General Poetry posted July 7, 2022


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A young girl's concerns about having friends.

The So Called Friends

by Sandra Nelms-Ludwig

 
They no not that I'm here,
I seem to be all alone.
Centered in my thoughts,
a troubled arguing home.

They push at me
and tear from all sides
And kill my innerself
and my last ounce of pride.

They're kind and smiling
in your face,
But when your back is turned
it's a disgrace.

These people your friends,
Helping you to a bitter end.



To an end with tears and sorrow
and all the pain
That man can suffer
and finally become insane.

Ha, The serenity of insanity.



Show us MORE of Your Early Poetry writing prompt entry
Writing Prompt
The last contest filled up and I know some others wanted to enter, so here's another chance. Share with us one of your oldest pieces of poetry, exactly as you wrote it. I want to see all those excessive ellipses, capitals at the start of every line, the abundance of semi-colons, the pretentious repetition, the unnecessary line spaces that are.....

SO.....

IMPORTANT....

to my art!

I want you to swear on your honour you won't edit it before posting (adding an image is allowed, as we're in Fanstory Land). Other than that, no limitations. For example, I have one in my repertoire entitled 'Political Correctness' that's literally just a blank page (I was a very sarcastic teenager). For a more useful example, here's the first recorded poem I have of mine - my Nan confirmed I was 8 at the time:

The Snow

Quietly the clouds move in,
Looking like the hair of an old person.
Then very slowly,
The dandruff starts to fall.
Everything as still as the sleeping mouse,
Everything as quiet as the forest at night.
Until the morning spreads over the soggy landscape,
And children chant their cheers from their places of rest
As they look at the white floor outside.
And the still and silence is no more.



Show us what you had :-)


This poem was written in 1966 when I was 12 years old in Mary Elizabeth Caldwell's 7th grade English class. It was found in a box labeled with my name in the basement of her home, after her death in 2004. Also in the box were other items I created in her class. There were several short stories, a book of pressed autumn leaves, several rolled-up murals. There were two poems in the box, Dog Eat Dog World and this poem. This poem is presented with all the spelling and grammar errors found in the original writing. I now have all of the items in that box. It was as if Liz thought one day, I might be a poet or writer. I miss her.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.


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