I am a 16-year-old student with Aspergers Syndrome, with a bit of a knack for rhyme and rhythm! I am currently studying A-levels, of which my strongest is English literature. So, with all due haste upon finding this site, I registered and published some of my poetry. I do indeed welcome criticism (for if my poetry is not of sufficient quality, people should point it out in order that I improve!) ,... more »
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Zak Pearce Poems
Gnarled bark and bitter leaf Guard well the forest deep And by the thorns, their tearing teeth The shadows like to skulk and creep.
Thum-dum rolls the drum Beating the beat of marching men Thum dum rolls the drum How many men will march again
Dogs Of War
Let rip the dogs of war! And loose the rattling guns Charge head into the gaping maw 'Till blood on the battlefield runs.
Late one night I lay awake, The storm it battered and blew, When suddenly, over the lake, A strange thing flew.
The Lake That Lies Inside Me
In the bleak deep frozen black I tread across the icy lake ‘neath my toes you hear it crack And just go wait for it to break
Red Is Blood
Red is blood, sweet Aphrodite. And weak is the flesh that it feeds For this I beg of thee: unsmite me! Passion is red; and so is the heart that it bleeds.
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A hundred million words came tumbling A wave of abstract, eternal, hating bile
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Gnarled bark and bitter leaf
Guard well the forest deep
And by the thorns, their tearing teeth
The shadows like to skulk and creep.
Whisped, whispering, moving, here and there
Behind the branches and twisted roots,
Sneaking whispies in stale, still air
Tracking sounds of distant boots.
Beware! Thy coach be followed here,
Thy path be mark'd as walked,
Footsteps plain in sight by which to steer,
Take care, friend, for thy tread is stalked!