Continued at long last from version 2007.2.
Patience, Please
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Poems and Songs, v. 2008.1
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I need this thread right now. I feel like writing a poem, but it’s not really coming in words yet.
Then again it could be sleep deprivation. But whatever.
Also, we finally started our poems unit in English… hopefully this year we’ll do actual writing and not endless analyzing… in my opinion people shouldn’t tell you what a poem means or is supposed to represent. What other people see in it is very, very seldom what I see.
Snow, snow, Glorious snow
But Alas, its covered me from head to toe
Its a couplet! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
I pledge to stay updated with this one. Time to get back into that mindset.
I agree with you Jadestone, poems are impossible to analyze in many cases…in fact if someone analyzed some of my poems, I’d probably be puzzled at what they though of it! A poem is so much the representation of soul, I don’t think someone can ever truly know what it means other than the author. Even nursery rhymes have deeper meanings don’t they? Ring around the posies was about the black plague.
I have two poetry contests coming up so I’ll definitely be posting some stuff here in the near future.
hooray!
I’m still paranoid at posting my stuff online. I haven’t written much either though lately. *sigh*
Fate is a thing of certain curiousity.
It helps us when we need that help.
But also, suddenly, at an extreme velocity,
It changes lives in ways that make us yelp.
-a very modest and not very good poet who does not wish his/her name to be known.
i wrote this when I was about 10. It got published in a book somewhere. Tell me what you think of it. I think the ending needs work
now the summers gone
the children start to cry
for summer days so sweet and warm
have turned to falls sad song
the trees have shed their leafy coats
the flowers fade away
another summers’ gone
the wind is heard to say
2- The poem on post #2 I wrote myself
! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
I wrote really depressing poems in fourth grade when I was trying to be a “poet”. Lol, they’re so embarrassing now.
Here is a poem I wrote a few days ago. Is it any good? (Be honest.)
I was all alone in the world
Isolated, sad
And there you were
Clambering on the rocks
I was all alone in the world
Confused, perplexed
And there you were
Extending a sweat-covered hand
I guess I always knew you were out there
Why else would I have prayed in the dead of night
Or searched for 4-leaf clovers in my back yard
Or wished on every shooting star I saw
I was all alone in the word
Stranded and hopeless
And there you were
Brightening my day
Yay!
I write songs, sometimes.
And the other day I wrote a poem, but I don’t remember it. It’s called “Food”. I’ll post it when I find it.
You know those puzzles
missing, like, half their pieces
everyone says you should
just throw them out
and you suppose you have to
but you keep putting it off
not because you’re lazy
jus because you kind of like them
even though they’re just a bunch
of frogs
or whatever?
Did you ever wonder why?
I would bet that
if it were your choice,
you would never throw them out.
Fallen Angel or Tried to Save the World
One early morning an angel fell,
down from the heavans, into a hell
the smoke, the grime, the soot, the black
made her wish she could turn back.
She wandered always, ever crying
her soul inside her slowly dying
her face was young but inside
she was an age she couldn’t hide
She wished the world to when it was new
but wishing and hoping would never do
the world went unchanged by her hopes and dreams
the world ignored her silent screams
She wandered always, never crying
but inside her soul was dying
Ugly anger raged inside
this was a hate she could not hide.
Her rage broke over the world, it seems
she would now force them to hear her screams
but they did not listen, they did not hear
She crumpled in a pile of fear
She wandered always, truly crying
Inside and out she showed her dying
she wanted to help, she truly did try
she didn’t want this world to die.
But though she tried, she truly did
the signs of death could not be hid
And ther she lay, a broken shell
fallen from heaven into a hell
She wandered always, no more crying
she couldn’t stop this world from dying
and as it died away she flew
because its death took her life too.
I wrote this this weekend. it was going to be song lyrics but i don’t think it would work as a song.
I performed this last May at my school’s Save Darfur poetry slam:
Martian Dreams
(In memory of Carl Sagan)
In the science fiction story
The hero traveled away, to Mars
And left the azure far behind
Sailing through the void
And landing, in the red, gravely sand
Climbing the mountains
And walking through the valleys
Among the mysterious rocks
And gazing up, through salmon-sky
To that same familiar sun
Up looked the little boy
Beyond the New York skyline
That night, sixty years gone by
At the small, red star
Wishing, like the hero to go
Nothing happens, but still he dreams
Of traveling away, to Mars
Leaving the azure far behind
Flying through the void
And landing, in the red, gravely sand
Climbing the mountains
And walking through the valleys
Among the mysterious rocks
And looking up, through salmon-sky
To that same, familiar sun
At the monitor he looked
That day, when thirty years had passed
Many million miles away was their friend, Viking
Orbiting the sun’s fourth world
“Beautiful, isn’t it, Doctor? I’ll never look at it the same again.”
As the pictures came in, the scientists cheered
Their machine had left the azure far behind
And flown through the void
As it captured the thrice-Everest-hight mountains
And country-sized canyons
Soon, it landed in the red, gravely sand
Among the mysterious rocks
And turned it’s cameras up, though salmon-sky
To that same, familiar sun.
On went the cameras
That day, four years more
And millions of souls, in sixty lands
Looked on to know, and hear and see
“Perhaps someday, we will go there.
And make homes on the red surface.
And then, the Martians will be us.”
Each one of the viewers shared the wish
And it became their own.
Some said the show wasn’t serious science
And shuned him, sadly enough
But was it really so wrong to share his Martian dreams?
Dreams of leaving the azure far behind
Flying, through the void
And landing, in the red, gravely sand
Climbing the mountains
And walking through the valleys
Among the mysterious rocks
And looking up, through salmon-sky
To that same, familiar sun
Remembering, he saw the stacks of books
Sixteen more years had passed
Full of awards and words
But his time was running out, he knew
He wouldn’t see the dream come true
With eyes full of tears, his wife anounced
“A great man, a brilliant man, it’s true.
‘Come on, guys, let’s not blow each other up-
Let’s go to Mars!’.”
And so, they named the new mission
For their too-soon-gone friend
And not-Pathfinder-any-more left the azure far behind
And flew through the void
Landing in the red, gravely sand
On a plain, not mountains or valleys
And little Sojourner explored the mysterious rocks
And turned it’s cameras up, through salmon-sky
To that same, familiar sun.
Ten years now have gone by
And this story I know so well
I read it in the papers, the net and his books
But still it seems so far away
And yet, someday, I wish
To- for that boy who couldn’t-
Leave the azure far behind
And fly through the void
Land in the red, gravely sand
Climb the mountains
And walk through the valleys
Among the mysterious rocks
And turn my eyes up, through salmon-sky
To that same, familiar sun.
post 5?
I used to write really awful depressing poems when I was in 6th grade. Now I write better ones but not much better.
She’s dancing in the middle of a city street
Plastic wand in hand
Wearing last years halloween costume
She jumps over the stoops
Spins around the lampposts
And dreams of a place far away
Where the city streets turn into trees
And every day could be halloween
With little animal children climbing stairs
And stars glowing just like the streetlights
Ok that was weird. I just write poems off the top of my head so there really is no editing process.
Here’s a poem that I had to write for a Performance my class (or actually, Middle School) is creating. It’s in iambic pentameter, and for some reason it’s quite a bit more metaphoric than my poems usually are:
It’s night. It’s day. We’re traveling too far.
The light, the dark. I wonder where we are.
It’s hot, then cold. We’ve traveled far and near.
The laughs, the sobs, I can’t quell down this fear.
I think my mind has traveled to great heights.
My eyes, they see the things that others dream,
Their thoughts rain down upon a gleaming scheme.
A puzzle waiting for the missing piece.
The screams cry out, all understandings cease,
We’ve lost that sense of never-ending might.
Imagination. Thoughts swirl ‘round my head
And all that I feel is impounding dread.
The stars shine bright. I’ve lost reality.
We’re at a war! How could this ever be?
My eyes, it seems, can’t find that sacred light.
It’s night. It’s day. We’ve gone and killed our minds.
The light, the dark. Our hope has dropped behind.
It’s hot, then cold. Our lives are ending soon.
The laughs, the sobs, the twigs of thought are strewn.
Is there a better way to end this fight?
The performance is about a soldier who’s about to go into a big battle imagining the different ways that a war could be resolved besides fighting. Just thought I’d mention that to clear up any confusion that might arise.
Ah, yes. Here is a poem I wrote in fifth grade about the steps leading up to the side door of the school. [been digging in my files for awhile…whoah, baby, a lot of crap]
Cold, old, cement, steel railings. Light winds, heavy breezes. They
have seen many, heard many, they recognize many. An extravaganza of impish love notes have been discarded on their front.
They know all.
In the center of their top is some once delicious bubble gum, now trampled. It is their dream to have the sun shine freely on their face, where an oh-so vast expanse of toes have been stubbed, but the brick building rises, shielding, protecting.
They seem to feed off of nature, for they are connected to it by the stillness they experience when the children are learning. Birds have flown over their seemingly unknowing heads…
But they do know. Like trees, they have an uncanny knack for listening, for understanding. They have a connection to the world. When you are down, seek them.
Leaves blow by; they don’t seem to care…
If only they could
Talk, and tell all the secrets.
If only they could
Comfort, and give us a helping hand when we are down.
If only they could
Educate, and fling all the answers into the ignorant world.
If only we could
Care, about them, about everyone, about the earth.
If only we could be like the side steps.
I can’t believe I just posted that. Ah, well. I’ll find some better ones.
Ahah, a fourth grade poem!
If only I had a safe place,
A home I could escape to.
When things weren’t going my way,
Then I could have a haven.
Let me go into the wood,
And search for such a place.
Hmm… On top of this rock,
Would not do.
Beside the fern, in the river,
I just can’t find the spot.
When then, AHA! I think I’ve found it!
Why, perfect! Under this tree!
It’s not to damp, it’s not to dry,
Now let’s sit down,
And let out all my problems.
So much peace, so much peace…
Oops! I guess I’m asleep!
I think that my post got zapped for some reason. Or maybe it didn’t go through for some reason. Ah well. It didn’t say anything particularly important.
I wrote the first stanza of a poem last night, and then my mind went blank. I’ll post the stanza and see if that inspires anything more.
(17)-That’s a very good poem, actually. It has some really solid imagery, though you might want to break up the lines a bit.
bug
it was a perfect little machine
six jointed arms flailing
and shiny red coat of paint
it would have been so easy to let in drown
little hood filling with water
until the trash compacter
of someone’s foot
stopped its little computer forever
Yes, it would have been easy
but I picked it up
and it sat in idle on my finger
until its paint dried
it shifted gears
and flew away
fraying
Lately, I’ve started
to fray at the edges
And I’m afraid
that if I blink
I’ll be caught
in the blue-violet haze
of another daydream
Looking, without seeing
floating
with no one to anchor me down
running
there’s something so
wonderful
about running forever
Until your legs give out
and you muscles burn.
and you fall down
in the grass,
wanting to laugh
covered with the glorious pain
of being alive
I’m noticing a lot of ppl fail at poems that rhyme……..
21-Poems don’t have to rhyme all the time. Rhymes do.
Well, no more poems on my desktop. Maybe I’ll write some more…
Physics books
papers I’ve forgotten
bits of string
a stapler
an X-Acto knife
a tissue box
a twist tie
a notebook
some batteries (live or dead?)
an X-Acto knife
a calculator
a bottle of hand sanitizer
a bottle of lotion
an X-Acto knife
an X-Acto knife
An X-Acto knife.
A Christmas present. For paper snowflakes.
Make something pretty.
You’re so good at it, make some for the front windows.
It didn’t work so well on thick folded paper,
so it sits on my desk, glittering and sheathed.
But be careful! It’s sharp.
I know, Mom.
I know, I know, I only half-know
because it is so pretty
that I want to make something pretty out of me.
My history teacher has a shirt on it with the awesomeist hiaku (sp??) ever!!!
Haikus are awesome
But they don’t always make sense
Refrigerator
*ahem*
There once was a man named Bob
He played tennis, and hit a lob
But it fell on his head
And now he is dead
I suppose he is out of a job
i wrote a haiku
it may not be as good as
haiku from japan
11) I really liked that. The.hmm the tone I think. The way it’s written, not the structure but I can hear the lilt in the voice of the narrator.
13) Word choice is awesome…the end is a real clincher I want to say, it really sticks with me. Awesome!
20) feels very clean…that really lends to the imagery, especially with the last one. I think this is the kind of thing (to me) where the things not said help create a more vivid picture.
I’ve got pieces of poems done as always…maybe I’ll post some once I have time to finish haha
24) I am a sucker for repititions of words like that, really like it. The contrast between clutter and the attractive simplicity of the knife is great.
There still is a language called French
The speaking of which is no wrench.
