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Ever Attemped To Write An Original Poem?
Posted by Jeunelle • 10/07/08 • Subscribe to this Discussion [RSS] • Report This Topic
Topics: creative writing, original poems, original writing, poems, writing, writing criticism
Have You Ever Attempted To Write An Original Poem?
What Was The Response? Do You Like What You Wrote?
Please Drop An Original Poem That You Wrote Here And We Will Tell You What We Think About It.
Original Poems Are Most Welcomed And One Of The Best Will Be Featured On My Main Blog.
Cold & Beautiful
By: Jeunelle Foster
Father what else is there to know than an ancient egyptian song, soothing, hypnotic,
snake charmer and I love you?
There is beauty in darkness, who dares confuse light with truth?
I have no recollection of a sacred name lost, but I shan't wait a long, long time before I hear another love song. Nor shall I follow unknown footsteps.
Should night and day who are equal brothers refuse each others embrace?
Our hearts know hunger and sounds alarm.
Come inside and feed me the forbidden fruit.
Some strange love cold & beautiful.
An incandescent aura sustains the very essence of truth.
My eyes have seen thousands of years and the earth's whims.
I need not wonder, for my black metallic skin as felt recollections of nunquenchable love.
Like so many pharoah's embalmed, an innocence still intact.
Hope you like this original poem I wrote years ago in high school.
Don't even think about copying my stuff. I may have to do a drive by.
User Comments
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Oh, yeah. All through seventh and eighth grade, all kinds of them. Fortunately for the world, I got over that before I started writing professionally.-
Oh come on MademeX
It could possibly be as bad as what we have now.
Your guess is as good as mine.
I think poetry connects with a certain few.
Your responsibility is to connect with that certain few and to hell with the critics. -
ALSO PLEASE DO NOT POST YOUR BLOG LINK.
PLEASE POST AN ORIGINAL POEM OR YOU WILL FIND YOUR BLOG LINK DELETED.
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I've written several.
I'll have to track them down though.
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Dukepro25..Cool I can't wait to read them.
I bet they are quite interesting.
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I only write unoriginal poems.....-
@drjay1966....What's wrong with that?
Throw us a sample later if you have time.
I would love to read them. -
Actually there are a whole bunch in this post:
yogaforcynics.blogspot.com/2008/09/playing-with-puppies.html
See how many of the poems I'm ripping off you can name.... -
@drjay1966.....Oh my God. I'll have to take a full peek at them in the morning
but thanks for the Link. This is really cool.
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Okay, here's my attempt:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
... whoops, I screwed up;
and I hope you will, too!
Not bad, huh?
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@Friday13....Not bad at all.
After all, poems require a certain group of readers and appreciators.
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Here's a poem/song I wrote about an ex-GF I almost married.
Enjoy!
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Too Deep
Lying here
Late at night
Holding each other tight
You sing me a lullaby
Of something so perfect
How we’ll never be apart
Forever and always
You’ll stay in my heart
But I’m confused
By the echo in the room
The commotion in the background
The thoughts that carry on
Telling me the story
Of how you really feel tonight
They tell me
How I’m too deep.
And I’m too shallow.
They tell me the story
Of how we’ll never be together
Now and Forever
Would you like me
A little less shallow?
Would you like me
A little less deep?
Why do you compare me
To those that are empty?
Why do you compare me
To those incapable of love?
I’m no good
I’m too deep
I’m not yours
I’m too shallow
You’d better start swimming
Because you’re sinking
Sinking in me…
Don’t bother, don’t worry about me
Don’t caress my wounded skin
Don’t try to fix the obvious
With your kind lies and soft deception
My body is no longer warm.
My water is now bitter cold.
So lighten your load
You have a long way to go
Before you can tread these waters
Before you can love someone so deep.
You’d better leave now
Because you’re drowning
Drowning in me…
Go now
Your body is dieing
Dieing in the cold
Drowning in my waters
Sinking so low
With no where to go
You’ll find your way
Because if you die in me
You will always lie here in my waters
Lost and alone, for no one to claim
Forever and Always
In me!
by Chris Earl-
So, you didn't get married 'coz she read your poem? -
lol
*cry, sob, weep
J/K lol -
Yeah, that was mean Bro.
Sorry. -
Ekim Lay off my Duke..
Can't you see he needs me. lmao
I think you already knew the answer to your inner question Duke.
The relationship was sinking low. It wasn't your calling. -
Awww!
Thanks Jeunelle.
*Hugs Jeunelle
*Sticks tongue out at Ekim lol
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@Dukepro25...LMAO
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@duke...I really like these two lines:
My body is no longer warm.
My water is now bitter cold.
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I write poetry all the time - mostly abstract stuff that Fails. Every now and them I'm happy with one or two though. Some people have like my poems so I published a small collection of them on lulu some time ago. Well, some of them.
At the moment - this is the one I happen to like:
"Lightning"
If I am struck down,
Let it be
by a thought so magnificent,
It changes the shape and texture
of the universe;
If I am broken,
Let it be
under the weight of the words
Of a poet, overcome by passion
and madness;
If I change,
Let it be
because I am evolving,
And not because I've been
tread upon or defeated;
If I am to be saved,
Let it be
by that which is in Me;
Let it be
that inchoate song that swells
and strikes my heart like
Lightning.
(Tonya R. Moore)-
Very nice!
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@mikodragonfly...How nice of you to finally show up.
I've had my eye on you for a while. I love your poem.
Very interesting and I can see a piece of you in it. Well done. -
Thanks Juenelle & Dukepro25!
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I really like this in particular the verse that starts with if I change :-D
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@faithsju243....Me too..girl we seem to be one the same page. NICE
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Jeunelle we do seem to be piggybacking each other tonight!
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@faithsju243...That's fine with me...We don't always have to agree on everything.
That's what makes us interesting.
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"The Tree of 399 BCE"
Since yours, I’ve not written a letter to another with love to act as the referential source for the words written to hold verifiable weight. You’ve claimed the lot of my mind as your own; reserving it wholly for your keepsake, leaving me but the illusion of a choice, as I forsake all others.
What lot in my mind then have you set aside uninhabited of yourself? I find no place free of your vapor so that I may find solace, as even the places I revisit are indissociable effigies of your wake. Places are no longer places in their own right, but monuments erected; fields conjured up as placeholders for the backdrop of my memories of you. The setting of ‘act everything’, scene ‘infinity’ for a play wherein I’m the sole observer, bound to re-live it, so long as those actors, who’ve memorized theirs parts to a fault, are destined to recite them.
Not since your glance has one bewitched me. Possessing me with the ghost of your touch–the ever lingering aftertaste of the salt of your brow. The warmth of your bosom undulating underneath my own as the glow of the universe above dances upon your breasts; or rather you upon it.
Even as I die, you live through me. Your memory is timeless and eternal. For as you have encompassed my being, you’ve become a part of me so that even as my body transforms to the dust of the earth, it is permeated by the bane of your ceaseless, unmerciful memory–and so consumed by it that even then the dust of my flesh giveth rise to the tree that, upon knowing your song, is dismayed at its inability to sing it–permitting oxygen to those that may.-
@erick180....I can go into detail on this one but let's just say that I really admire what you have to say here. Especially the part where you say....
"Even as I die, you live through me. Your memory is timeless and eternal. For as you have encompassed my being, you’ve become a part of me so that even as my body transforms to the dust of the earth, it is permeated by the bane of your ceaseless, unmerciful memory–and so consumed by it that even then the dust of my flesh giveth rise to the tree that, upon knowing your song, is dismayed at its inability to sing it–permitting oxygen to those that may".
Absolutely brilliant. -
Thanks, Jeunelle--I think I'll tweak that last run-on sentence soon, but I will leave it be for now. Glad you like.
Being emo is painful -
@erick...Yes I always keep tweaking mine too and this is a good thing.
I have caught soooo many errors while tweaking and I highly recommend it.
Good point.
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@luckyless. Excellent. Thanks for dropping the link.
I will return tomorrow to fully view it. For now I just took a peek.
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Another poem/song I wrote about a family member who screwed me over.
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Away
Here I crawl
Inside my picture
Pushing you aside
Out of my future
I can’t stand
The sight of you!
The way you gaze
In to the mirror
My mind can’t breath
When you’re next to me.
So…let…me…out
This deep, dark hole
That I’ve dug for you
I can barely see
And now it’s falling
Down…on…me…
Take me away…
Away from the darkness
Steal me away…
Away from the shadows
Lead me away
Away from the pain…
Carry me up
Towards the sun…
I can’t look back
Upon the carnage
Such a bloody mess
Of the broken hearted
Please keep me safe
And shield my memory…
And so I go
In to the sun
Far from the shadows
And away from the dark…
On to a life
A life without you
Stay away from me
And suffer alone
In your perfect world
Your deep, dark hole
Looking back,
I regret every move
Every move I made
To ease your pain
Every move I made
To save you from misery
But after the nightmare
I stand alone
With nothing to show
And so I leave you alone
So keep on digging
So keep on sinking
Can’t you see
How deep you are
Stop the decent
And beg for mercy
From those you hurt
With your selfish heart
Take me away…
Away from the darkness
Steal me away…
Away from the shadows
Lead me away
Away from the pain…
Carry me on…
In to the sun…
by Chris Earl -
From Feet to poetry, Jeunelle covers it all.
Ok, if I have to, here's one of mine.
ekim-randomramblings.blogspot.com/2007/12/dove-of-my-life.html-
Very nice!
Love it. -
Sure, make me look like the mean one.
JK. Thanks -
lol
Well... -
@ekim941...I left you a comment.
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By trade I write short stories but I dabble in poetry from time to time. Here's something I wrote a while ago, I still can read it w/o wanting to vomit so I guess that's a good sign.
I'm lost
in an ocean of thoughts
of a man I've always loved
bounded in time
btw when I did and didn't
I drown in his memory
even before I was aware
his name's been etched on my heart
birth with a corner specifically
structured for him
owned by him
filled by no other
replaced by none
and sometimes I wonder
if the eyes of others
are mirrors to their souls
the way my eyes tell my story
if true
buried below a glowing smile
sits cages love
trapped as a clipped winged Angel
dying to sour
and I've never spoken my heart's voice
a lesson unlearned
in life's classroom
leaving me suffocating beneath
an unspoken heart
craving words to speak its thoughts
and his ears to receive it's words
his memory creeps btw
the halls of my mind
once the walls of my heart caves in
tapping on the bridge of my thoughts
leaping to my lips to scream
incomprehensible words of a love that's lost
sitting inches away
but outside my reach
cause time moves forward
not in reverse
so my minds pictures
are photographs of yesterday
that I can't have tomorrow
and as it's written it's done
making my past with him
a collection of
firsts, lasts, joys, wins and loses
yet
his face remains clear
and I still see his eyes
chestnut passageways to his innocence
smothered beneath machismo
still taste the lightest hint of strawberry
wetting his lips
still feel goose bumps
emerge on skin grazed
by his hands
and I wake
cause it's like a dream
my mind unconsciously unraveling reality
I wake
to his absence
praying that I stole
him from a snapshot of the past
but he's gone
my soul's mate
loose among a public
where he'll learn
to love someone else
less comfortably-
I love this poem, especially the conclusion. There's a certain sense of raw honesty - but not bitterness there. Just regret.
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you nailed it, probably the one thing in my entire life I do regret, those are the breaks.
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@faithsju243...I am stunned. This is a great piece that should be published.
What are you doing to get it published? Have you ever considered publishing it?
I write mainly for myself and no one else and have no desire to publish anything.
However I have been to quite a few poetry jams and this is among the top of them.
You may want to consider publishing this piece. -
Never thought about publishing, maybe a screen play some day but not my poetry. Glad you like it, thanks a lot.
I mean if you know some folks....kidding!
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Here's one that was written by umm. . .My friend. Yeah, it was written by my friend 'coz something like this would never happen to me.
