I wrote a poem

[Jacob__mybb_import1]

It's about taking risks, though like most poetry, you can make it mean whatever you want it to mean. The setting is based on an old MC server I used to play on, and a book called the City of Ember.

It was paradise, our town
We lived below the ground, but light was all around.
Happy faces abound, and I heard many a joyous sound.

One day, as I walked the golden brick trails
I felt as if something was about to fail.
A man was beaten, another by words assailed.
The once bright streetlights were beginning to dim
And the ruler was putting his funds before men.
Some of us were unaware, but to me it was all too clear
I longed for an escape to appear.

One day, while I was near the edge
I thought I saw a door through the hedge
"Don't go through there!", a stranger said.
"Five men have passed, and they are all dead."
But at this point, I could go nowhere but ahead
I slipped through, and I departed
Into the land of darkness, the uncharted.

I soon came to a set of stairs
I trudged upward, in the dank, dusty air.
The floor was moist, the walls stark and bare
I thought I heard voices calling from down there.

I marched ahead, hoping for the end
The walk was boring, and I had not even one friend.
On the walls, long gone strangers had left scrawls
"There's nothing this way," one read.
Another, "Nothing but boredom and sadness ahead."
But I trudged on, for I felt led.

Finally, I was almost at the top
The stairs levelled, and the path came to a stop.
I climbed the ladder, and prepared my thoughts
Hoping for the freedom that I had long sought.

On the surface, I was greeted with light
Compared to what we had down there, it was so bright.
All around, I saw nothing but ruins and bare ground
But then off in the distance, I noticed a town.
And then behind me appeared a man
"Come with me," he said, "if you can."

I followed, and studied what I saw
They were not ruins, they were not old at all.
"Opening in two weeks," said a sign on a wall
And among the scaffolds, I saw men holding hammers
Framing houses, and putting up banners.

Finally, we reached some more men
They were happy to see me, and let me move in.
As the months went by, we gained many new friends
Some of them were from my old home, way back when.
I sometimes remember the temple of the past
But the cathedral of the present is now, and I am home at last.

[Fish]

That sounds more like a story. :/

[Qwertygiy]

That sounds more like a story. :/

Your idea of poetry is probably a few lines of Shel Silverstein, or Bruce Lansky. Nothing wrong with them, but they tend to be short.

This is more like the poets of old, who had very long poems. To the point of being epic.

[Jacob__mybb_import1]

It's a narrative poem.

[DSiDewd]

Awesome!

[Fish]

It's a narrative poem.

Oh. xD