blindfolded by naiveté I can't change,
And even with him in a dormant state,
Though he stands silence, to whisper war
To him only prolongs some lasting hate.
And lack of understanding, it remains-
Me of him, him of what the hell he's done,
Constantly at odds with his head and
Media tales, when he thought he'd already run,
He says it's lies that make him want to scream,
So he sits, swearing at smiling politicians,
And there's no new light he sees or dreams.

Sometimes I can't quite see his eyes
Though he is always there, I am just blind
And can't tell what he's going through
So I sit waiting to hear "You're so kind,"
Or for him to tell me all about what he feels
When I know that all he feels is paused
By persisting visions that still remain,
So why won't he curse what war has caused?

[sizz]

(This is one of my favourite things I've ever written, I think.)

Forever

Carl is thirty seven years old, and tomorrow he is going to die.

Immortality comes at a cheap price- a vaccination in a backstreet life-surgery that makes money from lives that want too much. A handful of broken coins from a handful of broken men slips like warm leather over a dilapidated counter, and walking into a waiting room is almost as distressing as walking out of one. Every patient takes a number, like at a busy delicatessen counter or a blood test. The nurses don't call people's names, because appointments are scarce and arrangements are unnecessary and avoided. There is no need to talk, so the dusty room echoes a deafening quiet. No one stands to stretch their legs, no one picks up the information leaflets on the table with the flowers on it. When your number is called, you're supposed to walk into The Room in silence, have the vaccination, in silence, and leave, in silence. Often, people change their minds at the last minute and run. Always, people are petrified.

Carl is number 1635. He walks into the room and sits on the bed. He tells me he is thirty seven and wants to live forever. I think how unlike others he is- friendly. A shame. A massive waste, because the world could do with more people like that. He doesn't budge when the needle goes in, doesn't screw up his face or shriek. This is a problem.

Carl's problem, is that he trusts. He trusts the unqualified engineering student giving him the vaccine, and he trusts me, and after all, murderers cannot be trusted.

So as I flow through his veins like syrup down your throat, I think, it is a pity. It is a pity that people trust. It is a pity that people want the impossible, that is, to live forever. It is a pity that Carl will die tomorrow, and I will live in his place. It cannot be helped.

Who wants to live forever?

[Donden]

Thats deep It really got me to think about it a lot