Author Topic: Poets' Paradise (Read 5090 times)

Narcissa · « **on:** January 07, 2007, 10:19:29 PM »

Seeing as there are several different threads by individuals posting poems they have written, I figured there might as well be a thread for people to post poems in without having to start a whole new topic every time.

That way, you only have to start a new topic if you feel that your poem really really really needs the attention (which is a feeling that I can very much understand).

So, here's something I wrote, a little while back. It lacks punctuation. That is my prerogative, bitchnubs.

Adjectivity: an exercise in self-destruction

Spirals

Those things of perfect beauty and chaos
Rising to the heavens
Knitting themselves into the fabric of Nether-reality
Their own little daydream
That can only fly after the destruction

Violent whirlpools

Draining into a sea of improbability
Drowning a thousand evil spirits
[The good ones as well]
Too late into the evening to think
Too unreal to speak of

Dreams

Lost on the old
Broken for the young to grow callous from
Passing in a fleeting moment
Of non-consideration
Indiscretely fading out of life

Hope

Waiting to be awakened
Hiding in the shadows
Living in the frailties
Broken and endangered
Willing to press on

Night

Blacker than a nightmare
Waiting for the simple things to pass
Swallowing the brightest of days
Death itself embodied
Fallible, but only to the mind awakened in the chaos

marpa · « **Reply #1 on:** January 13, 2007, 03:06:59 PM »

I like it, especially the last stanza. It's so powerful.

I'll try a contribution:

She's Still A Little Girl Inside

Last breath drawn
Just before dawn
She never saw that break of day
Nothing more was said
She just lay lifeless in her bed
Until they carried her away

I got the call
and again, I'm small
After all these years
Growin' up's really hard
When someone else deals the cards
And your full house is pain over fears

The trails she's ridden
are long and hard
Now she's got nowhere left to ride
But now that she's yours, Lord, please remember
She's still a little girl inside.

Narcissa · « **Reply #2 on:** January 15, 2007, 09:26:39 PM »

When you say you love me
My heart hears first,
My ears go deaf,
My mind is numb,
I cannot speak.

Thought returns,
A will to respond,
But I remain in quiet.
Your voice is so sweet;
My words can never sound as good as yours.

marpa · « **Reply #3 on:** January 16, 2007, 08:56:49 PM »

Echos Of War

Masses swing about and swallow blindly
When they are fed the lines
Liberation is the stated goal
Subtly liberate soul from body and mind

As time slowly passes
And hearts become cold with fear
As hate expands like a gluttonous waistline
from Canaan to Kashmir

Devil prophets holding innocent hands
Like coyotes leading sheep
Whispering lies in ears so green
Of rewards gained in eternal sleep

Drums of violence beat incessantly
By those addicted to the swell
Addiction never satisfied
But by the tolling of deaths bell

What will it take to quell the rage
What will silence the sound
The price that is ultimately paid
Is buried in the ground

So now in silence graves are dug
And souls are laid to rest
All that was built has been destroyed
Under humanity's crest

Narcissa · « **Reply #4 on:** January 16, 2007, 11:42:58 PM »

I really like that. It makes me think 'cult of reality' ... So much of it is too true not only of war (every war) but also of all of human history. We see every time how it was wrong yet fall for it every time. The leaders learn faster how to change the minds of the masses than the masses learn of the leaders' mistakes.

I like how you poeticized the horrors of history's cycles. That, to me, is the most powerful type of poetry -- it inspires thought, and maybe someday enough strength will come from the poets and thinkers among us that the cycles can be broken and replaced with more appropriate courses of action (dare I say, 'peace and love'?)

Imp · « **Reply #5 on:** January 17, 2007, 09:16:13 AM »

The last line of the first verse doesn't feel right to me. I don't know if it's the use of 'liberate' directly under 'liberation' or too many syllables. If it were me I'd use "Separating soul" or "freeing the soul" instead. Other than that I really like it.

(BTW: Your sig is one of my favourite Dr Hook songs, thanks for making me think about it.

)

Gudy · « **Reply #6 on:** January 17, 2007, 01:27:12 PM »

Quote from: Imp on January 17, 2007, 09:16:13 AM

(BTW: Your sig is one of my favourite Dr Hook songs, thanks for making me think about it. )

Thanks to that sig I've had Allison Moorer's version stuck in my head all day. Still, as far as sings to have stuck in your head go, this is rather pleasant. :-)

glasswalker · « **Reply #7 on:** March 05, 2007, 10:29:11 PM »

This is several years old, but doesn't feel too terribly out of sync with the thread:

Thoughts on Falling Cherry Blossoms

A year has come and gone, and the sakura have returned.
Pink-white, five-petaled, splayed across the branches and sidewalk.
A testament to the life being breathed back into the world.
But these are not the only things they mean...

