Zackwell's amazingly emo freeverse poetry.

[Zackwell]

Title says it all. My amazing emo-esque poetry!

Spoiler: Retribution

I’m sorry,
For the things I do and didn’t do.
But the future is imperfect,
Who can say what will happen
At the end of the day?

I’m sorry,
For the things I feel and didn’t feel.
I can only describe it in a rhymeless poem.
Dischordant.
Broken.
My emotions are not mine though,
What would you have me feel?

I’m sorry,
For the things I say and didn’t say.
The things you want to hear have always been said.
To be honest,
I don’t know.
Please put words in my mouth.

My Retribution is this,
Speaking in fragments of truth.
Don’t leave me to drown in this sea of regret.
I’m sorry.
I’m so so sorry.

What have I done?

Spoiler: Memories of a Friend

Tears... For the memories of a friend.
Cry.
Let not your heart weep, let it continue to throb, for them and you, in eternal harmony with itself. Your heart beats for two, and it always shall.
Live for yourself, and the loved you've lost...
Never are you alone.
Never lost, never found, beside you in the sound...

The whistle of the wind...

The crackle of a fire,

The beat of your heart...

Never forgotten are those who we remember, never do they die, never should you cry...
For they cry beside you...
Laugh beside you...
Live inside you...

Some say death is the next greatest adventure...
They are wrong
For the adventure of life continues
From your first breath, into immortal memory.

Spoiler: The Green Poem of Verdant Praise

O, could I sing? To the green leaves of the trees? Those that bear no burden or strife?

Sing to them of their beauty? And how their green shine releases me from the ground where I stand?

Sing to them of their Freedom? To leave their tree and float wistfully on the wind, to wherever the wind should feel?

Sing to them of their magic? Their enthralling tricks to turn from green to gold when the weather turns?

Sing to them of the Verdant halls in which they live? The grandeur, of Mother Nature’s loving embrace, so that they may never fall and be alone?

Sing to them of their families? And the love that they receive from them, no matter how they have grown?

Sing to them of the summer? And it’s luscious warmth that flourishes them so?

Sing to them of their luck? And how they will always be there, in the ground, even after they have passed on?

Sing to them of my longing? Longing to join their number and abandon my worries on earth?

Sing to them of my jealousy? Of how I envy their existence?

Sing to them of my hate? Of how I desire them to feel my pain and my sorrow?

Sing to them of my loathing? Of how I could destroy the God that brought about their lives?

Sing to them of northern winds? Of how they shall die and be scattered from their halls of verdant praise?

Sing to them of anger? Sing to them of Fire? Sing to them of Wrath?

O, could I sing? To the green leaves of the trees? Those that bear no burden or strife?

Spoiler: The Grey Lady of my Nightmares

Why do you haunt me? Haunt my mind and unravel my existence? You, on your reversed spinning wheel, spinning yourself a body of mottled fear and hate, born from my own imagination that goes against me.

So says you, The Grey Lady of my Nightmares.

You will flit in and out of my dreams, and taint them with your faceless visage; is it possible that you once were white, and have twisted grey with the time?

Can you be purged or renewed?

You are far beyond the possibility of that.

So says you, The Grey Lady of my Nightmares.

Why do you wear the skin of love?

When the demented essence that is yourself seeps from your bare, dead eyes?

You wear the skin of my love! How dare you stain the wondrous body of her, with your grey blood, and your grey tears.

But you are crying.

So says you, The Grey Lady of my Nightmares.

Should I feel pity for you? Can I feel pity for you? Or should I feel hate towards you, because of your very existence? I cannot pity, yet I cannot hate. Is this your wretched curse? To love yet not be loved?

Then we share a burden.

So says you, The Grey Lady of my Nightmares.

So says He, The Grey Soul of your Creation.

So says I, The Grey Man of his own Demise.

Spoiler: Black and White, The beast and the Beauty

It is a mixture of Science and instinct, Logic and chaos, Black and white.

The distance between us in white time and black space curdles the love in my heart. It becomes longing and it forces my heart from my chest. The ever swelling emotion that is my sadness!

A sadness to love but not have.

Such black and white emotion can't keep itself in my own mind and heart, so it withers and blooms anything it touches, to give it a fresh start. Alas! It wont give me a fresh start, it shall just weigh me down with regret and pride, pride for the things I do, but regret for not having shared it with my love.

Such is this white painting on a black canvas, the instinctive lust to make myself one with my love cannot overpower that emotion, but it still resides, eating at the emotion and replacing it with selfishness and regret onceover. Why am I doomed to love, and

Un-love?

This vulgar black beast within me threatens to devour the white emotion that fills me and makes me whole. Black Creature of my affliction, my agony, my distress, my grief, my heartache, my misery, my sorrow, my suffering, my throe, my torment, my torture, my woe; The unrelenting wretchedness that is human instinct.

But the Luminescent white beauty that stills the beast is not here, so I wait, wait, wait, for my small piece of resplendence to return, a long time I will wait, and I will dream in the meantime.

But why must I dream in Black and White?

 

[Stardust]

I love how all of your poetry has deeper meanings. I had to re-read all of them to fully comprehend what was being said (which admittedly may be due to me being incredibly tired :P).

For "Retribution" and "Memories of a Friend", you did an excellent job of conveying emotions. The little things like the repetition of "I'm sorry" in "Retribution" were very well done so that they sent the message without being obvious. I hope that makes sense to you because I'm failing at explaining it to myself lol. XD

I <3 "Memories of a Friend". I think most people who have lost a loved one can connect to it. For me it reminded me of my grandfather who died in 2000. I know it's title is "Memories of a Friend" but I think it applies in other places, too.

"The Green Poem of Verdant Praise"...I know exactly how you feel. I really liked your transition from appreciation of the beauty to jealousy and finally to loathing. By the way, did you mean to capitalize jealousy? It seems like an odd place to use personification (that's not exactly the right term but I forgot what one I'm looking for) to me, so I'm assuming it's just at typo but I might be wrong.

I had trouble grasping the meaning of "The Grey Lady of My Nightmares" and "Black and White, The Beast and the Beauty", but that's probably because I'm tired at the moment. I'll have to go back and re-read them sometime, but for now I have to say that I recommend breaking them up into separate lines more. Especially here (in "B&W"):

The distance between us in white time and black space curdles the love in my heart which becomes longing, which in turn will force my heart from my chest because of its ever swelling emotion that is my sadness!

It felt like a run-on sentence and it was hard to process as one long line. Overall, I think it would be easier to read if you broke it up into smaller lines, but that's just my opinion.

Overall, good stuff. :3

 

[Zackwell]

Thanks for the feedback Guardian.
I've changed my silly little typo, and broken up that sentence.

As for The Grey Lady of my Nightmares, It signifies obsession, the creation of something amazing that soon gets old, corrupt and haunts you. And the realisation that you're the creator of the thing that appears in your nightmares.

And Black and White, The Beast and the Beauty. This poem is about having a love that you know you shant see for a long while, meanwhile you feel shame at the temptations. You long to hold them in your arms, but you also long to have sex with them. Pure thoughts and corrupt thoughts as it were.