Well try poetry, it works well. I was just upset about this girl with alot of stress and frustration so my dad recommended poetry.(He's a poet.)Anyway I tryed it and it worked well.Plus the girls love it.Here's the poem I wrote for the girl I liked.
Mamie
I thought I told you I loved you enough,
'Cause things weren't going so ruff,
But when that sad day came,
I was feeling kinda lame,
Because I was sitting there crying my eyes out,
Even though I was asked not to pout,
I cryed and thought of you,
Until I thought maybe I shouldn't be blue
Cause one day I might get that girl
And my eyes will be in a swirl
But either way when that day comes
I will be a happy young man,
But until that day,
I will always think of my bae.
John 2004
So if you ever need stress relieved try poetry!
ID:275710
 Sep 26 2004, 4:31 pm
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Sep 26 2004, 4:32 pm
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Crashed
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Poetry, that or beating on PBAGS with 1.INF# power level. Trust me, beating PBAGs roxx!
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Lol, Crashed.
Well, I have a few ways of relieving stress and they work quite well. Instead of taking out your anger on another person and/or thinking about committing suicide for some I-do-not-know-reason (people always think about killing themselves when very, very angry. That wares off on you after five minutes so always take a five minute break before you do anything stupid. If it is just too much to take and you cannot handle it, try these stress relievers): These are what I do, and they work quite well: 1.) Workout (lift very, very heavy weights) 2.) Pushups 3.) Situps 4.) Punch a wall, or anything hard (only use this as a last resort, you would not want to hurt yourself when there are easier ways out of it, now would you)? There are a few more I use, but those are the main ones. I recommened the first three. If you do not have very heavy weights, do pushups. Pushups are probably the best stress relievers out there. It amazes me how much this works. | |
http://babyrabies.tripod.com/ I've won a "Editors Choice Award for October" from the national library of poetry for one of my poems (The link is on the side bar of my site, but I'm too lazy to get the direct link.), and a few of my poems written in the "best of poetry" books, though I don't know if this company (the national library of poetry) is just scamming people to buy the plaques and go to their conventions, but at least I don't -think- they are scamming.
I've had girl problems before, so I wrote one to help my sadness when the girl I liked, and was best friends with for 3 years, turned lesbian: -Darling Jessie- Love is stupid, really, I hate it's guts, it's all bleeding me silly. Love my humor, love my pride, I loved you more than anything, but in your eyes, I died. I unintentionally make my own Hell, thinking of what could've been, I really want to break from this shell. Another's arms you find more comfort, I was exactly what you wanted me to be, I want to understand why you make me hurt. Your perfect for me, I'm perfect for you, I wish you would just see, It's not a crime to love me too. That one was corny and dumb, but I also wrote this one that -is- on my site and came from the same incident: (This one is just a tad depressing :P) -Song of Sorrow- Singing, my cries are hollow, shallow, thick river of green. Choking my lungs, too late to swallow, agony gone, unable to redeem. I find my heart beating in your hand, my voice piercing your ears. Gag me with my heart, I can't understand, my pain no longer simply fears. I think about this time to time, thinking where I went wrong. Maybe I was simply blind, but to heal, I must sing this song. Ashes spread across my face, oh God, heal me, for I was wrong. Agony haunting me in every place, oh God, take me to where I belong. I repeat this song time to time, hoping it will help my grieving. Maybe it's just a simple rhyme, a few thoughts to stop my heaving. I walk down these streets in distress, paranoia stalking and smiling behind me. Possibly, I'll fold, influenced by duress, wishing it will simply leave me be. A cold, frosty night obscured my view, mist from all over the world would follow me. It was that night, for once I knew, something cut my blindness and made me see. Something was wrong, my heart surely found, there was something I would hate to hear. I sat, nervously waiting on the ground, waiting, waiting to hear my greatest fear. For two moons, I wondered about this, calmly waiting for God to answer. Finding no sign of eternal bliss, then I saw a sillouette, a graceful dancer. The shadow stepped from behind a curtain, her face wreaking of maggots and lies. She ripped out my heart and burden, and slowly cut me down to size. My body alive, my soul deep in the ground, my life ended surely and not peacefully. Gasping desperately, no longer making sound, killed by betrayal, dancing so gracefully. Ashes spread across my face, oh God, heal me, for I was wrong. Agony haunting me in every place, oh God, take me to where I belong. However, I'm over that, and I did end up writing a poem about love for my current girlfriend, who in my eyes saved me from all the pain I was going through: I look into a puddle, and see your face smiling. I look closer into the puddle, straight into your psuedo eyes, in which is a reflexion of me smiling, crossing the image of me smiling more, in the shallow puddle. I look up to see your face, and remove your glasses, to see those eyes of yours. As I look into your eyes, without staring at the puddle, I see my soul, smiling at you cheerfully. As we hold hands and walk, I begin to realize, I've found something extraordinary, something that I love, more than life itself The sun is setting, the sky looks stunning, more beautiful than it ever has before, and yet, I don't notice it at all, for you just squeezed my hand tighter, showing me you love me, and making me forget all else. It's late, and you walk me to my car. You smile, and say goodbye, hug and kiss me, and vice versa. Though, what I said next to the car, doesn't tell you how I truely feel, so I went home, and wrote a silly poem, to tell you what I care about. I care about how your eyes look in the sunset, how you squeeze my hand when something exciting is happening, how you never leave me without a kiss, how you make me feel, inside and out, and hoping your love will stay with me, is all the care I have in the world, for all else is no longer important. | |
Working out at the gym is an EXCELLENT way of relieving the stress I get from school. I love the gym :)
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There you go. o_o
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I would probably be sad after reading some of that, but I'm not. Blame the steriods im on that make me happy :), although the doctor says after the 12 day period I will depressed. I hate doctors. Anyway, thats some nice poetry.
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ooo, ooo...
Punching a door doesn't relieve much anger, but the pain does take your mind off of it for a little while. Working out relieves stress, partially because your thinking about how tired you have now become. The door thing, I think I broke a knuckle, if I didn't work out I probably wouldn't have hurt myself so bad hitting the door. Girl problems, poetry isn't really my thing. | |
Yeah, it always seems that doctors have some-what good news for you, then very, very bad news coming right after it (I hate when they do that).
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This is going to sound really stupid but what does a poem need in order to make it a poem? Does it need to ryhme or can it just be random things on the same subject?
--Goz | |
I believe it just has to have a poetic sense. I've seen (and written) poems that don't rhyme, are organized like stories, but the only thing that I seem to see in all of them that is common, is that they all have stuff like word play, metaphores, etc. that make it sound poetic.
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