poetry
#142
Posted 13 April 2004 - 02:44 AM
@ Morneson - glad you've enjoyed them. Subtlety is probably too strong a word, my earlier poems were all in rhyme and generally were either purely descriptive or were very straight forward in meaning. I've tried to move away from rhyme in particular and put a bit more meaning in, eg Hermit Crab and Flights of Fancy, but I'm not sure I've managed it.
@ Baverel - glad you've been reading them. Pleased you liked Flights of Fancy, I've actually redone this since with a change that alters it somewhat, see what you think.
Flights of fancy (2)
As a child I watched
the kites fly on Beacon Hill
and marvelled as they soared
high, bright and brave.
Fluttering pennants splashing colour
on the blank canvass of the sky.
Laughing voices and shrill cries of a boy
whose line had snapped, kite racing free,
tether trailing, and my heart
ached with sadness for his loss.
But now this faded memory
taunts me with vitriolic scorn
as wretched in my fetters
I look again but only see
tortured prisoners bound and caught,
yet seeking to escape.
Wheeling and turning, moves
enforced by cruel masters.
Trembling for the freedom of
vast and open skies, silent screams
unheeded in the raucous din below.
My eyes well to see once more
the desperate headlong flight of
one whose chain is broken,
who in escaping dances his delight.
And now my sadness is reserved for me.
@ Baverel - glad you've been reading them. Pleased you liked Flights of Fancy, I've actually redone this since with a change that alters it somewhat, see what you think.
Flights of fancy (2)
As a child I watched
the kites fly on Beacon Hill
and marvelled as they soared
high, bright and brave.
Fluttering pennants splashing colour
on the blank canvass of the sky.
Laughing voices and shrill cries of a boy
whose line had snapped, kite racing free,
tether trailing, and my heart
ached with sadness for his loss.
But now this faded memory
taunts me with vitriolic scorn
as wretched in my fetters
I look again but only see
tortured prisoners bound and caught,
yet seeking to escape.
Wheeling and turning, moves
enforced by cruel masters.
Trembling for the freedom of
vast and open skies, silent screams
unheeded in the raucous din below.
My eyes well to see once more
the desperate headlong flight of
one whose chain is broken,
who in escaping dances his delight.
And now my sadness is reserved for me.
#143
Posted 10 September 2004 - 05:59 AM
right, read a few of those posted here...
@bav -
"At dawn I polish my awakening mask
My sanity
That I will wear until dusk."
awesome stanza
i'm not going to put anymore nice comments for you cos otherwise you will get all bigheaded and we cant have that can we sis?
@Aimless - coffee waves poem. i loved it. one of the best reads that i have had for a while. whenever i used to read/write poetry i only went for the angst filled. cos whenever i looked at other types i never really found something that made much impact with me.. technically its a good write but what i really liked was just the imagery and mood it created within my mind.
right, havent read any further yet. soz.
@bav -
"At dawn I polish my awakening mask
My sanity
That I will wear until dusk."
awesome stanza
i'm not going to put anymore nice comments for you cos otherwise you will get all bigheaded and we cant have that can we sis?
@Aimless - coffee waves poem. i loved it. one of the best reads that i have had for a while. whenever i used to read/write poetry i only went for the angst filled. cos whenever i looked at other types i never really found something that made much impact with me.. technically its a good write but what i really liked was just the imagery and mood it created within my mind.
right, havent read any further yet. soz.
#144
Posted 09 September 2004 - 02:32 PM
More melodramatic than those two?
Man... and I thought I was stuck-up
*ducks and runs*
Man... and I thought I was stuck-up
*ducks and runs*
#145 Guest_Fool_*
Posted 09 September 2004 - 02:48 PM
Hey! Those arent melodramatic at all. Flowery, maybe.
