[Orfantal]

oops sorry - not sure how I managed that!

[GaesII]

Again, how to define the difference between prose and poetry? I guess that poetry, traditional rhyming and structured, or non traditional and of a more loose structure would nevertheless have a certain rhythm to it if one were to read it out loud.

[Orfantal]

Hmmm definitely a conundrum maybe the only true answer is what was the intention on the part of the author, if he/she knows! I know I've written things I've definitely thought of as being poetry, Idolatry, one of my favourites, is a good example. But it has no real rhythm or rhyme, and if it were written out in a prose format would just seem like a couple of standard paragraphs. Not sure reading it out loud would show anything. But I guess I've always thought of it as being a poem, it's complete, has an identity, an aim, direction, an ending etc. Haha maybe i've just written a very short story and didn't realise :D

[GaesII]

I guess for those pieces that are perhaps alittle more ambiguous, like Idolatry, it's the arrangement by the author that defines them as either poetry or prose.

[Orfantal]

Well certainly my intention was to write it as a poem, so i approached it the same way as any other poem. Haha staring at a piece of paper and wondering what the hell to write . No seriously I think the intention was always that it was going to be a poem, that 's how I think of it, I guess that's how I see and hear it in my mind. So as far as I'm concerned it must be a poem. I suppose its just that when you consider other people's reaction to pieces you're never sure they're gonna see it in the same way. I did post it on a poetry site at the time and no-one ever said they didn't think it was a poem. I suppose it was just looking at the last one that made me question it a bit.

[GaesII]

Just because the styles differ doesn't mean it's not a poem.

Not really a poem here, more a random thought, but anyway.....

An eternity lost
in silent contemplation
of all things bad
that have gone before.
A twisting, turning,
melting yearning,
to go back to the way
that it was before.

[Orfantal]

Yeah i agree with you there.

Hey hun, liked this, quite melancholy and sad. Why's it not a poem? Looks like one to me. Seems to express a rather heartfelt yearning for a better time, maybe you should try and expand on it.

[GaesII]

Thanks hun:)

Will do at some point.......maybe tonight if i get the chance:)

[Orfantal]

That's okay

It's such a strong image but I'm sure you could take it on further. Up to you of course, depends how much you want it to say or whether you want it to say any more. Sometimes hard to know when something is complete.

[GaesII]

I've added a little more to this, although it still feels incomplete......and it has no name.......rather fitting perhaps......

An eternity lost
in silent contemplation
of all things bad
that have gone before.
A twisting, turning,
melting yearning,
to go back to the way
that it was before.

And so I lie stripped
of my dignity
as I wail a lament
that only I hear.
Bleeding, a fatal
wound inflicted
on my tortured soul
that this night died here.

[Orfantal]

Hmmm I'd be tempted to just call it "Lament"

very powerful hun, so sad and despairing, really tugs at the heartstrings. Not one to forget in a hurry, really does cry out. If you can add to it then I'd say fine but I'd also say it feels pretty complete as it is. The second half certainly takes something that was sad and melancholy and makes it into something that feels more desolate.

Here's one I wrote this morning that's barely more cheerful

The Lost Friend

It’s late and I find myself out in the dark,
gasping, panting, running always running,
haunted by a fear I cannot face or place,
pursued by a vengeful guilt I know too well.
I’m searching for my friend, my ally,
My only hope of sweet redemption.
But I’m lost and foundering, flailing
panicking through misted confusion.
I search a tortured lifetime, feet slipping
and sliding in shifting sands of doubt.
At last I break free of the cloying fog
and stagger desperately to my friend’s house
to pound on the door, crying out urgently
in tormented anguish, clutching, clawing
at the mocking bricks, battering in vain
on the barren boarded windows.
I sink to my knees and wail as I
realise my friend has left, driven away
by my spiteful words and deeds.
Then I lift my head and stare
In mounting horror at the forbidding door
as I recognise the house as mine
and know the friend I’ve lost is me.

[GaesII]

Honey, now that is a powerful piece of poetry which tells a rather sad story.

Jeez hun, think we ought to form The Miserable Gits Poetry Club.......

Think I'm going to leave mine as is. And yeah, I think Lament would be a good title for it:)

[Orfantal]

Thanks hun. Have to confess wasn't feeling particularly sad when i wrote it, but i've always thought it's easier to write the sad stuff than happier things. I know that's a point that's been made by other people on this thread. Don't know whether that's because we're all more in tune with our sad side, or just that there are more expressive words for sadness. I think the saddest thing I ever wrote was Ashes, at least when I read it now, but again wasn't sad at all when I wrote it, so who knows where it comes from. Perhaps its the dark subterranean side of us all that's easy to access. I do find that trying to write something happy and upbeat is more difficult as is romantic stuff. It either ends up trite and cheesy, or sounds like a birthday card jingle Must be a harder skill to master. Anyway aren't poets meant to be tortured souls

Yeah think it stands together well as it is, and glad you like Lament as a title.

