poetry
#1
Posted 16 November 2004 - 08:54 PM
Maybe not a plague then. Some sort of natural disaster maybe?
I love Hall of Remembrance.
I love Hall of Remembrance.
#2
Posted 16 September 2004 - 04:39 AM
Bav - whatever you do don't lose your imagination and creativity.
Aimless - I don't know what you mean
Aimless - I don't know what you mean
#3
Posted 16 September 2004 - 10:34 AM
I meant mannerism of course I invented the above
we see? here on the forum? I've only ever seen you in the poetry thread! Do you lurk more than I thought you do, Orfantal?
plus...I'm not going to make a scene of my pretended modesty here, you've got the c. album for looks, let's not mix them with what is here, I've got enough of people judging me by my looks irl
it was coy...let's say. I'm just feeling a bit confused
we see? here on the forum? I've only ever seen you in the poetry thread! Do you lurk more than I thought you do, Orfantal?
plus...I'm not going to make a scene of my pretended modesty here, you've got the c. album for looks, let's not mix them with what is here, I've got enough of people judging me by my looks irl
it was coy...let's say. I'm just feeling a bit confused
#4
Posted 05 May 2004 - 08:31 AM
@ orfantal silence wahou enthralling (sorry but i'm short of words ) it remind me of some texts by Joy Division
@ bav thanks a lot i really apreciate yours choice of words
@ bav thanks a lot i really apreciate yours choice of words
#5
Posted 17 September 2004 - 01:05 PM
I'd say topic, but it seems kind of fashionable lately, so I won't mix with the masses
#6
Posted 05 May 2004 - 08:34 AM
farad - thanks, you're a gentleman, and I'm sure Bav was only jesting.
#8
Posted 15 September 2004 - 10:37 AM
the inspiration?
...uh...no, not really...Felisin? I don't know, the only thing that comes to my mind
btw...I need a vent. So...
I go to the old town house of culture to the first art lesson in my life and there's this woman and she looks at my works and she says brilliant imagination, amazing line and detail blah blah blah all gd, BUT ...we gotta make you academic!!!
And so she got to making me academic. I have brought home with me two totally soulless works which were, oh dread, done by me...I have been brainwashed into academism still nature, the most horrendously boring thing in the world
...uh...no, not really...Felisin? I don't know, the only thing that comes to my mind
btw...I need a vent. So...
I go to the old town house of culture to the first art lesson in my life and there's this woman and she looks at my works and she says brilliant imagination, amazing line and detail blah blah blah all gd, BUT ...we gotta make you academic!!!
And so she got to making me academic. I have brought home with me two totally soulless works which were, oh dread, done by me...I have been brainwashed into academism still nature, the most horrendously boring thing in the world
#9
Posted 19 May 2004 - 08:20 AM
beware Orfantal, Bav has some strange idea about older men
@ bav
@ bav
#10
Posted 18 November 2004 - 03:25 AM
Farad - cheers matey
Bav - I'm always pleased to receive praise from the crazy mountain lady, and I'd never put my hands round your neck, without an invitation.
Apsalar - Of course! Liked Blank Paper, its something I could really relate to. Great stuff.
Bav - I'm always pleased to receive praise from the crazy mountain lady, and I'd never put my hands round your neck, without an invitation.
Apsalar - Of course! Liked Blank Paper, its something I could really relate to. Great stuff.
#11
Posted 26 April 2004 - 01:41 PM
@ orfantal it's enthralling
i particulary like Distant Shores and the one posted on the 07/21/03
@ althan it's good it moved (?) me
i particulary like Distant Shores and the one posted on the 07/21/03
@ althan it's good it moved (?) me
#12
Posted 02 November 2004 - 10:15 AM
vague n mysterious, knew i'd gotten you used to everything being reasonable...
you don't believe it? don't, that's right.
and
@Aps: charming indeed!
you don't believe it? don't, that's right.
and
@Aps: charming indeed!
#13
Posted 18 October 2004 - 02:45 AM
quote:
Originally posted by Baverel:
aha aha i think i even know why
yes, I am a kid
hahaha. and there was me thinking you werent going to weild that power over me! the cheque for your silence is in the post
#14
Posted 27 September 2004 - 10:03 AM
Well, I can see what you're trying to say (I think)... must say I agree
O xein', angellein Lakedaimoniois hoti têde; keimetha tois keinon rhémasi peithomenoi.