The way that it goes
Is you talk through your nose
As if you are smelling a stench.
My sister’s friend wrote that some time ago.
25-Haha! That’s great!
I have no poem now.
I’m depressed. Maybe I’ll write a poem.
Depression
Weight sagging
On me.
Depression
Hurt, anger, no comfort
Falling
into
Depression.
Well, I’m still depressed.
here’s my poem, slightly short but passable
Fudge, fudge, wondrous fudge,
The more you eat, the more you pudge.
The more you pudge,the less you budge.
(to be said in one breath)
32- speaking of fudge…U ppl know that in music, u remember the notes w/ Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge? Well, Every Girl Bakes Delicious Fudge!
33 – I learned it “Every good boy does fine.”
My class did a poetry slam. I used Jabberwocky, which got me to the second round but I lost in the second round by one vote. People liked the nonsense words.
33 – I learned Every Good Boy Does Fine. Every Girl Bakes Delicious Fudge would work, but fudge isn’t baked.
I don’t want to get into an off-topic discussion, though.
25 – I have always loved that haiku
28 – Thanks! It doesn’t really match my normal style, with uneven but purposeful rhythms. But I think it really hits you with an interesting idea.
I posted this a while ago, I guess I’ll post it again. I love it:
A leaf drifts and falls
Floating like colored paper
In the endless sky
I have some more in https://musefanpage.com/blog/?p=492 if you actually care. I love looking through the old poetry threads, because it’s amazing how many wonderful pieces there are that, if I’ve ever seen them, I have forgotten.
33~ Or “Empty Garbage Before Dad Flips.” I got a kick out of that one when I heard it.
This is a parody of something Lord Byron wrote, orginally posted on Bad Astronomy:
Endeavour looks on the Cape
And the Cape looks on the sea
And musing there an hour alone
I dreamt of wonders yet to be
Squirrels. Chattering
Leaping from tree to tree and
Eating lots of nuts.
HAHAHA, a haiku right off the top of my head!
Aww fudge, my comments from last night didn’t get through.
I forget the first poem I wrote, but I remember my haiku about why I don’t like haiku.
I don’t like haiku.
It is rigid and structured.
Free verse is better.
I do like limericks though. And i like free verse a lot better.
Pull up a chair sit on the floor
I’ll tell you a story you’ve heard before.
One bright day in the middle of the night
Two dead boys got up to fight
Back to back they faced each other
Pulled out their swords and shot each other
The deaf police man heard the noise
Saved the lives of the two dead boys
If you don’t believe this lie is true
Ask the blind man he saw it to!
Hah, that’s funny.
“Of course I found it in the last place I looked. Otherwise I wouldn’t have found it.”
-me
If I had my songwriting homework with me right now, I’d share some of that with you. But since I don’t I’ll just type the only poem that I even have partially memorized:
Once upon a midnight dreary
While I pondered weak and weary
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore
While I nodded, nearly napping
Suddenly there came a tapping
As if someone gently rapping
Rapping at my chamber door
“‘Tis some visitor” I muttered, “Tapping at my chamber door”
“Only this, and nothing more”
OH, that’s from The Raven. [how smart am I?].
-33 yes, my guitar teachers always telling me “every good boy deserves fudge” E-G-B-D-F– darn, i always forget the C.
oh, here’s another poem;
We gave you a chance
to water the plants–
but not THAT way,
so zip up your pants!
whatcha think?
45- Ah, Shel Silverstein…
45- oh. How… amusing. In a nose-wrinkling way. ;D
According to some classic lore
The raven utters nevermore.
But this is hardly more than fable-
It’s barely what a raven’s able.
A hoarse croak, a guffaw, or both
Is really what a raven quoth.
I know i already wrote that on museblog a while ago, but still…
Since we’re all quoting the Raven, here’s my contribution [or what I can remember from it].
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had tried to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore —
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore —
Nameless here for evermore.
I remebered it [Missswann overjoyed]
I used to know the raven by heart. *sighs*
-46 yes, its shel silverstien.
it’s crazy how much i depend on music to relax. it’s funny, i can never remember poems, but I can tell you words to pretty much any Coldplay song existing.
i can tell you the lyrics to any +LIVE+ song existing, and a lot more besides, but back to poems…well, this is my humble efforts at
haiku…
a leaf swirls downward,
autumns splendor,
a riot of color
ah, well, i guess i’ve been reading to much of my mom’s zen poetry books.
52- Whee Coldplay.
I’s harder for me to memorize poems then songs too, probably because it’d just be visual or kinesthetic learning by recitation rather than those and audial learning…
54- We’re talking anout that in science-I’m an auditory learner.
i can memorize stuff well, altho i usually have trouble w/ songs because of ppl’s pronunciation.
But if I read a certain book often enough, I can memorize up to 2 pages, and i can read 21 sonnet-sized poems in a row (or i used to…)!!!!!!!!!!
Wrote stuff for a school project, emulateing a poet of choce (for me, Algernon Charles Swinburne.) Here it is… the first is a kind of reworked version of an ealier one I did…
And we shall sing
WALK with me now; let me take you by the hand
And let me lead you, I can see the ocean locked in your eyes
Our feet slide across stones and pebbles and sand,
We walk into the sea.
Let us throw off our mask, pretence, disguise,
The world is such a mess isn’t it, this damned land
Is dying, I’m sick of hate-hope-love-war-surprise.
So take my palm in yours, and child and woman and man
Will intertwine their fingers; give up dreams and lies,
Singing together, our pockets filled with stones; this little band—
We walk into the sea.
***
THE PATHS we seldom wander,
The ways we never walk
If we should stop to ponder
Or, if we dare, to talk:
The paths we’ve never taken,
The day’s we’ve left forsaken,
The smiles, the grins, we’re faking
If we should decide to stop.
The time’s we’ve never spoken,
The places we’ve yet to go;
Dreams and desires broken
Because of what we fear to show
We hold ourselves, and wait
With shallow breath and eyes opaque
For someone to come, open that gate—
Be the friend or fear or foe.
Because we are afraid to want,
And show what we truly feel
We bemoan opportunities lost,
The chance to hurt and heal
Fingers not ever touching
Skin never quite brushing
Our hearts still sometimes rushing—
From unreturned glances that we steal.
Your eyes they hide in shadows,
And while mine don’t live in light
They’re more than a bit like windows,
That let in all such sights
Never speaking of the feelings
Through all our laughter and our dealings
Of everything we’ve been revealing
We never brought up that which would ignite?
For it seems as though we’re out of time
We’ve missed our chance from caution,
Was the first move yours, or was it mine
The chances seemed to come so often
And now, since we always stopped and waited
Growing ever more belated
Instead of what could have been created,
We’re carving our own coffins.
***
Boundaries
THEY tell us don’t be afraid to be different,
unique, unashamed.
then they sell us fashion magazines,
(snowflakes all melt into identical water droplets)
the signals I receive all whisper
conform, conform, conform.
a lullaby that long ago ceased to send me to dreamlands.
But now that I’ve stepped over the sharp chalk line,
hesitantly I grant you,
it’s a falling kind of freedom.
butterflies (fly drunkenly;
love of nectar or nectar of love) flit over
the field of tangled weeds and thorny flowers,
separated (by a little white picket fence,
a laughable barrier)
from the neat rows of purple yellow purple pansies.
we move fast and frenzied, I didn’t expect
quite so many stares frankly
and I wish people could let go
but I don’t mind so much now,
when I’m not alone.
I always was one for running randomly in the field;
perhaps even as a child I knew it was more for me
perhaps even then I predicted you.
I made myself a snowball
As perfect as could be.
I thought I’d keep it as a pet
And let it sleep with me.
I made it some pajamas
And a pillow for its head.
Then last night it ran away,
But first it wet the bed.
My friend Erin’s favorite poem. Thank you.
A song I wrote for my Songwriting class. (if my collaborator had it online, I would tell you where it was so you could hear it, but right now I only have the lyrics):
Silent Lullaby
White light casting the tree’s shadows
Upon the bright white blanket of snow
The beauty of moonlight
On this winter night
Can almost make you forget the bitter cold
The moon and the stars and the black sky
Paint a picture of the darkest colors
It’s cold yet beautiful
It plays the song of a silent lullaby
Little diamonds dancing, sparkling
Covering the frozen lake
The full moon lights up the world
Creates beauty out of bleakness
And pushes back the darkness of the season
The moon and the stars and the black sky
Paint a picture of the darkest colors
It’s cold yet beautiful
It plays the song of a silent lullaby
A frozen waterfall, a hooting owl, the wonders never cease Escape from life to unchanging peace
The moon and the stars and the black sky
Paint a picture of the darkest colors
It’s cold yet beautiful
It plays the song of a silent lullaby
During spring break, I went to Washington, D.C. This poem is based on my experience of the changing of the guard at the tomb of the unknown soldier.
Switch
I.A teacher would have envied the silence
produced by ritual
routines rehearsed
and rehearsed
day after day
II.the scuff marks
of boots long past
a thousand different meanings
of “unknown”
III.the fatal ring
of a cell phone
does not not disturb
the human awe of order
IV.The birds still sing
and why shouldn’t they?
birds do not understand
alien rituals
Only the drones of lawn
mowers
mocking
desire to control
to put everything in strait lines
60- oh, sad. :tears:
I wrote a poem the other day when I was mad at my parents. I’ll post it the next time I remember.
My English class is supposedly going to start a poetry unit. Unfortunately, it’s appearing like it’s mostly going to be analyzation, not writing poetry…
I have a bad habit of starting but not finishing poems. Here’s one of my first verses.
You are hereby inhabitants of the world of belief
Whose many and sundry natives now gaze at you through latticed windows,
But hark,
Th symphony commences.
Attend to the overture.
I really want to finish it but my second verse is always so anticlimactic that I discard it. Here’s a poem I wrote for English class. For those of you who read, To Kill a Mockingbird, its from Boo Radley’s point of view. Don’t worry it doesn’t have any spoliers.
I’ve been in here a fine long time,
I’ve seen the light come
And then I’ve seen it fade,
Into the smaller orb of the night,
Over and over again.
Peering out, I’ve seen the azaleas bloom,
Radiant colors emitting radiant light,
Until they too wither,
Pierced by darkness and cold.
I’ve watched steady changes,
And also, my gradual progression.
Until, Arthur, long gone,
Only Boo, the voiceless ghost,
Haunts an eerie street.
From a musty window,
I’ve seen life trundle by,
And I’ve sat still.
Enough Pa, enough of this house,
With its torn up boards,
And its tired curtains.
Enough.
Enough of this town,
With its fearsome gossips,
And waggling tongues.
Enough.
Enough of this deathly family pride,
Enough of this habitation of the past.
Enough.
Ok, maybe I’ll post more later. Toodloo.
64 – Wow, your name sure is getting long.
Anyways, it’s always fun to read your writing. You have such a great vocabulary.
37-I absolutely adore the real version of that poem. But I am not going to start reciting it becuase its unlikely that i’ll stop if I do. THe parody’s funny too.
48-Creepy Bird knows one word, Nevermore! is the version I heard.
65-Why thank you. I love reading your story posts.
This one doesn’t make any sense whatsoever so don’t even bother asking. I think its about a person pretending to be a blade of grass or something nonsensical but I like the imagery sort of so I am posting it anyway. I believe I wrote it during my 6th grade ambiguity phase:
She was laughing when I came in,
The river was rounding a bend and moss was growing in cracks.
As she crept through she had a couple of glances and
The river was rounding a bend and moss was growing in cracks.
The fine blue swoosh was a welcome change from tight green unitards,
And strolls with little parasols were a welcome change
From the work of swaging, deceit, and fraud.
Her white cuffs made no pretenses,
Her bodice told no lies.
She did not need the compass
Chasing her into lands of fraud.
The river was rounding a bend and moss was growing in cracks.
I think that soon I will post some poetry that I wish I had written (fat chance) but am too lazy to type up now.
Hem Hem. Here is (as promised) a poem I wish I had written:
About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer’s horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
Kudos to Auden is all I can say.
Huzzah. THis made it up on the “Don’t Forget these Threads!”
In celebration of the occasion, yet another poem that I wish I had written.
I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blackbird.
II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.
IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.
V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.
VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
VII
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blackbird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?
VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blackbird is involved
In what I know.
IX
When the blackbird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.
X
At the sight of blackbirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
XI
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For blackbirds.
XII
The river is moving.
The blackbird must be flying.
XIII
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.
I love that poem. I think Wallace Stevens and WH Auden are my favorite poets.
Sorry about the triple post but I am semi-addicted to this thread!
