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Poetry - Gay Guys! <3

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Hopes and Dreams
Whirring wings with flash of golden brown
As Partridge lifts from quiet Hampshire down.
Into the blue cloud speckled sky
From danger into freedom fly.

So to my hopes, my dreams seek to rise
To seek the joy that hopes can realise.
Dreams coming true to lift the heart:
Great future from a lonely start.

The noise the flash, both barrels thunder,
The shot flies high, it tears the peace asunder.
The bird wings right ‘gainst azure sky
It dips, it falls it’s left to die.

Life is hard, so many battles fought:
So hopes are dashed and dreams are brought to naught.
Nightmares not dreams are what come true
As partridges dies “gainst azure blue.


Dreams, the precious glass of life:
Sparkling, clean, fragile, beautiful;
Through which the world looks much kinder.
Holding, in shinning glory, a silver lining.
A promise of what can be:
A hope of joy to come:
A glimpse of aspirations realised.

But fragile glass is so easily broken,
Beauty now lying in a thousand shards.
The glory gone, unable to repair,
To piece together that which once was precious.
Broken glass is sharp,
Cuts deep and raises blood.
A searing wounding hurt
The shinning promise now a source of pain.

Homework for English, Two poems about emotions and feelings


Well done. I enjoyed reading both poems. Writing can be so powerful.


Excellent Dean please write some more. Can you look up a poem for me I think its by Tennyson and is called the river. Dark brown is the river, golden is the sand, as it flows along forever with trees on either hand. Sadly I do not remember the rest of it. Much love and keep up the nice poetry. Eddie Stanley


very thought provoking


Dean, like always you do so good and it just want me to read more of your poems..I hope one day before I leave this world that I will see your name on a book of poems...You are so beautiful and the words you write are words from your heart..


well done sweet Dean




Your poems move me a lot, but they also leave me very sad because the hopes and dreams end broken.......the beautiful partridge dead and the precious glass shattered. I find the power of these endings difficult to come to terms with because of their patent irreversibility, but that's to do with me (perhaps too often relying on optimism to protect me from painful realities) and no fault of the poems. Thank you so much for sharing them with us Dean.


i love Deans poetry because they make a person feel the emotions and feelings that he is trying to portray.


well written Dean,can feel the emotion as you read them,such a talent


Vary well done/put. lol, Tommy,xx


Very good, Dean
Very powerful emotion.
Each line represents something that we will most likely feel in our life, I read each poem twice as the emotions I felt from them were so intense it was truly amazing, you have a talent there, Dean.
I hope you nourish it and let it grow, keep it up!


dean both poems were good, keep writing them and letting the guys see your hidden talents.
eddie, tennyson, he is one of the greats, especially when he writes about empire.


Dean, i have just re-read,and you have a Vary,vary,good Talent,there,indeed. lol


Definitely interesting stuff. Some editorial work would be good. There's a spot where you wrote "like" but I think you meant "life'

These may reveal more about yourself to your teachers than you might really want to be showing them... if they actually relate to your own emotions.

There is a common theme running through the two poems of crushed hope and pain.

Thanks for sharing them with us.


it is still good


My Ball's can Hum Poetry, is that nornal, or should i Post this in the Weird Section. ????


if they can i wounder what they can do in my mouth lol


I would get a Great Tune out of ur Mouth Homer. LOL


MMMMMMMMM bring it sexy trooper


I certainly didn't say it wasn't good, Homer. It could use a little editorial work is what I said. Most writers need an editor.


i did not mean it that way Todd. i just meant that it is good for his age


Thanks Chud, I just hope the lecturer likes them


I don't only write sad poetry.


Wind blows, Rain lashes
Storm clouds, Hail bashes
Puddles fill Boot splashes
I'm glad that I'm a duck.


The Station cat opens one eye with a frown,
Disturbed as the Distant and Starter drop down.
The gas lamps still hiss, and a distant dog barks
The town is a resting, wrapped up in the dark.

The Newspaper train rushes in with a roar,
And many a bundle flies out of a door.
There's bustle and noise as the papers they drop,
Then on down the line to the next lonely stop.

The Branch train creeps In from its home in the shed.
The driver is wishing he was tucked up in bed.
Some papers, some parcels, some milk, nothing more;
And never a passenger opens a door.

The cat slowly stretches in a moment of hush.
It knows that it's time for the everyday rush.
She’ll sleep on the signal box steps, and she'll snore,
Till the late setting sun brings the silence once more.


Rest in a cradle of Peaceful Dreams
While I, my watch will keep.
May slumber refresh your gentle heart
Till morning breaks your sleep.

Your resting lips my breath gently brush
With touch as soft as down.
My eyes caress that face now at rest
So there will be no frown.

My joy to watch the one I love sleep,
Till dawn comes with the sun.
My heart keeps time with your sweet breathing,
Two hearts that beat as one.


Fantastic atmospheric poems, Dean; each painting a vivid but completely different picture. I see the images so clearly before my eyes as I read each one. They are magic and My LoveLies Sleeping is especially tender. .