#146 Guest_Morneson_*
Posted 08 April 2004 - 09:40 PM
=) I've never really been good at poetry, being bad at rhythm and all, but I enjoy your poems... though admittedly I don't understand the subtle ones
#147
Posted 10 April 2004 - 04:52 AM
all right, i'm up to date now
err...yes, i think i did get the joke v. er...funny
roundabout....liked some lines, but generally....hm...i don't know, the mood doesn't suit me
flights of fancy r class....
err...yes, i think i did get the joke v. er...funny
roundabout....liked some lines, but generally....hm...i don't know, the mood doesn't suit me
flights of fancy r class....
#148
Posted 06 May 2004 - 08:14 AM
All too well dearie!
Now here's a biggie for you. Not sure about this and it's a bit more controversial than normal. It probably comes across as anti-American and I'm not, I'm sure the same sentiments could apply to pretty much anyone.
The day I cried
The day the towers fell I heard
the death knell tolling for my naiveté.
That cherished gift to me, clasped closely
in my police state mind of marshalled
views, defended absentmindedly from
all disturbing news that would intrude.
When my tears had dried I realised
I didn’t have a clue why enemies I never
knew I had would ride this road to ruin.
I hadn’t recognised that my current
affairs disregard was insular
on a truly continental scale,
that republican and democrat
were not the fullest span or
breadth of political debate.
I knew that reds were no longer
under beds but now disunited reformed
of the free market church, donning
Mafiosi traits with avaricious glee.
That the red tide was washed out,
the wire tipped walls had fallen,
eastern blocs come tumbling down.
But I thought the world was safer
now and free to choose to do
just what we wanted them to.
That the MAD fear of death we
suffered was now gone because
we had won through.
But
I thought all Palestinians were Jews,
I didn’t watch the news or
canvas Arab points of view.
I thought an Afghan was a
furry coat, a hound, not a frozen
corpse on a far off battleground.
I thought Oman a simple phrase,
Yemen it’s eloquent riposte,
a fakir someone better lost, the
Gulf between us clearly never crossed.
Iran, Iraq, havens of heathen demons
straight from Arabian nights,
turbaned and tonsured, spitting
spite, an effigy burning fright.
I thought that being Moslem was Cassius’
betrayal, the mountain become Mohammed.
Did I not know
that hard earned dollars donated
to sweet Irish Bhuoys delivered
tons of semtex on the flimsy
pretext of righteous liberation
That debt-ridden Africans need aid
not AIDS, their starving bodies food
not feuds, their parched fields sprays
of insecticide not drenching with
the blood of callous genocide.
That suicide bombers do not
only kill themselves but scatter
bits of passers by in random
confetti patterns of retribution.
That dictating to dictators sets
a pattern for a watching world.
Strange to think that we supported Saddam
when Ayatollahs were all the rage
and watched him swat his Kurds away.
So now I wonder was it innocence
that died alone, or was ignorance a
victim too, blown away like a spider
web flapping in a divine wind.
The day that bodies fell from the sky
the blinkers fell from weeping eyes
like people fleeing flames in vain.
While I can never sympathise with any
that take lives I will in future try to
understand what drives men into avenues
that lead to such destruction.
For wisdom lies in open eyes and perhaps
I’ll realise that around the world there
are many people shredded by their pain like me.
Now here's a biggie for you. Not sure about this and it's a bit more controversial than normal. It probably comes across as anti-American and I'm not, I'm sure the same sentiments could apply to pretty much anyone.
The day I cried
The day the towers fell I heard
the death knell tolling for my naiveté.
That cherished gift to me, clasped closely
in my police state mind of marshalled
views, defended absentmindedly from
all disturbing news that would intrude.
When my tears had dried I realised
I didn’t have a clue why enemies I never
knew I had would ride this road to ruin.
I hadn’t recognised that my current
affairs disregard was insular
on a truly continental scale,
that republican and democrat
were not the fullest span or
breadth of political debate.
I knew that reds were no longer
under beds but now disunited reformed
of the free market church, donning
Mafiosi traits with avaricious glee.