I think I may have lived today
I remember how it feels
To walk among the trees
And I just decided to stay
The way I was when I was small
I could be like Peter Pan
Where every child had a special place
Where they can go to get away
Their own imagination land
I think I’ve had a lovely day
The kind where sunshine lights the world
And I don’t care who knows I’m missing
“““““““““““““““““`
I really would love to be Peter Pan sometimes.
69 – Lovely!
My love and I
Meet by the river
Sing in joyful harmony
Dance in circles, then squares
Swim the current of ages
Then, exhausted,
Fall to the grass, to feast
On each other’s happy expression.
My love and I
Follow the shadows
Chase the dawn
Search for light
Quest for wonder
Reach for each other’s hand
And race on
My love and I
Run against time
Falling, tumbling,
Wishing, spinning,
tumultuous, joyous
And then begin again
My love and I
Soar like doves
Caressed by a breeze
Run like gazelles
Bounding from soft earth.
My love and I
Delight in one another
Leap, fly, shout!
Across divisions
My love and I
Follow an ancient path
Ages come together
My love and I
Eternity-bound
My love and I
Sorry for the double post, I haven’t been on here in so long!
Lullaby
Sleep, my darling,
Think not of what tomorrow brings,
Not of forgotten faces and lost names,
Not of fears and wishes unfulfilled,
Listen to my voice as I sing:
Sleep
Be at peace, my love,
Do not fear Night’s dark embrace
Or things not seen, but lurking near,
Or what awaits you soon–perhaps,
Know that I wrap in you my arms, and say:
Be at peace.
Rest, my child,
Forget the things you yearn for,
The desires unreached, the paths not traveled,
The loved ones, gone to rest too soon,
Lay your head softly on your pillow, and
Rest,
Be at peace,
Sleep.
Oh dear, I really must use periods on here.
72-I like that.
I had a poem that started ok but it just died.
I now have a Win Poetry folder in my Firefox bookmarks. Most obviously, this thread is in it. Will comment and such eventually.
But oh dear, so much of my old poetry sucks so very much. It’s sappy. I suck at sap.
I am current writing a very very long poem, which is not about anything in particular but more about Life, I suppose. Capital L, all that jazz. It’s in progress. Tell me if it’s got any themes, because I would actually really like to know.
I. maybe Helen had the right idea after all
In one life or another my face will launch a thousand ships,
but only the perfectly flawed can send them out in such a flotilla;
jealousy does not suit my features
so I don’t bother.
There is something romantic about
disregard
especially for the Lives of Others, who after all are not me, myself,
or I.
I think they know it, too;
but as I would expect I don’t happen to care.
I float, at least for now
from what I have gathered it is possible to capsize
even when there are no holes in the boat.
I am not sure I believe it.
maybe I’m self-centered
just a little
it has always seemed quite irrevocably solid to me
(that it will always remain so)
(that is)
74-I like that one, especially the title.
Nthanda I like your poems. And Penty, be sure to post the rest of it when you write more!
only the butterflies still fly
above this weed-stricken meadow
there are no flowers here
what do they eat?
(catching, bloody thorns mark the trail)
I brake my way through tangles
of bough and bramble
and now returned to below the firmament
I am covered in burs, hair a mess
there’s no one to see
what I’ve become here, no reason
for emotions to play across my face
no reason to hide them
but I can’t help it
(scars criss-cross-criss-cross)
face skyward, the clouds are grey
no pain should I feel for them
nor for me,
what reason have I?
never hurt
(self-inflicted wounds don’t count)
never harmed
never held prisoner
never held.
the butterflies fly, oblivious.
—
rough rough rough. Will smooth out later.
77-I like that too.
People on here have such nice flowing poems.
All I have now is a thought that occurred to me a few days ago. I was looking out my window, and I can move the screen to stick my head out. I imagined talking to someone outside, and I would tell them this:
Our names don’t have a ring together like Romeo and Juliet, but that doesn’t matter when you’re in love.
Did anybody read post 59?
79-I did. I like that but I can’t really think of how the song is since I haven’t heard it.
Color poems–these are the things I associate with the colors of the rainbow.
Red
A dewdrop of cinnamon
on a elegant dress
Satin
Movie stars and
hot nights and
apples.
Orange
A loud noise
on a hot summer day
Lemonade
Star earrings and bangles
Eccentric next-door neighbor
Yellow
Sunflowers and sunshine
Summer dresses and
happy days
Softening to warm cotton
and butter in a small town.
Green
Northern woods dusted with snow
A leather and cherrywood office
Slithery depths
of a bottomless ocean
Airless stasis and
algae.
Blue
Cool lands and
midnight velvet dresses
diamonds and stars
invisibility,
tropical seas
peace.
Purple
Regal night
Silk and sheen
The color of loves turned
cold,
Blood run
dry,
Yet comforting
still.
we have to read 100 poems in about 2 weeks for english,
i’m really excited to see how many i can read.
i looked for all the poetry books in my house–we have about 1400!
i write poems all the time, and i usually think they’re dumb, and then anyone who reads them (aka my mom or english teacher) think theyre amazing and they usually dont understand them (but i really dont either! shh!) but that’s what inspiration is
Another song:.
We Know
Never trust a politician, even one in training
If the sun is shining out, they’ll tell you that it’s raining
He can call himself a diplomat
Twisting words like a verbal acrobat
They all play the same game
And put our country to shame
We all know the truth, we all know they lie
Yet it’s them we glorify, why is there no outcry?
They draw all of our attention like a shining beacon
Yet it is our country that they weaken
Sending our troops all over the world
Just to see our flag unfurled
Making enemies of everyone
Can’t bring peace at the point of a gun
We all know the truth, we all know they lie
Yet it’s them we glorify, why is there no outcry?
And as I watch them on the stage
My hands are clenched in fists of rage
We all know the truth, we all know they lie
Yet it’s them we glorify, why is there no outcry?
I found a poem last night, I don’t remember when I wrote it, but I kind of like it. I’ll go find it and type it up in a moment…
I can taste the ash on your lips
remnants of that fatal fire
you stand alone now —
I can hear your heartache
and I hurt to but
maybe now you will see me?
I know it is probably wrong
and I should be ashamed but
how can I? I have waited
behind the smoke
and I long for closeness
just as much as her
more
but ghosts don’t get chances
and even if there was one —
ever so slim —
have I the courage to take it?
better do die from a quick, wrenching stab
or to be lost forever
drowning in your eyes?
sorrow is not bitter
it is a sweet taste
however melancholy
and it flows over your skin in waves,
I wish I could help
kiss your tears to darkness
but I can only wait
and watch
and send butterflies to dance
in your glow.
85–I like that one. I think I’ve been there before.
“You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
“Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop some where waiting for you.”
–From Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman.
The second stanza is perhaps my favorite quote of all time.
I missed the local poetry slam. I had soccer practice.
oh, oh, here we go
here we go spinning ’round again
here we go circling twisting turning
here we go
—must go finish later—
oh, oh, here we go
here we go spinning ’round again
here we go circling twisting turning
here we go wishing and dreaming of ends
here we go living and dying and dead
here we go–
there’s a place I was, a place I am
there’s a nowhere home in dreams of sand
there’s a nobody singing a sweet serenade
from the shadows of the moon stuck behind a barricade
and if a you and a me
could just slow down
and if somewhere the sea
ceased it’s pounding sound
we’d go walking across on the foam of the crests
we’d go laughing and crying into the west
if everything just stopped, for a day for a year
empty glass skyscrapers, rain and tears
would we dance through the city like a pair of lost souls
would we wander aimlessly, hurt and alone
if the world stopped spinning would we ever even know
if the world stopped spinning who would ever know?
There go the days of fortune there go the days of joy
there go the days of sweet sadness sorrow
there goes the young man’s ploy
and here we go circling and spinning again
here we go loosing ourselves in it my friends
the no-where road was one I longed to take
the no-place man and his heart awake
but there’s no way out and no way in
no way to make it or save it or win
and we’re all lost in this great big place
confusion and spinning and we all must wait
it’s a no-place land where all’s at stake
it’s a shadow-shifting land with eyes opaque
but we’re still spinning, still dancing our song
we’re still laughing, still going on strong
and although yes we’re crying we’ll get along
or so we tell ourselves when the nights grow long
we’ll get along, yeah, we’ll get along
so oh, oh, here we go, here we go once again
so oh, no, where do we go, where do we find the end
oh, no, oh, no, oh help me now my friends
no way into the sky but with wishes and whims
and no way to come back down again
and we’re still spinning, spinning, spinning
and we’re still dancing on threads
and we keep going, turning, twisting
until we’ve reached the end.
Wowwwww that was random. I have no idea what it means, and I was edffinatly going somewhere with it in the first verse but I don’t know where it went O.o
.
Scraps of thoughts on a day in April
The sun through my window
A blinding yellow-white blaze
Hair freed from a messy braid
A walk through town
White blossoms falling
Orange juice and cinnamon rolls
Sweet, warm, honey and raisins
A surprise in the paper
Secret laughter growing inside
Walking home again
White blossoms falling
Sun on my head, wind in my hair
Emerald grass
The air smells of flowers, detergent, and new-mown lawns
Up a silent hill
My coat over my arm
Shadows on the road
Hyacinths are blooming
89- Wow. I like it a LOT. It should be set to music.
92- Yeah, at first when I started it (post 88 on the 22nd) I had intended it to be a song with two people singing at the same time and stuff, cause my friend wants to start a band but we have two people who would just sing and stuff but that didn’t seem to work. As you can see what came out is nothing like what I thought it would be.
I like your Thoughts from a day in April. They seem a bit like mine ^^
Behind these glass walls
I sit
Waiting for a pickax
(or something like that)
to come crashing through
I see you
so close we might–touch–
but neither of us move
and so I’m still stuck
behind glass
Like some sort of exhibit
And you do stare
And I suppose I’m flattered
But it would be a lot more flattering if you’d help me escape.
Shel Silverstein Where The Sidewalk Ends
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
89-Wow. Amazing!
I love Shel Silverstein.
This town ain’t big enough for us two
But it’s alright ’cause I’m just passing through
…Random rhyming line of the day.
I don’t generally like rhyming poetry too much, which is odd becuase I’m always writing it. However, beyond jest, the poetry that I really love is non-rhyming stuff. I don’t even know why. Its just what I enjoy reading. WHat I get the biggest thrill out of, I guess.
By the way, absolutely NOTHING rhymes with birds. WHich is very bad for me…
These are bad poems I wrote. Not my best. I just made them up in 2 seconds so.
(not rhyming)
Where ever she goes
I follow
Where ever he goes
I follow
I follow the people going about their daily lives
I long to have my own
For when I look about and see
The way they run and laugh and live
and frown and yell and die
oh how spectacular they are
I follow because I long to be one of them
and all the words just can’t describe
how mankind is
but they can be very annoying
(rhyming)
Where ever she goes
I follow
Where ever he goes
I follow
I follow the people on the street
Because it’s such a treat
I long to have my own
For when I look about and see
the way they run and laugh and are free
and frown and yell and die
and hit each other with pie
I follow because I long to be one
and all the words just can’t describe
how mankind is
but they can get annoying,
their cell phones vibe
their cars roar
mankind just wants more, more, more.
98-Pretty good for just being made up right there.
97- Words…
97- Off the top of my head- words, thirds, herds, curves, serves…
97 – words, herds, thirds, nerds
This poem is something my Language Arts class had to do a while back, where we had to write an ode to something using as many homonyms as we could. It’s not the greatest poem ever, but I just love the last line, so I can’t help posting it.
An Ode to the Son
Aye say high too ewe, son
On this mourning
Weigh up above
Ewe make this whirled un-boring
Eye wish aye could sea ewe
Ate daze a weak
Though it may bee in vein
This is the whirled aye seek
Once aye red a storey
About sum very long knight
With know son two sea
All eye no about this is: its knot write
With know son in the sky
Hour whirled wood bee chili
Sew this ode is two ewe, son
Ewe are anything butt silly
97–“turds” does
But I’m not sure how that would fit into a poem…
103–Ha ha! Very clever. Good job.
103- You said eight days a week
(I just randomly pick out stuff people say that reminds me of the beatles!)
I was thinking about an extension to “Dream Deferred” (Langston Hughs) I forgot about the one I wrote in class (I doodle and randomly write stuff)
Or does it melt away like the Wicked Witch?
Or does it crack and shatter but does not switch?
So what happens with a dream deferred
I guess I’ll soon find out
Once again, I am really bad at making poems!
ok well…….. here goes
see what u guys think
Raw power, from out at sea, The waves roll in.
That power breaks on the bar in front of me.
Diamonds incased in white foam, thrown in the air.
Then the diamonds fall again and join the sea,
To be thrown up again on the shoals in a tower of beauty.
It is easy to see why this place is called diamond shoals.
Stunning and valuable but they still have a hard edge.