I'm waiting for the phone to ring
but I know it never will.
She's on my mind and out somewhere
But she hasn't called me still.
For everyone that has ever hurt her
is the price I have to pay.
'coz I am here and they are not
until she pushes me away.
So here I am still waiting
for this dream that may come true
for just one chance alone together
to say that I love you.-
I wonder how it feels to have a soul. What's that like?
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She's missing out...def should have called. Oh wait she totally should have called your friend.
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@ekim941...I am hoping that phone rings if I have to pick it up myself and call you. This is a nice piece that tells of the inner struggles, desires, hopes and dreams of man. Not bad at all.
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I wrote this song for my husband, and I sang it to him on our first anniversary.
"Life Began The Day I Met You"
How did I ever live my life without you,
Before you there was no light for my eyes to see
Without you, love was just a word that had no meaning to me
-Chorus-
Now you are the air that I breathe
The beat in my heart
Before you I couldn't see that my life had fallen apart
You are the reason the sun can brighten each day
Your love is the path to find my way
Love has no seasons, or reasons why
I just knew my life began the day you looked into my eyes
You are my courage and strength
You carry my hopes and my dreams
Before you, there was no island
Not even a summers breeze
Without you, there was no purpose, not even a chance for me to believe
-Chorus-
Now you are the air that I breathe
The beat in my heart
Before you I couldn't see that my life had fallen apart
You are the reason the sun can brighten each day
Your love is the path to find my way
Love has no seasons, or reasons why
I just knew my life began the day you looked into my eyes
You are my first chance for love I've never had
You reach my soul in ways that define the woman I am
Oh darling........
Now you are the air that I breathe
The beat in my heart
Before you I couldn't see that my life had fallen apart
You are the reason the sun can brighten each day
Your love is the path to find my way
Love has no seasons, or reasons why
I just knew my life began the day you looked into my eyes
Now you are the air that I breathe
The beat in my heart.... -
Sylvia...Very nice. I can feel you running through this poem belting it out.
Right now this is how I feel about my HGA and I am coming to a deeper understanding of what my true love is as a HGA and what he does for me in my life. If that ain't love, I don't know what is.
Psalms 23. The Lord Is My Shepard.
1 The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
3 he restores my soul.
He guides me in paths of righteousness
for his name's sake.
4 Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
6 Surely goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
forever.
Well there are different types of Love and I guess that deserves another completely separate discussion. You may want to stay tuned for that coming discussion.
I am pleased to see so many of you BC Members are poets or private poets. Nice going. -
Here Is One Of My Now Favorite Poems
A Carcass:
By Charles Baudelaire
1821-1867, written in 1861
Translated by William Aggeler; Roy Campbell; Jacques LeClercq; Geoffrey Wagner; Anonymous
Categories: Love
A Carcass:
My love, do you recall the object which we saw,
That fair, sweet, summer morn!
At a turn in the path a foul carcass
On a gravel strewn bed,
Its legs raised in the air, like a lustful woman,
Burning and dripping with poisons,
Displayed in a shameless, nonchalant way
Its belly, swollen with gases.
The sun shone down upon that putrescence,
As if to roast it to a turn,
And to give back a hundredfold to great Nature
The elements she had combined;
And the sky was watching that superb cadaver
Blossom like a flower.
So frightful was the stench that you believed
You'd faint away upon the grass.
The blow-flies were buzzing round that putrid belly,
From which came forth black battalions
Of maggots, which oozed out like a heavy liquid
All along those living tatters.
All this was descending and rising like a wave,
Or poured out with a crackling sound;
One would have said the body, swollen with a vague breath,
Lived by multiplication.
And this world gave forth singular music,
Like running water or the wind,
Or the grain that winnowers with a rhythmic motion
Shake in their winnowing baskets.
The forms disappeared and were no more than a dream,
A sketch that slowly falls
Upon the forgotten canvas, that the artist
Completes from memory alone.
Crouched behind the boulders, an anxious dog
Watched us with angry eye,
Waiting for the moment to take back from the carcass
The morsel he had left.
— And yet you will be like this corruption,
Like this horrible infection,
Star of my eyes, sunlight of my being,
You, my angel and my passion!
Yes! thus will you be, queen of the Graces,
After the last sacraments,
When you go beneath grass and luxuriant flowers,
To molder among the bones of the dead.
Then, O my beauty! say to the worms who will
Devour you with kisses,
That I have kept the form and the divine essence
Of my decomposed love!
— Translated by William Aggeler
The Carcass
The object that we saw, let us recall,
This summer morn when warmth and beauty mingle —
At the path's turn, a carcase lay asprawl
Upon a bed of shingle.
Legs raised, like some old whore far-gone in passion,
The burning, deadly, poison-sweating mass
Opened its paunch in careless, cynic fashion,
Ballooned with evil gas.
On this putrescence the sun blazed in gold,
Cooking it to a turn with eager care —
So to repay to Nature, hundredfold,
What she had mingled there.
The sky, as on the opening of a flower,
On this superb obscenity smiled bright.
The stench drove at us, with such fearsome power
You thought you'd swoon outright.
Flies trumpeted upon the rotten belly
Whence larvae poured in legions far and wide,
And flowed, like molten and liquescent jelly,
Down living rags of hide.
The mass ran down, or, like a wave elated
Rolled itself on, and crackled as if frying:
You'd think that corpse, by vague breath animated,
Drew life from multiplying.
Through that strange world a rustling rumour ran
Like rushing water or a gust of air,
Or grain that winnowers, with rhythmic fan,
Sweep simmering here and there.
It seemed a dream after the forms grew fainter,
Or like a sketch that slowly seems to dawn
On a forgotten canvas, which the painter
From memory has drawn.
Behind the rocks a restless cur that slunk
Eyed us with fretful greed to recommence
His feast, amidst the bonework, on the chunk
That he had torn from thence.
Yet you'll resemble this infection too
One day, and stink and sprawl in such a fashion,
Star of my eyes, sun of my nature, you,
My angel and my passion!
Yes, you must come to this, O queen of graces,
At length, when the last sacraments are over,
And you go down to moulder in dark places
Beneath the grass and clover.
Then tell the vermin as it takes its pleasance
And feasts with kisses on that face of yours,
I've kept intact in form and godlike essence
Our decomposed amours!
— Translated by Roy Campbell
Carrion
Darling, do you recall that thing we found
("A lovely summer day!" you said)
That noisome carcass where the path swung round
A sprawling pebble-covered bed.
Its legs raised like a whore's in lubric play,
It burned, oozing rank fetors there,
Shameless and nonchalant, it offered day
Its belly. Poisons filled the air.
The sun beat down on this putrescent mold
As if to fry it to a turn,
To give great Nature back one hundredfold
All she had gathered in her urn.
The skies watched that proud carcass, lax or taut,
Bloom like a flowery mass.
So pungent was the stench, my love, you thought
To swoon away upon the grass.
Horseflies buzzed loud over this putrid belly,
Whence sallied column and battalion
Of sable maggots, flowing like a mucose jelly,
Over this live tatterdemalion.
Waves seemed to rise and fall over this mass,
Spurting with crepitation,
As though this corpse, filled with breaths of gas,
Lived by multiplication.
This world uttered a curious melody,
Like waters, wind, or grains of wheat
That winnowers keep stirring rhythmically
In the broad baskets at their feet.
The forms, fading into a dream, grew fainter;
Here was a sketch of misty tone
On a forgotten canvas which the painter
Completes from memory alone.
Hiding behind the rocks, an anxious bitch
Stood, watching us with angry eye,
Poised to regain the olid morsel which,
Hearing us come, she had laid by.
— Yet shall you be like this ordurous blight,
You, too, shall rot in just such fashion,
Star of my eyes, sun of my soul's delight,
Aye, you, my angel and my passion.
Such you, O queen of graces, in the hours,
When the last sacrament is said,
That bear you under rich sods and Iush flower
To molder with the moldering dead.
Then, O my beauty! Tell such worms as will
Kiss you in ultimate coition
That I have kept the form and essence of
My love in its decomposition.
— Translated by Jacques LeClercq
A Carrion
Do you remember the thing we saw, my soul,
That summer morning, so beautiful, so soft:
At a turning in the path, a filthy carrion,
On a bed sown with stones,
Legs in the air, like a lascivious woman,
Burning and sweating poisons,
Opened carelessly, cynically,
Its great fetid belly.
The sun shone on this fester,
As though to cook it to a turn,
And to return a hundredfold to great Nature
What she had joined in one;
And the sky saw the superb carcass
Open like a flower.
The stench was so strong, that you might think
To swoon away upon the grass.
The flies swarmed on that rotten belly,
Whence came out black battalions
Of spawn, flowing like a thick liquid
Along its living tatters.
All this rose and fell like a wave,
Or rustled in jerks;
One would have said that the body, fun of a loose breath,
Lived in this its procreation.
And this world gave out a strange music,
Like flowing water and wind,
Or a winnower's grain that he shakes and turns
With rhythmical grace in his basket.
The forms fade and are no more than a dream,
A sketch slow to come
On the forgotten canvas, and that the artist completes
Only by memory.
Behind the boulders an anxious bitch
Watched us with angry eyes,
Spying the moment to regain in the skeleton
The morsel she had dropped.
— And yet you will be like this excrement,
This horrible stench,
O star of my eyes, sun of my being,
You, my angel, my passion.
Yes, such you will be, queen of gracefulness,
After the last sacraments,
When you go beneath the grasses and fat flowers,
Moldering amongst the bones.
Then, my beauty, say to the vermin
Which will eat you with kisses,
That I have kept the shape and the divine substance
Of my decomposed loves!
— Translated by Geoffrey Wagner
The Carcass
Remember that object we saw, dear soul,
In the sweetness of a summer morn:
At a bend of the path a loathsome carrion
On a bed with pebbles strewn,
With legs raised like a lustful woman,
Burning and sweating poisons,
It spread open, nonchalant and scornful,
Its belly, ripe with exhalations.
The sun shone onto the rotting heap,
As if to bring it to the boil,
And tender a hundredfold to vast Nature
All that together she had joined;
And the sky watched that superb carcass
Like a flower blossom out.
The stench was so strong that on the grass
You thought you would pass out.
Flies hummed upon the putrid belly,
Whence larvae in black battalions spread
And like a heavy liquid flowed
Along the tatters deliquescing.
All together it unfurled, and rose like a wave
And bubbling it sprang forth;
One might have believed that, with a faint breath filled,
The body, multiplying, lived.
And this world gave out a strange music
Like of running water and of wind,
Or of grain in a winnow
Rhythmically shaken and tossed.
Form was erased and all but a vision,
A sketch slow to take shape
On a forgotten canvas, which the artist finishes
From memory alone.
Behind the rocks a fretting bitch
Looked at us with fierce mien
Anxious to retrieve from the corpse
A morsel that she had dropped.
Yet to this rot you shall be like,
To this horrid corruption,
Star of my eyes, sun of desire,
You, my angel and my passion!
Yes, such you shall be, you, queen of all graces,
After the last sacraments,
When you go beneath the grass and waxy flowers,
To mold among the skeletons.
Then, oh my beauty! You must tell the vermin,
As it eats you up with kisses,
That I have preserved the form and essence divine
Of my decayed loves.
You would have to rent the Movie "Immortal"
to understand where the poet is coming from.
excrement.wordpress.com/2008/08/08/80808-1223pm-immortal-the-movie/ -
This if my favorite I wrote a while ago. It is about the innocence of my childhood and how the world becomes so much harder and darker as we get older. Sometimes we have to look to other things to find the calm of our childhood and other times its where it always was.
~Teacake~
She wanted the sunshine constant
even during a cold Winter's rain.
The rain ceased and the Sun would peer through the clouds
like the calming eyes of a newborn baby.
It would play with ideas of waking or looming in restful bliss,
smile then return to the place where it had been hiding all along.
