Sitting under a sky so clear,
The flames' crackles snap with a golden hue,
Fate shifted her place here with you,
It's comfortingly near,

Feeling blessed after food, a glance with a smile,
Extending the aura freely, in quite a while,
As she stands by the fire, hearts aflutter,
Her smile beams at you, warm as butter,
For the rest of the night,
Love glows bright,

Now between lies a connection,
Though not exactly any obligation,
It's a sweet touch of Pipp Petals,

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Pear had to stop, to think and wonder
As an alpha wolf tore his ass asunder
How he made such an awful blunder
Underneath the starry sky.

"What say you?" to the wolf, he said
As the beast made his anus spread
Alas, no reply, but growling instead,
Red was dripping down his thigh.

Some time later, the Pear was done.
The Big Bad Wolf had had his fun
No longer in any fit state to run
Stunned, his final hour was nigh.

-Ben "Pear" Pearce, 2016

It's raining outside
Maybe inside too
I can't tell though
Inside, I can't feel the rain on my skin

Perhaps it's just the temperature
That would explain the cold
But not why I hear the rain falling
a steady drip-drip down my nose

I'm standing in the rain, you see
It splashes from skin to shirt
And if it's not raining
Then why are my eyes so wet?

It's hailing outside
Maybe inside too
I can't tell though
Inside I can't feel the sting of my skin

Maybe it's just me though

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Wolf newman was kind enough to surprise me with a reading of my poem,

If I said that I knew what love was, at age 14 knowing that I won't feel it again soon?

Additional poem:
I met a girl, seems like long ago
It seemed like it would work out
And my heart was screaming, and i had to shout
"I love you"
But it wasn't meant to be
We loved each other, but life didn't like what it had to see
So we went on different paths, never together
And in order, to be happy, we had to forget eachother

I know what love is, so, now, I'll let it find me

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Lover's Kiss (15)

I saw a couple kissing yesterday,
Oh, how I felt, what can I say?
I know not the experience, but I'll tell my best,
Tis pure flame running down your spine,
The flame so hot cold is not felt.
It goes to the heart and burns,
It burns with passion and warmth,
But no matter where they are,
Under storm or noon, on ice or desert,
They will feel the flame if they are true,
If one betrays the other,
Then the flame turns into cold ice,

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Now for something rather dark and solemn. This depicts a scenario after Sunny Starscout gets in a violent physical altercation with ponies who betrayed her, is knocked unconscious, and thrown into the sea. Based off of AssasinMonkey's art, and inspired by Xhydralisk's comment on it. Paraphrased a few lines from his poem for the last three lines of this one. Might expand on it later.

Water floods my mouth, consciousness not found,

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Hello!

Just wanted to wish everyone a happy Valentine's Day, whether you have a date or not (like me).

Obligatory Roseluck image. Source

I just have a few updates to tell you about my stories.

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On the final knell
Of Canterlot’s tallest bell
The old guard fell.

How the years have passed,
Sun to Moon, Earth to Ash,
Bones, in place of grass.

Yet from ashes rose
Kingdoms of unconquered throes
Where hero’s arose.

The Dawn; The Twilight, pose.
Living with the choices they chose
Till death and crows flow.

Dawn first, Twilight last.
“Come Twilight.” The Dark Sun asked,
Twilight basked at last.

Twilight first, Dawn last.
“Come Dawn.” The Twilight asked,

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Life can be stressful
Even when it's supposed to be restful
Deadlines come creeping in
Make you feel like you can't win
Family issues consume me
Things other people just can't see
I need some sort of release
Browsing through Internet memes
Ignoring all my problems
Is never going to solve them
But I need to calm my mind
So all work gets left behind
And this is when I start to write
Because I just can't bare the fight.

By The Corn.

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Reflection (14)

What do I see?
When I look in a mirror?
Who am I inside? What can I be?
The answer is hidden inside.

What do I think of myself?
What do I see of others?
What is the value of wealth?
Who are my brothers?

These questions I ask myself,
I ask when I see my reflection.
Yet no Answer do I hear,
But one question still haunts me,
What do I see in me?

Poem///

Nightmare Moon
Had a goon
Long ago she slipped away
but she knew how to make you stay

They say that you have to fret
over her big pumpkin head
you should run from her light
during every Nightmare Night.

To escape from her grip,
that she does to make you trip.

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Light and Dark (7)

Light and dark are two sides of a dime,
Each being alone and separate on its own,
Yet light hath more beauty and shine,
And darkness doth froth and foam.
Light, being as bright as the sun,
It hath more knowledge and good,
It hath more joy and happy fun,
And tries to make us happy as it can,
Dark, however, is where light is not,
It lurks in corners waiting,
It clouds the mind, and is cold,
It turns evil, gives hate,
And snuffs the breath of life,

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TJunkie Mac

• MLP: FiM
• Dark
• Sad
• Slice of Life
• Tragedy

Junkie Mac lived in a torrent of tobacco ash, surrounded by pizza crusts and empty bottles in his rancid flat. Follow me as I narrate the life of Macintosh, who got his wings and horn and traded them for open vein depositories. (Poetry.)

• Big Mac

All Art Is Quite Useless · 1.4k words  ·  16  22 · 598 views

But I promise it's not actually anything offensive.

Ah well, it'll probably still piss a few people off.

Enjoy! It's actually a vaguely structured poem, so if you're into that sort of thing, you should have a good time with it!

AAIQU

A short poem written by bronyprophet, for the loss of a beloved mother. When you read this think of the epic sacrifice, your mother endured for your sake, to bring you into this world. If you haven't spoken to her in awhile, call her, because she may not be around forever, so make sure you make the most of the time you share together. Say "thank you for bringing me into this world." although this world is broken. She believed you were worth her sacrifice, remember that. Show her that you

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Everyone knows one. Everyone has read one. A lot of folks have written one; I've written three or four. Sometimes they die while we're reading and then it screeches to a halt, and like cartoon characters whose car just drove over the cliff, we hover in place waiting forever for something more that doesn't come, until we look back and finally realize what's happened. Or sometimes we find its corpse lying 45 pages into the category, a gem buried in the turds of more active but far less talented

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I used to have an account on the Young Writers' Society website. Well, I say used to, but I never deleted it, so I suppose it's still there. All the same, all I ever wrote for it was two poems, neither of any artistic merit. Anyway, I was looking through old memorandums (memoranda?) on an older-still 'phone of mine, and happened across a fragment of a poem. It seems I'd tried to write a short, humorous verse for each month of the year, then got stuck. I don't have a very clear memory of

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