[Fist Gamet]

Grimface Insultbear, on 17 April 2009 - 12:49 PM, said:

A poem inspired by Toll the Hounds...


A Moon Not Rising

The Lord of my child is dead, my child drowned
in darkness unyielding.
I have been murdered, my gardens gone.

My body trembles.
Gasping for air I don’t (even) breathe.
Virulent waves of power shreds my skin.
I bleed dust,
my screams unheard, my pain unfelt.

Power ever draws power.
This time, too much was drawn.
Flesh falls from me in chunks,
hurtling down on my shadow’s smooth skin,
not pitted and gouged like mine.
I rain, like my child rained, blood
and destruction upon you.
Unwillingly, I set your world on fire.
One by one, I watch your gardens die.
I smile, knowing that in dying
I am not alone.
As I fall, dying,
I know I’m not alone.

But whom will I pray my soul to take?
At what gates will I arrive?
I saw Death walk your mortal streets,
blue fire shone in his pits.
What fools gods are, to meddle with mortal men.
I can see him no longer.

I have seen it.
My end is not the end,
merely the beginning.
And when my sister rises, you must prepare yourselves.
War is coming.

Some thoughts, if I may. It is an odd structure, the six stanzas of unequal line length - for me, a poem must have definition in the structure of both or it's technically not a poem (unless there is a good, creative reason otherwise). You do manage to break three times mid-sentence to draw me on, but why just those three times? I don't get any rhythm from the work and there are few, if any rhymes (full, assonantal, consonantal or otherwise) that I can pick up (which may of course be intentional).
You do have some nice alliterations and the imagery is strong, if, perhaps, a little lost in impact - a drowned child, bleeding dust and falling flesh are such. Forgive me if this all sounds a little harsh, and I am perfectly willing to admit I am no poetry expert (a budding amateur) but whilst this is a nice story with some strong imagery, it is not, to my eyes and ears, a poem as such. Of course many may disagree but I can see a number of ways in which re-writing, imposition of structure with attention to line, breaks, stanza, rhyming, theme, perhaps rhythm and some fresh images would make it so.
If anything I recognise that there is scope within the art for free verse and what might seem a more natural flow of the voice and I would be more willing to accept it as such if there was more evidence of the rest of the stuff I mentioned.

Just my humble opinion.

EDIT - I just looked back over the last couple of pages and I see that you already know all this stuff? Thus, I am very curious about what you have done with this poem.

This post has been edited by Fist Gamet: 26 February 2011 - 01:20 AM

[King-of-Chains]

The Sea Will Not Dream of You

Oh pale undrawn breath that shall never be,
What have you become? A working of links;
Naught but chains. Your gaze has met an eye more subtle,
A voice more melodious than yours, a heart
That still beats in time with life given.
You now gaze into an indifferent sky, as the wind
Caresses the skin that once felt, the lips that once
Tasted the kiss of a lover. And the heart of the sea
Beats on, while your heart has ceased all beatings.

You are but one link in an imperfect chain. A chain
That tried to cirumference the world. And failed.
Does it not sting you? Even beyond the reach of such feeling?
Does it not reach into that dead heart of yours
And steal the last stubborn will that I know has not yet died
Regardless of the fact that you have stopped all living?
You tried to rule, and have fallen. You tried...

But what of your triumphs? Oh what triumph is there in death?
Should we all bow our heads? Should we look to see you rise?
I think not. Your cold gleam has now be cast aside.
Into the shadows from which it sprung, and took out hearts
Like some ravenous beast that longed for feeding,
Despite already being fed. You twisted us into your slaves,
Made us wear chains of our own making, brought the clash
Of swords and the cries of widows to our very homes,
Seen proud men march off under the burdern of you expectation.
And yet. You claimed it was not enough.
The fire of war must be fed, so you declared! Declared!
For the whole world to hear. For everone to be subjugated,
To bow to your throne of lies and imperfection.
And you ask to speak of triumph.

Dead lips may not move, but well do I hear your voice.
It whispers false assurance into my ear. It tells me
That you will rise in the guise of another.
That all I say to your dead form is to no avail,
That the sea shall indeed dream of you, and so be content.
But, you are as mad in death, as you are in life.
Cruel King of Chains, I once knew than man you were,
No longer. A corpse is all I see now, and all your imperfection
Is revealed to my ever keen eye. And this I know, dear brother.
The sea shall not dream of you. Not now, nor ever.

*I wrote this after I first encountered the line "The sea does not dream of you" in Reaper's Gale. This poem is also part of my current novel, and, should all go well, the title for my second.

[King-of-Chains]

Any feed back would be appreciated...

[Baudinsballs]

King-of-Chains, on 22 March 2011 - 12:26 AM, said:

Any feed back would be appreciated...