Lightening crashes and a little girl hides
behind the sheltered walls of a closet
because the storm doesn't know she's there.
Quiet, quiet, quiet
let the Lord do his work.
A little girl running through fields
of lily and daffodil
Butterfly spring, and the warm grass slips through her toes.
She lies on her back in the grass, wraps up the world around her, and places it in a warm place within her mind.
Time takes its toll, grandmothers grow old,
and the world is ravaged by the rebellion of its youth, by the rebellion of itself
and she said...
Harrowing expedition leads this silent pixie into spice, crash, rust, and decay.
And the love she knew she knows no longer.
And the world she created no longer remains.
When does time stand still?
When it is placed in the hindsight of mistakes past, which cannot be changed.
Attendance brought itself about her, no longer calmed by the storm.
But there is my sunshine constant during the cold winter rain.
Fore now I sit in silent reverence.
Let the Lord do his work.
All my life I wanted the highest mountain,
behind my palace of grace.
And she said...
I can see heaven
I can see heaven from way up here. -
I've written several on my blog over time. They are all bad but it's my blog so I do as I like.
I used to describe my blog as containing "personal, political and social commentary, with occasional bad poetry". I'm not sure if I still have the bad poetry part there. -
yeah i did write , 2 years back : i won the second prize , and it was one hell of a long poem -
I write poems since I was 19, now my last one was about 4 years ago but they are written in spanish and most of them are rhymes which cannot be translated without losing a lot. -
Ok Ok Here's One
**THE TICKET**
You got the ticket and its yours to use whenever you so desire
Ticket to what you say the ticket that can take you higher
Higher than you hoped to dream of or rather what dreams are made of
The ticket to a heart that for you has nothing but love
This ticket can take you to the places that protect your heart again and again
But remember hold it sacred until time to turn it in
Everybody wishes for and hopes for a ticket like this one
It can fill your life with music and your heart with song
Few people have received such a gift and some haven’t realized it rareness
Some blessed few have turned theirs in and filled their world with gladness
Some choose to just hold on and keep it as a souvenir
Some just hold on to it just out of fear
Fear that it won’t take them to the place they really want to go
And so they hesitate using it and just stay in the safe place they know
But if chances were never taken wouldn’t we all be in the same place
Just hoping and wishing to enjoy life but never allowing ourselves the true taste
Time doesn’t wait on anyone but time is not me
But I would love for you to turn your ticket in so you would see
That the trip we would depart on together would definitely be
A trip everyone else would wish for because it would beautiful and last all eternity
Hope you like -
Ok On the others side here's one about suffering-Very Very Emotional!
Pain
Pain pain go away
Come back again some other day
Or anything else I can say
Lord give me strength
Trying to ease my mind
No cures do I find
Need a shield to hide behind
Don’t know where my heart went
Got to go through this
Stop the hurt is my wish
Oh how I so so miss
Stomach tied up in a knot
don’t wont to travel alone
Heart is wandering no home
I cant do this on my own
Please make it stop
Soul feels ripped and torn
Question is Why was I born
Those who follow I can only warn
Horrible future was put on my embryo
I seek the reason why
Answer hidden in the sky
But tears fill one then the other eye
In him who you believe you know
Streaming in pools down my face
Leaving marks you can trace
Echo in me everyplace
Silent screams deep inside
Survival is a mystery to this son
No way out when this day is done
Can this battle be won
My world flipped inside out
Relentless waves of pain fill every pore
How can I endure any more
Clutched my knees to chest in the corner on the floor
Tried to cleanse with an excruciating repeating shout
If you havent felt like this one day you will
You try everything from running amok to being real still
Exposed mind wounds with no cover to heal
Tremors through your mind body cause you to shake
Spirit snatched from inside scattered afar
Whole life existence turned into a mangled scar
Black like the night existing without the moon or a single star
Hope says it’s a nightmare that won’t let me wake
Traveling through this storm will be a soul testing ride
Knowing I have lost what has always protected me inside
I will keep on trying tho I know I have tried
I pray for comfort as I fall on my knees
Time will tell if through this storm I survive
For I will hate to exist without feeling alive
These words are tears on paper that speak my cry
And their purpose is for somehow to make pain ease -
I've written several poems. One of the latest
"Is God Really Up There?"
---------------------------
They say He’s up there
Looking down on you
He’s really busy
Ceasing troubles for all you do
They say He helps you
But can you ever believe?
When you are most in want
His face can never be seen
If He’s really there
There wouldn’t have been so many sufferings
You’d tell me they are essential; for they teach the way of life
Then, if life is so difficult, why can’t He make it light?
If He’s there, why can’t He enlighten this world?
With his ever vivid light
And bring a ray of new hope
Upon every evil dark night?
And if not all this, why would He not save himself?
Man has made so many partitions in His name
For the sake of temples or churches
But He quietly bears this discrimination of his fame!
But never mind, I know He is
For world has made so many amends
And it’s not man who does it all
It’s HIM and I’ll be waiting till He reads this call!
-------------------------------------
Some other poems can be read here:
meghnaspages.blogspot.com/search/label/Poetry -
Alrighty- I've written lots. Recent stuff is a little personal and not always my best when it's THAT personal... hard to follow form when ya just need to say what ya wanna say... so here is one from '87... I had just turned 15 according to the date at the bottom.
Stuck In The Middle Again-
Here or there, up or down? Yes or no which way do I go?
I'm tired of being stuck in the middle, my life story is a stupid riddle.
So stupid it can't be solved...no logical reasoning can resolve.
I'm tired and worn, the pages of my life are tattered and torn. I don't know which way to go, & if I could decide, to which place I do not even know.
I'm stuck in the middle again.
Good and bad, a taste of each I've had. They come and they go like fashion and Fad. So am I friend or am I foe? Should I stay or should I go?
Stuck in the middle again.
To this here poem, I can't even find an end.
Stuck in the middle again.
You probably don't know what I'm trying to say. It doesn't really matter how you take it anyway. But I don't like it here and I can't go there. Can't say goodbye though few good times we've shared.
So I think I know just where I stand, where I am.
Stuck in the middle again.-
I really like this one.
-
Thanks! Or are you REALLY trying to make Ekim look bad? Hee.
-
Ha! I would never...
...give up the chance to make Ekim look bad. LOL!!!
ROTFL
-
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yes,ive written couple of poems during my high school.but hard for me to look for them. -
Another poem/song.
- - - - -
Precious Heart
Picking up the pieces
Of a life long lived.
Can’t help but remember
The bad with the good.
The emptiness, the tragedy
Beaten and bruised.
My heart retreated
And left me confused.
My heart ran away.
And left me alone.
My heart goes missing
Missing in action.
Please find it!
And if you do…
Please love it.
And care for it too.
Everything I’ve given
And nothing I’ve gained.
My soul is in debt
For helping those in need.
I’ve given my soul,
And now I’m falling apart.
I can’t find the will
To make a new start.
It’s the ones I love
That do the most damage.
My meek little heart…
Missing in action!
Lord I pray
Please hold my heart.
My soul to keep.
Safe and Warm.
Never lose that will
The will to keep going
And never forget…
The ones that stand
Waiting on you.
Neglected and crying.
My heart goes missing.
Missing in action.
Please come back
My precious heart.
Please don’t leave
Alone and dieing
Come back.
And keep me warm.
Protect me
From this bitter cold
Missing in action
My lonely heart stays
Never again
To warm my soul.
Here lies…
My precious heart.
Empty and Lifeless
Dead and cold
Never let it go!
Never let it go!
by Chris Earl -
yeah even i tried several times in my teenage, hand wrote some beautiful ones even..
but 've lost all of them now when left my hometown. -
Okay,
Life is not always beautiful for me and I have this...
The Art of Existence
insidedoson.blogspot.com/2008/01/art-of-existence.html
Has anyone dared to be?
Their souls never exists.
Their dreams a flatter.
And they are worth than,
The Passed Away.
He created, and gifted the will.
From Sin to Grace
Till Heaven or Hell.
He had loved them more.
Death, I cannot be.
Neither dies nor lives
In this world of Beauty.
I'd rather live in a beautiful world
Where, Heaven and Hell don't exist.
Oh! i'm dying with a hope.
Not live with a hope.-
Wow Dosox, that was deep, nice going
-
-
Jeunelle, my whole blog is full of them as you may have seen. Hope to see you there! -
what a great bunch of poets here at blogcatogue! seriously, and if you know my posts, it takes an act of god for me to be serious. so there you are, an act of god here.
anyway, as far as my poetry attempts- eleven times, one of which was going to be in an anthology until my son snapped me out of it. the full short story below for those interested.
cranelegspond.blogspot.com/2007/05/302-poetry-anthologies.html -
Good God...who knew there were so many poets here at BC.
This is great guys and I am hoping to go through each one and comment on them later.
For the mean time keep them coming. -
I have many of them, but I usually turn them into song lyrics instead. they start off poetry though....
-
@poisonapplesauce...This is a great point you just brought up.
Many poems do actually become songs instead.
It may be more lucrative as a song too...who knows. -
it is indeed, someone will always buy them. They are versatile, a love poem can be a rock ballad or an r&b tune. same for heartache, misery, etc. Poetry taps into the very core of human emotion as does music so the two foster a fruitful product
-
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Poetry is my last resort before aggravated assault. As a result, I don't write much of it.-
voodooKobra...I would be interested in reading (1) of your assaulting attempts.
-
Aggravated assault is angrily punching someone, Jeunelle. Violence.
As for poetry, here's a limerick:
The middle of three
Second-class are we
The rich looking down
On their face, a frown
They who praise money -
@voodooKobra....I already know what aggravated assault is
however the poem is what I was after. Thanks for dropping (1) -
@bladeaxe4....Jesus dude...did you have to give us such a looooooonnnnngggggg scroll down, couldn't you abbreviate this shit? LMAO
This has got to be one of the longest poem ever created in the history of poems.
It's just a long as some of those epics or stanzas you read in India or the Far East.
You would need a whole book to publish it.
I can't believe you had the time to sit and write this long ass poem. hahahaha
I appreciate the effort but I will have to return several times and read this over
but right now I don't have the time, I am running in and out from my Optical Shop.
I'll tell you what I think about it later. -
Lucky us that Homer is already dead and won't come here to throw the whole "Illiada" on this thread
-
-
Yup, i wrote it on my yahoo 360 account when i was happily blogging there...okay, i'll give the poem plus the comments associated...
.