Many ships have been lost on this coast but it hasn’t lost its astounding beauty.
well oops thats supposd to be formatted in a wave shape… oh well.
heres another.
Water
Swirling, whirling endless.
Twist, turn, drop.
Shapeless, hard and invisible
I am all of this and more
Smart, all seeing,
Rise, splash , tumble,
Burning, freezing, caressing
Those are my qualities
You cannot capture me,
Nor can you free me.
I am mighty,
And I am gentle
That is I
Do not underestimate me.
Nor should you criticize me,
For I am the root of all life
I am the liquid of sustenance.
So you think you know who I am?
You think you know me but do you?
You cannot pin me down,
For I am water.
106/107-I like your imagery!
Here’s a sonnet I wrote about nature vs, nurture (for English class, naturally):
I am born of nature’s gentle touch,
The delicate creator’s tools she wields,
Sculpting me from nothing into much,
Imbuing life into desolate fields.
I am created, too, by later days.
The paramount lessons taught to my mind.
The people who stepped in, my guiding rays.
The strong, wholesome, to-be-lent-on bind.
Without this ratio, what could I be?
Human, in science of fact and in name,
But, just a ship-wreck’d mar’ner lost at sea,
Lacking in distinctive creative flame.
Nature needs nurture’n so the other way,
Together to create that rich emotional array.
The iambic pentameter isn’t perfect…
“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou her maid art far more fair than she.
Be not her maid, for she is envious.
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off.
It is my lady! O! It is my love!
O, that she knew she were!”
-Best Soliloquy Ever
108-Agreed! Its a beauty.
I’m not very good at imagery. I dunno why, I’m just not.
(Still Penty, new email, for OEAD reference.)
Remember that poem I posted a while back on this thread? It has a second part now. Rejoice.
I. maybe Helen had the right idea after all
In one life or another my face will launch a thousand ships,
but only the perfectly flawed can send them out in such a flotilla;
jealousy does not suit my features
so I don’t bother.
There is something romantic about
disregard
especially for the Lives of Others, who after all are not me, myself,
or I.
I think they know it, too;
but as I would expect I don’t happen to care.
I float, at least for now
from what I have gathered it is possible to capsize
even when there are no holes in the boat.
I am not sure I believe it.
it has always seemed quite irrevocably solid to me
(that it will always remain so)
(that is)
maybe I’m self-centered
just a little
ii. Andromache, the long spiral down
Nobility is so terribly remote
you might even call it loneliness
but they’d laugh at you.
(jovially, as they condescend)
who cares, who cares, who cares
I’ll never betray myself
which is what matters in the end;
nothing will break these walls.
you will have to find some other way in
this is a losing battle if I’ve ever seen one.
iii. the voice that launched a thousand tales
Who wants to go back, anyway?
Things only happen forward
and stop.
Nobody else really gets it, do they?
At least they don’t need to if
they don’t plan on leading my life anytime soon
(they don’t)
so the matter’s settled.
Maybe he didn’t ever go home,
and would that be such a bad thing?
feathers falling from the sky
we gaze up in wonder
at the flock overhead
soaring, sweeping off
they wheel and turn above us now;
the shrill cries
sounding almost human
to our untrained ears
scores of birds, flying away
from the cold and dark and wet
to somewhere better
how do they know where to go?
if only we had that inner pull
showing us the right path, direction
instead you take my hand in yours
(us creatures doomed to tumble
and grasp our way through life,
so much is darkness) and you pull me to you
as we hold each other
we are laughing raucous cries
with those birds
spinning in the cascade of dirty down
we don’t know where we’re headed
or if it’s the right way
but we don’ mind the rain.
—
Why shouldn’t we love each other for ever
laughing, heads thrown back’we fly through the air on wings of petals
and stardust and tears
There are no endings
only continuations
We laugh ourselves to dust
As we dance into the flames
Of this forgotten world
Touching, forever within the sound of your voice
forever within the sound–
forever with you–
forever.
—
Second one has a 2-3 lines from a book called Firesong from the Wind on Fire trilogy because it felt like a poem at the end and it made me write it.
In post 110, I was referring to 109.
113-Thats very very good. I love the ships in the first bit!
114-I like them both quite a bit. However, I think I prefer the first one as the imagery is superb!
this is rather sad, I’m copying this from another thread…
I left it behind
Never comin’ back again
Out in this desert
I never thought I’d need it, my friend.
I’m searching for a miracle
Searching for the lyrical
Which I left back there
My eyes trained on that hard path
Bringing me back from the dark
Rising like the sun, like a lark
It left me broken
My only token
Of what I lost
There ain’t no slack
For me
Light ain’t got no meaning
My branches leaning
Right
Meaning
Of light
I’m searching for a miracle
Searching for the lyrical
Which I left back there
A flash of silver
A flash of silver
Left me speechless
Left me lifeless
Torn between
You and me
But it’s like I’m trapped
In leopards paws
I feel like I’m trapped
In steel jaws
I’m searching for a miracle
Searching for the lyrical
Which I left back there
Sometimes I feel like science
Has a certain romance
And some people don’t notice
The mystery it creates
They think science
Is all about answers
And sometimes I feel like people
Have a certain connection
And when they get connected to the wrong things
Sometimes it makes me sad
And sometimes they think they’re happy
And sometimes they just don’t notice
The science of what is going wrong
I bet I’ll read this later and wonder who wrote it.
Made up off the top of my head, while listening to music.
I wrote this poem on my AP Calculus test, because I didn’t know how to do the problem. Maybe it will brighten the day of whoever grades it…
Sine graphs to infinity
math is monotonous
but there’s a certain comfort
in the way that cosine comes back to zero.
It’s nice to know
as my life goes through troughs and crests
that even Calculus
has to hit origin
sometime.
117- It’s a good thing that I probably don’t grade those tests, ’cause I’d probably give you full credit for it.
I feel like I should write something. But it’s not here yet.
Muse soup song!
Museblog soup, Muse blog soup,
interesting, special,
pied, crazy,
all together GREAT!!!
There’s ice cream cold cream
benzene gasoline
stew greens string beans
floating all around.
Sponge cake beef steak
mistake stomachache
cream puffs ear muffs
many to be found.
Silk hats door mats
bed slats democrats
cow bell door bell
becking you to dine.
Meat balls fish balls
moth balls cannon balls
Come on in,
the soup’s just fine!
(No insult to our flamablamabulous blog, of course.)
In line 5, benzene is actually benzine.
120–I think it is benzene.
In the living room, my brothers have
a glass aquarium,
full of sand and swampy things,
and sticks and rocks and
five fat tadpoles;
who started out in science class
but ended up as pets.
They live on mostly fishy food,
and of all things, were christened
Oscar, Meyer, Weiner who
really is the runt,
Ding Dong, last is Ho Ho:
reminders of the boy-proclaimed
three essential food groups.
Those really are their names.
I wrote this one on the back of my nametag during my AP English test. Apparently stress inspires me…
I am not particularly
great
courageous
beautiful
strong
I do not
see farther
know more
strive harder
than those around me.
I am often lost.
I am often weary.
I am not a queen
or a heroine.
And yet you
take my hand
touch my hair
lift my face to yours and
say you love me.
I think that maybe
there is more to life
than being exceptional.
I make up really retarded songs. “Elephants and Hippos” & “Lions and Tigers” are my first two.
I like elephants and hippos
*clap clap*
I like elephants and hippos
*clap clap*
Giraffes and zebras and monkeys too,
I like elephants and hippos.
*clap clap*
I like lions and tigers
*clap clap*
I like lions and tigers
*clap clap*
Cheetahs and ligers and leopards too
I like lions and tigers
*clap clap*
See? Retarded.
124- Naw, just silly
124 – I like it!
125 – Are you new? *piespiespies*
This is a song my friend and I made up at a special zoo overnight in 6th grade.
It smells like pancakes at the zoo
And there’s piles of peacock poo!
Wa-hoo!
It smells like fishies at the zoo
And there’s flashing cameras too!
Wa-hoo!
There’re great big bears at the zoo
But they wanna eat graham crackers!
Not you!
There’s a glowing picture at the zoo
And there’s freaky noises too!
Wa-hoo!
There’s a fountain in the middle of the zoo
And a fire hydrant too!
Wa-hoo!
It smells like Altoids at the zoo
And there’s giant puddles too!
Wa-hoo!
There were more verses, but we never had a chance to write it down so they’re lost forever!
126- Fairly new.
So last night instead of going to sleep when I got out of the shower I got a line in my head that progressed into a poem-thing, which I preceded to write out on a series of post-it notes for a half hour. It’s just words now, though I want to turn it into a song. I wrote it to bits of the tune from Trailer Trash by Modest Mouse, but may try to write out different music for it on Finale (Jade? Writing music? Run.). Still needs editing word-wise. [words]= maybe/added as I type
Music would be mellow, soft, kind of sad but not slow.
—
I wake up and you’re out of reach
you said that you couldn’t sleep
So you walked down to the beach
feel the waves lap at your feet
And I nod and say I understand
but inside I don’t know what’s happening
And I wish that I could help you
but I can’t tell what there’s left of you
[[chorus:]feel the water pulling at your skin
feel the way things keep happening
and I know you want to just let go
so I hold you, hold you close
I can’t let you let go]
[And you spend all your time alone
And you don’t tell me why but I know
everything’s slipping out of control
You let the water into your body and soul]
Because the sea can’t tell when you’re crying
so float away on these waves of time
and no one’s out to get you
but they don’t know that they’ve hit you
and we’re drifting further from the line
no longer know what’s really mine
and this world’s almost ending
and your body is descending
Well I guess this is the way it goes
nothing left to say or show
And you’ve been sitting in the water
’cause you say it makes you calmer
And you say it makes you stronger
[chorus]
But I can tell even in this light
it’s more than seawater in your eyes
it’s more than I even realized
It’s more than you could ever hide
and I wish that I could help you,
somehow find a way to tell you
That everything will be all right
and wash the hurt from your eyes
But I don’t know how to fix it
If there was a chance I’ve probably missed it
[by now]
So there’s nowhere left to go
We’re near the end of this show
And even when I hold you close
and never want to let you go [/I know you just want to be let go/there’s a part of you that can’t let go]
When I can’t help you through
What the hell can I do?
What the hell do I have to do
to find that missing part of you
[chorus]
What will it take to get you through
to get you through
[oh] Where are you?
—
Well I’ll play with the words more later to get it up to my standards, but I would really appreciate any feedback…
I should be happy
now that I finally have
what I so longed for
but panic wells up inside
forces out, terror engulfing
held against the dark like it used to happen only in my dreams
you whisper softly,
hug me closer
and I cry instead.
this isn’t how it’s supposed to go
(where is my laugher)
why be afraid of what I’ve finally escaped
now that I’m free
I encircle myself with chains
when I tore down the walls inside me
there was nothing (to keep me) safe
and when we kiss
pain shoots through my chest
heartache and longing and grief
for what I have found
(feelings messed up inside)
i love you all wrong.
128, 129 – Those are both really awesome.
Thank you.
I’m in a kind of writing mood. Maybe something will come out later.
I need to write some POETRY! I’ve been speaking in rhyme foir a really long time now…
EXAMPLE:
Yesterday, my friend got kissed by this guy that she likes, and everyone was bugging her about it. I suggested she come back with this.
‘Roses are red, violets are blue,
If you mention love again I’ll KILL you’.
That’s just the kind of person she is, though.
Just jotted this down. Kind of rambling, but Muserly:
GEOGRAPHY
When I feel like wandering I take out my atlas and travel the world
My course sometimes takes me across the Atlantic
– as the Norsemen once did, praying to the gods of Valhalla, Lindberg flew this patch alone to win a prize, staying awake for thirty hours at a stretch.
And below the ocean’s surface the tubeworms live in darkness, living on the chemicals that spew out from the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, owing their lives to plate tectonics.
Silently the TITANIC rests on the abyssal plain, dripping with icicles of rust under the now-useless cranes that hoisted the lifeboats that fateful night.
Now I look on Everest, tallest peak on planet Earth-
George Mallory swore it must be climbed simply “Because it is there!†I ponder his fate, wondering if he reached the summit or if the first were Hillary and Tenzing, thirty years later.
Reinhold Messner climbed it later, alone and without oxygen, a feat as superhuman as any done by Spider-Man.
I pass the Mediterranean Sea, on the shores of which thrived dozens of civilizations.
The names of the ancient cities ring in my head- Knossos, the labyrinth of the minotaur,
Athens and Sparta, locked in ancient rivalry, Pompeii and Herculaneum, buried under ash for 18 centuries, Alexandria and the wondrous library that is now lost forever, Troy, site of mythic battles, Rome and Carthage, empires sparring for dominance.
