New Poetry Thread

  1. crow.

    crow. Active Member

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    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]
     
  2. jastius

    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..
     
  3. Connavar

    Connavar Well-Known Member

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    Wrong thread..................
     
  4. crow.

    crow. Active Member

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  5. Anne Martin

    Anne Martin incorrigible

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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.
     
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  6. Victoria Silverwolf

    Victoria Silverwolf Vegetarian Werewolf

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    That is quite lovely. The structure fits the mood.
     
  7. Vaz

    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.
     
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  8. Ihe

    Ihe Forum Revolutionary

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    900
    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.
     
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  9. J D Foster

    J D Foster Rank amateur, utter novice, please help

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    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.
     
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  10. ErikB

    ErikB Well-Known Member

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    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
     
    Vaz likes this.
  11. ErikB

    ErikB Well-Known Member

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    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
     
  12. ErikB

    ErikB Well-Known Member

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    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!
     
  13. ErikB

    ErikB Well-Known Member

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    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!"
     
  14. Steven Sorrels

    Steven Sorrels Minister of Human-Banana Relations

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    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.
     
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  15. AlexH

    AlexH Well-Known Member

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    This is appropriate for some potato-loving that was going on in one of the Introductions threads. It also reminds me of a song called Bread by Jonny (who are Norman Blake from Teenage Fanclub and Euros Childs from Gorky's Zygotic Mynki).
     
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  16. Vaz

    Vaz We're in the pipe, five by five.

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    Location:
    Liverpool, United Kingdom
    Hunt of The Leonesse

    Black peaks and tainted moon,
    A lair of silver teeth,
    Brave who hunt the Leonesse,
    And wake the mountains sleep.
     
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