My first love with truth
--------------------------
your hand is always in mine
your whispered endearments are my constant companion
you have never turned your face from me
no matter how many times I have turned from you
now I vow undying love
I meet you in the secret places I used to hide from you in
I hold you with tenderness I used to reserve for my pain
I would give you my life and my breath in an instant
for you are my true love
the one with no form
the one who has never been anywhere, but right here
in the singing of my heart
why fear this moment
when no thoughts come
at last I lie open
in the arms of experience
why fear this moment
when no words come
at last I find rest
in the lap of silence
why fear this moment
when love finds itself alone
at last I am embraced
by infinity itself
why fear this moment
when judgment falls away
at last my defenses
fail to keep intimacy at bay
why fear this moment
when hope is lost
at last my foolish dreams
are surrendered to perfection
I may think I feel love
but it is love that feels me
constantly testing the woven fibers
that enclose and protect my heart
with a searing flame
that allows no illusion of separation
and as the insubstantial fabric of my inner fortress
is peeled away by the persistent fire
I desperately try to save some charred remains
by escaping into one more dream of passion
I may think I can find love
but it is love that finds me
meanwhile, love becomes patient and lies in wait
its undying embers gently glowing
and even if I now turn and grasp after the source of
warmth
I end up cold and empty-handed
I may think I can possess love
but it is love that possesses me
and finally, I am consumed
for love has flared into an engulfing blaze
that takes everything
and gives nothing in return
I may think love destroys me
but it is love that sets me free
the past is long gone
from here
there is no way back
how could there be
the present is over too quickly
for feeble desires
to have any effect
except to hide peace
the future races ahead
forever out of reach
of dreamy wishes
and useless plans
and yet when I rest
in the endless now
every need is satisfied
in ways never imagined
I have fallen in love with truth
I only want to be with her
I can not stand to be apart
I would gladly go to the ends of the earth
or I would never again move from this spot
just to be sure to inhale her fragrant perfume
with my dying breath
I have fallen in love with truth
her every wish my command
I simply must obey
for she has captured my soul
and taken complete control
of even my innermost thoughts
freeing me to find repose
in her unadorned splendor
I have fallen in love with truth
with exquisite tenderness she shows me
the perfection in my every flaw
no need for pretense
for she knows everything about me
and yet takes me in her arms
with complete abandon
until only she remains
sunlight burns
shadow cools
there is no difference
earth is still
grass is moving
there is no difference
wind rustles
sky is silent
there is no difference
spider drifts by on a silken web
and I remain
there is no difference
where is absence of desire
once I dreamed there would only be bliss
now I am in awe of the ordinary
now I am content with longing or no longing
desires do not disturb the source of all desire
life and death carry on as they always have
and always will
only the dreamer is gone
behind the flow of imagination
beyond any effort to be still
dancing in the ebb and flow of attention
more present than the breath
I find the origins of my illusions
only the dreamer is gone
the dream never ends
river of voices
eternal mantra of foam
meaningless words swallowed in a humming roar
thoughts arise and are splashed away
river of music
sacred song of motion
nowhere to go but downstream
actions arise and are swept away
river of sounds
laughing and crying
impossible to bring the depths to the surface
emotions arise and are washed away
river of silence
flowing through everything
peace beyond even the absence of sound
nothing ever arises
I don't know what to say
I never know what to say
yet there is great power in not knowing
knowing I can never know
the mystery constantly deepens
overwhelming my sense of what is
the mystery speaks without words
taking the breath away
leaving no air for words
in silence there is room for pain and bliss
in unlimited measure
love is a dream
that does not stop
when you awaken
but constantly surprises
no strong emotions
stirring up dust
and clouding your vision
love is more than it seems
and has a purpose
you cannot see
and yet
cannot hide from
love is an inescapable reality
that knocks you
senseless
takes your breath away
and leaves no heart beating
but its own
nobody is my lover
I searched for her for lifetimes
and finally noticed
she was always at my side
nothing is my heart's true desire
but something
used to always get in the way
now emptiness fills me to overflowing
as I fall into my lover's embrace
I can love you or ...
I can love love itself
and thus love you truly
letting illusion rest at last
has freedom spoiled me for any other lover
or is there room for the one in the infinite
questions fall away in the embrace of my true love
join me in her arms
and rest at last
I am carried
like a mother holding her infant child
tender, yet firm
I am provided for
with caring attention
that anticipates every need
and yet
I am swallowed whole by this love
no longer my hand that moves
no longer my voice that muses
no longer my eyes that fill with tears
at the simple beauty of a hazy afternoon
who could contain this rapture
who keeps this heart beating
who could keep this heart from breaking
at the loss of everything it foolishly held dear
questions have lost their fascination
longing has surrendered to fullness
gratitude is enough
even with the loss of everything
foolishly held dear
endless traces of memory
fill in empty moments
stealing my peace
and robbing my happiness
they can not take the real treasure
beyond peace and happiness
behind every memory
is simple awareness
of this ordinary moment
a body breathing
a mind making comparisons
and yet something more
is always present
this simple moment
a body still breathing
mind still chasing dreams
what is the something more
that fills the ordinary with magic?
the full recognition
of what was always longed for
in the heart
through emptiness
peace is born
no painful labor required
an easy birth
an easy life
an easy death
the peace flows from the depths
the heart can only be broken
when the object of love is gone
but true love has no object
through emptiness
awareness is born
it grows untended
filling the emptiness with eyes
and ears and noses
and more hearts
to be broken and mended
broken and mended
until they can no longer
be broken
only mended
through awareness
birth is ended
what never ends needs no beginning
love is too large
for a heart to hold
yet the opened heart
rests in this largeness
until fear is also ended
knowing the heart
has always been
unbroken
no poem
no song
no ritual
captures the simple beingness of a stone
let alone a mountain of stone
but let the stone write the poem
let the mountain sing in your heart
let the rituals fall like gentle rain to nourish the gods
inside every stone
and every mountain
let your soul rise above the mountain
above the rain
above the clouds
the journey home requires no effort
only willingness to release your claw like grip
on the familiar ground
then the stone speaks unspeakable truth
then the mountain fills your heart with a silent song
of peace
and rituals sprout wings of surrender in your soul
and you arrive
here
like a green desert
life has burst forth
in this empty container
spilling over
and moistening the parched soil
no need to store the bounty
the supply is endless
the source is at hand
the fruits of no labor
within easy reach
feast on this
feed the deepest longing
drink until thirst is a distant memory
desire itself is consumed
when the heart finds nourishment
your smile
morning sun on new fallen snow
melting the icy chill
unveiling a blue sapphire flame in my heart
burning memory into ash
revealing bliss
your eyes
dark liquid pools of grace
causing a whirlpool of emotion
carrying me to the depths
drowning me in joy
your touch
gentlest breeze
passing through skin and flesh and bone
healing so complete
leaving no scars
where once were deep wounds
your form
graceful flight in empty sky
giving me birth
naming me
ruling me forever
yet your only command: setting me free
your voice
birdsong and distant thunder
inspiring quiet so vast
thinking no longer finds refuge
your love
a rain swollen river
overflowing its banks
washing away all cherished possessions
leaving an empty cup
full of peace
I never knew tears could feel so good
until I opened my heart
and found they come from the same source
as boundless laughter
instead of blurring my vision
they bring beauty into focus
instead of burning my cheeks
they wash away dusty dryness I used to hide
behind
let sorrow have me now
for surrender has freed me to savor
the bittersweet nectar
that flows in measureless abundance
from within
I bathe in holy water
wash myself clean in the sacred river
nothing has changed
yet senses are now clear
and I hear what she is saying to my heart:
give me your foolish thoughts...
you don't need them anymore
give me your every desire...
they will never fulfill you
give me your deepest fears...
what use have they ever been to you
give me your very soul...
you have always been too large
for its tight confines
so once again I plunge into purified essence’s embrace .
once for my thoughts
once more for my desires
and a third time for my fears
she has always had my soul
and once again, nothing has changed....
nothing always changes
no deep rooted fears
fear exists on the surface
fear is the surface
dive deeper and fear is swallowed
in the depth of knowing
nothing to fear in this moment
even when a gun is held to your head
the thing most feared has not yet happened
once an event has occurred
fear is too late
fear has no home here
where all is as it is
Breathe the tranquil air
and discover the fragrant serenity
thoughts dance their enticing moves
before my entranced inner sight
but the spell is broken
when I wonder
who is entranced
memories beckon seductively
with all the luster they can manage
yet their shine is swallowed
in the light
behind my eyes
there is one dancer
I cannot resist
her only movement is utter stillness
I find no memory
in her transparent gaze
romance is a simple mistake
finding true love
in the arms of one other
is like capturing a waterfall
in a tiny cup
thirst is slightly quenched
why not just step into the source
romance is a beautiful distraction
taking you beyond your dry concerns
yet what good is an open heart
with room for only one
when that one is gone
the heart is empty and dry
and tears fall on empty ground
romance is a single drop
in a torrent of love
why settle for one sip at a time
the sweetest tasting water is deeper than the surface
dive into the current
and as you are swept away
drink to your heart's content
nothing seen is wasted
the sight of every eye
increases the range of vision
of that which sees
every sight is a gem
of pure perfection
in the inner eyes
of that which sees
each viewpoint
lives on forever
nothing can die
within that which sees
look deeply into any eye
beyond your reflection
come face to face
with that which sees
abandon appearance
let go of pretense
you are naked and exposed
before that which sees
do not turn away your gaze
no need to hide
only love shines in the eyes
of that which sees
all may have a mind of their own
but thoughts are gifts of grace
touching mind for an instant
like melting snowflakes
every place can be home
but rest is a divine blessing
when effort falls away
like the setting sun
the heart may burn with emptiness
but love comes in waves
smoothing away doubts
like a tide erasing footprints in the sand
in the dream
I always play the fool
in the dream
my defenses always fail
in the dream
my desires are never fully satisfied
in the dream
my heart is broken over and over
wide awake
I always play the fool
wide awake
my defenses always fail
wide awake
my desires are never fully satisfied
wide awake
my heart sings its endless joy
what should we do
what is the purpose of life
here is the endless task
to do nothing well
here is your purpose
to be free of any purpose
why do we suffer so
how can we end the pain
here is the source of suffering
in the desire to end suffering
there is no end to pain
nor an end to joy
within the soul of freedom
my longing was never deep enough
to touch this empty well
my effort was never great enough
to move this unmovable mountain
my understanding was never broad enough
to contain this silent truth
my dreaming was never real enough
to shape this formless presence
nothing is always enough
when nothing is needed
the mystery
of this simple moment
can not be spoken
yet all of history
occurred to arrive here
the mystery
of the endless terrain of self
can not be mapped out
countless new frontiers
are born with every breath
the mystery
of awakening
can not be achieved
all that is needed
is to notice inner eyes that never close
the mystery
of sweet undying love
can not be understood
the heart already knows
what the mind can only long for
the mysteries
always remain
untouched by worried thought
ready to welcome us home
when we abandon our dreams
take my hand
feel the vital grip
that love lends to this flesh
listen to my voice
hear the catch in my throat
of awe that can't be expressed
gaze into my eyes
see tears welling up
as I recognize my long lost self in your smile
rest in my arms
find refuge in my embrace
until you know you are forever safe
join me now
here
where we have never parted
no word is real enough
to conjure up a crumb of bread
still we try to find nourishment
in endless musing
no thought is thick enough
to cushion a fall
yet we pursue idle distractions
while tripping on obstacles in our path
there is a silent voice behind the words
there is a quiet source of every thought
listen without your ears
ponder without your mind
rest your senses and your sense
for just one moment of this stillness
will sustain and uphold you forever
it is here
in the breath
it is here
in the stillness between breaths
it is here
in the active mind
it is here
in the resting mind
it is here
in the dream's panorama
it is here
in each moment of awakening
it is here
when all is well
it is here
when fear has nothing left to fear
even then
there is pure noticing
even then
there is no need for doing
no frantic searching
can find the obvious
no seeking needed
to find that which seeks
it is here
where it can never be lost
or found
where does willingness come from
willing to do anything
although nothing can be done
willing to surrender everything
although nothing is mine
willing to be exposed
although there is nothing to hide
where does lovingness come from
loving the flaws in us
although we are perfect
loving the simplicity
although feelings are so complex
loving you
although no one is there
where does gratefulness come from
grateful for the laughter
although the joke is on me
grateful for the beauty
although eyes cannot truly see
grateful for the bounty
although hands are forever empty
truth is a living being
that must be nourished and fed
and loved
then it grows and blossoms
filling the air with pure aroma
making us gasp with delight
truth is a friend
that asks for loyalty
and acceptance
then it enters our hearts
dissolving the boundaries
freeing us from loneliness
truth is a demanding lover
that requires constant affection
and endless gifts
then it rewards us
with a glimpse of indescribable beauty
making us faint with satisfaction
and finally truth is an empty hand
that asks for and requires
nothing
the obvious signs
a playful smile
absence of pretense
disregard for convention
respect for truth
listen when they speak
look where they point
follow where they lead
abandon hope and faith and dreams
accept nothing less than all they have to give
your share in the infinite is infinite
come claim your birthright
return to the place never left
return and let the seeker rest
subside in the unending peace
let the seeker rest
let that which you seek find you
let the seeker rest
the task is finished
let the seeker rest
let the seeker rest
behind closed eyes
the world falls away
a whirl of empty sensation
with no boundary
drowning thought
in a silent symphony
burning the body
in painless effigy
when eyes open again
the world is cleansed
only perfection remains
the room is resplendent
with the absence of illusion
grateful
for grace
that fills mind with visions
of the invisible
grateful
for time
that expands to embrace
stillness
grateful
for breath
that seems to require
no breather
grateful
for gratitude
that breaks the soul wide open
freeing love
in a timeless instant
before a painful idea appears in my mind
an ever present softness, a gentle hand
reaches into my thoughts
and soothes them
until they reflect only empty sky
in a timeless moment
before a desire burns in my heart
an inexhaustible peace, a whispered silence
quells the storm
of fruitless wishing
leaving me breathlessly still
in a timeless lifetime
before my story is wrenched from silence
a wordless honesty, an unflinching gaze
shows me my face
without shadows of doubt
dimming the fire within
in a timeless eternity
before my soul is torn from infinity
a passionate tenderness, an enfolding embrace
leaves me alone
with the source of sweetness
even closer than a kiss
welcome home
welcome to the home never left
you have always lived here
will always live here
this is home, forever...
so stop now
no effort is required
even during all journeys
you have always been here
this is home, forever...
so relax now
the fire is in the hearth
this inner fire is keeping you warm
the storms outside cannot touch you
this is home, forever...
so rest now
everyone loved is right here
we have always lived here
will always live here
this is home, forever...