That the red tide was washed out,
the wire tipped walls had fallen,
eastern blocs come tumbling down.
But I thought the world was safer
now and free to choose to do
just what we wanted them to.
That the MAD fear of death we
suffered was now gone because
we had won through.
But
I thought all Palestinians were Jews,
I didn’t watch the news or
canvas Arab points of view.
I thought an Afghan was a
furry coat, a hound, not a frozen
corpse on a far off battleground.
I thought Oman a simple phrase,
Yemen it’s eloquent riposte,
a fakir someone better lost, the
Gulf between us clearly never crossed.
Iran, Iraq, havens of heathen demons
straight from Arabian nights,
turbaned and tonsured, spitting
spite, an effigy burning fright.
I thought that being Moslem was Cassius’
betrayal, the mountain become Mohammed.
Did I not know
that hard earned dollars donated
to sweet Irish Bhuoys delivered
tons of semtex on the flimsy
pretext of righteous liberation
That debt-ridden Africans need aid
not AIDS, their starving bodies food
not feuds, their parched fields sprays
of insecticide not drenching with
the blood of callous genocide.
That suicide bombers do not
only kill themselves but scatter
bits of passers by in random
confetti patterns of retribution.
That dictating to dictators sets
a pattern for a watching world.
Strange to think that we supported Saddam
when Ayatollahs were all the rage
and watched him swat his Kurds away.
So now I wonder was it innocence
that died alone, or was ignorance a
victim too, blown away like a spider
web flapping in a divine wind.
The day that bodies fell from the sky
the blinkers fell from weeping eyes
like people fleeing flames in vain.
While I can never sympathise with any
that take lives I will in future try to
understand what drives men into avenues
that lead to such destruction.
For wisdom lies in open eyes and perhaps
I’ll realise that around the world there
are many people shredded by their pain like me.
#149
Posted 29 May 2004 - 09:22 AM
i....i meant poetry...
life of pi is the guy in the boat with the tiger rite? or am i mistaken?
life of pi is the guy in the boat with the tiger rite? or am i mistaken?
#150
Posted 01 November 2004 - 10:23 AM
I am resurrecting this thread...hopefuly for more than a while
+++++++++++++++++++++
Yes, you were on that day
gray like autumn sky
Apparition of a smiling ghost
in a city sleeping drunk
The multitude of our unseeing
When my glass self shatters there will be
no more screaming echoes of your fury
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
b4 u say 'shut up at last u depressive b*tch'....take this: i wrote happy stuff ................but it's in polish. so that's my excuse
+++++++++++++++++++++
Yes, you were on that day
gray like autumn sky
Apparition of a smiling ghost
in a city sleeping drunk
The multitude of our unseeing
When my glass self shatters there will be
no more screaming echoes of your fury
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
b4 u say 'shut up at last u depressive b*tch'....take this: i wrote happy stuff ................but it's in polish. so that's my excuse
#151 Guest_Hawah_*
Posted 08 October 2004 - 01:01 AM
Well thank you, and it was written while in htrowing a fit, my wife was playing on my last two strings... Grrr!
#152
Posted 09 September 2004 - 02:24 PM
I was playing around with the rhyming, silly Mid-sentence rhymes that move about, and sneak into the final bit of prose!
Sleep sleep sleepety
sleepety sleep sleep
Keep keep keep at it
keep at it keep keep
wasting all your sand on
cheap cheap cheap *beep*
(and leave the census of
the leapity sheepity
sheep sheep for deep
tea diving into heaps
of I just lost my train of thought, and this mantra isn't working
Sleep sleep sleepety
sleepety sleep sleep
Keep keep keep at it
keep at it keep keep
wasting all your sand on
cheap cheap cheap *beep*
(and leave the census of
the leapity sheepity
sheep sheep for deep
tea diving into heaps
of I just lost my train of thought, and this mantra isn't working
#153
Posted 15 April 2004 - 11:26 PM
Bav
no not retired - not quite that old yet, just seem to have the bug at the moment.
no not retired - not quite that old yet, just seem to have the bug at the moment.
