Do You Write Poetry?

[mirinda]

You are ice where there was warmth. You are hate when there was love. You bring sadness when we are happy you bring pain where there was none.
Living to destroy you have no real purpose but to cause pain, never knowing real light, never feeling the sun again. Your breath is cold and ragged your skin is rough and pale. Eyes that once held light have only darkness there.
Trapped in your mind broken and twisted people scream when they see your face. Did anyone ever give you a chance to be a human with something to gain?


You said you were sorry, I don't care sorry is not enough. You don't know what it's like to always pretend to be tough. I may look normal, and mostly I am, but my heart is broken inside. My body aches as my mind creates every word on every line. I spinning 'round and 'round unable to stop or even slow down. Liquid seeps from my desert dry eyes. I cannot keep straight the truth and the lies. I want to be still, to walk a straight line, but my path's forever curving and I must walk it for it's mine.

 

[Erin99]

I think my favourite stanza is this:

You are ice where there was warmth. You are hate when there was love. You bring sadness when we are happy you bring pain where there was none.

And this line I think a lot of people can relate to:

You don't know what it's like to always pretend to be tough. I may look normal, and mostly I am, but my heart is broken inside.

You're poems are powerful, Mirinda. They have a purpose - they speak of pain and what it's like to struggle through life, love and relationships.

 

[mirinda]

Thank you Leisha.

 

[bullferret]

Re: Do You Write Poetry? and end it!

Heres a short poem that I may or may not be finished lengthening:

Depression and self-pity come naturally to my soul.
They are hungry and desire to devour my inherent defects
so that my miserable disposition may steadily worsen.

How can one be alone and at peace?
What is peace, if not some modicum of happiness or joy?
If that is the proper definition of peace, then I fear I am at war,
a bloody and violent war in which I will likely not persevere.

Some people conversely are happy being sad
It is empathy out of control
But if others can realise this trait
Then content can succour the overwhelmed soul.

Do any of you like it and does anyone think it needs to be lengthened and added to?

toby or not toby

 

[Jack7]

Three days ago I was visited by a Wanderer in the desert, who being asked his name replied, "What is spoken is not what is known, and what is known is not the question that you would know of me. Nevertheless if you answer me what I would not ask of you then I will tell you who I am."

So I asked him how he might best be known when all he is as nothing.

"Now I will tell you who I am, and after that, we will sit together and stare into the sky."

So I listened, and hearing nothing, sat down to wait.
The watch was long, and quiet...

But I am patient. And I can wait...

An Experiment in Multiplicity​

Part the First: The Globe

“Post equitem sedet atra Cura”​

Upon the table where I lay the object of desire​

I came upon an ancient thing, a thing I could admire

A telescope of ages past, a compass lost to read​

An experiment alone by which forsaken I accede

A glass that mirrored back my soul​

A branching from the bole,
A secret whispered back from God
That guile could not enroll,

Upon the table where I lay the object of desire​

I came upon an arcane thing, a thing I could acquire

A ruler steep, an astrolabe​

For shooting at the sun
A promise long that I did crave
No matter when begun

And machinations, they did turn​

Where assemblies did adjourn
Along the casement of facade
For by this did I learn,

No man has ever grown so tall​

He ever stooped the sky,
Then when he topples, what a fall
That cracks the globe nearby

Upon the table where I lay the object of desire​

I came upon an obscure thing, a thing which did conspire

For reaching up upon the mast, as tall as masts will grow​

I found what I was searching for, then lost it down below,

The moral of this twisted tale, this song of last repent​

Is that desire never sleeps, and never does relent

So if you come upon that thing which lingers in your heart​

Be very careful what you take before you do depart…

For gaining we have caught it all, and grasping we will hold​

Seceding we cannot let off, our end is thus foretold.

© JWG, Jr. 2007​

​

 

[ragnarblackmane]

That is an excellent poem Jack, you utilize complex words to great effect.

Now here's a poem I just wrote today in about fifteen minutes or so:

Controlled

I am a man, as happy as can be and untouched by bitter sorrow.
Prancing and dancing I frequently engage in, for I am always happy.
The kids clap and laugh excitedly, enjoying my displays of unbridled
joy and how I dash and skip along the theatre in my brightly colored clothes.
How gleeful I make them, their smiles lighting up the room with a childlike splendor.

But then I fall, chipping my face on the wooden surface.
The kids look disappointed in me, but I retain my happy grin,
trying to cheer them up by standing and performing an awkward jig.
Soon enough I have them laughing and pointing at my ridiculous
dance, berating me for my stupidity.

Once again, I am happy.

I am a man, as happy as can be and untouched by bitter sorrow.
Prancing and dancing I frequently engage in, for I am always happy.
The kids clap and laugh excitedly, enjoying my displays of unbridled
joy and how I dash and skip along the theatre in my brightly colored clothes.

The strings that my limbs and body are connected to jerk me into movement.