I must follow this thought
all the way
let the mind have its way with me
but only with me
not with the quiet presence
the voice behind all thoughts
I must feel this emotion
with my whole being
and as it sweeps me off my feet
enjoy the sensation of falling
falling endlessly into the arms
of no lover
I must, I must
for this dream demands no less
than total suspension of disbelief
total surrender
for the dream and the dreamer
are one and the same
I have never been more than a dream
and the dreamer
is awake
endless poems wait to be written
while all has been said before
this truth can not be spoken
and so I try again
just to get a little closer
to the unspeakable reality
forever gently teasing just out of reach
forever invisible at the edge of perception
forever tranquil in the maelstrom of feelings
forever present in this moment’s eternity
it doesn’t matter
what I do
mind judges
then judges itself for judging
that’s just what minds do
when I let it have its way
it surprises me by stopping
and in the vacant interlude
the mind finds no grip
and falls effortlessly
into the deep pool of silence
it never left
rain falls
within the endless awareness
the sun still shines
behind the clouds
loss rips
at the heart of love
empty peace still rests
at the source of tears
floods wash
away the precious hillsides
life rises to the surface
for another breath of joy
thoughts race
across the mind’s attention
quiet still sings
from the throat of nowhere
pure freedom remains
when all else is
swallowed in the river of time
mind always wins
every thought an artful trap
leading further into dreams
resistance speeds the entanglement
surrender, the only option
then what surprising silence
entanglement becomes a tender caress
dreaming dissolves in wonder
mind continues the endless game
jumping in to claim peace as its own
creating a new identity to play with
as if it could find something solid in empty space
laughter, the only response
then identities come and go
mind plays on the surface
silence enjoys it all
all I have ever wanted is wanting
all I have ever had is having
all I am is all there is
and wanting and having are always here
in equal measure
all I have ever loved is love
all I have ever loved is loving
all I am is love
and loving is always here
in infinite measure
quite ordinary desires
come and go
come and go
never needing to be fulfilled
their satisfaction made irrelevant
by the shining beauty
of a rain soaked forest
the rain washing away thoughts
of something lacking
what could be lacking
in this explosion of life
that grows in each nook and cranny
of the infinite heart
the moisture of love
seeping down to nourish the roots
of every being
or dancing in streams and rivers
all the way home
die a little
with every disappointment
or find what never dies
and has no preferences
try a little
and keep illusion going
or see the futility of effort
and stop pushing on nothing
be happy a little
now and then when circumstance allows
or rest in the source of happiness
now, then and always
believe a little
that you are someone
or notice there is no separate one
nor any limit to being
love a little
with half a heart
or let love have it all
filling the heart to overflowing
the dance of emptiness
goes on and on
colors, shapes and forms
arrayed in courtly splendor
on the dance floor of infinity
the patterns of the dance
will hypnotize if watched too closely
while the entire view
ends all trances
and frees the dreaming mind
now join the dance
its irresistible ebb and flow
swallows your pride
in the pure joy
of moving stillness
this voice is inadequate
to express the abundant wonder
of this endless moment
this body is insufficient
to embrace the sweet infinity
of this lover’s bodiless form
these eyes are unable
to capture the invisible beauty
of a cloudless sky
and yet I sing with joy,
caress the air with tenderness,
allow beauty to fill my eyes with tears,
and know that the love in my heart
is always enough
truth is too simple for words
before thought gets tangled up in nouns and
verbs
there is a wordless sound
a deep breathless sigh
of overwhelming relief
to find the end of fiction
in this ordinary
yet extraordinary moment
when words are recognized
as words
and truth is recognized
as everything else
a quiet room
empty of profound thoughts
in this moment
no need to uncover deep truths
the chairs do not mind the silence
the rug is not burdened by the lack of
weighty ideas
only the thought, "there must be something more"
cries out in pretended anguish
the chairs pay no attention
the rug only lies more quietly
until the pretended suffering
can’t help but notice
there is always more
that does not need to be revealed
laughter stops thought
and fills the space behind the eyes with light
such simple delight
to find nothing is knowable
I can only give everything
to this nothing
and am overjoyed
to let it tear down the barricade in my chest
and steal my heart
the room is empty
except for these saddened eyes
that find refuge in emptiness
friends come and go
lovers come and go
but love itself never wavers
emptiness is my refuge
emptiness is my resting place
everywhere I turn, the end of boundaries awaits
take sadness now
take happiness also
leave only clear vision
the room is still empty
except for these opened eyes
that find refuge in fullness
early in the morning
asleep in a dream
only to awaken in another dream
why disturb the quiet mist
with imaginary forms
the heart is never fulfilled
with dream lovers
for there is never enough
of what does not satisfy
so let the mist have it all
I have moistened my cheeks long enough in this fog
of dreaming
I will not move again until my true love appears
when at last the sun burns away the haze
no one is there
what relief. . . to find her waiting
mind finds a path
to struggle along
never reaching the goal
heart knows it already rests
in the path of something wonderful
it can not escape
mind seeks to hold onto
a still point
of final understanding
heart knows it is being held
by an unmoving whirlwind
that it will never comprehend
mind tries to feel safe enough
to allow love
out into the open
heart knows love is never cautious
and can not be kept secret
once all hope of refuge is abandoned
simply resting
from a full day of resting
feeling too rested
to even consider anything more
simply quiet
staying in the silent pauses
no thought
not even the idea: no thought
too busy
doing nothing
to stop long enough
to do something less
excitement stirs the blood
yet only nothingness is ever palpable
imagined pleasures always fall short
compared to the simple reality
this bird in the hand
is worth a million in the bush
sensations have their say
promising satisfaction, as if they could stay
long enough to fulfill endless desire
yet always ending in a reverberating
empty stillness
this deafening calm
is cherished by the core of being
as the true source of infinity
light through a prism...
a rainbow
love through my heart...
the spectrum of feelings revealed
red anger to blue sadness
yellow fear to black despair
allow them back into my heart
and the prism works in reverse
turning the most deeply tinted pain
back into pure white love
foolish to chase after imaginary pleasures
they love to dance out of reach
giving only tastes of slight satisfaction
simpler to give heartfelt attention
to the source of contentment
and find there is never anything missing
in this moment
then the rising water of devotion
takes the weight out of these hands
and dissolves the dreamlike boundaries
of desire itself
a world of endless contradiction
sad smiles and joyous tears
the heart is torn in two
by feelings that never fail to pull in opposite
directions
torn in two
by dreams that forever dance out of reach
until at last the contents of the heart
spill out in an endless flood
of sad smiles and joyous tears
that no longer have any ambivalence
because of their shared source
words do not come
there is no need for profound utterances or
deep truths
here is an ordinary evening
why spoil it with dramatic overstatement
the silence amidst the noise
the gem at the core
of every experience
is polished by simple attention
into shining magnificence
every taste
every sensation
every possible pleasure
is already present
in the timeless
awareness
that is beating my heart
what use
in chasing dreams
that have already
come true
who would have guessed
this empty feeling in my chest
is the door to eternity
who could have known
this longing
is what I longed for
how is it possible
thoughts of freedom
only hide freedom
why don’t I care
about answers
when questions never end
who would have guessed
this empty feeling in my chest
could be so full
what kind of fire
has no preference for fuel
gladly burning thoughts, feelings,
bodies and souls
yet it is a cool flame
leaving the core untouched
it flares whenever I give it attention
or has it always been burning this brightly
sleep comes in the afternoon
and then wakefulness never truly returns
drinking in rest like cool water
cold outside does not touch it
yawning does not disturb it
thoughts of friends in pain
can only make it more obvious
here in this quiet house
the totality comes out to play
hot sun fills the eyes to overflowing
while a cooling breeze of freedom lifts sweat from the
brow
every experience from the past that visits now
is recognized for what it has always been
pure food for the dreaming oneness
the banquet continues with each breath
I feast now even on heartbreak and loss
as they burst the limits I held so dear
freeing me from resisting appetite
for fear of a taste of sour fruit
I also welcome the sweet dessert
of quiet moments
truth with no trimmings
a simple meal of limitless portion
every tender morsel of silence
more filling than the last
desire
pure unadulterated longing
tears at the chest with such force
it seems the soul might leave
just to find relief
sadness
bittersweet taste of emptiness
weighs on the shoulders
like a burden
too heavy to bear
surrender
swallowing all pride
collapsing from all effort
only to find rest again
in the depths of pain itself
why was I running from this profound
silent joy
sweeter than any kiss
the taste of eternity
lingers on my lips
tasting me
only the slightest pause
before her passion
overwhelms my feigned resistance
and takes everything I have to give
if this lover breaks my heart
there will be no pieces left
gratitude burns in the chest
glad tears run down the cheeks
strange illusion fills the eyes
the hum of life thrills the ears
no more sense of mine to senses
the body no longer belongs to anyone
leaving no one in the way
of all a body can contain
and all a body can not touch
wonder awes the mind
inspiration raises the spirit
silence soothes the doubts
intuition speaks to the soul
no more idea of someone with ideas
knowing needs no knower
freeing truth to expand
into all mind can contain
and all mind can not even imagine
when I am held in your arms
even pain is pure bliss
dark thoughts of separation and lack
are waves of pure pleasure
unfulfilled desire is complete ecstasy
thank you
for never having let go
the truth catches up with me
I am not enough
never have been
never will be
what relief to admit this finite container
can never contain infinity
what joy to find infinity
needs no container
the tears flow freely now
the mind quiets and the heart breaks wide open
all the hopes and dreams of a lifetime, many lifetimes
gently washed away
longings that have burned in the mind for ages
suddenly flare up, but are quenched
the dying embers of illusion
gently washed away
and the soul thus unburdened of pretense
can barely stand to open its watery eyes
sights so intense, and yet so unreal
gently washed away
finally, a voice that speaks the simplest of truth
intermingled with sweet blissful sighs
all the remaining fears and excitements
gently laughed away
the tired wanderer
loses the strength to go on
and in surrendering to hopelessness
is surprised
to finally feel at home
the hurried creek
pauses in a cold, stony pool
and in sudden stillness
arrives
at the distant ocean
the frightened warrior
decides, "I am ready to die"
and in willing abandon
becomes
immortal
the fitful breeze
fades to calm in the afternoon heat
and in catching its breath
is reborn
as undying tradewinds
the troubled philosopher
finds nothing to believe in
and in unexpected silence
just smiles
at the still unanswered questions
the restless sea
becomes smooth and mirrors the
clouds
and in ceasing all motion
rejoins
its own depths
the saddened lover
faces the loss of illusion once again
and in dying to passion
falls in love
with love itself
the weary sun
sinks into the embrace of the
horizon
and in resting at last
welcomes other shores
to a new day
memories of true love
are useless in filling empty moments
for this lover never shows the same face
always a new disguise
keeping mind in suspense
and senses alert
surrender to perpetual surprise
and find her waiting once again
in emptiness itself
body is pure doing
beyond doing there is mind
mind is pure knowing
beyond knowing there is heart
heart is pure being
mind is more than the brain
the heart of being is infinitely more
than this physical beating in the chest
all resides in this heart
the pulse of all life depends on its endless
rhythm
lifting us in moments of simple awareness
beyond the limits of doing and knowing
directly to the source
of our most tender feelings
and beyond even limitless love
where all is merged
in silent wonder
the passion for freedom
swallows the source of passion
if twoness could lead to oneness
we would all be faithful lovers
no reason to dream of love
for it is already here in the waking heart
find it now
in the sweet infinity
of this moment’s
eternal embrace
the flower can only wait
for the bee to arrive
yet passion appears from nowhere
to play hide and seek with peace
all that is gained is lost once again
timeless dreams are swallowed
in the yawn of an awakened sleeper
yet spring rises like a phoenix
from the ashes of winter
all that is lost was never real
is the heart big enough
for the source of weeping
is the heart big enough
for this pure delight
mind plays its oldest trick
sighing woe is me
so lonely
so lonely....being someone
what’s this
a sweetness
in the embrace of loneliness
what deeper longing is being satisfied
I always thought you would come to me
in the shape of a beautiful lover
I never dreamed you would steal my heart
with no shape at all
I always pretended I needed arms to hold me
and lips to kiss away my pain
yet I find fulfillment
in the embrace of empty space
I always wished you would speak to me
with words of tender sweetness
now I know you whisper silently
of your undying love
I always knew I would find you
although I foolishly looked with my eyes
you were here all along
hiding just out of sight in my heart
a lasting marriage
when devotion has claimed you for its own
no longer any chance to stray
a brief fling with illusion no longer satisfies
the truth demands utter fidelity
with no possibility of divorce
all pain must be faced
and embraced as the true countenance of
your beloved
all fear must be met
and recognized as the thrill of tasting
the unknowable
all joy must be surrendered
and acknowledged as a gift with
no giver
this union only requires telling the truth
even when the truth shatters your dreams
even when the truth leaves you emptied out
even when the truth reveals your counterfeit
existence
then there is no other possibility
than happily ever after
fire may burn the wood
the ashes do not mind
=================================
COMMENTS
Tina - Beautiful & Powerful!
