I’ve mentioned that I made a few poems a while ago, so I thought I’d share some of them. Because what’s the point in making something if you never share it with the world?
Maybe you will be inspired by this to make a game, or maybe you just like poems.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. 
You are what I admire
When sitting by the fire
You are what I desire
When I was just a squire
You are what I admire
When I heard the gunfire
You are what I desired
When I fell in the crossfire.
I don’t remember when I made this one, but I think it was sometime February-June last year
definitely inspiring!
too bad I’m already working on something 
I’ll probably post one every day, and depending on if people like them I’ll make some more when I run out.
If you want to be pinged here you go
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Woah, that’s really good, with that extremely unexpected dark twist at the end… beautiful!
Silence paves the way for the grand reveal of sound,
Silence encases the empty sound and keeps it tightly bound.
Sounds of bells chime when you are wed
Silence envelopes you when you are dead
Sounds are what you hear when you are mad
Silence is a peaceful tune that all wish they had
Sound pronounces you silent death,
Sound announces your last noiseless breath.
what about that one that gose like
…he sits on a trone of lies…
what about that one @CodeAlpaca
I’ll post that one later, just posting ones I haven’t yet
Oh, how I have been rid of my youthful flame!
How war changes one’s soul can be a bitter toll!
Why must I feel this pain when I am not the one to blame?
I did not cause this vain faith, yet why must I be called a fool?
Who am I to be condemned to such a dire fate!
I tried my best! Why must I now carry this dreadful hate!
My future looked so bright before they came to take my life!
My life has become a blight, all for my country and strife!
This war has become a useless fight.
Yet I will die for one more killing in the lightless midnight.
Is it not the fault of thy country for the mad driven into me?
What is one more dead in a vast murderous sea?
My lungs have lost the words to scream,
For a noose is pulled tighter onto me,
I will take my last breath of light,
For my body has become a cage of spite.
I say goodbye to a world that has been cruel,
All because I opposed a leader’s rule.
One of my longer poems, but I really like this one
Btw what would you say my style is? And do you like that style? I won’t change my poems based on what people say, but I’ll post some of the other ones I made in a different style sooner
srry,understandable,have a great day
It is.
He sits on a throne of lies
He wears a crown of death
He dons rings wrought from tears
He sleeps in a bed of terror
He lives in a palace of ruin
He sings to the song of grieving
He drinks from a goblet of bone
He walks on an ocean of blood
He weaves a vile web
He is a master puppeteer.
He is a common king.
My heart is yours, you took me in by the reel,
I see your face, more perfect than a spring day, and ask “is this real?”
They ask me how I knew you, but my head kept spinning like a wheel,
For all I knew, was that my love was real.
Do you guys prefer longer or shorter poems, just wondering so if I start writing again I’ll make more of those if I can.
I think whatever goes with the theme of the poem is best. I don’t mind reading long ones and short ones area a challenge to fit more meaning in
I agree with what DSC said. It all depends. I love them all, lol.
They say poems must be written of the following things,
Love, death, war, nature, hate, fear, and feelings.
But what of poems with no feelings? What of this poem?
“My mind is numb to all emotion,
I was just born that way,
To spear me of the pain,
All hurt, all the terror, all the joyous moments.”
You may say it’s the feeling of the audience,
But what if there was a poem with no emotion,
Both for you and me, and the world and beyond?
“A rock skids down a cliff,
But stays intact because it’s quite stiff.
Water rains down and turns it into sediment
And a river bed becomes its new settlement.”
Is that not a poem?
If it is, what words need to be spoken?
What if there were no rhyme,
Not even a single time?
But what of free verse?
Is a book not a giant poem?
This writing here is an omen.
It means my time here is useless.
It means my poems are all lifeless.
If a poem needs a story, a book would fill that need
If a poem needs to be short, a slogan would fill it indeed
If a poem needs to be interpreted, philosophy would surely succeed
If a poem needs time, a plant would mislead
If a poem needs a purpose, a shoe would fill it with speed
If a poem is all this, then what am I suppose to do?
If a poem is none of this, then what have I done?
If a poem is some and sometimes none, then I leave you in sorrow
For my life’s work are useless words.
This is my longest and one of my favorite poems that I’ve wrote. It’s also one of the last poems that I wrote. I have some beginning lines of a few others so I’ll finish those so I can keep posting daily poems.
I also added a title for this one, so I’ll do that for all future poems I post as well.
This is why I fight.