A thread to post poems you've written:
Here's one I've written:

Title: The Existential Dread of Love

The Poem:

A motherly warmth that once flashed,
from your eye's holy light...
Became a searing fire,
when you flew from the nest like a reckless child.
That heat pulsated through my muscles,
a new found strength.
But those muscles can only hold off so much,
against the great horizon of my guilt.

Your wings tower over me,
yet your body fits in my palms.
Those feathers which fill the sky,
threaten to bury one of us;
yet I cannot swat them away,
as that might crush your fragile presence.

So we are locked together in these wings,
as the love inside them burns us in its world;
and the holy light becomes divine darkness.
Cooked in the oven of our communion,
we are frozen between your fear and my guilt.
I have already forgotten that wings were for flying.

But just when the black fire filled my gaze,
the flames burst into a million colors.
A white light ascends from their center,
as a gentle hand above called for mine.
As a phoenix explodes into the sky.
In the lightness of my gentle ascent,
I finally remembered that wings could fly...

...and suddenly I recall the terror of heights...
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I posted this poem on my allpoetry (don't recommend the site by the way it kinda sucks) as well: https://allpoetry.com/poem/17519162-The-Existential-Dread-of-Love-by-Anthemic-

Disclaimer I dunno any of the technicals of poetry like meter or whatever and mostly just wing it as I have been for over 3 years.

>>1
It’s very evocative and there’s nothing wrong with poetry that doesn’t adhere to metre, though i do think you might enjoy looking into it. It’s a very satisfying tool to have under one’s belt with regards to directing flow, and there’s a lot of structural depth to be accessed when breaking or disregarding it fully becomes a deliberate choice rather than blunt unawareness. For example these two lines “we are frozen between your fear and my guilt./I have already forgotten that wings were for flying.” pop out to me because they are almost anapestic tetrametre which gives it a wistful, sing-songy quality. Anyway, good job. Might have a look at some of your other work.

Here's a recent-ish piece that I'm quite happy with:

It starts with a dawning and ends with a crack
Strips your skin raw, puts a knife in your back
In lies and in whispers' unmerciful sound
Sell rage by the fistful and weight by the pound
We sing like a kettle, we overexert
We sink and we settle to lakebed like dirt

A mind trapped in atoms and meat cursed with thought
A choice-tree unravels to judge what we wrought
Ellipsis, ellipsis: heed warnings too late
Prevented with ease had we not made it fate
Had we not made the bargain, not reaped the rewards
Not trusted so fully the kindness of lords

Not much fighting left now, less yet where it counts
A tempting surrender to dread as it mounts
Be graceful in losing, face nobel demise
We should have believed what we saw with our eyes
What we sensed in the quiet and felt 'neath the skin
It might be too late but to lose is a sin

The best time was then but the second best now
To pick up a sword, pick a pen, cause a row

I've also been writing a poem every day of this month as part of an inktober-like challenge called escapril: https://ouroboros.cafe/#escapril2024