I see the Nile winding its way north, through the Sahara, bringing water and life to thousands. The longest river on Earth, and one of the greatest.
It begins at Lake Victoria, named by John Speke and searched for by so many before him.
The islands of the Galapagos are legion and diverse-
The living laboratories of Darwin that are the Galapagos, the silent, staring Moai that stand on Rapa Nui, Pitcairn and the mutiny on the BOUNTY, criss-crossed by the Kon-Tiki voyages of Heyerdahl.
And far below is Challenger Deep, no deeper spot on Earth.
The white polar caps at the ends of the Earth I sometimes visit. The very names of the features speak of heroism- brave Admunsen, tragic Scott, Henson and Peary on their dogsleds, and Shackleton, sailing 800 miles to save his crew.
On occasion I view the mighty Amazon-
The raging river home to multitudes of creatures unique and fascinating- sloths, jaguars, pink dolphins and okapis.
In need of both care and exploration.
From there the Andes are not far- the condors wheel over Incan walls still standing. The stones so finely cut that a knife blade cannot fit between them. Roads to rival Rome’s lead to hidden cities, vine shrouded, with temples aligned towards the solstice sun.
Nearby, the Nazca lines, which stretch across the desert in complex patterns, and the oldest mummies one can find.
I come to Upham, to Star City, to Kourou and Cape Canaveral. Places from where one may leave to go and seek new geographies.
133-Cool. Very historical-like.
A boom comes from near the ceiling, but I cannot pinpoint where,
A woman walks ’round in the rain, and static spikes her hair
Although it’s only one big storm, I can’t help but be wary,
It’s only a bit ’till the skies will be lit
You can’t help but admit, lightning’s scary.
Yes, I do hate storms. How could you tell?
134- Funny!
135-Thanks. It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of poem.
Yoda poetry:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
In Galactic Empire
Poem write you
137–Ha! That’s awesome!
“It is impossible
to say just what I mean!â€
quoth Eliot.
How fitting are those words
to our sad situation
How much I want to say
How I love you
love to be with you
hear your heartbeat
touch your face
Words aren’t enough for these things.
But…
For some reason society enters
Words are expected.
And if we can communicate through
touch
glance
kiss
So what?
We’re drifting apart
From too much sound
Not enough conversation.
We laugh ourselves awake
to keep from crying
collapsing from the effort of being alive
There’s no other escape but those which we dream
fingers idly stroking the faces of the moon
longing to reach out and kiss
the darkness of the sky
(so silky flow the words)
burning paper, ink glows
illuminating our desire
to explode out of our bodies
and swirl into the heavens
like a long-ago painting
of stars
Together we are drunk on moonlight
laughng ourselves to tears
so the nightmare’s can’t find us
We wander this desert land
no color from that cold white light
shadow light shadow light shadow
no differentiation
(hold me closer)
all is dark
all is lost
all is gone
all is here
all is now
and now is all we are
as tears fill our eyes
because we laughed to long.
—
Random. A comment box composition. I’m in a poetic mood.
140- that is very pretty. Hold on to that.
—
Would it really be so starnge
if I said I didn’t love you
after all?
Your hands
find me
leaning against the earth
and stone
and your lips
whisper
the fated words
and I tell you that I don’t.
would it really be so strange
if i told you simply that I love
no one?
Your tears
fall slowly
and the grass drinks
sips at champaigne
at your misery.
I laugh
and find
that I am
stone.
Would it really be so strange
if I said the hounds were
chasing me?
The mastiffs follow my sent
the clipped ears, perked up straight
the howls of joy and jubilation
I try to run you run away
their teeth catch me and I fall
I taste blood as
the sun beats down
As the hunting horn blows
a hound bites my throat and
with my dying breath
I whisper to the hound-
I love the beast.
140, 141 = <3
drugscigssexbooze
their eyes are full of glory
their voices glamour
but all i can see
are the words beneath the words
rape
turf wars
addiction
OD’s
and their voices are broken
their eyes are hollow
Dang, I’ve got these two songs stuck in my head! They are both by ABBA.
“Super Trouper”
Super trouper beams are gonna blind me
But I won’t feel blue
Like I always do
’cause somewhere in the crowd there’s you
I was sick and tired of everything
When I called you last night from glasgow
All I do is eat and sleep and sing
Wishing every show was the last show
(wishing every show was the last show)
So imagine I was glad to hear you’re coming
(glad to hear you’re coming)
Suddenly I feel all right
(and suddenly it’s gonna be)
And it’s gonna be so different
When I’m on the stage tonight
Tonight the
Super trouper lights are gonna find me
Shining like the sun
(sup-p-per troup-p-per)
Smiling, having fun
(sup-p-per troup-p-per)
Feeling like a number one
Tonight the
Super trouper beams are gonna blind me
But I won’t feel blue
(sup-p-per troup-p-per)
Like I always do
(sup-p-per troup-p-per)
’cause somewhere in the crowd there’s you
Facing twenty thousand of your friends
How can anyone be so lonely
Part of a success that never ends
Still I’m thinking about you only
(still I’m thinking about you only)
There are moments when I think I’m going crazy
(think I’m going crazy)
But it’s gonna be alright
(you’ll soon be changing everything)
Everything will be so different
When I’m on the stage tonight
Tonight the
Super trouper lights are gonna find me
Shining like the sun
(sup-p-per troup-p-per)
Smiling, having fun
(sup-p-per troup-p-per)
Feeling like a number one
Tonight the
Super trouper beams are gonna blind me
But I won’t feel blue
(sup-p-per troup-p-per)
Like I always do
(sup-p-per troup-p-per)
’cause somewhere in the crowd there’s you
So I’ll be there when you arrive
The sight of you will prove to me I’m still alive
And when you take me in your arms
And hold me tight
I know it’s gonna mean so much tonight
Tonight the
Super trouper lights are gonna find me
Shining like the sun
(sup-p-per troup-p-per)
Smiling, having fun
(sup-p-per troup-p-per)
Feeling like a number one
Tonight the
Super trouper beams are gonna blind me
But I won’t feel blue
(sup-p-per troup-p-per)
Like I always do
(sup-p-per troup-p-per)
’cause somewhere in the crowd there’s you
“Take a Chance on Me”
If you change your mind, I’m the first in line
Honey I’m still free
Take a chance on me
If you need me, let me know, gonna be around
If you’ve got no place to go, if you’re feeling down
If you’re all alone when the pretty birds have flown
Honey I’m still free
Take a chance on me
Gonna do my very best and it ain’t no lie
If you put me to the test, if you let me try
Take a chance on me
(that’s all I ask of you honey)
Take a chance on me
We can go dancing, we can go walking, as long as we’re together
Listen to some music, maybe just talking, get to know you better
’cos you know I’ve got
So much that I wanna do, when I dream I’m alone with you
It’s magic
You want me to leave it there, afraid of a love affair
But I think you know
That I can’t let go
If you change your mind, I’m the first in line
Honey I’m still free
Take a chance on me
If you need me, let me know, gonna be around
If you’ve got no place to go, if you’re feeling down
If you’re all alone when the pretty birds have flown
Honey I’m still free
Take a chance on me
Gonna do my very best and it ain’t no lie
If you put me to the test, if you let me try
Take a chance on me
(come on, give me a break will you? )
Take a chance on me
Oh you can take your time baby, I’m in no hurry, know I’m gonna get you
You don’t wanna hurt me, baby don’t worry, I ain’t gonna let you
Let me tell you now
My love is strong enough to last when things are rough
It’s magic
You say that I waste my time but I can’t get you off my mind
No I can’t let go
’cos I love you so
If you change your mind, I’m the first in line
Honey I’m still free
Take a chance on me
If you need me, let me know, gonna be around
If you’ve got no place to go, if you’re feeling down
If you’re all alone when the pretty birds have flown
Honey I’m still free
Take a chance on me
Gonna do my very best, baby can’t you see
Gotta put me to the test, take a chance on me
(take a chance, take a chance, take a chance on me)
Ba ba ba ba baa, ba ba ba ba baa
Honey I’m still free
Take a chance on me
Gonna do my very best, baby can’t you see
Gotta put me to the test, take a chance on me
(take a chance, take a chance, take a chance on me)
Ba ba ba ba baa, ba ba ba ba baa ba-ba
Honey I’m still free
Take a chance on me
On Tuesday,
her friends smoked and tripped themselves
out of their minds.
(it was easy to do).
On Wednesday,
a friends of her friends’,
a girl she’d met at a party,
was raped.
She sat alone at the bus stop,
crying and crying.
On Thursday,
a man invited her to smoke herb
under the train tracks,
hands reaching for her breasts and hips,
and she wondered
how anyone could possibly
say they had it easy.
Something is terribly wrong
Words don’t match the rhythm of song
And even though life is a shadow of strife
It still goes on terribly long
But it’s the end of the world as I saw it
The light has gone awfully dim
It’s as though there’s more dark
And the sun just won’t spark
Like this is Mother Nature’s new whim
You said three little words in the morning
That caused three little heartbreaks at night
And even if your eyes are as blue as the skies
‘I’m sorry’ just won’t make things right
I gave you my life and my longings
I sent you my love and good luck
Without something for me to say
One more kiss for the day
My soul’s irreversibly stuck
So please, let me wake in the morning
To smell the fresh air and see dew
Though I know love is weakness
It causes long-lasting bleakness
Now I know I can’t live without you
This grey day
drains me
my energy is slowly wearing away
a bright red bird against the sky
still not enough to make me try
Don’t you worry about me
’cause I’m as happy as can be
here in Alaska!
The cold bites my fingers
Making my feet numb
But when the snow melts away
I get back the feeling in my thumb!
But c’old Alaska won’t drive me away
’cause when I see the Earth covered
with snow on Christmas day,
I can tell you, Alaska’s where I’m gonna stay
Wohoo, I just randomly wrote a poem about how awesome Alaska is! And it’s not even a good poem! I’m happy!
Inspired by the Muse article about future evolution:
PERHAPS
Perhaps in 5 million years
Another ice age will descend.
Perhaps great penguin-whales will hunt
At the edge of the ice sheet across Europe
Perhaps lizards with sticky frills will chase flies
Across the dry Mediterranean Basin.
Perhaps in the grassland that was once the Amazon,
Baboon-like descendants of jungle apes will live.
Perhaps, one night, one primate looks up at a hazy patch
The galaxy once called Andromeda, M31.
It’s bigger now than any human ever saw it
Although it won’t merge with the Milky Way for billions of years yet.
Perhaps on a planet there, equally strange creatures
Look back and recall how in their most ancient legends, there was a small blue world
Where they lived, long, long ago, when they were something else.
Perhaps they’ll remember
That they called it Earth.
.
When there’s no where else to run
Is there room for one more son
One more son
If you can hold on
If you can hold on, hold on
I wanna stand up, I wanna let go
You know, you know – no you don’t, you don’t
I wanna shine on in the hearts of men
I wanna mean it from the back of my broken hand
Another head aches, another heart breaks
I am so much older than I can take
And my affection, well it comes and goes
I need direction to perfection, no no no no
Help me out
Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don’t you put me on the back burner
You know you got to help me out, yeah
And when there’s nowhere else to run
Is there room for one more son
These changes ain’t changing me
The gold-hearted boy I used to be
Yeah, you know you got to help me out
Yeah, oh don’t you put me on the back burner
You know you got to help me out
You’re gonna bring yourself down
Yeah, you’re gonna bring yourself down
Yeah, you’re gonna bring yourself down
I got soul, but I’m not a soldier
I got soul, but I’m not a soldier
[10 more times]
Yeah, you know you gotta help me out
Yeah, oh don’t you put me on the back burner
You know you gotta help me out
You’re gonna bring yourself down
Yeah, you’re gonna bring yourself down
Yeah, oh don’t you put me on the back burner
You’re gonna bring yourself down
Yeah, you’re gonna bring yourself down
Over and in, last call for sin
While everyone’s lost, the battle is won
With all these things that I’ve done
All these things that I’ve done
(Time, truth, and heart)
If you can hold on
If you can hold on
YAY! I’ve got soul but I’m not a soldier *goes on*
Oh yeah, it’s All These Things That I’ve Done by The Killers.
147- Oh, I like that one a lot.
No poems right now. Maybe. The feeling’s are right.
I write haikus a LOT.
This one’s called O Glorious Pie.
Pie! O Glorious
Pie! That we hit people with
Now SPLAT! goes the pie
147 – Oh, I like that.
148 – Isn’t that one of the songs that runs on commercials during the Olympics? It sounds famliar.
