[Baverel]

Of course I’ve been reading them…you’re the imperial poet after all don’t you read GotTS? Hehehehe
Btw…
@Chaos – get to work u lazy f…er…imperial monkey poet yeah…n write sth

Lol, don’t wanna flatter u or anything, but it’s even better now, flights of fancy i mean

N thnx for the explanation, it did get me confused, tht one but the explanation doesn’t make me like it any more …the playful poems don’t really appeal to me normally, which is why I don’t like many of the more recent polish poets…

[Baverel]

who me? hash? never

tite? no, don hav no idea n i don't lie ur one, what in hood's name o i need a title for?? (yes, i am harsh... )

[Baverel]

c? I was right, it was long and sad as usual!

the last three verses... they're nice..but you really don't...well...never mind
hm...it's not a nice kind of poem, lol

and yet again, great minds think alike, some rubbish from me here as well with the word 'whore' in it...i didn't mean that your stuff is rubbish..i meant mine...nevermind*cries*

Don't look down, Your blue blood eyes
will be sick of gray, Your Highness

Don't look down, daughter of the Queen
the rim of your dress stained with the dirt of my sky

Don't look down, girl, your neck will surely break
as they'll tear this crown off your head

Don't look down, you'll realise how they claw at your ankles
you'll realise what you're stepping on

Don't look down, whore, don't look down
on me.

[Orfantal]

@ Bav - Roundabout is just a bit of a joke. I had the idea for the first, fourth and fifth lines, but built the whole poem on the premise of hiding references to circular objects within some interesting but meaningless ramblings. The last two lines were meant to be the giveaway. So to explain:

The vicious circle turns, CIRCLE
a wheel of thought unique. WHEEL (OF FORTUNE)!
The tired tread of TYRE (TREAD)
discarded somnambulists DISC
in pointless perambulation,
around the moon’s perimeter. MOON
Sir, come for enslavement, CIRCUMFERENCE
ready us for measurement. RADIUS (measurement)
I waltz ermine clad WALTZER (as in funfair)
a spin, sigh calling, SPIN (CYCLE)
come past me in my dream. COMPASS
Playtime dishevelled, PLATE DISH
learned by rota, ROTOR BLADE
bled by your example
or bitten by discussion. ORBIT DISCUS
So I laugh inside and pay
you with this crooked coin.


The pointless perambulation around the moon's perimeter was meant to be a reference to the fact that the only shape of perimeter that has no point is a circle.


Fairly feeble joke I'm afraid.

[Baverel]

wheeey!!!!

(tho the last poem done for me was utter sh*t )

[Baverel]

act if worship and silence are very good, very well chosen words

the othet two..well...i'm 16, don't expect too much of me

tsk tsk double posting...

[Baverel]

Orfantal! You didn't get eaten! Astonishing comeback there, m'dear. Honest. Didn't even expect it to be so good

[Baverel]

awwww
i'm in trouble...don't ask

[Aimless]

You damn' coward. In the words of Cartman, go to hell and die

[Orfantal]

@ Bav - I'm just used to you being too forthright to be vague.

@ Apsalar - just wondered whether it was intentional, these things can sneak in when we're not looking sometimes.

anyway guys here you go - first offering in a while so be gentle - I'm not too immpressed with it myself but I'm having real trouble getting going again.

Memory

Her memory settles around me like a noose,
drawn taut like my gaunt face,
prominent bones protruding against parchment skin,
sharp angles casting shadows in this harsh glare.

I see her face before me, accusatory still,
now more than ever,
and the shadows do not hide me
as memory drives slender blades under my skin.

Why did she have to go?

The room is bare, sparse and confined,
and as I turn my head away from her
insubstantial yet compelling presence
I am haunted by my own wan reflection
on the cheaply painted walls.

The bare light bulb above me
burns through my shuttered eyelids, unforgiving
as I seek an oblivion I do not deserve.

Why did she have to know?

The silence overwhelms me with
it’s unrelenting pressure.
A crushing envelope populated
by my imagination
and I hear her scream

Heart rending pain and bitter loss.

Why did I have to hurt her?

In my mind I hear their whispers
in the other room, where I know they watch me.
I see disgust dripping like venom
from their pinched pale faces.
Meaty fists clenched when they look at me.

Yet their hate is mild compared
to my own self loathing.
I bathe deep in it hoping to drown
But that escape is denied me.

Why did I have to kill her?

[Cause]

What I really hate about poetry is that it can mean anything their is no set translation of its words. And to hear some of the fecal matter my class can come up with is frighteneing. Also I hate gimmick poems that use the length and position of sentences to draw pictures or whatever.

