I've written very amateur poetry since 1995. No interest or intentional desire to follow meter. I've stuck to rhyming stanza quatrains though. I'd post more often, but like Fonduman says, poetry once considered the highest form of art in the ancient world, is now a thing only small children and dead poet's societies can enjoy.
I wrote this some time ago as a response on this board about what oneitis and the remaining emptiness feels like.
Every moment, an endless place
shadows glide across my face
Words cannot find, none found
This sadness, blindness profound
All that is inside wants to hide
Express myself, death to pride
Never to be, like it was before.
Life, it's the unfound door
Proximity is fear terrible cold
A curse, savage, thousand fold
Ever I say, Let me fall away
Each night, to forget today
Years wept with memories trance
Anger reclaimed in its stance
And hope with a silent sigh
Sailed on ocean waves of goodbye
I wrote this after reading a lot of Satre and existentialism.
Ubi sunt qui ante nos fuerunt? Ubi nunc?
There is wisdom so very cold and raw
That even a thousand summers cannot thaw.
Heaven has riddled me, with knowing defeat,
of an occurrence that no magic can retreat.
Mornings have me awake, the night goes fast.
Hard to sleep with eyes aghast.
Time cannot erase what I have to confide,
The fight was easier when I didn't choose a side.
Sad memories want to bad wishes cleave.
Granted, they give weak and shallow reprieve.
Greater, I am now, than they who clown.
Not my misery, it's their bottle they drown.
With no ethics, and no remorse,
I fear this world of shameless discourse.
Blame the other, rulers without ruling hand.
Dust begets dust, and I have no place to stand.
Exist and resist are nearly twain
One man's joy is another man's pain
They said, "Take what is given, and return the favor."
Yet, I see little returned and much they savor.
Why make commitments that others do not share?
Why even try, when others do not care?
They speak with voids and chasms without end.
Beyond those oceans and shores will I wend.
Such melancholy is a price to be paid; yet, I'm no longer blind.
And in that process, what happiness will I leave behind?
The hour is late, yet I always knew
I've seen this all in my dreams through and through.
With the years left, where do I go?
What will happen? Would it be worth to know?
Yet, you will be there; I have seen you all.
Each a witness to history's rise and fall.
Not with power, not with gun, not with face
Can we record all that went in our place?
I have only the words that follow in my mind
Of those who came before saying, "Don't be left behind."
Fun with alliteration.
A dawn dreaming in darkness despair
Found fleeing in freezing flair
This riddle written so rapidly run
Yet sightless shadows stole the sun
Three times the twisted tessellation
sum of sorrow's sad separation
Equals evermore the eternal excess
of forsaken feelings finesse
And for you Skyim, Oblivion, Morrowind fans:
From what deep dreams did I wake?
Over oceans had we sailed with no break;
Cast into unknown, held in jail;
A journey before me, I could not fail.
When the guards left me nearly naked and sore,
gaze did I upon rugged mountains and black glass shore.
False gods in lofty towers could not be
immortals any longer - their power transitory.
The ash canyons and the foggy den
wrought with dead science within
stood as reminders of war's endless scar
The lost memories, the legends bizarre
With time, few that crossed my blade would survive
My freedom grew, feign anonymity left me alive.
Yet I had to choose, I had to belong;
many were choices wise and choices wrong.
Quests had me judge people and lives foursquare
betrayers, paladins, and lord of the never there.
I swam in their drowned kingdoms and many a rusty tomb.
Yet I undid puzzles and fled past worlds of doom.
Dark wizards held prisoner the secrets of old
Alone they wept, yet their greed grew cold
Eons they spent to undo death with a cure
To Steal Oblivion's sun and riddles endure.
I made my way through dark isles of horripilation
I spoke no words, I slew wordless trepidation
My spirit blazed with praise and conquered dread
The prophecy made true, the false three fled.
The cursed house spread madness wind and gale
bought men's thoughts with zombie tokens and thoughts derail
The lazuline queen led me to the corrupted heart
with banished blades and shield I made it smart.
Triumphant short, I crossed cold water in June
toward a land cast in ice and Hunter's moon.
Fair and rare were the ladies who stood along the sea
May it that Hell had frozen, their cries undid me
Beast and sordid creature tried to follow my path
Yet I gained with likness to wolves, a terrible wrath.
The Hunter became the hunted, and when the mines ran dry
It was then I gave this forbidden land a howling good bye.
No sooner had I crept away from the past.
Than the greatest threat was left at last.
My coming was known, it was sounded in cheer,
But the Souless matriarch shed not a salty tear.
I waded through undiscovered realms,
Beneath tall statues among the elms.
There I cast her last wish, for all of time.
Not for starry night, not for Summer sublime.
Tick tock had the endless ages clocked
Mock and Rock, Alma had the way blocked.
So when the people ask me, "Who is it that you slew?"
Often my words, so very few, replied, "It's better you never knew."