Rushing waves
Crashing round
Current seething
Drags me down
Lifeguard gone
Sharks surround
Drowning, drowing
Run aground
I look up
To see you there
Wind caressing
Through your hair
You grab my hand
And let me live
The water pulls
It won’t forgive
It’s too late
Just let me go
You don’t give up
You fight the flow
I was holding on
By but a thread
It’s ‘cuz of you
That I’m not dead
You saved me from
Tsunami’s rush
And, for that
I thank you much
There was one way to describe
feelings of that first sunrise
it was so beautiful
so very breathtaking
so incredibly
strong
how does a day pass by so
fast that you barely
see it come and
go without a
single word
of
warning
It was only one short day
but it was a lifetime
for you and me
but mostly you
because I’m
not
here
anymore
And you’re lying on the floor and
The light of day leaves the
window without another word
and you stop
looking and
laughing
and
living
The sunshine doesn’t only leave the
world it leaves your eyes
there’s something empty about
the way you
smile and
say
it’s
all
right
Because I know that the moon’s not
going to be the same
as the day light
that lives in
your
smile
The hand doesn’t
move any
more
148- I was just wondering where the song from the olympics comercials came from, actually.
I walk and don’t know where to go
caught in some sort of undertow
—
False start, rhyming’s not going fast enough, let’s try again
—
I walk and don’t know where I’m going
crowded halls lie empty in my mind
wandering these relms
between shadow and light
I can’t tell what I feel
It’s hard to tell when ould wounds
finally case their throbbing
And even the occasion pangs
are not as sharp as you expect
but is this hallowness better than pain?
—
Meh, not quite right, maybe it’ll come out better later.
To rocket up into the glorious sky
Like some left-over firework from July last
To loop and twirl like a swallow set free
Then dive like an eagle, shedding feathers light as air.
How many years have I yearned to be just like this:
Suspended on a summer breeze, against a backdrop of blue or a canvas of night
How long have I asked to see the world just so:
A green and brown patchwork quilt set by a heavenly hand
Stitched with stone walls and sewn with fallen fences
And for how many moments
Did my hands twitch, yearning
as I soar by on smooth ocean winds,
to touch
a
cloud?
This one’s by Walt Whitman. It’s one of my favorites by him:
MIRACLES
Why! who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the edge of the
water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love—or sleep in the bed at night with
any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with my mother,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive, of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds—or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sun-down—or of stars shining so quiet
and bright,
Or the exquisite, delicate, thin curve of the new moon in spring;
Or whether I go among those I like best, and that like me best–
mechanics, boatmen, farmers,
Or among the savants—or to the soiree—or to the opera,
Or stand a long while looking at the movements of machinery,
Or behold children at their sports,
Or the admirable sight of the perfect old man, or the perfect old
woman,
Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial,
Or my own eyes and figure in the glass;
These, with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring—yet each distinct, and in its place.
To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the
same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same;
Every spear of grass—the frames, limbs, organs, of men and women,
and all that concerns them,
All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.
To me the sea is a continual miracle;
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the ships,
with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?
154 – Hmm, I like that concept and start. It’s rough, but still good.
Song I wrote a couple years back.
They’ll all say that you can
Take your own fate in your own hands but
They’re all followin’ The Man
They’ll say that you’re right and
They’ll say that you’re wrong but
No matter what it’s their plan.
And whatever you do
You know they’ll tie you up too
Cuz they’ve got the whip and the rein
So take a weapon in hand
And stand your stand
Cuz they’re comin’ to getcha again!
(Chorus)
You gotta fight, fight, fight
For the right, right, right
To keep a’pullin’ on through
Cuz if you fall, fall down
You’re gonna drown, drown, drown
And they’re gonna get to you too.
157- I like it. Rock-ish. Had a good beat in my head, at least XD
Oh, I had one somewhere… where’ditgo…
Well, crap, I lost it. I remember it mostly though… lesse…
I awoke this morning
and it took me an hour to realize
I had drempt
then I remembered the memory of the feeling
of a kiss
of time fading into shadow
remembered the taste of your lips
the dark lonlyness of deep sleep
and cried.
158–aw…sad. But good, as usual. I like the timing of the lines.
Santa, Santa,
Santa’s drowned.
Santa, Santa,
Santa’s down.
Hi dead snail.
How are you?
You have been killed.
You are through.
Are you not convinced I’m insane?
My flower, has withered
The leaves are teared
The color so rotten
smell lingering in the air
Small Jasmine, like vanilla
the color so bright
has gone down to nothing,
almost over night.
The stem is still green, but dry it may be
The poor little flower
has died because of me.
160–Reminded me of a Girl Scout song:
TOM THE TOAD (to the tune of “O Tannenbaum”)
Oh Tom the toad, oh Tom the toad,
Why are you lying on the road?
Oh Tom the toad, oh Tom the toad,
Why are you lying on the road?
Did you not see that truck ahead?
Now you are lying squished and dead.
Oh Tom the toad, oh Tom the toad,
Why are you lying on the road?
162: That’s just disturbing how well the lyrics fit the tune….
I randomly wrote this poem about a week ago. It’s not really the style that I normally do, but I think it came out okay.
Eighth Grade
New year, old year
Moving up a grade year
Bad year, good year
Remaining to be seen year
Same year, changed year
Oldest in the school year
Fourth year, last year
Ending way too fast year
My year, our year
Now it’s time for eighth grade year
I don’t like the last line much, but I can’t think of anything better. It’s obviously meaning my school, because not many other schools have four years of middle school, but fourth could be replaced with third, hypothetically.
164–Nice. The rhythm is good and I like the repetition.
Yay! On the spot poem.
I wonder
what it would be like
to
(gathering, straining)
(hoping, praying)
(with only your heart and your courage for protection)
jump up and
fly
165- That’s sweet.
I walk down to the water
more woman than water
and look out to sea
more water than woman
I go out into the deep
more woman than water
and lie on the waves
more water than woman
and wonder if I sink
more woman than water
The night shines on the water
more water than woman
I sink and do not breathe
more woman than water
and look at the moon through the waves
more water than woman.
Sailing is like
giving
that old
man
Ocean
a run
for
his
money
(if you grab
him by the
coattails
he’ll cough you
up a
treasure)
and
We’ll all
dance
like waves
on the water
and
put that miser
Moonlight
out of
buisness
(starshine and pennies
in
a
jar)
In a forest
there is a
small brook
that,
if you are patient enough,
leads to
a hill
where
there is
a small
cottage
and
in that cottage
there lives
an old woman
who,
if you ask her politely,
will tell you something
which
every time
is
“Go away.”
166,7,8–All of those are awesome! Especially the line breaks and the imagery. They make me see ordinary things in a different light.
I had to share this poem with someone. Here it is:
I don’t suppose
You’d like the crows
If their droppings
landed
on your toes
Someone tell me what you think.
Here’s another:
Getting ready for the bathtub,
I removed my clothes
Walked across the hall to the bathtub
bubbling over with foam
My foot brushed the water’s surface
The water was nice and warm
Best of all my brother
wasn’t getting in at all
I went in to sit
grasped the bar of soap
but before I could even start
the soap fell right in
I groped around the bathtub
hoping for the soap
but alas, I couldn’t find it!
and all I could do was mope.
I came out of the bathtub
Dripping with bubbles and froth
the only thing to comfort me
was a rather annoying moth
The soap was gone
I wasn’t very clean
My brother had come to bother me
I really wanted to scream.
what do you think?
Sorry for the double post, but I don’t really like the bathtub poem. It’s kind of queer. It’s kind of metaphoric, it’s about losing a friend in a situation that you think you can fix easily, but is harder than you think and then no one is of much help and then someone/something keeps bothering you. (Based on a situation a certain someone and another one a friend of mine who will remain nameless had)
That doesn’t really make sense and the poem came out all wrong,
(pies everyone around in frustration)
Sorry for taking out my poetic problems on innocent bystanders. Pie me if you wish.
171- I liked the bathtub poem.
I sit on the beach
on the banks of the river
on a cool-hot summer day in West Virginia
and I feel like silver, freshly poured
slide gliding through the ripples
I watch the water skimmers part for me
(such a small thing that they would part for me)
and my breath makes little ripples
on the mirror-shining surface
as I glide like silver turning
‘neath the trees
‘neath the trees
and there’s no one here but me
no there’s no one here but me
except the water and the skimmers and the trees
and the trees.
Bit of an odd poem, but it captures what I felt at the moment–simple gifts and peace.
wouldn’t it be nice
if we could take off our glasses
be nearsighted
(by choice)
for once in our lives
see a world
blurred
smudged
that can’t hurt one bit
no harsh edges
no restrictions
no worries
no fears
no end in sight
wouldn’t it be nice?
I don’t know why I wrote this. I’ve been thinking about how nice and smudgy the world would be if I took off my glasses, and what a nice poem that would make. It didn’t come out exactly like I thought it would, but I’m satisfied anyways.
wink at the world
swirl
wink at the world
twirl, swirl
feel a bit of wanderlust
(wonder)
lust
(full
of
breath
she holds the world
(my world)
in her hands
the key to it
(my world, universe)
on a ribbon around her neck
In the eye of the hurricane
All was still.
And I looked up
To see a single star.
oxlin- Lovely to see your poems again. I do love them so.
178- I like it… it’s… well there goes the word I just had. Nice and pretty and ironic and sweet, but the single word I had but lost was better. Oh well.
Anyway, I like it. Small critique, though? The first period doesn’t really seem necessary to me… I think it’d flow better without it.
178–I dunno, I kind of like the period. It does make the poem stop, but that kind of fits the line. Good poem either way.
Most would think it silly
Many would think it mad
but nonetheless
it is the thing
I draw on my sketch pad
I showed it to some friends
They all made a face
I put it up in a small ad
and it took up quite some space
I got 4 responses
All from neighborhood creeps
First from a lady who weeps
and weeps and weeps and weeps
Second from the boy,
Who is in 2nd grade
But that’s not it,
he has eaten an entire baseball mitt
and has read every book ever made
Third from the man at the store
who is scared of the number four
and most people say
to my dismay
he enjoys watching gore
Fourth from the weirdest of all
it’s the lady from the neighborhood mall
she has fallen off a cliff
Is she hurt? As if!
She sleeps outside in the snow
You can never catch her blinking
she always somehow seems to know
what a person is thinking
So there I sat, in front of them
wondering what to do
and finally I decided
That I, should ask YOU
Am I a creep now?
How come my drawing’s so odd?
Oh, come on, so all you do is nod?
Is this what I deserve?
A bunch of creeps
A nodding stranger
And a sketchpad full of
HOT PINK SHEEPS
MWAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
Oh, ah, sorry about that, went a little wacko! The bunnies had been waiting for me at school, I was barely able to escape with my corrupt life.
How do you know you’re insane?
When your hands turn feeble and your mind starts to wane?
When the ticking and turning
of the clock on the wall
is a mantra so burning
it drives away all
of the thoughts in your head
all the things that you’ve said—
Is that how you know you’re insane?
How do you know that you’re mad?
When you always are angry or always are sad?
When the people around you
are ghosts in the night
and the feelings inside you
are wrong and are right
and you can’t find your way
and you’ve nothing to say—
Is that how you know that you’re mad?
How do you know you’ve gone crazy?
When your eyes have gone dark and your memory’s hazy?
What you thought, what you knew
as they yell and they taunt
when none of it’s true—
is this what they want?
and you’re crashing and burning
but the clock is still turning—
Is this how you know you’ve gone crazy?
I wanna be a poet,
The one that writes and sighs,
cause when my work is never done,
I just sit to mop and cry.
I wanna be an actor,
The one that laughs and cry on track,
but what I hate the most is that,
when drama rides on my back.
I wanna be a dancer,
The one that moves in rhythm and grace,
but when I do a simple mistake,
I dance in my own very pace.
I wanna be singer,
The one who sings and make people cheer,
but criticisms and hatred,
and mistakes is what I fear.
I rather be myself,
the one who loses and does all wrong,
but I am only human you see,
and this is my own song.
I rather be myself
because if I make mistakes, its cool,
but when I am someone different and famous,
the mistakes I make are to be sued.
Wouldn’t be nice
if we could sit
and watch this world go round?
We could sit and see
the life of a tree
go by without a sound
Or do you wanna
sit near the ocean?
feel the spray
chill to the bone?
A still blue lake
reflecting images
in the early morning
shining like a diamond
in the afternoon sun
dark and foreboding
after night has come
isn’t that just like love?
The sun is rising in the west
has doomsday yet to come?
no, it is still peaceful
the bird is still sleeping in its nest
would you like to sit with me?
stay for a moment
look up at the sky
what do you see?
the sun, and clouds
why does the sun think he is so mighty?
His beams so strong?
Why does he help us?
Sitting there in the sky?
But why does he leave in the night?
Why does the moon help us?
She is like the sun
big and round, giver of light
but his light is truer
and her light is softer
his form is sharper
and her form is dreamier
But why must she leave in the morn?