I am a puppet, as happy as can be and untouched by bitter sorrow.
Prancing and dancing I frequently engage in, for I am always happy.
The kids clap and laugh excitedly, enjoying my displays of unbridled
joy and how I dash and skip along the theatre in my brightly colored clothes.

Smiling widely, I wonder why I feel so happy,
but the thought is fleeting and lasts barely a second
before being replaced by a sense of mindless happiness.

 

[Nesacat]

Jack ... it's a very good poem. I like the words and they way you've managed to make them fit to give it all a mellow melancholy. Like the verse of old.

Ragnar ... this goes a long way towards putting into words the way many feel about clowns and smiling puppets on a string ... always, always. always smiling.

 

[ragnarblackmane]

I also hinted in the poem that the puppet almost began to think for himself, but was unsuccessful and remained mindlessly happy.

Think about the puppet and who he may represent.

 

[Nik]

Excerpt from 'Venturer'.

I've quoted from 'Venturer' in my reply to a comment on 'Soft Target' in 'Critique' section.

And, yes, I know I said I only write poetry when I have 'flu. But that's how 'Venturer' happened-- all 328 lines of it...

Anyhow, here's the opening...
---

'When the Exponent Drive opened Space' Upper Tier,
Twelve light-years became half a 'g', half a year.
Venturer, crewed by two hundred, all told,
First went and charted the sector we hold.'

A calm, precise statement from history book,
But now, at that time, I shall give you real look!

First, Ed 'Floater' Winters produced the 'SkyHook',
Whose single, crude 'Field Pole' defied the maths book.
Its 'Phased Tunnel Diode Array's quirky boast,
Gave wry Engineers 'Beyond Theory' toast!

A simple description then came within year,
'A bubble of Space-Time that Gravitons fear'.
After ten, modulate, and a Drive Field was found,
Yet Floaters and Flyers remained Einstein-bound.

'Til Jones, 'cross whose key-board a stray finger flew,
After which, his graph-plotter a double-bubble drew.
And he took one good look, and a Star Ship he planned,
For he saw Einstein's limits applied second hand !

By research ship 'Venture', the math was soon checked.
To go to the Stars, the Convention elect.
So, high at O'Neill -Eight, that ship-yard in space,
Swift grew our first Star Ship, the Black Plane to race!

 

[Jack7]

Thanks to everyone who complimented my poem.

I am indeed no modernist poet, and I don't particularly enjoy despondent or bleak poetry, but I do like melancholy poetry very much. And so I'm glad the difference showed in my verse.


I also liked Ragnar's poem, because of the juxtapositioning between appearance, mood, subject matter, and presentation.
It sort of reflected an animus upon the inanimate, and a sort of reverse reflection of that.

It kinda reminded me of a Noh play, and I like the fact that meter scheme, when it appears is, is sometimes broken, sometimes internalized, and sometimes scanable, making it inconsistent, which sort of very well reflects the confused nature of the consciousness of the subject. Or lack thereof.

I'm afraid I don't know enough about the subject matter of Nik's poem to really understand the background.

 

[Malfor]

Some really great poems guys/girls!!! Here are some that I have:

This one is untitled:

Dark clouds blot the sky
And the Earth is drenched in rain
The crash of thunder feels the air
So no one can hear my screams of disdain

Lightning srikes nearby
Leaving me with a vision of you
The wretched cold clings to me
And I dream of what I thought I knew

Below me the soiled Earth
Pierces my bare feet as I stand
Reminding me of how easily
You pierce my hearth with the touch of your hand

Gothic:

To me everything is black
As black as night
I have never seen the sun
Never known it's light
All the clothes that I wear
Are bleak and dark
The makeup I wear
Covers up my marks
I hope one day
To feel what you do
Perhaps then
I will see the light too

 

[Flag Pole Sitta]

yay poetry thread!!!

This Girl in the Mirror

There is this girl
in the mirror,
She is loud and crazy,
and, frankly,
Quite embarrassing.
This girl in the mirror,
They say we are quite alike,
But I don't see it.
I am shy,
Quite and mousey,
and very, very gentle.
She is bold,
In everyone's face,
and very, very violent.
This girl in the mirror,
We are nothing alike,
She and I.

 

[Flag Pole Sitta]

here is one of my faveriote poems, even though it's pretty emo-tastic

And

My hands are dry,
dry and cracking,
I reach for some lotion,
and,

there is nothing.
A pit filled
with eyes,
and shining razor blades.
I fall
and,

Catch myself,
by a hair,
a fingers breadth,
a shot put throw,
I catch myself,
and,

I
Dance Delicately
on bloody feet,
the razor edge,
between,
reality and
insanity.