"Let's go watch the sakura fall," you told me once.
Once, when you were as much mine as you were anyone's.
We never did, of course.
For by that time, our love was as tread-upon as petals on the sidewalk.

Still I have memories, both real and illusory.
Of carefree days, impassioned nights, and a smile that could break and remake a heart.
And one of those, so vivid it can't possibly be true,
Is of you, wrapped in dark blue, laughing and twirling,
As thousands of sakura dance on a spring updraft.
Surrounding you, enveloping you, embracing you.

The way you never let me.

Do you know how much like a young goddess you were, in my mind and heart?

A year has come and gone, and the sakura have returned.
Pink-white, five-petaled, splayed across the branches and sidewalk.
A testament to the fragility of things, of how nothing lasts.

The sakura do not last; they last long enough for a wistful memory.
My real world is the clouds and rain, set in a sky of slate-gray.
Yet, for a moment, I let myself breathe in the scent of cherry-blossoms.
I let myself believe that a loving smile can mean a lifetime.
I let myself believe that the sakura can dance upon the spring winds forever.

Let this moment last a lifetime....

victoria · « **Reply #8 on:** March 19, 2007, 04:43:59 PM »

I wrote this a long time ago, when I drank too much coffee and was deeply embedded in bitter, unrequited love.

In All The Right Places

Guttural screeching gouging, power tools making the sunny air thick
Ravenous, almonds lighting up our sinuses and the rest of you powder
A beauty that’s yours, plastic over the meat and shining in all the right places
Shifting through periods stained with different emotion-colors, ten a month
My blue period, your dead-white eyes glisten in all the right places
Power tools churning the street and dust into air-powder, heavy gold sunshine
Almonds grinding, ground
Coffee cup full, faces soggy empty dry, street go home
Dry street, I’ll go. Home?
Mountains of coffee, oceans of cups
Long china vistas, a beauty that’s mine, your almond eyes
Bite down, wooden grainy, the whip-curves of those irises I’d like to take and flatten
I know their gold-brown better than you do
Drills slice, power tools, the workers are taking a break
Sandwiches spongy, soggy, all filled up with plastic
Curves in all the right places, all covered in almond powder
Eyes coated in sunny thick sunlight, yes, I forgot to blink
Gouged out by your beauty, a beauty that’s yours, guttural screeching
Almonds grinding, ground
Your dead-white eyes glisten in all the right places
Your dead-white eyes glisten in all the right places

Sean · « **Reply #9 on:** May 30, 2007, 04:00:29 AM »

It appears that manual labor brings out my Muse.

Ode to Topsoil
Dirt, oh dirt
comes the cry
For what is it wort'?
Sir, good sir
is the reply
for all of your dirt
I would gladly
give you my shirt.

Vel · « **Reply #10 on:** May 30, 2007, 03:12:37 PM »

Bright red ink flowing from
ballpoint fingertips
creates meaningless words
on pulped, dyed, and refined
backyard swing-holders.

Pausing pens stain paper,
liquid cigarette burns
mark seamlessly the senseless.
Emptying a vacant mind,
into an emptier paper prison.

The Revolution · « **Reply #11 on:** May 30, 2007, 05:25:59 PM »

Dripping, draining: Meaning tickles down my arm
forming probability puddles, ripples of convention
Staring into the cacophony of false purpose
I see my own.

Time drizzles upon form
Laughing at reason and need.
Compiling, Seething, correcting..
Life meaningless to it:
Life meaningless without.

Knowing is form. Knowledge, static.
The void is capriciously boundless..
Shall we be the statue?
Nay. Energy yield fulfillment.

Bale Fire · « **Reply #12 on:** June 25, 2007, 01:58:10 PM »

Away the ever beckoning rays of light.
They call me down the path
towards the days I can remember.
But oh how I wish they would just let me rest.
No. It prods telling me remember, remember, never forget.
There is to much to learn from these things
lest you let time repeat it's mistakes and ills.
You can do it calls the voice.
The lessons learned today will be the legacy
you teach tommorrow.
And yet all I can think is make it stop.
Oh god please make it stop.
The ringing in my ears and flashes of
memories is finally to much.
Once again I lift the bottle to my lips
hoping for sweet, sweet relief.
I can hear the voice inside me say
this is not my child there is help
if you only give it time
I choke back tears and laugh as I
Bring the bottle to my lips again.
No one will care if I am gone
I say to myself, finshing off the rest.
Now the dark is starting to fade in
and I like the light have faded out.

