New Poetry Thread

crow.

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Jul 31, 2013
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25
These are song lyrics. It's less sci-fi than fantasy, but I hope it's not entirely inappropriate for posting here.

003 03 I Ain't Don' Need a Grave, Jes' Yet

[A sinless man who escaped from a Southern plantation is nearing death when his wife, Elizabeth (shortened here as "Bet"), and daughter, Cora, are kidnapped. He begs the Lord to allow him to stay alive until he rescues them. Verse 1 tells the story of their youngest child's difficult childbirth, during which Bet nearly died on two occasions. Verse 2 characterizes him as pure-hearted and humble, with the final stanza recounting the kidnapping. Verse 3, a clipped verse, argues that if he died while his wife remained in bondage, it would be sinful, so that even though he had not sinned previously, the act of allowing himself to die would, itself, condemn him to hell.]

[Staging: during Verse 3, the ghosts of his kinsmen appear to lend their aid, and Jericho's age is regressed to his younger self. Throughout the play, they will act as an onstage choir.]

[Verse 1]
I was a man to death:
Shot no jib-headed boy the eye,
Carried my weight on the bone,
Take[d] no fortune, paint[ed] no guise.

Rued 'em days she cried out--
Troublin' business birth!
Through 'em paled and tremblin', tho',
Lord, I sticked wi' her.

[+]Oh, she[+]
Crossed 'cross dat [ho]rizon
[A] couple time or so,
But she came back aside me,
Lord, now I ain't [a]bout to go.

[Chorus x2]
I ain't don' need a grave, jes' yet.
I ain't don' need a grave, jes' yet.
Crackin' clay and wheezy'nin' breath,
But I gotta more to stay for Bet.

[Verse]
Never seemed no sailor;
Never seemed no saint.
[I ]'d'take my own confession:
I ain't no God' mistake.

Idn't death [th]at fears me,
Fo' I seen dem brighter woods,
Hushed and vacant, dreamed me--[+]I'd go, but[+]
Lord, I ain't my [own] man.

Betty took by troubled,
Low-eyed, blackish men.
'N' she could be dey victr'y, now, but
Devil if it stand!

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3]
So, say I ain't no sinner, but
If I let me break,
Ain't I broke my promisin'?
'N' dirtsy I cain't pray.

From yo' double-splinter, [the Cross--he's praying to Jesus]
Pardon me, I cry.
But, Lord, another winter, now,
Then I'm good to die.

But

[Chorus x2]
 

jastius

life is an awfully big adventure
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that is beautifully written, crow... it is true to its spiritual format and resonates with meaning..
 

Anne Martin

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I'm a rabid writer. Once I start it's a frenetic j
A Black Photograph

I’m dreaming again,
an image-less dream,
a black photograph.

A stir in the darkness
pleases this moon-child,
this waterbaby.

My night is clear and light,
as bright to me as day,
calling to me.

Darkness toys with my spirit,
a sensual game,
my distraction.

My dream, being taken,
loved by the night,
my day, my moon.

I swim in the pool of life,
dreams obsessed with lust,
my desire.

Darkness yearns to include me,
to please me, to love me,
to make three.

Sleep calls me,
come out to play,
so I must go.

My nightdress is lonely
on its hook tonight.
I’m in the mood.
 

Vaz

We're in the pipe, five by five.
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A short poem my character recites in my new Fantasy WiP



Prayer to The Night Eater's

Upon the night plain.
No cold of blade or cold of rain.

I run with claws, with talon & fangs,
Swallow the moon, the stars, the lands.

Strip me of flesh of bone and fear.
Bring me home, Lord of the night eater's.
 

Ihe

Forum Revolutionary
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Apr 4, 2015
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A dark little piece meant for a story that never fleshed itself out. I'm no good at this, but bear with me. Here it goes:

The friend, the lover, and the promise-keeper.


Come; step up to the fore,
It is I, your faithful end
calling from beyond your door.
Weeping the tapestry's bane
'tis the voice of a loyal friend
that saw you play wanton with the skein.
At once must I restore;
comrade, it is time to mend
the due downfall you swore

Behold, the edge of your shadow,
see your future near
embracing your shape, withered sallow.
This affair lingers true,
devoted passion beckons me here,
and I've come to woo.
So the suitor's whistle thus thrice blows.
Your vow, mute ink smear;
my vow, your patient gallows

Standing at the edge of your shadow
it is I, your end,
treading your shape now, ever so very shallow.
 