 

[tyrant Lizard]

The Black Hound.

the black hound is coming, I can hear its baying cry
draw close your cloak and cross yourself
a shadow draws across the land
the black hound is coming, time to roll the die

the black hound is coming, chaos in its wake
offer up a prayer for all that you hold dear
fall upon your knees
the black hound is coming, its purpose just to take

the black hound is coming, despair is its gaze
to ravage and blight
to ruin and destroy
the black hound is coming, setting homes ablaze

the black hound is coming, leaping like a dancer
with eyes of blood and teeth so sharp
a pelt as black as night
the black hound is coming, answering to cancer.

 

[daisybee]

The Last Conversation


Do you understand Sir?
What's happening today?
Do you understand we're here
To take your life away?

The deed is done, it's over
No don't look, just have a drink-
That bottle's nearly empty
Crack another, what d'you think?

I'm feeling kinda groggy
Achy, sore, and damn confused.
How d'y'all get inside my house?
The doors locked, ain't been used.

We don't need doors or windows Sir
We travel in the blood
I'm speaking from inside your head
I'm wading in a flood

Of all your hate and wanting
All that rage you've held in check-
Well we've arrived to free you
Please don't glance towards the deck..

Jesus Christ! Who did this?
Man crumples to the floor
I'm sorry if it's shocking Sir,
Were you expecting more?

Me? I didn't want nuthin'
Oh my wife, my darlin girl-
Forgive me, but you did it Sir
I watched it all unfurl

You drank all day and night Sir
Got home real late 'bout two-
Dragged her from her bed you did,
Said she'd been untrue.

Why the hell were you just watchin'?
Why the hell d'you let her die?
Sir, we aren't your keeper-
We are your soul, oh please don't cry.

I can't believe I did this..
Are you sure that is was me?
Don't ask for proof I beg you Sir
D'you really want to see?

If I show you your actions,
Let you see your hands, her blood
Then there is no saving you-
You'll drown here in this flood.

Tell me why I did it son,
Explain this horror please-
I knew I shouldna had that beer
That last one took my knees

I shouldna drank on anger
Shoulda come straight home from work
Oh God I've killed my baby
I musta gone beserk

Indeed you really did Sir
And now your soul is damned
We're here just for the clean up-
Not to scold or reprimand

What'll happen now then?
I can't think, what should I do?
I suggest you close your eyes now Sir
They're coming back for you.

You called the cops? well..good
I need to tell them what I've done
No need for explanations Sir
You're still holding the gun

I think they'll work it out just fine
What happened in this house
A man, a gun, some liquor-
Killed himself after his spouse.

Killed himself...?
Looks down
.
.
.
Oh...

Good luck Sir, you're going to need it.



I know it's long, but I'm quite proud of it.

 

[ragnarblackmane]

Ah, a fine conversing between a dead man and death himself.
Seems like a humorous and tongue-in-cheek look at death, which I rather enjoy.

It's very good, except one thing I think you should alter:

I think they'll work it out just fine
What happened in this house
A man, a gun, some liquor-
Killed himself after his spouse.

To be honest, this doesn't flow very well.
Now, which do you think flows better?

I think they'll work it out just fine
What happened in this house
A man, a gun, some liquor-
Killed himself after his spouse.


I think they'll work it out just fine
What happened in this very house
A man, a gun, some liquor-
Killed himself and then his spouse.

Just some suggestions.

 

[daisybee]

thanks-that line did bug me. Yours has a better beat, I'll have it!!

 

[daisybee]

thanks-that line did bug me. Yours has a better beat, I'll have it!!

Okay apologies for double post-but I now recall why I didn't switch "after" in the first place...because it wouldn't really be possible for him to kill himself first, so after was the only option. Although and then sounds nicer I agree!

 

[ragnarblackmane]

D'oh!

I didn't notice that!

 

[ragnarblackmane]

This poem I wrote two days ago. It isn't quite finished and was meant only to be humorous.


John Doe

John Doe was by all accounts an average man,
with nary a friend but one sure man called Dan.

This man befriended, was an honest schmoe,
but not as honest as his other best friend Joe.
Now, Joe was very honest and he never lied,
no matter what he'd said or even how he tried.

But life gave things other than friends to poor ol' John Doe,
and one happened to be an enemy, by the name of Moe.

Moe's life was filled with things both cheery and dreary,
having so much time to himself, but of it growing weary,
no wife to love, no kids to raise, no people to keep,
unlucky enough for his roof to have a dreadful leak.

Moe was a dishonest man, filled of deceit,
a fellow who fancied himself to be an elite.
He lied to his neighbours, just to be rude,
he cursed them angrily, just to be crude.

John was a friendly man, as was his own son Stan,
both just as friendly as their wife and mother, Anne.

Now Anne was a woman of means quite modest,
she growing up in a family that was most oddest.
Her uncle, a strange old man by the name of Tom,
was queer in the choices he made sound so calm.
He greeted her good day when the sun had gone,
told her good night when the moon had moved on.

Tom's wife Sarah, aware of this plight,
let his behaviors go, for fear of a fight.
Tom wasn't a violent man, not one bit,
but when in a fight, he was sure to spit.