[GaesII]

Well, I do melancholy much better than happy, but to be honest I have to feel it to write it otherwise anything I produce just feels flat. Guess I'm just a bloody misery!!

Quote

Anyway aren't poets meant to be tortured souls

That's what i tell myself hun......so glad I'm living the dream........:eek:

[Orfantal]

Hmmm think I've depressed myself now, had a quick flick back through other stuff I've done and there does seem to be a rather recurrent theme of either sadness or anger. So I think you're far from alone in that! There are some that are inspired by other people that aren't too bad but even some of those are a bit bitter sweet. I could only find three I think that could be said to be either funny or joyful. Think that may have given me a new target and ambition - write something bloody cheerful for a change!! May have to put the one I've got half written on the back burner

Yeah well hopefully not going to be a full time occupation hun

[Orfantal]

Right then here we go, feeling just a little smug this morning. Managed to write two things last night that don't feel sad or melancholy at all. In fact, for once, I'm quite pleased with the outcome as well. Only downside is that it meant I didn't do the work I took home to finish

Guardian Angel

I have a secret safety net,
a place where I can stand.
An angel watching over me,
a pair of helping hands.
The sweetest smile that steadies me,
a brave supportive voice
that speaks out loud encouraging,
supports my every choice.
Strong arms that always bolster me
and catch me when I fall
A reassuring protector,
comes running when I call.
A gentle touch that softly soothes
and wipes away all pain.
When all others have deserted me,
the one that will remain.

The one on whom I can depend
My rock, my special friend


Last Night

I held your hand as you slept last night,
not really sure you noticed,
and every now and then I’d squeeze,
just a little, hope you didn’t mind.
I stroked your neck as well,
softly so you wouldn’t feel it,
and once I leant right forward and
brushed my lips against your shoulder.
You shuddered slightly as I whispered
“love you sweetheart” in your ear.
But I didn’t want to wake you
so I leant back carefully and quietly.
In the moonlit shadows I watched you,
following the stuttered movement
of your sighing silken breath,
and with my fingertip I traced
a leisurely meandering path
across the velvet skin of your arm.
You shivered, stirring at my touch,
so I stopped and a solitary tear
gathered in the corner of my eye
as my heart caught at the
fragile beauty of the moment

[Orfantal]

Also managed to finish this one, which seems to be veering back to the more traditional melancholy approach

Who Do I See

I look at a photograph
and wonder who it is I see.
Some clear-eyed fresh-faced stranger
who stands there laughing back at me.
A vibrant smiling face
that’s yet to shed its tears
and eyes that gaze around in awe,
a playground to explore.

I look into the mirror
and wonder who it is I see.
Some sad eyed wrinkled stranger
who slumps there glaring back at me.
A worn out battered face
that’s seen too many tears
and eyes that peer about in fear
of every passing year.

I look into my own mind
and wonder who it is I see.
Some mixed up muddled stranger
who hides there waving back at me.
A thousand different faces
each drowning in their tears
and eyes that look but cannot see
the person that is me.

[Orfantal]

a snippet

Again

I see your face and I try to hide
I see your eyes and I look aside
I see your smile and I die inside
Again

I hear your voice and I quail in dread
I smell your scent and I bow my head
I stroke your face and feel pain instead
Again

I pull you close and I heave a sigh
I hold you tight and I start to cry
I kiss your lips and I wave goodbye
Again

[Master Prudent]

Awesome Orfantal.

Two things (not poems) I wrote while bored in a classroom. What can I say? It was early and I was tired.



The wind shrieks by
As it once did in the close streets
Where I played as a child
I was so small then.

I’m smaller now
Not worth much
Except perhaps
To a collector of miniatures

Hold those words stranger
There bright paint can’t cover
The scratches and flaws
In this horrible masterpiece

The wind can’t touch me now
This howling ground is nothing
For this miniature now lies
Against a perfect background

Untouchable.





Bloodied hands are raised
In shameful supplication
As the harshest fates unfazed
Give voice without cessation

A murder spirals down
To grant unanswered prayer
A gift fit to make to make you frown
But never long to stare

Cruelty laughs again
In a mirth long buried deep
His wrinkled merry main
Mocks tears for those asleep

And softly, ever gently
Light spills down upon
Those souls who’ll never fear
This bitter life anon

[Dolmen 2.0]

The city has always been the city
The cold remains bitter
The mist is ever damp

The shadows flee the lamp
and conspire its demise
The darkness washes all

Within the night, I drown in joy
But touch your lips to breathe
In the dark, your poison

is all the warmth I need...

Its based on this homeless Guy I know. came to me in the spur of the moment.