King of Chains.... Very good. Feels Epic and rather songy.
These are some of my poems, from my Novels.


This path that is chosen
can only be walked once.
Look toward it.
Never look back.
What you see is the truth of
all things.
Prelude to March of the Damned.




The dust of our dreams has
Shattered our glass houses
While sorrow has seeded contempt
For this march of malcontents who
Are damned by their humanity.
The dust is settled.
The glass is shattered.
So we march and we are damned.
Verse one of the
March of the Damned

[SpectreofEschaton]

Hopefully you don't mind feedback on these.

Baudinsballs, on 17 April 2011 - 12:48 PM, said:

This path that is chosen
can only be walked once.
Look toward it.
Never look back.
What you see is the truth of
all things.

Prelude to March of the Damned.

I don't have that much to comment about this one, on its surface. It feels slightly pedestrian or predictable, if that makes sense. Like... it doesn't surprise me or challenge me. What I really question though is what it's trying to say. Are you trying to make a point about free will (and lack thereof?) That's kind of neat, if so. Overall, though, I think this could use to be polished and sharpened a bit, it just doesn't come off the powerfully, in my opinion.

Quote

The dust of our dreams has
Shattered our glass houses
While sorrow has seeded contempt
For this march of malcontents who
Are damned by their humanity.
The dust is settled.
The glass is shattered.
So we march and we are damned.

Verse one of the
March of the Damned

This one, on the other hand, really struck me, but I'm not sure in a good way.

First off, forgive me if this isn't the case, but it really feels like you're trying to match SE's style here (even beyond the "dust of our dreams" line, which I really recommend that you change. That's one of SE's most iconic and repeated phrases; I don't recommend trying to co-opt it.)

Secondly, the phrases "glass houses" is fairly cliche. I don't think it's doing you any favors, here.

Sorrow seeding contempt actually seems like a cool idea/image, but then you don't go anywhere with the metaphor, which is a shame.

The next two lines are easily the best, and while still very much in SE style, they actually come off well and really work, I think.

Dust settling and glass shattering are, again, really overused phrases. Things like this make the poem feel confined. Instead of leaping off the page and punched the reader in the face, its snapping and growling at the end of chains of convention. Getting creative with lines like this is never a bad thing. Most times, you'll come up with something that sounds better if you tinker with the ideas and wordings for a while.

And the last line... I don't know, it's all right, it just doesn't really do anything for me, personally. I kind of hate to say it, but "The March of the Damned" really doesn't inspire the kind of feelings when I read it as "The Malazan Book of the Fallen". That could just be me, though.

[SpectreofEschaton]

And, one of my own, likewise from the novel I'm writing. Comments always welcome.

To Seers' Grief

I endure
though long ages heedless pass me by
and ancient mountains crumble at my yearning gaze
while time unwilling kneels to die

I preserve
the service-oath foredoomed which I have sworn
and accept the weight in woe of sorrows still to come
for the souls of children yet unborn

I renew
the faithless from a dusty fane
and hold in troth the unforgotten furl of hope
though my love's last light doth begin to wane

This post has been edited by SpectreofEschaton: 17 April 2011 - 08:12 PM

[Baudinsballs]

SpectreofEschaton, on 17 April 2011 - 07:53 PM, said:

And, one of my own, likewise from the novel I'm writing. Comments always welcome.

To Seers' Grief

I endure
though long ages heedless pass me by
and ancient mountains crumble at my yearning gaze
while time unwilling kneels to die

I preserve
the service-oath foredoomed which I have sworn
and accept the weight in woe of sorrows still to come
for the souls of children yet unborn

I renew
the faithless from a dusty fane
and hold in troth the unforgotten furl of hope
though my love's last light doth begin to wane

That;s very good, they rhyme which is always good, I can never seem to get mine to rhyme as perfect. I take on board your comments, unsure about changing though. They are about freewill. One of the main themes in my novels are choice and consequence and also the facr that two immortals have being using people as chess pieces to settle an old score I have changed it. Got rid of the whole dust of dreams and glass houses.

Our dreams are shattered
Scattered like sand in the wind
While sorrow has seeded contempt
For this march of malcontents who
Are damned by their humanity
Salvation is secured by knowing this
Yet in knowing, it is lost.
Never do we look back
Always we look away
So we march and we are damned.

This post has been edited by Baudinsballs: 17 April 2011 - 09:56 PM

[SpectreofEschaton]

Heh, weirdly I almost never write rhyming poetry. That one might have more to do with the fact that it's written from a character's perspective, so it doesn't sound like the poems I write from my own.