Why must the days pass,
while new ones come?
why must time fly like an eagle
than lie wounded, dying slowly like it’s prey?
why are roses so pretty
when it’s thorns are so nasty?
if life like is like a flower,
does it die sometimes too?
does it shrivel and shrink at times?
If life is a tree
why do branches go so high
and roots grow so low?
why is every leaf full of life?
and it’s life full of leaves?
how come a sunset is soft and beautiful
and the sun strong and blinding?
Why is the moon large and far away
and moonbeams light and right in front of you
but you cannot hold it, or touch it.
The beautiful things in life can’t be touched
The things that make them can’t be held
So why must life taunt us so?
It is like a bee
I chase it through the wilderness
and finally, when it is caught
I am stung, and left, without honey
Life is a cloud, high in the air
there for you to look at
but to preserve it,
don’t you dare
Random stuff.
182 – Did you write that? It’s good.
182- Yeah, it’s really good.
182- *love* It needs to have music and singing, because then it woul make my life XD Really, I love it.
Random creepy poem from english scrawlings — not done yet
Welcome to this barren land
the dead the dying the dreamless
all end here
all end
Welcome to the wastelands.
(nightfall and they all come dancing
dry bones cracking
scream-laugh chancing
sand-filled stars and all come prancing
beneath the sunless sky)
no place for you here
among the forgotten monsters
and abandoned nightmares
grinning skulls and claws are not for you–
and won’t you join our song?
(long-limbed and stretched, unfurling
deep, dark, eyes still swirling
fingers curling
too many fingers
too many teeth)
–hello Little One, hello dear girl
I knew one such as you,
so long ago,
so lovely, so lovely,
and so lovely were her screams–
(swept into the dance,
swept away)
Ignore these strange matters,
my Child, you are not yet young
and they are raucous in their cries
(don’t fear us the wild ones
the chill ones, the still ones
don’t fear us
crawling-skuttling-creeping-shuffling
don’t fear us now
but in the dead alone of night)
Welcome to this barren land
this desert land
this dry-bones land
Welcome to this dead-tree land
Though I know not why you’ve come.
Damn. I wish i was poetic/good at making song lyrics like you guys. I guess ill have to stick to languages.
Weird LHC-inspired poem:
World Without End
Deeper than atoms, protons and quarks
We press on still further, ignoring remarks
Within lead, people, bubbles and string
We look at what makes up everything
Each gain brings such rejoicing, though-
We realize how little we truly know
As if on shore with rocks and sand
We try to make a bit more land
Reclaimed from an unending sea
That surrounds and utterly dwarfs we
And yet this truest mystery
Shines with calling, bright beauty
So, thus matter we rend
Deeper and deeper
World without end.
Unlike others who dread and fear
For knowledge, we sing and cheer
Bask in the warmth of our dear Sun
Full of joy, we all should run
Knowing every molecule of air you swallow
And that knowing still more brings a brighter tomorrow
And today could hardly be dreamed of in past days of yore
And in this knowledge, take off and soar!
We fear not superstition, so fly on, my friends
Higher and higher,
World without end.
186- ooh. I absolutely adore it so far, looking forward to seeing a finished version!
184-5–Thank you.
186–It’s very good. I’ve always like your style, particularly the parenthesis and free verse.
188–Ooh, I really like that one–love the last lines of each stanza, especially. Nicely done.
I just read this poem by Tennyson. It’s long, but worth reading every line. I particularly like the last six lines.
ULYSSES
It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match’d with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
Life to the lees. All times I have enjoy’d
Greatly, have suffer’d greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Thro’ scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea. I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known,– cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honor’d of them all,–
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’
Gleams that untravell’d world whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!
As tho’ to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains; but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
to whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,–
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill
This labor, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro’ soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil’d, and wrought, and thought with me,–
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads,– you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honor and his toil.
Death closes all; but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends.
‘T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,–
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
What about the poem made such an impression on you?
190-Yeah! Ulysses is one of my favorite poems, too! It’s about the spirit of adventure!
191–The phrasing, the last six lines…it just struck me as epic and ageless. It also has the sort tone I want one of my characters in my novel to have.
I don’t want to sound too teacherly, but two more questions: How old are these adventurers? And does it sound as if they intend to return from their adventure?
194–I think that’s another reason I like it. It’s wistful, talking about days gone by–a side of Odysseus rare touched on by authors. Usually, they finish with the homecoming, but this poem picks up the story at the end of his life. I like his resignation, almost determination, to seek the final adventure, and allow fate to take him where it will, instead of letting his pride guide him like he did in the Odyssey.
Don’t worry–I’m weird, I like answering analytical questions about poetry.
194- Odysseus is old and he doesn’t think he’ll come back. The point of the poem is that he’d rather die on an adventure than fearfully at home in his bed, waiting for it. The last line is on Captain Scott’s tombstone.
187- Heh, so do I
Well, technically I’m not writing song lyrics. Song lyrics for me are totally different.
turning, twisting, flying high
why must life go by and by?
we trip and fall
but do we rise?
can anybody hear me?
my dreams they slither and creep
away from me ’cause I don’t get sleep
fear’s shadow is sneaking up on me
197- Ah, whoops, I didn’t really finish that… And now I must go
fragments (more like endings) [hey that would make a cool title for something]:
cutting my heart
with the strings of a guitar
and your voice,
your voice,
it rings
[emptying/enveloping] my soul
the things I’ve known
and my heart,
it bleeds,
it sings.
Do you want to know what happens when an aspiring poet listens to the Nightmare on the Elm Street too many times?
The clock chimes
Thirteen times
I look up from my homework
To check
if the clock is working properly
clock isn’t there
Thirteen chimes
From a disappeared clock
A shadow
appears on the wall
To my horror
I hear the sound
of chainsaw
starting up
my scream for help
sticks to my throat
like something to paste
Then
pain
darkness.
There you go.
137- i found that hilarious! very nice, very very nice
i guess im new here. i love everyones poems. im not much of a rymer and all of my poems have deep meanings behind hem (actualy only mmost some dont) i guess here’s one
Punch Away
I see you
Sitting in the corner
Tears streaking down your face
Like raindrops on glass
I see your fist
It’s hidden well
But not well enough
I see how it pains you
To hold back that punch
And not throw him to the ground
You’re afraid
I see you and you’re afraid
Don’t be
Punch away
There’s no reason not to
He deserves it
And anyways there’s nothing wrong with a bit of violence
In fact
It would do him some good
So
Though there is no reason to take my advice
Punch away
Punch away girl.
i hope you guys like it
Halloween poem!
Deepened shadows and darkened streets,
Full-moon nights where terror meets
With gothic horror and Victorian style:
Skeletons leer with blank-eyed smile.
Hearts beating fast or long grown cold
Restless spirits this night grown bold
The space between knowledge and fears unseen—
Once again, it’s Halloween.
That great
opaque
mind of hers
The kind
of mind
that slows you down
Her brain’s
a train
that runs so fast
Her wits
they flit
away from her
So fast
it’s passed
away in a blink.
202- Very nice!
I’m trying to write a poem about Halloween at Space Academy, but I’m having trouble.
too afraid to tell you that I love you
I burn candles
whisper messages into the smoke
char my scraps of longing
watching them float up into the gray-and-rain stars
Perhaps one day when you are among the clouds
and I am somewhere between sleep and drifting
you will catch them
and listen
and wonder.
—
Not quite right. I couldn’t get the words for the feeling right. Might try again later.
205- I think it’s very good.
Halloween At Space Camp
Who ate my Dippin’ Dots in the cafeteria?
There were there one moment and gone the next.
It’s Halloween at Space Camp.
Did you see the light in Shuttle Park?
It hovered and vanished behind Pathfinder.
It’s Halloween at Space Camp.
Why is Space Shot running after closing time?
With nobody on it and no attendants?
It’s Halloween at Space Camp.
Where did that guy in the blue flightsuit go?
He was checking out the simulator and then he vanished.
It’s Halloween at Space Camp.
Who was Dr. Von T talking to in the Davidson Center?
There was nobody else under the Saturn.
It’s Halloween at Space Camp.
How did this note and model get on my bunk?
“Don’t hang up your dancing slippers.”
It’s Halloween at Space Camp.
Today is not the day
to say farewell
But when the time comes
for me to leave you
I will try to be frank and true
Will I be missed?
I think not
’cause what I’ve got
is nothing much than a piece of string
a plain brown yarn
and this is what I’ll bring
no more, than a voice
a ticking clock
a small little hand set at 6 o’clock
Black, bold, a suggestion of dark
Places about it, there yet should come
Such rich music, as though the notes’
Ore were changed to a rare metal
At one touch of that bright bill.
You have heard it often, alone at your desk
In a green April, your mind drawn
Away from its work by sweet disturbance
Of the mild evening outside your room.
A slow singer, but loading each phrase
With history’s overtones, love, joy
And grief learned by his dark tribe
In other orchards and passed on
Instinctively as they are now,
But fresh always with new tears.
R.S. Thomas
Siren Song
This is the one song everyone
would like to learn: the song
that is irresistible
the song that forces men
to leap overboard in squadrons
even though they see beached skulls
the song nobody knows
because anyone who had heard it
is dead, and the others can’t remember.
Shall I tell you the secret
and if I do, will you get me
out of this bird suit?
I don’t enjoy it here
squatting on this island
looking picturesque and mythical
with these two feathery maniacs,
I don’t enjoy singing
this trio, fatal and valuable.
I will tell the secret to you,
to you, only to you.
Come closer. This song
is a cry for help: Help me!
Only you, only you can,
you are unique
at last. Alas
it is a boring song
but it works every time.
Margaret Atwood
Yay! I finished another song, just need to consult my band about it.
Me is getting off. Homework.
This post will be two posts long. Perhaps three. I feel like sharing!
AIDA:
You know nothing about me and care even less
How could you understand our emptiness
You’ve plundered our wisdom, our knowledge, our wealth
In bleeding us dry
You long for our spirit
But that you will never possess
The past is now another land
Far beyond my reach
Invaded by insidious
Foreign bodies, foreign speech
Where timeless joys of childhood
Lie broken on the beach
The present is an empty space
Between the good and bad
A moment leading nowhere
Too pointless to be sad
But time enough to lay to waste
Every certainty I had
The future is a barren world
From which I can’t return
Both heartless and material
Its wretched spoils not my concern
Shining like an evil sun
As my childhood treasures burn
Shining like an evil sun
As my childhood treasures burn
Sometimes I amaze my self-in this case, singing this at a preshow for a Streetcar Named Desire…
Forget your troubles come on get happy
you better chase all you cares away
shout hallelujah come on get happy
get ready for the judgment day
The sun is shining come on get happy
the lord is waiting to take your hand
shout hallelujah come on get happy
we’re going to the promise land
We’re heading across the river
wash your sins away in the tide
it’s all so peaceful on the other side
Forget your troubles come on get happy
you better chase all you cares away
shout hallelujah come on get happy
get ready for the judgment day
Forget your troubles come on get happy
chase your cares away
hallelu get happy
Before the judgment day
The sun is shining come on get happy
the lord is waiting to take your hand
shout hallelujah come on get happy
we’re gonna be going to the promise land
We’re heading across the river
wash your sins away in the tide
it’s quiet and peaceful on the other side
Forget your troubles get happy your cares fly away
shout hallelujah get happy
get ready for your judgment day
Come on get happy
chase your cares away
shout hallelujah come on get happy
get ready for the judgment day
The sun is shining come on get happy
the lord is waiting to take your hand
shout hallelujah come on get happy
we’re going to the promise land
We’re heading across the river
throw your sins away in the tide
it’s all so peaceful on the other side
Shout hallelujah come on get happy
you better chase all your cares away
shout hallelujah come on get happy
get ready-get ready-get ready
for the judgment day!
*gigantic fake-happy smile*
On the good ship lollipop
Its a sweet trip to a candy shop
Where bon-bons play
On the sunny beach of Peppermint Bay
Lemonade stands everywhere
Crackerjack bands fill the air
And there you are!
Happy landing on a chocolate bar
See the sugar bowl do the tootsie roll
With the big bad devils food cake
If you eat too much ooh ooh
You’ll awake with a tummy ache
On the good ship lollipop
Its a sweet trip into bed you hop
And dream away
On the good ship lollipop
(repeat)
A Dream Within a Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep – while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
–Edgar Allen Poe
208-That’s really cool. It’s funny and interesting,
Dances with wolves:
I dance
It is a movement
Deeper than your soul
You are not the dance
(the dance is you)
a wolf stalks a dying elk
a dance of death
the leap the plunge
the kill
energy throbbing
a cocoon of excessive energy
dance with wolves
Fragile:
It’s fragile
This child of mine
It’s yet unborn
Without breath of air
Undesigned
Yet realised
Undisputedly fragile
Morkeræd- (fear of the dark)
Don’t speak
Listen
Stille, bankende hjerte (quiet, beating heart)
Lyt (listen)
Vores verden fylder med mørke (our world fillswith darkness)
Vi kan ej høre hinanden we can not hear each other)
Vi snakker og skriger (we speak and scream)
Vores verden krymper og dør (our world shrinks and dies)
Mennesker skriger af smerte (people scream with pain)
Men ingen kan høre (but no one can hear)
Don’t speak.