NoxEquites · « **Reply #13 on:** July 09, 2007, 04:17:55 AM »

I'd post my poetry, but it might imply I have a soul, and we don't want that.

marpa · « **Reply #14 on:** April 01, 2008, 06:16:00 PM »

Since April is National Poetry Month (in the US, anyway), it seems appropriate to bump this thread and see if it can get some action. So if you've got the inclination, try to pump out some poetry!

It's All Fine
In streets filled with grime and slime
My morning bell's gonna chime
Cause I'm doing hard time
For my nickel and dime crimes.
But my prime is my rhyme
Which hits me anytime.
I climb through the sublime nighttime
Out to a day filled with sunshine.
IT'S ALL FINE!

Major · « **Reply #15 on:** April 01, 2008, 07:09:00 PM »

When I wrote this, I explained that it was an impression of a trotting horse. Honi soit qui mal y pense!

In Harness

Leather groans
Metal links titter
Springs moan
While the beast of burden
Her sides bejeweled with sweat
Races in ecstasy
To her master's destination

She lives for this
Running free
In her bonds
Enduring endless hours
Walking sedately
From one box to another
Until he comes
Coaxing her
With expert hands
Goading her into fulfillment
Teaching her
The song of her senses

toolazytoworktoobusytostop · « **Reply #16 on:** April 02, 2008, 08:07:32 PM »

I was mulling thoughts of what used to be and this popped into my head. A little rough perhaps.

A Lament.

I miss the things we had,
The fun we had,
I miss it all.
I wish we could have it all again.

But, of course, we can't.

Those days are gone,
The good times and the bad,
The happiness,
The fights and the making up.

I miss the things we had,
The fun we had.
But turning back the clock,
Going back to those times?

It isn't possible.

Would we even know ourselves if we could?
Has too much water passed under the bridge of our lives?
Would the good times we had seem so good now?
Could we act the way we did?

But still, I miss the things,
The fun,
The good times.

I miss being a child.

Bale Fire · « **Reply #17 on:** April 05, 2008, 09:17:56 PM »

Daughter
A twist of fate took you from me.
So much has been missed,
can never be replaced.
I how do I tell you I love you,
I could never stop even if I died.
The little time we spend together
rare as it is, is worth the universe
itself.
How can I make them understand.
I guess I can't.
So my world slowly slips from me
but, remember sweet one I will
always be here for you.

NoxEquites · « **Reply #18 on:** July 20, 2008, 04:51:45 PM »

Someone was telling me my poetry is great so I figured I should toss some out to you folks to get critiques.

Summer breeze sensual caress of their skin
Lovers strolling shore of shim’ring pond
The evening’s mood inspiring
They lay embracing ‘neath Luna’s gaze
Hearts heated by desire, a breathless kiss
Passionate fingers seeking, finding
Blood quickens, murmured encouraging
Pleasure waxing, her bosom heaving
Sweat upon his brow, upon hers
With gentle care he enters her, she smiles
They sigh in unison, tender kisses
Rhythm of bodies steady, loving
Pulses racing, passion rising
Loins aching, breathing labored
Moment nearing, minds rushing
Time arrival, lovers trembling
Passion ebbing, tender whispers
Sated bodies, souls entwined

---

Moonlight on milky flesh, her eyes beckon
Flame tresses aglow, vision of reverie
His heart drums, her radiant smile calling him
A fleeting touch, heartfelt whispers
Her longing a mirror of his own
Leagues apart, hearts touching through the ether
A farewell kiss, before long will end
Sorrowful near rousing, slumber’s end
Sadness ceasing, tomorrow dream again.

---
Casualty

Broken, bleeding, dying.
Begging for the Reaper.
She can’t stand, barely can crawl.
Passersby ignore her.
The thugs had their way.
Resistance brought her grief.
Blood running down the street.
“It’s Ghetto life” they say.
Cosmopolitan: another word for callous.
Samaritan finally calls the medics.
An ER miracle, she lives.
But it isn’t life.
Her soul is torn.
Her heart is cold.
Eyes terror-wide.
World is lurking, menacing.
Trust is gone, paranoia reigns.
A Queen of Despair.

NoxEquites · « **Reply #19 on:** July 28, 2008, 11:26:37 AM »

Yes its a double post but I was inspired on Sunday so you must suffer!

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Author Topic: Poets' Paradise (Read 5090 times)