And that looks substantially better. I just have two small suggestions that I think could help:

1. Since you now have an image of sand on the wind, tie it in with the next line so as to imply that the sand of shattered dreams is seeding sorrow and contempt. I think a simple rearranging of the third line could manage that, though "seeding sorrow and contempt" loses the transition between the two you have present there at the moment.

2. Very minor, but in "Salvation is secured by knowing this" perhaps "Salvation is secured in this knowing" or maybe even inverting the sentence (In this knowing, salvation is secured) I don't know, just musing.

Just something to think about. It works well enough as is, I think.

[POOPOO MCBUMFACE]

A poem I wrote and submitted as part of my English portfolio. Had to fight tooth and nail to get them to send it. Can't think why.


The Ballad of the Ladyboy
Being a meaningful reflection on the chaos and uncertainty of gender roles and human existence in a fast-paced multicultural society in forms of haiku, free verse, limerick and rhyme

She told me she was more than she appeared to be;
I took it at face value.
Foolish and naive, like a child offered sweets
An evening passed; drinks flowed, talk deepened, night fell
I was not lucky in those days, though
More lucky than now, in a sense.

The scene, if you will:
A chill apartment, lights dimmed
A funny thing; she did not leave
The toilet seat down
Foolish, I dismissed it as courtesy.
I envy you the innocence I still wish I had.

Slowly she unzips
I look on with bated breath
Alas! A penis

I fled the scene, cried in disgust
"She" approached, eyes filled with lust
I hit her with a lamp and ran
I will not tango with a man
Out in the street, with rain I'm doused
Hiding that I was so aroused
"She" was a thing that should not be
So why this sick effect on me?
Hid in an alley, hid from the light
Couldn't stand that it felt so right

Soon realised I was not alone
Two bloodshot eyes lurked in the gloom
Features formed, the hobo grinned
Filthy bristles on his chin

He said that his name was Dogmeat
And he'd touch me wherever he wanted
It's with shame that I say
That I lay back that day
Surrendered to a man named Dogmeat

When he was done I just lay and cried
Broken mentally, now physically too
A part of my soul had died
My innocence flushed down the loo
What could I do now but drink?
A brief reprieve from the pain
Thought I'd pull myself back from the brink
And that's when I woke up in Spain

I was taken by a man named Ernesto
He press-ganged me when I was out cold
Took me to his ship and hey presto!
A new life, or so I was told
The others were most understanding
They only touched me twice a day
And when at port we were landing
They would let me go (slightly) astray

Thought I could escape
Then, sudden discovery
I was in Thailand

Home of the ladyboy factories
I froze up with horror and fear
From every port and every station
Every one in the world's from here
Then! I was filled with a steely resolve
Couldn't flee from my life forever
My neurosis I would now solve
I would strike at the scourge in the liver

I broke into the ladyboy factory
Disguised in the garb of a guard
The age of genderial industry
Coping with the sights was hard
I arrived at the central control plant
Their Queen sat atop his great throne
I can't go on, I thought, I can't
"She" called me in a dual-gendered tone

A funny thing happened there
I felt resistance... melt away.
I knew, of a sudden, that all along
I hadn't been fighting against the ladyboy trade
I had been fighting my own feelings
And my love for these beautiful creatures.
She smiled, divine, the most beautiful sight
Of my short life.

She opened her arms
Holding her close, so began
My life as a girl

[Wanderer]

Well....I was doing some writing for my course and came up with a little diddly that I thought I'd post but , upon seeing previous entries, I'm quite intimidated!

Feck it. Here's a little piece brought about by inspiration from the film Perfect Sense and Malaz.

Last Note

The last note rings out.
Drifts through the air.
The last note of the last song.
He remains seated, bow still hugging tight the fiddle.
A sigh escapes his lips.
Eyes closed his mind leaps back.
Her eyes are bright, devouring the sight of every bird, sea and tree.
His eyes open.
She remains but not as she was.
Colder.
Her eyes no longer see.
She is beside him still.
He takes comfort in that.
Forgiveness was ever an elusive hope, a deluded man's dream.
The stone above her head tells a tale of Grief.
His eyes gaze out to the horizon.
Flames and ash. Darkness descending. Devouring.
The last note has rang out.
The last note of the last song.
No one to hear it.
No one to feel it.
The last note has rang out
And he is finally alone.

[JLV]

POOPOO MCBUMFACE, on 29 June 2011 - 04:08 PM, said:

A poem I wrote and submitted as part of my English portfolio. Had to fight tooth and nail to get them to send it. Can't think why.


The Ballad of the Ladyboy
Being a meaningful reflection on the chaos and uncertainty of gender roles and human existence in a fast-paced multicultural society in forms of haiku, free verse, limerick and rhyme
[...]

Holy. Shit. Tears. Hahaha. fuck.