#154
Posted 19 May 2004 - 10:49 AM
quote:
Originally posted by Orfantal:
Ho Ho! what's this juvenile humour?
Who're you callin' ho, ho?
#155
Posted 17 October 2004 - 08:57 AM
aha aha i think i even know why
yes, I am a kid
and uhm..i meant that those threeverses...they really were nice..i mean the whole last three paaragraphs were better than the rest...
yeah, I'll go study maths
yes, I am a kid
and uhm..i meant that those threeverses...they really were nice..i mean the whole last three paaragraphs were better than the rest...
yeah, I'll go study maths
#156
Posted 17 September 2004 - 11:47 AM
can we have your autobiography as well, Aimless?
long is tedious....gd on ye. when a poem is bad n short it's onlt half as bad as the bad n long one. ha. one of the few wise things ever said by me. repeated i mean
and..fat chance
long is tedious....gd on ye. when a poem is bad n short it's onlt half as bad as the bad n long one. ha. one of the few wise things ever said by me. repeated i mean
and..fat chance
#157
Posted 19 July 2004 - 05:02 PM
Patience is a virtu, you should know that by now.
The Pub is Always Open
Proud supporter of the Wolves of Winter. Glory be to her Majesty, The Lady Snow.
Cursed Summer returns. The Lady Now Sleeps.
The Sexy Thatch Burning Physicist
Τον Πρωτος Αληθη Δεσποτην της Οικιας Αυτος
Proud supporter of the Wolves of Winter. Glory be to her Majesty, The Lady Snow.
Cursed Summer returns. The Lady Now Sleeps.
The Sexy Thatch Burning Physicist
Τον Πρωτος Αληθη Δεσποτην της Οικιας Αυτος
RodeoRanch said:
You're a rock.
A non-touching itself rock.
A non-touching itself rock.
#158
Posted 26 April 2004 - 05:29 AM
Cheers Bavvy
Rolling the Bones was just a bit of waffle about gambling. Here's another:
My Lady’s Eyes
I am lost in twin lakes of iceberg blue.
drawn to their midnight centres,
where mystery dances sinuously
in the ebon silence.
I see tiny golden flecks spattered
across the liquid surface
sparking with coruscating flames
that reflect desires and burn my eyes.
I heave my heart at
the beguiling depthless pools
and watch it drown
wrapped in welcome chains,
weighed down, surrendered,
my soul’s anchor.
Rolling the Bones was just a bit of waffle about gambling. Here's another:
My Lady’s Eyes
I am lost in twin lakes of iceberg blue.
drawn to their midnight centres,
where mystery dances sinuously
in the ebon silence.
I see tiny golden flecks spattered
across the liquid surface
sparking with coruscating flames
that reflect desires and burn my eyes.
I heave my heart at
the beguiling depthless pools
and watch it drown
wrapped in welcome chains,
weighed down, surrendered,
my soul’s anchor.
#160
Posted 09 September 2004 - 05:06 PM
I have a bunch of old poems, some of them lean on angsty(not proud of that). Others are ok, but I have to dig em up.
The Pub is Always Open
Proud supporter of the Wolves of Winter. Glory be to her Majesty, The Lady Snow.
Cursed Summer returns. The Lady Now Sleeps.
The Sexy Thatch Burning Physicist
Τον Πρωτος Αληθη Δεσποτην της Οικιας Αυτος
Proud supporter of the Wolves of Winter. Glory be to her Majesty, The Lady Snow.
Cursed Summer returns. The Lady Now Sleeps.
The Sexy Thatch Burning Physicist
Τον Πρωτος Αληθη Δεσποτην της Οικιας Αυτος
RodeoRanch said:
You're a rock.
A non-touching itself rock.
A non-touching itself rock.