This is the first 'Epic' type poem I have ever read.
I must be honest and say that somewhere perhaps by the 10-15th screen page, I did vaguely wonder how long this poem was, but at the same time I was captivated ~ perhaps better said ~ mesmerized ~ by not the words so much as the essence behind the words ~ so I continued to read ~ soon forgetting the length of the poem and permitting myself the simple pleasure of allowing your words to take me on your journey of wisdom.
For in reading your poem, a person's recognition ~ perhaps understanding ~ of the human emotions in which your writing entails is nothing compared to the personal ~ perhaps spiritual experience that your writing is capable of educing in its reader ~ at least with this one ~ Many Thanks ~
Blessings Always,
T.
.... THERE WERE 7 more comments... above is the one i loved...-
There is no need to
double
space
every
freaking
line. -
im not voodooKobra... still to refine my self into how i sense out beauty
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@Jeunelle
Hope you'll like this -
@voodooKobra...LMAO
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Seriously! I was scrolling down the page and panicked b/c I thought I was caught up in some repetitive cyber wormhole...
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Roses are red
violets are blue
Juenelle wants to know
what size is your shoe?
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kdawg68....Damn straight.
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I used to write poetry quite a bit in high school and college. I recall thinking what I was pulling together was terribly profound...
Naturally, I was mistaken. I just needed to listen to less Pink Floyd and late Beatles music. -
@ThriftShopRomantic...Yup what I wrote back then I thought was OK
and now I look back and realize they just suited that age.
I won't dare publish any of my own, I just wrote it for myself. -
Drama comes easily during that age range, doesn't it?
If I published mine, it would be on my humor blog. -
@ThriftShopRomantic...I hear ya. That is a great idea.
I wouldn't mind publishing it on my own blog but would mind publishing as a profession. Drama does come easily during that age..it think it was my "blue period". ha -
Well, it worked for Picasso.
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EXACTLY LMAO
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I wrote poetry in jr, and high school. It's not really my thing anymore. I'm much too skeptical and sarcastic to be that sensitive.-
@lotusb...I hear ya.
I lost interest for years after high school and I just dug up some old Yeats, E.E. Cummings
and a bunch of others I use to know by heart.
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Don't get excited
or let it go to your head.
But you may have just started
the next "Baking Soda" thread.-
Oh Mike...tsk tsk
The Robin is perched upon a branch
waiting for his only chance
to grab his lovely lady bride
who will soon be standing at his side
he turned to me as if to say
SCRAM STUPID COME BACK ANOTHER DAY.
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I can remember when my poor Grandmother spent hours, days and weeks trying
to get me to recite by heart a poem called "Petals of a Flower" or something like that.
This recital was for a church frolic and everyone who was anyone attended.
When we finally got to the church frolic, my Grandmother asked me if I was ready
and I told her "Don't worry Grandma, it's in the Bag", meaning don't ask me this stupid question again,
I memorized your damn poem by heart and I am about to recite it, so step back and let me do my thing.
However, by the time I walked through the long hallway of church benches filled with people
and my kindergarten school friends, my knees buckled, my hands were shaking.
My hands were shaking so much that all the petals of the flower that I was holding to recite
my poem were falling one by one to the floor.
I went to take a bow before I begun my poem and I hit my forehead on the church altar table
that was in front of me.
When I stood up all the petals of the flower were gone and my head had a huge red bump
from the impact.
There was a dead silence as the sound of me hitting my forehead echoed throughout
the church. Then came the roaring laughter.
They heckled me and my poor Grandmother walking all the way home.
My Grandmother said humiliated as we walked home with the hecklers on our heels,
"Don't worry Grandma huh, smart ass".
As you can see...I killed that poem.
Now I may not be the greatest poet in the world but that doesn't mean I cannot love
and enjoy a good poem. -
This one's a little heavy but I think you guys can handle it...
"Endless Visibility" was published (by me) on 9/11/08
It's here: dougist.com/index.php?p=32
It is based on a true story from the book "Touching History" by Lynn Spenser.
When I read her account of that day I felt I had to write this poem.-
This one is deep....so deep I got lost.
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I have a master's in Creative Writing. My thesis was a collection of original poems. When I was stuck and couldn't think what to write I'd listen to Simon and Garfunkel. I submitted a lot of poems to magazines but few ever got published. Here's one:
Brain fried
Stir thoughts
Take a wok.
Yep, profound, isn't it?! LOL-
Brain stir fry!
Mmmmmm! lol
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The wonders you can do if you can't sleep...
Sleepless
by Carlos Macarayan(1996)
The silent night
drifts past,
Witnessed by the
crescent moon,
Its darkness---
A spell for dreams
and static thoughts...
Crickets in the shadows
The stacatto
of their opera,
Syncopated by
dog beats, and
The occasional rustle
of leaves,
Leaving me mesmerized,
Caught up in a labyrinth
of Stravinskian rhythm...
Still,
I remain awake
Nothing to do
But stare, and
Listen...
Another one of those
restless beings
In the dead of the night.
I have a couple more here if you're interested...
nonomaca.blogspot.com/-
Very nice!
Cool blog.
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wake me up before you go go
dont ever leave me just like a yo yo
just cant reach it when
I feel so high....
sounds like something Ive heard before, just cant think what it is?
Was it written by that guy who has sex in public toilets? George 'John' Michael or something..... -
I'd written several compositions... I can easily make one when I'm highly emotional..its either good or bad feeling -
I use to write poems on a regular basis, but lost all 'inspiration' years ago.
Maybe getting older and getting busy with life killed it.
I never followed the 'rules' of poetry, I just wrote whatever spilled out and however it spilled out.
The poems were never that good but served a purpose to be sure.
Here is one from loooong ago when I was a kid.
(I rearely titled a poem, this is without a title).
Sometimes I do not feel quite like me.
Sometimes I feel a rage inside threatening to kill everything I am needing to be.
Sometimes I feel an emptiness Inside where my soul is meant to be.
Sometimes I do not feel quite like me.
Sometimes I feel like a swallow flying in the rain,
as though despite my efforts there is very little to be gained.
Sometimes I feel like a thirsty flower in a rainless spring.
Sometimes I do not feel quite like me.
(Keith W. Peterson)-
rfburnhertz...Glad to hear you say you do not follow the rules of poetry
Neither do I because if kills growth, good point
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Thanks for dropping by Dukepro25!
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My pleasure!
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I love [bladeaxe4]'s
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Poetry is my 'weapon of choice' - here's one I wrote about Good Friday:-
Friday night
And after the pain, more pain.
Deep and dark
loathful separation.
The black clamour of blindness,
the taut grip of death.
Time stopped: a different eternity.
Memories of friends and Father
the lifeline at fingers edge.
In this red-black deep
there is no passion, no joy, no light:
just the wailing of souls
and a tomorrow that never dawns.
The most recent of memories hold no respite,
the grip of nail and thorn
no gentle reminder of love.
And that last kiss
exploded
in the collision of kingdoms.
Yet I will wait in this gaping darkness
for the greeting touch
of a Father in tears,
three days of eternity away. -
Can you not speak english?
I understand your blog -
Here's one of mine. I wrote it in response to Crystal Raven's "I Will Light A Candle".
Recurrence
I have no closure
In my dreams he leaves again
never to return
For months I waited
hoping he would change his heart
and renew our love
I thought I’d moved on
but still he leaves in the night
I awake alone -
Sure, I do it all the time. I am focusing on short form poems to start limericks, haiku, things with form that get you familiar with the concept of stresses, syllabification, and beat, so you don't just write mishmash.
Shadow
There is a shadow
It follows me everywhere I go
I think it likes me -
Before starting our company blog, I had a poetry blog under a pseudonym. Nothing fancy, but some people like it.
I stopped because it tends to make me want to go the way of Gauguin. Not great, but simple:
Knives
The pain you’re feeling
Like a knife cutting your soul
I feel that hurt too. -
yeah i have but in high school and only because i had too. haha but im gonna sway wayy off toipc only because im i cant stop thinking about it.. so why hasnt he called or texted me.. it always like this.. we hangout and have a great time.. and then we dont talk for like a week.. sometimes weeks even.. itx weird..! mann i dont understand -
The son of autumn starts to mumble, sending his amoeba fingers through a cloak of mist, reaching for the open neck of the unsuspecting sun too busy melting away into the hundred shades of the foam of the sea.
A long metal snake sails through the vast sandy plane claiming its territory with a spray of gasoline; its camouflaged scales are moaning and clashing in a mythical fencing duel of a thousand brave knights.
A frowning cloud roars an ice-cold command, and its army of drops silently forages the city, transforming stone into marble, asphalt into granite, a shattered street lamp into a treasure of diamonds.
The steel serpent raises its head to the rhythm of drums of adrenalin rush, praying to the lord of man-made thunder, spitting gifts from Prometheus across the pastel horizon, carving coffee trails in the pale porcelain of the Milky Way.
Motion-blurred figures sniff the wet ground through cracks in the pavements, howling to the ivory moon through arrow slits in their Babel glass castles. Skyscrapers piercing through heaven; angels bleeding tears into the winds of the west; chain tracks as far as the eye can see.
Rust in peace ol’ tank.
Scrub the gray ol’ man.