[Lady Bliss]

Another Chorus by: Bliss Fulnite


As it nears the end of the day

Will you choose to walk away?

A tired road you walk alone

Is there music left to play?



You don't want me to be your first, or your worst

Or the last or just some more of the same

Trying to find something new, maybe true, never blue

A different road, a new game



When the night falls and stars arise

The evening is the best of times

All the hopes and dreams alive

Giving birth to new rhymes



You don't want me to be a curse, or adverse

To your desires of a life you would claim

Trying to find something new, maybe true, for me and you

Kindle fire to a flame



Every day is a new beginning

Every night ends with the dawn

There will always be a new tomorrow

Another chorus to the song



You don't want me to be your first, or your worst

Or the last, something that lingers on

Trying to find something new, maybe true, never blue

Another chorus to the song.

This post has been edited by BlissFulnite: 07 February 2012 - 02:55 AM

[Lady Bliss]

Grim Master Reaper - By: Bliss Fulnite

Angels cry, hear them weep
The sands of time, call me to sleep
The march of death, through the gates of hell
Grim Reaper's in line, with souls to sell.

Grim Master Reaper
Let it die down
Bury me deep
Beneath the ground
I've fought so long
That I yearn for rest
Steal me from pain
And lead me to death.

Army of death, marching proud
Follow the reaper and sorrows abound
Through battlefields, over harrowed grounds
There's no salvation, here to be found.

Grim Master Reaper
Let it die down
Bury me deep
Beneath the ground
I've fought so long
That I yearn for rest
Steal me from pain
And lead me to death.

Oh let me sleep, no more shall I wake
Solace of death, for this old fighter's sake
On Master Reaper's hearth, shall I find my rest
Steal me from pain, and lead me to death.

Grim Master Reaper
Let it die down
Bury me deep
Beneath the ground
I've fought so long
That I yearn for rest
Steal me from pain
And lead me to death.

Grim Master Reaper
Let it die down
Let my breath, slowly die down.

[JLV]

I definitely sang that out loud in my punk voice. It fit well with the imaginary music playing in my head.

[Lady Bliss]

JLV, on 16 February 2012 - 03:11 AM, said:

I definitely sang that out loud in my punk voice. It fit well with the imaginary music playing in my head.

Thanks! LOL I had to try my punk voice in my head after you mentioned it...

[HiddenOne]

Assuming your punk voice sounds like Johnny Rotten, switch it to the Misfits punk voice of Danzig..Ah much better now...

[Lady Bliss]

HiddenOne, on 17 February 2012 - 04:06 PM, said:

Assuming your punk voice sounds like Johnny Rotten, switch it to the Misfits punk voice of Danzig..Ah much better now...

Really? I was using more of a Siouxsie Sioux voice...

[Studlock]

Uh... Dont really write much poetry, actually not even sure this is poetry (free verse?) anyways I wanted to some kind of creative project where I forced my self to use strong or 'epic' language but while I think the idea is awesome I don't think I quite nailed it. The series of poetry would be called Vanity's Kingdom and it's about a prophet like figure (more Mohammad and less Jesus) first watching his own god-emperor to keeps his empire together till he starts writing a holy book called the Kollha Alliem. Anyways people here seem to be knowledgeable in this area and I really will take any critisicim constructively.

This one is called 'The fall of sand is the death of greatness' It's short and purposefully so, I wanted to lessen any focus away from the prophet

The sand slipped
From the hands
Of my Lord
Who once claimed
To be God
But now I
See He was
But nothing before
The God of
His own Vanity

[Lady Bliss]

I was talking to a friend about dealing with the death and dying of loved ones yesterday.

Drown the Light

Drown into the light
the sounds that fill the night
slowly now, melt in rhapsody
hit the ground, the well I keep of sorrows
drown into the light.

Through the breaking tunnel
where screams turn into sighs
the rhythm of a heartbeat
the world behind your eyes, it lies
into the light, drown into the light.

Grasping onto a gossamer's string
to hear the noise that silence brings
I see the ocean of souls collide
into the ring on the other side
It's through the light, drowning into the light.

Into the light. Step to the light.
Melt into the light. Through the light.
Drown into the light.

[Lady Bliss]

I'm feeling quite prolific as a writer lately...

The Devil's Kiss

To hold your breath, to feel your touch
I'll drink you deep to sleep my love
Your tortured soul sings to me
A heartbeat away from eternity

The fires that rage and roaring blood
rush to my mouth in seething flood
with sweet shudders each throes release
till silent spent the night has ceased

Devour you whole and taste your death
you fade in my arms with each last breath
your life is a sweet stain on my lips
as you surrender to the devil's kiss.

This post has been edited by Lady Bliss: 04 May 2012 - 11:48 PM