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@anne_the_noob14

True, ’tis true, of what you say

This sadness, so provoking, stay

And feed this overwhelming loss

Where poetry does fully ‘lease.

Break the flow a’from the walls!

And charge a’through these broken halls!

Beat them down and flow the ground!

And crush these hurts into the mound!

Ohhh, the hurt does call to us,

We writers of the placid hand

Where thick, emotions tend to flow

And always ever ending row.

And wind is heard, and that afar

This man, this bird, awake they are.

To hear the thundering of the waves

The billows, down they fall; cascade.

And still to see the setting sun

Upon the back, this beauteous one.

This water falling down the way

And sorrow, kept in whirled way.

Down the stream and to the sky

This always runs, never does end.

Ah, but you see, you must pretend

Not stay, but follow it along.

Run until this stream portends

And finally in lake it ends.

Puddles fully, despaires unknown 

Let not your coils struggle within. 

These convolutions full and thick

Of doleful thoughts, my friend does stick

To these ways of sulking head

And drooping mind, her eyes do tread.

No poetry does she now write

Only prose, that now a rite.

Before our times, never let own

This sorrow and that grasp your soul.

“Let not your heart be troubled” by

These things and let it be lifted up.

For in these trials we learn and grow

In Christ, our King, we always know.

He the maker, we the tree

We bear fruit because of He.

Glorious and pondered much

His Word is set in stone and such

Is so that we may understand

These golden, fiery, lancing words

Of Truth, divine, and from His tongue

They are, truly, the Words of Life. 

You know what, I’m sorry! This is really long and indeed I do have much time for it; even this is only is in response to the first half; the first poem that you had writ. On with the second, I shall continue:

Oh, yes! Verity and mightily arrayed

These truths of characters endowed.

I understand your conflict here

Your thoughts on ripping, minds of flesh.

Not literally, now, you see

But more the emotional type, I tell;

And this wondersome anomaly:

Within a cumbersome analogy.

This hilarious and fruitful thought

That your plight of sorrow; cast, wrought

On poetry and penned in ink

Oh, billowous and purple, pink.

The whole mission of said above

The promoting reason of this dove

Of embers of a story, long

And fruitful with these topics, strong –

You now shall see my reasoning

Behind this idol, stranger talk:

This story ember idea

To bring about the skills of us,

The Christian writers, poets, painters

Of the pen and of the paper

To create in us, a bursting art

And in this, too, what you’ve witnessed

Within your book, of what’sitcalled

And satire, a nut kit mauled

By the author, and he to you

Has taken talents, used them true.

You know, I think we’ve taken this idea of having a short, nice little competition of writing COUPLETS to the other side. XD

And yes, ’tis both; the movie, book and talk

Of which I have rendered free

Of itself

and that

A higher feat.

For it is in itself a rock,

Of harder traits, these words do knock

Upon the door of Mordor’s gates

And up unto the Durdureth. 

Yeah, that one’s one of my favourite parts in the movie!!! XD!! *I dropped me brain* Ohhh, so great.

True, true; they really are some of the better ones, those of the whimwrit. Hey!!! A new word!!! Whimwrit poetry…hmmm. I coined it!!! *looking around aggressively* My word! My rock! (have you seen the new Jungle Book? That part where the porcupine is walking around claiming things. XD!!!