Let us have our rainbows again.-
If this was iambic pentameter, I would have sworn that this was written by General Patton. Good stuff.
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Oh wow... some of this poetry is really really good. Makes my efforts look like the scribblings of a preschooler! Excuse me while I go off and be depressed in a corner. -
i like to write prose poems occasionally and have another blog for that.
the stuff iwrite is pretty obviously influenced by charles bukowski, as he is the only poet whose work i'm especially familiar with. here's one from memory.
(fall)
when i was young
and stupid
i would tell anyone
willing to listen
that fall was my favorite time of year
"because everything is dying"
i would say
"and i love death"
maybe i even
wiggled my fingers and said
"booga booga"
too
i was about as deep then
as a paper cup
full of warm spit
the cool days of fall
are beautiful
though
the sense
of closure and death
can be unnerving
as i grow older
i can
see the beauty
because
there will always be another spring
even if
i am not here
to see it -
The years 1996-1997 were my poetry phase. Most of the poems i did were done during those years. I don't know---just happened. Now, the poems only come in trickles and when it's absolutely necessary (like when i didn't have money to buy the wife a gift!). Here is the very first poem I wrote way, way back:
A Song (1992)
Lost in the ghettoes of my soul
Is a song,
Cherished,
Yet not sung,
Hidden in the cavernous
convolution of my being…
In the mouth of a mute,
Shouting, struggling to be free,
But,
Fate had sealed the door,
And there it dwells,
Forever,
In the dungeon…
…of my soul…
nonomaca.blogspot.com/ -
Darn, looks like Ive missed out on this thread but Ill share something anyway.
I have a free verse style with some use of enjambment. Since there are too many "love" poems already in this thread, here's something, its an original:
“Malevolence”
In the darkness that lingers around us all there exists something that tells us, tempts us, chooses us, and crushes us inside a paradox of sweetest things. He knows when you think of him and pounces all at once to where ever welcomes him. He sits in your room looming ever closer as your mind wanders towards him. Knowing the very moment to engulf your reality, overwhelming your eyes in horrors you never wanted to see. Granted all you know has some truth for there would be your proof to believe because in all that was misleading in his words there would be a base to fake his truths to you. But as your strength falters nothing you knew would hold true when the temptations overwhelm you. You would never know you gave in so long ago. Beginning your own demise in your eyes of a few moments before you so blindly gave away all that was of worth. His words have burned through your soul tearing apart your mind leaving the shell of a man, lifeless and hallow. A man who will never understand all he wanted to know. A man in eternal damnation burning in the fires of misery never knowing the lies were the only truths he realized.
-Armando Torres
(if you want more, head to my blog)
Placebo Effect
placeboeffect23.blogspot.com/
buzz buzz -
I write poems all the time! - www.travisjmorgan.com/blog/category/shortpoems/-
Yes I see you do....very nice
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Godfather haiku:
DATELINE: Vegas
Casino bigwig
host with all amenities
"Anything's yours, Mike"
Attempt at buyout
all that he built -- sweat & blood
"The nerve! On my turf!"
Made his bones back when
you were dating cheerleaders
frowns at this affront
Staked claim is challenged
still, he proudly stands his ground
bullet-through-eye coup
...That man was Moe Green.
pungeon.blogspot.com/2006/01/haiku-tribute-for-moe-green.html-
lordsomber is so romantic and a poet too, I knew I should have married you
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Here is a poem I crafted from random words provided to me on Twitter:
Death Rides In From The Vast Ocean
The poison tide rolls in
acidic fog steals your breath
this is but one sign
of the harbinger known as death
Your fellow man will bootleg your soul
to save his own from this awful fate
So death comes forward in a tidal wave
riding on the back of skeletal hippopotamuses
His scythe in hand your vision grows dark
people scatter before him like ants
you try to run but your knees are wobbly
instead falling to the ground begging for your life
You scream for your life but no words come out
all you taste before the end of the road
is the acrid salty seaweed sliding down your throat
the tide sweeps over you and all is lost
-Poem by Dragon Blogger
My poetry blog is www.wandererthoughts.com -
I write original dirty limericks all the time. They amuse me. -
I want to die before you
Do you think that who passes later
will find who's gone before?
I don't think so.
You'd better have me burned,
and put me on the stove in your room
In a jar.
The jar shall be made of glass,
So that you can see me inside..
You see my sacrifice:
I renounced from being part of the earth,
I renounced from being a flower
to be able to stay with you.
And I am becoming dust,
To live with you.
Later, when you also die,
You'll come to my jar.
And we'll live there together
your ash in my ash,
your dust in my dust,
until a careless bride
or an unfaitful grandson
throws us out of there
But we until that time
will mix
with each other
so much that
even in the garbage we are thrown into
our grains will fall side by side
We will dive into soil together.
And one day,
If a wild flower feeds
from this piece of soil and blossoms
above its body,
definitely there'll be two flowers:
One is you
One is me... (by Nazim Hikmet) -
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My blog has original poems by me and guest poets:
ranishobha.blogspot.com/
Your poem was very lovely, Jeunelle. I liked the lines
"Like so many pharoah's embalmed, an innocence still intact..." -
I remember writing "Seasons" in 1976. 276 pages of poetry, and none top be found today. There's been a lot better stuff since. One of my favorites isn't long at all. It came to me as I was brushing off a guy who was e-mailing me, propositioning me as an escort:
Avo mi'oseh Hashemesh.
Ohevet Levanah oti,
Mechappetzet Ha'aretz oti,
Zokheret Otakh, Ahavati,
Malkhah Lailah.
I came from the toiling of the Sun.
The Moon love me,
The Earth is impassioned with me,
Remembering You, my Love,
Queen of Night.
Since that time this developed into a little chant that has carried me through many dark times and enlivened the nighttime with desire for sacred love. -
On the catalog of blogs,
I sob,
Topics reflected on my optics,
I follow a thread
and saw where it lead, in the end , it was dead.
I appeared last december,
Now, I remember members.
The size of replies,
Love me not, I despise.
My soul is exported,
My posts are reported.
Some tell the admins..
others become has beens..
By: me.
Wow that was deep.-
In the context of eternity, you speak well of our vanities.
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Thats what happens when I pour my heart out...
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That was deep..INDEED
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Oh my god, that was sooo beautiful, you are killing me softly with your words (that line is from a song if you didn't know) Anyways, that poem was really nice
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Ok I just read this poem a few hours later.What the heck was the I thinking when I wrote this!
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That depends. Does it have to rhyme to be a poem?
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No. Blank verse doesn't. Neither does most dactylic hexameter from Greeks and Romans. But there should be some kind of metric idea enveloping it unless it's pure freeform. And some of us prefer more ancient versions of parallelism like that of Egyptians, Chaldeans, and Semites.
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vijayanths.blogspot.com/2008/01/it-is-you-my-love-who-else.html
He:If there is some one whom I want to
Share my dreams with,
It is you, who else?
She:My dreams are yours my love,
just as yours are mine.
He:If some one wishes, he could stop time
Because of you,
It is me who else?
She:My time is yours my love,
just as you give me.
He:If someone wants to tell me
How much she cares
It is you, who else?
She:I will never cease caring for you
my love now or ever.
He:If someone who would
Do anything for you,
It is me, who else?
She:I love you my darling not only
for all you do and I know you love me too.
He:If someone wants to sing,
Dance and laugh with me
It is you, who else?
She:I’ll sing in my heart and yours
and dance on your dreams and
laugh with you my love for evermore.
He: If someone loves you for
Who you are and as you are
It is me who else?
She:I love you my darling
and I know you do.
He: If someone needs my
Shoulder to cry on
It is you, who else?
She: Oh that shoulder what comfort
you bring and my tears would dry away
my heart would fill with your love and mine
and no need to cry ever.
He: If someone has faith and
Trust in you,
It is me, who else?
she:I love you my darling for ever,
I promise to live upto your trust and faith dear.
He: If someone is
Celebrating my success
It is you, who else?
She: I will exalt the stars
I will dance on the moon
and frolic with its beams
for your success now and ever.
He: If someone wants to protect you
And make you happy,
It is me, who else?
She: I’ll always feel safe
in your loving embrace
and love you always and ever.
He: If someone is thinking of me
Smiling and missing me always
It is you, who else?
She: Every minute and second of the day,
I yearn for you, worry for you,
and miss you always and for ever.
He: If someone is alive
Because of you
It is me, who else?
She: I love you my darling
be safe for me now and always.
He: If someone can’t wait to see me
and wants to be with me always
It is you, who else?
She: Yes my dearest I cannot bear
to be without you.
He: If someone believes that you
Are his soul mate,
It is me, who else?
She: You know it my love in my bones
and in my soul I feel you.
You are the very essence of my life,
what would I do without you?
Thank you my love for the joy
you bring at this juncture of my life.
I never for a moment dreamed
that you were out there searching
for your soul mate in me.
Now that I have you no words can
aptly explain the love I feel for you
and hope you love me the way I do
or more and more now and forever.
I love you now and ever.
More poems with videos at:
vijayanths.blogspot.com/2008/04/remember-i-am-with-you.html
vijayanths.blogspot.com/2008/08/divine-and-beyond-human-love.html
vijayanths.blogspot.com/2008/07/are-you-one.html -
My Nose
By Melinda Tyler
It doesn't breathe
It doesn't smell
It doesn't feel so very well
I am discouraged with my nose
Cause all it ever does is blow!
Or here's another:
The Red Dress
By Melinda Tyler
I want one!
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ROFL!
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mtyler77...the red dress is short but to the point. lmao
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@jeunelle--the beauty of simplicty (and a red dress!).
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the red dress, wow,
yes oh yes
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Here's a poem I call "Found"
A little girls sits on a log in the middle of a forest. Her hair is long and fixed nicely. She wears a pretty dress blotted with mud that stops just above her scraped knees.
She is lost in a place where she doesn't belong. Trees of disapproval tower over her so dense she can't see the sun.
Fear envelops her. It's thick and she can hardly breathe. Glowing eyes of failure wait to consume their prey. Loneliness creeps on the ground.
Darkness is falling; the crushing weight of time passing while nothing changes.
She can't find the path that led her here, but she doesn't want to go back where she came from.
She hangs her head and tries to accept the way it is.
Then a ray of sunshine pierces the hopelessness and breathes on her. There is someone in the distance. She tries to suppress anticipation, for it has always been met with pain.
A man is coming toward her. It's as if she is his destination. She looks at the ground trying to stay invisible, but he keeps coming.
He lifts her head with his pierced hand; rejection a cup he has also drank from. His arms of compassion raise her up.
Acceptance, a light she's never seen, makes a path where there once was none. Love leads the way to a home she never knew existed.
Peace is now the air she breathes, freedom the field she twirls her skirt in, and a rainbow of hope peaks in her sky. -
I write a lot in general, always have but very rarely poems... found one though...
UNlabelled...
Troubled freedom
Lost luggage
Unnecessary...
UNLABELLED
Unidentified
Can’t play its role
Aka … not whole
We seek to be, (sometimes)...
Become whoever
Do whatever
Unattached to true limitations
Our saving grace
When UNLABELLED
Claiming to be unknown
Wanting to be tested
To be messed with
Unable to be manifested
Living a limbo
UNLABELLED
Is it our ignorant selves?
To be “nothing”
Want to receive all
Yet allowing ourselves only to crawl
Nothing more
Settling
To be UNLABELLED
Easily assumed
Available to be removed
Confused waste
Deserve no space
What’s the point
If UNLABELLED
Like a problem
Lacks respect to its owner
Given permission to dwell
Bid sanity farewell
Issues to swell
And only excel
When UNLABELLED
LABELLED…
Be involved
Evolve
And hold power
Form purpose
Above our inner us
Be just and focused
Prevail
Persevered for good use
To life a truce
Become able
Stable
Capable to give
…like Abel
With a name
We form a frame
Limited only to claim
Identity as our main
True purpose
How can confusion burn us?