#15
Posted 09 September 2004 - 12:20 PM
i just rewrote my poem n then didn't save the changes. now i can't remember what i wrote. aw, hell, i'll start using paper like i used to...
@Chaos: maybe I'll go read it again n then i'll change my mind. how bout that?
yeh, i know, either i had this dream or i imagined what it would be like a while back. your thoughts and your dreams are cut out from the same fabric. Or mine. Hopefully not.
sleepless poem, another one
damn i was thinking a while back about writing one..in a way...maybe i'll write it tonight. we shall see.
and as for now, the poem that i mentioned. sounds wrong without the changes that i can't remember. argh, sux....i can't wait for those rude comments from you lot!!!!
before sb points this out, i don't care that blindmen is written separately. neologisms n literature imperative are my shield!!
Blindmen blindmen
Hammer blindly
On reality’s mute doors
Blindmen blindmen
Know not these works of yours
Blindmen blindmen
How they smear the paint
Groping around
Arid white iris
Colour’s burial ground
Blindmen blindmen
Mock them ask them
What they see
Rip up your canvas
All the same to me.
Blindmen blindmen
Follow greedily
A leper’s singing curse
Wear robes of favoured greyness
Hear this scornful verse.
@Chaos: maybe I'll go read it again n then i'll change my mind. how bout that?
yeh, i know, either i had this dream or i imagined what it would be like a while back. your thoughts and your dreams are cut out from the same fabric. Or mine. Hopefully not.
sleepless poem, another one
damn i was thinking a while back about writing one..in a way...maybe i'll write it tonight. we shall see.
and as for now, the poem that i mentioned. sounds wrong without the changes that i can't remember. argh, sux....i can't wait for those rude comments from you lot!!!!
before sb points this out, i don't care that blindmen is written separately. neologisms n literature imperative are my shield!!
Blindmen blindmen
Hammer blindly
On reality’s mute doors
Blindmen blindmen
Know not these works of yours
Blindmen blindmen
How they smear the paint
Groping around
Arid white iris
Colour’s burial ground
Blindmen blindmen
Mock them ask them
What they see
Rip up your canvas
All the same to me.
Blindmen blindmen
Follow greedily
A leper’s singing curse
Wear robes of favoured greyness
Hear this scornful verse.
#16
Posted 05 May 2004 - 01:00 AM
Altahn - thanks, yes I was definitely going for the boundaries of good taste with Act of Worship. My Boy is very personal for me.
farad - thanks, you're a kind person.
Bavvy - you been a naughty gal? Your dancers are excellent, great stuff. Very original and expressive, loved it. Did you have a title in mind? Just one question - are those your legs?
Here's a couple more:
Paying your dues
We enter the world involuntarily,
kicking and screaming in anticipation,
a debt of more than gratitude
mill-stoned around our necks.
Parental hope and dreams vested
in us with delegated authority,
an expectation of satisfactory returns,
a yielding on our account.
We soon learn that every shuddering breath
draws down an overdraft, safe and secured.
Each heartbeat punctuating a tally roll,
a slate that’s never clean but often laundered.
We’re raised to believe in the sanctity
of market forces and share in
the fiscal measurement of worth.
We walk a tightrope of financial balance
above a precipice of ruin.
For never in the field of human commerce
has so much been owed by so many to so few.
Silence
Silence is
that pregnant pause,
the moment before emergence.
The seed that’s poised
to burgeon forth.
The winding roots
that clutch tight
the memory of sound.
The pause for breath,
the stutter in the heartbeat.
The moment when the echo
stills and dies.
The blink of the eye.
farad - thanks, you're a kind person.
Bavvy - you been a naughty gal? Your dancers are excellent, great stuff. Very original and expressive, loved it. Did you have a title in mind? Just one question - are those your legs?
Here's a couple more:
Paying your dues
We enter the world involuntarily,
kicking and screaming in anticipation,
a debt of more than gratitude
mill-stoned around our necks.
Parental hope and dreams vested
in us with delegated authority,
an expectation of satisfactory returns,
a yielding on our account.
