Here is something I wrote just now.

The Beauty and Sorrow of the World
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Guns firing and bombs falling
while people cheering marching between
miles and miles of endless open graves
in step with the chorus of machines:
a churning symphony of random cymbal-gongs
announcing the coming of a brand new day
that never seems to dawn.

Instead, continue bombs-a-bursting over dunes
and children of their ancestral homes
hollar-out their cheers
at jet-planes of the blue beyond
while stifling their tears.

And the endless wars go on and on
for countrymen, family, friend, and God.

Your looking for a strong man to take you from behind?

That was my next guess

Here's something I did in a Creative Writing class.  I got an A, but this I think demonstrates why I write stories, not poems:

The War of the Worlds
(God bless public domain)

He said the chances of anything from Mars were a million to one.
But still, they come.
Ten cylinders filled with minds much more robust.
Having viewed our gem of a world with envious eyes.
Slowly, and surely, drew their plans against us.

They landed one by one for ten days.
In massive fighting machines they swept us away.
A war of ants against men, bows and arrows against the lightning.
I moved toward the coast and a boat in which to flee .
The heat-ray never more than a moment behind me.

At the coast I was swept away by the crowd.
The last steamer pulling away.
When a fighting machine appeared, and another, and another.
Between them was the lone, grey ironclad, Thunderchild.
She smote them as they came, but her fate was sealed.

The earth belonged to the Martians.
It had been a slaughter, not a war.
I searched for safety where none existed.
When I heard the sound of a fighting machine wailing.
The wailing ended, and I found the machine, its master dead.

It was not gunpowder and cannons that ended those giant brains.
It was bacteria, the littlest things, that ended the Martians.
As over the years had man paid for his immunity.
For men neither live, nor die, in vain.

The beast unleashed
My soul dispatched
The power rises
Set me Free

Destroyer of all gods
Destroyer of the lies
laughing by the cross
as it burns as it dies

My forces have no brain
My forces have no mind
I live a forever glory
unknown to mankind

True happiness
It feels so good
So now let us sing
I will be forever king

A wonderful thing it seems to me
to live in constant soliloquy
endlessly sprouting thought(less?) prose
Na'er bothered if anyone knows
how wondrous! how uninhibiting!
no need to make your monologue riveting..
to rant and rave for days
on absolutely nothing and it's ways
and the useful things you have been taught
who knows? your might provoke some thought
into the mysteries of the universe
or just, perhaps, think up more verse
to further extend your time with me
but please, don't ramble incoherently
logical progression, however skewed
especially when being lewd
for people like continuity
it helps them comprehend, you see?
linking together your subject matter
is key to the art of incessant patter
from base logic to flustered panic
the thoughts involved are frequently manic
if so afflicted, do not resist it
or forever shall your brain be twisted
into the ever-present vicious circle
of trying to explain the colour purple
alongside quantum mechanics and how they're related
but how? you cry, can they be mated?
abstract logic is the key
and creative usage of vocabulary
mastery of all forms of elocution
will greatly aid your execution
but now it's your chance to ponder
and at my methods only wonder
at if i made the leap of faith
from chromatic principles to subatomic space
using fact or purely theory
bypassing accepted knowledge entirely
to arrive by a path so eloquent
that nobody notices the reasoning's bent
but now it's time to quell my spiel
i've gone on long enough, i feel
plus my rhyming's becoming atrocious
(not that anyone would notice)
so before it becomes quite absurd
i'll end right here. on. this. last. word.

Well i have never actually written a poem, but i enjoy reading them. After reading a few of peoples here i decided to take a shot at it, here it is.

Love

I often wonder about this life of mine,
In this dangerous world it's you that i find.
To love and to hold, find our way though the dark?
Or to continue our paths and slowly drift apart?

Deceit and betrayal is all that's left to see,
Loyalty and love was silently swept out of me.
I stand on two feet, with my head to the sky,
I put my trust into you, and in you it will lie.

To handle this world no longer do i believe,
In these sheeps and theses pawns, that were sent here to deceive.
The good and the light always prevails in time,
The love that is lost i believe i will find.

~ Cloud

Nice. Seems to cover multiple types and facets of love.

A play of nonsense
jingles us by
unexistance unchanged

clownesque creator
as it were a lie
is running away
or was looking for
everything she has

finding no sense
lacking why
confused and deranged

sarcastic laughter
that is passing by
for every day

a face in the mirror
breaking glass
cynical life

hahah

yes that's where I got it from, from the evil clown living under YOUR bed
btw it's about time you start cleaning up your room again.

THOUGHTS

Spinning around a dark distant sphere, golden bubbles of sound visibly appearing.
Castles and vampire blood, haunted ghosts are whispering to me. A phantom opera has begun.

Make a poem about the love of oranges