I already know.
Imagine if all the people died.
How quiet it would be.
Stille, skrigende mund. (quiet, screaming mouth)
Lyt. (listen)
You shiver
Silence your heart.
Tuned, listening-
Do you hear that?
Kan du høre det? (can you hear that?)
Det er lyden af mørkeræd. (It is the sound of fear of the dark)
Fromt the Dark Tower series by Stephan King, in the 6th book Susannah’s Song. Normal=stave, italics=response
Commala-come-come
There’s a young man with a gun
Young man lost his honey
When she took it on the run
.
Commala-come-one!
She took it on the run
Left her baby lonely but
Her baby ain’t done
Commala-come-coo
The wind’ll blow ya through
Ya gotta go where ka’s wind blows ya
Cause there’s nothin else to do
Commala-come-two
Nothin else to do
Gotta go where ka’s wind blows ya
Cause there’s nothin else to do
Commala-come-key
Can ya tell me what ya see?
Is it ghosts or just the mirror
That makes ya want to flee?
Commala-come-three
I beg ya, tell me!
Is it ghosts or just your darker self
That makes ya want to flee?
Commala-come-ko
Whatcha doin at my do’?
If you doan tell me now, my friend,
I’ll lay ya on de flo’
Commala-come-fo’
I can lay ya low
The things I done to such as you
You never want to know
Commala-gin-jive
Ain’t it grand to be alive?
To look out on Discordia
When the Demon Moon arrives
Commala-come-five
Even when the shadows rise
To see the world and walk the world
Makes ya glad to be alive
Commala-mox-nix
You’re in a nasty fix
To take the hand in a traitor’s glove
is to grasp a sheaf of sticks
Commala-come-six
Nothing there but thorns and sticks
When you find your hand in a traitor’s glove
You’re in a nasty fix
Commala-loaf-leaven
They go to hell or up to heaven
When guns are shot and the fire’s hot
You got to poke em in the oven
Commala-come-seven
Salt and yow’ for leaven
Heat em up and knock em down
And poke em in the oven
Commala-ka-kate
You’re in the hands of fate
No matter if you’re real or not
The hour groweth late
Commala-come-eight
The hour groweth late
No matter what the shade ya cast
You’re in the hands of fate
Commala-me-mine
You have to walk the line
When you finally get the thing you need
It makes you feel so fine
Commala-come-nine
It makes ya feel fine!
But if you’d have the thing you need
You have to walk the line
Commala-come-ken
It’s the other one again
You may know her name and face
But that don’t make her your friend
Commala-come-ten
She is not your friend
If you let her get to close
She’ll cut you up again
Commala-come-call
We hail the One who made us all
Who made the men and made the maids
Who made the great and small
Commala-come-call
He made the great and small
And yet how great the hand of fate
That rules us one and all
Commala-come-ki
There’s a time to live and one to die
With your back against the final wall
You got to let the bullets fly
Commala-come ki
Ya got to let the bullets fly!
Don’t ‘ee mourn for me, my lads
When it comes my day to die
Commala-come-kass
The child has come at last
Sing your song, O sing it well
The child has come to pass
Commala-come-kass
The worst has come to pass
The Tower trembles on it’s ground;
The child has come at last
Commala-come-come
The battle’s now begun!
And all the foes of men and rose
Rise with the setting sun
215–I love that “Fear of the Dark” one–the double-language thing is really cool.
217- Thank you. It’s my favorite, too.
I agree, being bilingual must be fun.
Danse with Jack O’ the Shadows
We’ll drink the wine till the cup is dry,
And kiss the girls so they’ll not cry,
And toss the dice until we fly,
To danse with Jack O’ the Shadows.
We’ll danse all night until the moon runs free,
And dandle the lasses upon our knee,
And then you’ll ride along with me,
To danse with Jack O’ the Shadows.
We’ll sing all night, and drink all day,
And on the girls we’ll send our pay,
And when it’s gone, then we’ll away,
To danse with Jack O’ the Shadows.
There’s some delight in ale and wine,
And some in girls with ankles fine,
But my delight, yes, always mine,
Is to danse with Jack O’ the Shadows.
We’ll toss the dice however they fall,
And snuggle the girls be they short or tall,
Then follow young Mat whenever he calls,
To danse with Jack O’ the Shadows.
“Jack O’the Shadows” was also known as Jack O’Lantern, Jacky-my-Lantern, and Wicked John/Jack. Legend has it that he was too sinful to enter Heaven, but had somehow tricked his way out of Hell, so the Devil gave him a chunk of coal “to start his own Hell somewheres.” He wanders the world now with his coal in a lantern, luring people to follow him into the night. (By the by, I have no idea who this poem is by, I just thought it made a good Halloween/Winter poem).
I’m not coming home
I’m leaving
All alone
I’ll see ya
long from now
Where did you go?
You left me hanging
What did go wrong?
I felt I belonged for so long
But then I realized no more for me
It’s just making it worse
How could it be?
How could this happen?
You led me to believe
You were on my side
But this is life,
not some children’s story
Forever we strive to hold on
but still we know that no one,
will come.
’cause this is life,
like it is
not a little rhyme
nor a quiz
we need not know,
everything
because life’s unfair
same as death’s
like a bear
it creeps up behind us
lunges out at us.
Cause this is life
at its worst
at its best
as it is.
Why does death
sound so inviting?
All of a sudden
life’s so exciting.
How come this world has to go round?
And civilizations fall to the ground?
’cause this is life
at its worst
can’t make it better
or else it’ll burst
so remember
forever
I’m leaving.
Remember, forever,
I’m
leaving.
221–Reminded me of this poem:
Suicide’s Note
The calm,
Cool face of the river
Asked me for a kiss.
–Langston Hughes
I sit, curled and tear-stained
your arm around me, holding close
telling me it will be all right
whispering a lullaby
I nod through the thick fog,
pretending to agree
trying not to hurt you as well in my pain
(cutting inside me in the process,
a false smile is like so many knives)
Yes, I say, you are helping me
don’t worry, don’t worry,
don’t care so much,
because I so care for you
empty glass mirrors reflect who I was
inside me as well,
reflection upon reflection
back and back and back and back and back–
who knows what is real anymore anyway?
(roles reverse)
now you are the one who is hurt,
lost,
and I hold you as deep as my longing will let me
understanding the pain,
but not knowing how to help
“treat others as you would be treated”
I cannot just walk away,
laugh off your pain
cannot brush off the emotions I pretend not to feel
when I have even less control now that they are not mine
holding, touching, expressing
containing myself
confining
but I don’t know how to help
—
Not quite so random. But needing work.
Things didn’t get much better, but this is one of my favorite poems.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hey, you-
The girl with the green eyes
and freckles
and braces-
The one looking in the mirror.
Are you cursing your very reflection?
Do you feel that your life is worthless?
You’re staring at yourself
Are you insane
crazy
mad
loony
To be looking so hard
And seeing nothing at all
but an empty shell
existing with no purpose
the soul eaten alive
By your worries
by your fears
By your dreams that will never come true?
No.
You aren’t insane
crazy
mad
loony
You’re sad
depressed
lonely
You’ve cried so hard
so much
that your well of tears
Has gone dry.
You don’t want to live anymore
Exist anymore
Believe anymore
I’m not about to comfort you.
That’s only going to make you feel worse.
I know that.
Crying is good for you.
You need to let it all out.
Breathe.
There.
Feel better?
Yes?
No?
Never mind.
Just remember-
Life is full of things to see
Sounds to hear
Places to go
and life is precious
Too precious to be spent wallowing in self pity.
So, hey you-
The girl with the green eyes
And freckles
And braces
And the faint smile.
Things are going to get better.
Things are going to get better soon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
224–That’s nice. Did you write it?
My first sonnet EVAH for English. I would looove to have some critiques, s’il vous plait.
November
The harvest moon hangs low in the deep sky,
The frozen stars are scattered far away;
The crumbling leaves blow wild, low and high,
And a chill breeze blows icy and blows fey.
Some people love September evenings only,
They call December darker, so I’ve known,
But I say autumn nights are more lonely,
When the wind chills your body to the bone.
Ghosts and goblins prowl October evenings,
And January nights burn bright and cold,
But November midnights are of leavings,
Of muted landscapes, desolate and cold.
The summer evenings are for joy and dance
But give me Novembers, for soft silence.
And just for good measure, my favorite sonnet, by Christina Rossetti.
Remember
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more, day by day,
You tell me of our future that you planned;
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to consel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while,
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
225- Yes, I’m a poet also. Free verse is my specialty. And today, I wrote a song (gasp!). It changes tune every time I read it, but it’s a sad song. Here it is.
Overcast
Don’t leave me standin here
Out in the rain,
The sun ain’t comin out for me,
Your presence is a stain.
The sky is overcast,
Clouds hide the sun,
I can’t remember my past,
Because of only one-
You, you, oohhh, you…
My umbrella blew away
The raindrops soak my skin
I’m fightin my hardest
But I can’t win
The sky, the sky
The sky is overcast
Clouds hide the sun, ohh,
I can’t remember my past
Because of only-
Don’t tell me I can’t think
Don’t make it so I can’t breathe
Just get out of my head
My cuts are more than skin deep
I can’t be
I can’t see
This a mistake, you and me,
I gonna have to-
Goooo…..
The sky is overcast…
225- I love your sonnet. Especially the last four lines… and it’s a different perspective on the seasons, which I like, and true as well.
A custom spoken-song poem.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You know,
Not so very long ago, when I was young
And restless
I lived across the street from a hotel.
At least, to me.
That’s what I saw it to be.
Anyway, even though it was there, it was
dark
deserted
dead
The whole thing was a giant
nest for
gloom and despair
It was an abandoned memory, a
useless facade of decay and loss.
But, when you looked through the window,
there was a light.
A single
shining
light
a beacon of golden glow
in the night
Seemed to me that this
light
was a sign that
there was no use
giving up
It seemed to say,
‘Life gonna come back to me
someday’.
To be alone
is not as sad as to be
forgotten.
Don’t have a single soul to abide
by you and
nobody wants you there
but you still got hope
The demons of this world, by name:
Money
Drugs
Hate
Death…
They can’t touch you
You have a weapon
You
have
hope…
Stock market crash
Gas prices boom
Everyone you love fades
into that peeling wallpaper
of your hotel
in your mind
your soul
your own forgotten strength
But you don’t give up, don’t never
stop believing
you got
your
hope
you got
your
faith
You got
your
light!
Those people that
oppress and hate you
hurt you
they don’t have what you have
they don’t know what you know
they don’t love like you
they don’t breathe like you
they don’t feel
like
you.
They are your demons, and with
your light
you shed them off!
You
are
FREE!
That hotel is still there
still exists
it is still with me
But my light has never gone away.
No pain dilutes my flame
No price can claim my conviction
There is no juresdiction
No man interrupt me in my song
A solitary voice, echoed by many
many who live
in the dark
who still seek out
that
light.
No
There is no going back–
Not now.
We have reached that point
that hangs like forever in the starred sky:
Oh, be not faint-hearted,
Do not look back—
One step behind, we falter;
One step ahead, we begin.
I just found the most beautiful song, called “I Wish My Baby Was Born.” These are the lyrics:
I wish, I wish my baby was born
And sitting on my papa’s knee
And me, poor girl, were dead and buried
And the green grass growing o’er my feet.
I ain’t ahead, nor never will be
Till the sweet apple grows on the sour apple tree.
But still I hope the time will come
When you and I shall be as one.
I wish, I wish my love had died
And sent his soul to wander free
Then we might meet where ravens fly
Let our poor bodies rest in peace
The owl, the owl is a lonely bird
It chills my heart with dread and terror
That’s someone’s blood there on his wing
That’s someone’s blood there on his feathers.
Anyways, turns out it’s a traditional song, but I came across it in the sheet music for the movie Cold Mountain.
Perhaps, as we have entered a new year, and this was the only thread of 08 (oh, mourn for the loss), we might gaze upon a new version?
229- That is… very good. I think I needed to read that, a bit. Keep going.
I have a poem I rote about 3 minutes ago, but I’m going to see if there’s a ne thread before I post it.