We soon learn that every shuddering breath
draws down an overdraft, safe and secured.
Each heartbeat punctuating a tally roll,
a slate that’s never clean but often laundered.
We’re raised to believe in the sanctity
of market forces and share in
the fiscal measurement of worth.
We walk a tightrope of financial balance
above a precipice of ruin.
For never in the field of human commerce
has so much been owed by so many to so few.
Silence
Silence is
that pregnant pause,
the moment before emergence.
The seed that’s poised
to burgeon forth.
The winding roots
that clutch tight
the memory of sound.
The pause for breath,
the stutter in the heartbeat.
The moment when the echo
stills and dies.
The blink of the eye.
#18
Posted 17 November 2004 - 02:06 AM
Milady Baverel, what kind words, you flatter me.
Apsalar, glad you liked it, hope to see some more of yours.
Here's another for your edification.
Wonder
As I sat on the train this morning
I glanced at the person opposite
and wondered….
What secrets lurked toad-like
in the limpid pool of thoughts
behind that bland anonymous face?
What hopes, dreams and desires
burned fever-bright within
the placid downcast eyes?
What joys and pleasures had seared
their heart and soul with burning ecstasy?
What crushing sorrows had carved their way
through flesh and bone with cruel abandon.
I wondered….
Whose arms clasped them tight?
Whose kiss they longed for?
Whose back they knifed?
What goals they strived for?
I wondered….
When the hell I’d get to my stop?
Apsalar, glad you liked it, hope to see some more of yours.
Here's another for your edification.
Wonder
As I sat on the train this morning
I glanced at the person opposite
and wondered….
What secrets lurked toad-like
in the limpid pool of thoughts
behind that bland anonymous face?
What hopes, dreams and desires
burned fever-bright within
the placid downcast eyes?
What joys and pleasures had seared
their heart and soul with burning ecstasy?
What crushing sorrows had carved their way
through flesh and bone with cruel abandon.
I wondered….
Whose arms clasped them tight?
Whose kiss they longed for?
Whose back they knifed?
What goals they strived for?
I wondered….
When the hell I’d get to my stop?
#19
Posted 08 November 2004 - 02:18 AM
Cheers chaps - glad you liked it. Here's another couple. The first's more of a fragment, while after that last one, the second is something from the lighter side.
Dancing in the Dark
In life’s cruel dance
we spin and twirl
like rampant marionettes,
strings tugged and twitched
with reckless abandon.
Eyes wide but blind,
never cognisant of
the hidden hands that
guide our every move.
At the Game
I see their faces, pinched with cold,
and rosy cheeked, bedecked with raindrops
glistening in the flood lights’ glare.
Despite the dull patter of the rain
their eyes are bright with excitement,
beneath the woollen hats and hoods.
One clutches an autograph book tight,
as she checks the touchline with a predatory gaze.
The other’s hand dips surreptitiously into bulging pockets,
ferrying sweets in an uninterrupted stream
“Who are you, who are you?â€Â
they shriek with voices shrill with glee
at the opposition substitute
oblivious to name or reputation.
And I blink away a drop of rain
as a rush of pride and pleasure floods through me
like a tidal wave roaring louder than the crowd.
Dancing in the Dark
In life’s cruel dance
we spin and twirl
like rampant marionettes,
strings tugged and twitched
with reckless abandon.
Eyes wide but blind,
never cognisant of
the hidden hands that
guide our every move.
At the Game
I see their faces, pinched with cold,
and rosy cheeked, bedecked with raindrops
glistening in the flood lights’ glare.
Despite the dull patter of the rain
their eyes are bright with excitement,
beneath the woollen hats and hoods.
One clutches an autograph book tight,
as she checks the touchline with a predatory gaze.
The other’s hand dips surreptitiously into bulging pockets,
ferrying sweets in an uninterrupted stream
“Who are you, who are you?â€Â
they shriek with voices shrill with glee
at the opposition substitute
oblivious to name or reputation.
And I blink away a drop of rain
as a rush of pride and pleasure floods through me
like a tidal wave roaring louder than the crowd.
#20
Posted 09 September 2004 - 02:41 PM
No, in a few moments, I'll be in bed dreaming of singing Swedish blondes
Nighto!
Nighto!