[Orfantal]

humble offering, 1st in a long while:

Jam Today

“I want some jam�
the small boy cried,
not thinking of tomorrows,
and through his smile
a grown man sighed,
a breath of future sorrows.
“I want it now,
I cannot wait.�
A taste of stolen treasure
which bears a price
that he will hate.
A debt that lasts forever.
A young boy’s dreams
have no disguise
just sweet greed that’s uncontained.
But who can see
with childish eyes
that our dreams are wrapped in chains.

@ Bav - I agree with Chaos -
"At dawn I polish my awakening mask
My sanity
That I will wear until dusk." is excellent.

@ Cause - I think poetry is whatever you make of it, I enjoy writing but I'm sure what I write means a lot more to me than to anyone else. Equally I often find it difficult to enjoy other people's poetry but then exceptionally you read something that just blows you away.

@ Chaos - good to see you on here again, "Blinking Cursor" is okay but not as good as some of your others.

[Baverel]

stop spamming the poetry thread!

write something. NOU.

[caladanbrood]

thats always been admin... is jonzey

[Aimless]

Hum. I wrote these a couple of years ago (no fantasy theme, but whatever).

Eighty One (The little bird)

A little bird whispered in my ear,
two words, and then again with feeling--
a soft sound that echoed in my mind--
as I was kneeling by the altar,
my hand shaking a little from fear,
my world trembling in kind, with a hum...
The words glowed on the crystal ceiling,
called to me, and, when I failed to rise,
once more she whispered, "They come! They come!"

Three Cubed (a net)

To love her
Is to die
is to drown--

To be caught
in the net
of passion

with cords that
cut deeper
than sorrow

The Sinking Road

Down the sinking road we walk
With sinking hearts in our chests
Countless eyes stare at us
From out of the dark

Down the sinking road we walk...
Down the sinking road we stumble
In the sinking road we're mired

But, phantom legs which never tire
Shall propel us on, towards the end
Phantom hands which can't feel shall fumble
With the ropes that tie us together

All in vain

The Enchanted Glade

[ Early morning in the enchanted glade...
You, the Watcher, the Listener, do not belong here
But, stay awhile and listen, to a forester's words

Come closer, and watch the parting ]



Gather the sunlight
In your small and gentle hands
And pour it over
Me
While I stroke your hair
And remember the beauty
I was the first to
See
Soon enough, my sweet
I'll return you to the trees
And make my way back

To a world where you have no meaning



Eh? Eh?

[Baverel]

as our polish noblist, Wisława Szymborska said...i quoted this b4

manche mogen poesie...

few like poetry
when u take out children at school who have to
and poets themselves


say it...ha, well say it but how to say it to fully express it? that's where poetry comes from

[Baverel]

*grits teeth*

you promised....

hmph

[Baverel]

aps...wanna read The Sculptor?

Orfantal - well, that's my thoughts too, only I never thought of making a poem about it, damnit, that's why you're an imperial poet n not me

[Farad]

bav

[Aimless]

These are slightly more recent (par'n mah double-posting).

Why did I cross the street?

I saw the halo, I felt the smile
that caressed my heart and set it beating,
a wild tumbling staccato, that made my face
glow, made me stutter and stumble --
embarrassed, but, hey, it was a start!
And our pause was but fleeting
She closed, brought up her hands...
gave me ten more reasons to love her.

Blackberry Flail

It's wrong, I know,
to long for barb-wire words
to encircle my world and tell
me that there's a Keeper outside;
a keeper that knows me too well
to prick the burnt skin that deadens;
a keeper that I know too well
to close my eyes to, whose face
is embedded in my spine like
an antler-spike from spring last.

But I'm not strong, I'm
tired, and sleep is nigh
and night looms behind me.

Something sweet.

I need something sweet,
I need your words, even if --

Even if they --

Give me your blackberry flail, baby
I'll treasure it, I swear.

Dead Wood

She said her heart was afire
But when i doused it with ashes,
Only then did the green twigs and leaves
begin to smolder.

I called her a liar, scheming,
where she lay in her shallow pit,
to be the brightest glow ever to sear the forest-night
and so draw hands that might build her tier upon tier of
stones, to take her higher, till she could challenge the very stars
(which so gaily bedecked the velvet mystery)

But I didn't want her sad heat
'neath me, and so, whilst she was carving
her arsenal for the coming campaign,
into her own bones,
with calculated nonchalance, I bowed
and let fall my burden of clear, cool water...
... watched it drop...
... and put out that excuse for a dream.

She raged then, and despaired
over a loss that wasn't.

And, clarity,
now touched by heat
shrouded her in smoke;
and smoky hands reached
up to the sky, reached up to
claw the eye out of its face,
so that none may witness her disgrace

And none save her may hear her crackling cries.



I've tried to mess around with flow of most of these by using mid-sentence rhymes. In one or two, it's just made things too twisty, but I'd like some feedback as to whether it works or not.