J D Foster

Rank amateur, utter novice, please help
Joined
Jul 1, 2015
Messages
193
Find the lady


Shadows walk your street, Cuban heels and chicken meat,

The world has changed, but I have not, neon lights and parking lot.


With suit crisp, step quick, you stride past my back alley trick,

Imagine yourself immune, but the spirit world will catch you soon,


Spare me change? I beg again, Step paused, you frown with disdain,

You deal in billions and deny yet cents, you live in towers, we live in tents.


Beads and bracelets, bubble gum, an ancient dagger, a stolen gun,

North, West, South, East, I call upon the ancient beast... run little human, run, run, run.
 

ErikB

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Sep 11, 2016
Messages
371
The Songbird.

The bird it turned and took to wing
The same that I'd been listening
It flew away into the green
And sang again though now unseen

I listened to the morning song
And wished that I could fly along
To take in the cacophony
As if that bird sang just for me

But in the end the bird moved on
Until at last the sounds were gone
Still I was grateful for this boon
And hope that it will return soon
 

ErikB

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Joined
Sep 11, 2016
Messages
371
Painblade's betrayal.

The metal's heft was never light
It's shape was never clean
A test in which the strong delight
This thirst so dark and keen

A blade that forged could not be broke
No fires hot enough to sate
The binding spells of magic stroke
That twisted metal into hate

A shining toy that sings of death
In hands unholy and unclean
A drinker of the life blood's breadth
A painblade savage seldom seen

The irony of blade thus wrought
That fame has driven fear
And now renowned for death was sought
Possession of it never clear

That many wish to keep such blade
Had driven more than one insane
Possession of this treasure made
The lives of keepers trade the slain
 

ErikB

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Sep 11, 2016
Messages
371
An Aquatic Perspective.

The fish in the tanks swim round and round for everyone to see,
They come to the aquarium filled with curiosity,
They stare and gawk and point and smile while gazing through the glass,
Some linger there a long long time while others race on past,
The people think the show is theirs as they observe the fish,
But from their home the human roam by just as they might wish,
These creatures keeping water clean, and feeding them just right,
Free meals and homes and all that's shown is really quite a sight!
 

ErikB

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Sep 11, 2016
Messages
371
Our Final Future.

The alien archeologists,
Studied the human remains,
They scratched their heads and spoke a bit,
While racking their collective brains.

Fossilised bodies slumped before their screens,
Before boxes of delight and breadth,
Thus in final conclusion they said,
"This species has amused itself to death!"
 

Steven Sorrels

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Jun 25, 2016
Messages
277
Location
Virginia, United States
The Church Of The Holy Spud

Potatoes, potatoes,
Meaty gift of the Earth.
Their taste, quite mild,
Their uses, hardly a dearth.

Smothered in ketchup,
Or boiled in stew.
They'll take in the flavor,
And give joy unto you.

Roasted, or broiled,
Or cooked whole with cream,
To eat of the spud
Is to live in a dream.

So if you are offered
The chance to indulge,
Loosen thine belt,
And release thine bulge.

For the 'tater is life,
And the 'tater is love,
And the world could do well
With more like above.
 
Joined
Apr 22, 2018
Messages
1
Well, this seems fairly dead. Oh well.


She stands beside the gloaming tree
With dress of down and white.
Myself, a lonely lumber man
Had seldom seen so fair a sight.

The day before I'd walked this way
My hatchet in my hand
And careless whistle on my lips.
About my trail the trees did stand
In ranks of brown and green.
Fair, yes, so fair they were
Even as I cut them down.

But I had paused before just one
To watch the play of failing sun
Upon its bark.
It stood a lonely sentinel
Its brethren slain.
It struck within me some solemnity
That I determined to delay
And cut it down some other day.

But now I come with hatchet hard
Yet cannot see the tree
For there, her hair as light as air,
A maiden stands 'twixt it and me.
I frown and shake my head -
Perhaps I'm dreaming yet, to see the curve
The sweet, sweet curving arch of lip.
A smile?
I take a step. And she remains. Another. And she frowns.

So sad. So very sad and lonely
That she seems a mirror and I shout
Aloud in my despair.
Fall to my knees and lose my hatchet
In the pools of sawdust I had left.

What has happened to me?
I can not say.
For when I look up, she is gone...
And was she ever there?
 

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