*p.s. I was a lost and confused lil' girl -
I took creative writing in college and later joined their creative writing club. I wrote a poem about a hungry lady who orders a pizza for delivery but there's lots of inudendo - I titled it "The Hungry Housewife." (Use your imagination). It got chosen to be in a Philadelphia area anthology. When the anthology got published there was a party with readings. I got up and read my poem (I was 6 months preggers at the time)...at the end when everyone politely clapped, one guy shout out that my poem gave him an ere..ion! What a compliment!!!!!!!-
Woo, girl!
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ROFLMAO...OK
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Oh yep
The Box The Man The Building
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I found an empty box lying by the road
it used to be worth something, when it had something inside
just like people, it's what's inside that gives it its value
I saw an old man walking by the road
barefoot, swollen feet, dirty clothes,
it's what he wears that counts
so some people think,
but really it's the way you feel that counts
I saw in a building, the old man with the box as a pillow
the box became precious once more, a place to lay his head
it's what you turn something into that gives it life
I had a thought about my soft pillow in my bed
my head, the way it melts into the softness, it's no different
to the man with the box for a pillow lying comfy on the ground
Tony Hogan-
Love it!!!
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thanks Dangerous Little Mouse
Here's another
A glance at the arm of a beautiful woman
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it was a slow movement
not quite anything really
it caught my eye
her arm, her tenderness, her strength
it was a passing thought
and maybe a little silly
held it still did i
for some length
Tony Hogan (c) -
Only an artist has the sensitivity to be so transfixed by a motion.
Only one who thinks with heart as well as mind can understand the value of a box. -
acousticguitarist....very nice
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thanks
I am an artist, I do very interesting cartoons, I'm looking for a Publisher at the moment
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Never.-
LMAO Ok Mr. Payne
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What do you think of today's twitter poem, I wrote it with 14 random words provided to me over twitter. I play this game every weekday.
Disarming The Bomb
Arriving on the scene at first not knowing your purpose
You are brought over to Examine a box covered in wires and buttons
With a quick stretch of your arms, a crack heard from your elbow
You pride yourself on being the systematic specialist
Someone who is defined by existentialism you know your choice
And as a poet would compose a pentameter, you set to work on your craft
At first all looks quite complex and you are dazzled
Then the components come together and start to make sense
A light goes off and you figure out how it all works
When the universe seems to come together in your mind
Pieces of a puzzle fit together like 2 halves of a scallop shell
A sense of renewal looms over you and a new transition begins
A surge in excitement producing a diaphoretic effect
A heightened euphoria almost as if induced by chocolate
Forget what you thought you knew, all that is over
Your fingers shaking your confidence rallied
You cut a wire and pull another so sure
Just when you thought the bomb was diffused
Ungodly blast of noise and heat assails your senses
In your last second you realize your mistake
How many lives lost by your miscalculation
You won’t be around to find out as perpetual silence sets in
-Poem by Dragon Blogger-
I think this is a very nice poem indeed
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Here's one from a few years ago:
Whoever would be holy,
Let her become Scandal.
Whoever would speak the truth,
Let her become Madness.
Whoever would be innocent,
Let her become Wonder.
Let her gaze upon stars.
Let them shimmer in her Hara.
Let sacred names vibrate.
Let her sacrum awaken.
Let her serpent rise in her Abyss,
And Lights unite in her again.
(2 stanzas after are too esoteric to post here. But I sometimes read it before I dance.)-
I like this one a lot, very nice
They are all very good in their own way so keep em coming guys.
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Yes. I've actually submitted some of them on Poetry.com under Julius Santos and posted some on my blog.
jingscorner.blogspot.com -
"Love Given Is Never Lost"
If you find it within your heart to love me,
let it be for eternity. behind the doors of
my heart lies a part of me that yearns to be
free. Should I fall beneath your tender lips,
please pick me up with a kiss.
I could empty all of me for love, and sill
find completion in yor arms. Every sense of
your hand makes me to understand. Love given
is never lost, love taken never last. It's
an uncommon thing to have a love always full
to the brim.
When we're together time doesn't matter. Let
me have this dream forever,and all the images
of your to remember. While others sit in pain,
we find pleasure in the love we gain. Love is
a mystery unexplained. Nothing can extinguish
the flame that keeps our love ablaze. Like
sunny days in summer, we are the warmth of
eachother.
Copyright ©2009 Marvin Hinds -
i've written a poem for my mother for mother's day
but that was a long time ago
norealtime.blogspot.com/ -
Here are two of mine. I actually just posted them on the blog yesterday.
A Chords - www.thecrazykitchen.com/2009/02/poem-a-chords/
Vague - www.thecrazykitchen.com/2009/02/poems-vague/ -
Boy this is great, never knew there are so many poets amongst us here at BC.
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Oh Jeunelle
You really ring my bell
I think you're really swell
I'd follow you to hell
with lubricating gel-
hahahahahahaha I got to publish this one on my blog for sure.
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I write it and it laughs at me
I debug and get enraged
I wrote you how dare this blasphemy
The code gets compiled while the processor thinks
the developer takes a shower because he stinks
He's been up for days drinking nothing but coffee
and hasn't gotten any in a while either..
Apparently he can't even rhyme.
How's he gonna finish this job in time?
Whats that? 0 errors the compiler says!
He'll ignore the warnings not even test!
So sure of himself, surely he jests.
OK I tried -
What you think I'm a pro?
You did your best and to hell with everyone else.
At least that's how I do.
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Now that is a nice little collection of poems alright, nice going
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Thanks, hope you enjoyed what you read.
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There was a chap named PetLvr
Who happened to discover
that if he could earn a dime
for everytime he would rhyme
It would pay to be a music lover
blip.fm/profile/HARToscope/playlist-
Oh brother...lol well your poem is just about as good or as bad as mine
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Unless you're British and remember the miners strike - you won't have a clue what this is about, but here ya go...
Never forget Orgreave!
Doff thy cap in mirth and spittle
Wretched female of comparable cake
Sing not hymn of woe
Grate your teeth for the coming foe
Once a great land of working men
Shamed for being odious of change
Nought that this was recent sent
Given it was not to prevent
Our home our work was a charring cry
Leave us be we will get by
Hang our heads you cannot make
Our love for here this will not shake
Climb that steeple yonder for
Seek with eyes that is no more
Long since gone but never forgotten
Land once mined hardly trodden
Ever see the worker there
Not now hast bygone care
She sits upon the foreign chair
Whittled and old loathed most fair
A miner said with caution wind
There our jobs finally binned
Gone was work and replaced with strife
Divorce that came for man and wife
Ever be from Yorkshire pits
She cackled in revulsion fits
Let them slumber for they are creed
Walked upon a field all weed
She spites us now for not being gone
Will it be time that takes is wrong
She who is but cannot be
Works her witchery on those don’t see
Not one clever man has come to help
That is a legacy of who will whelp
Ma’am we wait as time goes on
For your last breath to swill anon
Sorry for thee we will never be
Open your eyes and let yourself see
Wronged you were not by any soul
Calf nor cow nor deer nor foal
Our contempt in our eyes will never wane
Nought for nothing we suffered pain
Vex and ire we cried so hard
For all our land you did discard
Weep not, yell not, cry in anger subdue
Whilst remember we must do
The day that cometh as it will
Be quite, be calm, an ignore her quill
Let that vileness raise to the ground
Bury her deep never to be found
Ignore the call to memory seek
Ignore, ignore her as history wreak
She will be gone and had not joy
As iron rusts they build brass foil
Use it not as worship called
Doff cap and spit as once appalled
Wipe thy mouth and gritted teeth
Clench no more, no more to seethe
Hear that toll ring loud around
Gone forever her blackened cloud
Written by Will Rhodes © 2008-
Well there are quiet a lot of great british poets
Some of my favorites are Oscar Wilde, Rudyard Kipling, D.H. Lawrence, William Wordsworth, John Keats, Lord Byron, etc. Thank you for this poem, it is another great.
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Reasons are bled
Pamphlets are true
Cougar types Tweet:
"I too ki$$ you".
Copyright Sedative Summons-
Interesting view and choice of words
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Abou Ben Mayhem
====================================================
Abou Ben Mayhem (may his kind decrease),
harbinger of destruction.. enemy of peace.
Awoke from his slumber.. to a deep chill and gloom..
As a demon made way, into his room .
A harsh growl emerged,from the creature's throat.
As it read from the parchment, which his masters wrote.
"Hear now the words, of the lords whom demons hail,
Heed the words of Lucifer. Beelzebub and Azrael.
This be the list of the damned, that God sent forth.
It is bad news for you, but for what it's worth.
Of all those who sinned and those condemned,
you lead the list.. you await judgement."
"This isn't news to me", Mayhem grinned..
"Satan is my master, its for him I have sinned.
A faithful servant,I have been to my Lord.
wont Lucifer make me, the leader of his Hordes?"
"The demon burst out laughing.. "surely you jest..
Satan make you captain?? hah.. you imbecile pest.
Of the tools of evil.. you're but one of many.
You'll all face the heat, the Master doesn't spare any".
"Go to sleep tonight, tomorrow the Reaper comes.
I am off on my trail again,to cover more homes.
Be not deluded..because as much as I can tell.
Ages of torment await you.. see you in HELL."-
Disturbing and to the point
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Of course I have, and it was very successful. It went like this:
Cheeseburger, Cheeseburger
How do you do?
It seems you're all rotten
And covered in mildew.
Cheeseburger, Cheeseburger
What did you say?
You'd like to go
To the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade?
Cheeseburger, Cheeseburger
When did you leave?
I am missing you so
You're making me grieve
Cheeseburger, Cheeseburger
Who do you like?
Ronald McDonald
I can't even rhyme with that!-
Hey who said poems have to rhyme? Oh well nice effort
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My native language is not English, but my first published poem is in English.
When I was young, I always thought that the grass was greener in the next meadow and that there was no beautiful scenery around home. In my thirties, I realised that we can find happiness, love and fortune at any place. It depends on our mindset and perspective. However, life is a regretless journey. Wherever you go, enjoy.
In the legend there is a place called paradise
Overflowing with natural beauty and pureness
Saunter in the path clothed in blooms
You will forget all the worry,
only have wholesome bliss
Driven by the deep desire for superlative beauty
I left home to search for the paradise
Roam around the world
Wondering where is the paradise in my dreams
One day, a girl said she had already found it
She showed me pictures of the paradise
Suffocated by the refreshing exquisiteness
I realized that is my hometown which I miss
www.mengjade.com-
Nice going, thanks for sharing
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ya, my blog is mostly a poetry blog.. there all quite morbid though...
As if a malfunction occurred and thoughts that should have been sorted,
enter into a sea of trailing threads which my mind has absently aborted.
You forget past days as they slip by like sewing slipping thread,
each stitch you sew imprints the present,
while the rest unravel and fade.
You try to rememver week old faces,
but they all fade into the grey.
Memories never meant to blur,
shift like shedding tears and fade.
www.cazywaz.blogspot.com/-
Brilliant...love it
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IT"za Miricle
well, God could see that I was hurt'n bad
that my life down here was realee sad
everything I touched would just go sour
N the things I fixed wouldn't last n hour
so he sent me a Miricle thru a friend
Gonna help me out n Put an end
to all that Stuff i tried to do
and the horrible things it put me thru
Itza miricle, it comes on a roll
yu kin tear some off n fix yur sole
yu kin patch ole socks n holes in doors
even plug them mouse holes in the floor
it'll re thread locks n cover screws
why it fixes anything you use
it can patch yur thumb when yu got a sore
if that aint enuff i kin tell ya more
so im happy now,and lifes ok
and I look forward to each new day
and I no longer have a care,,,,,,
As long as my duct tape is hangin there !~! A. L. R.-
very nice, thanks for sharing
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Several. There's about fifty or more on my website. For the most part, they've been well-received.-
Sounds great, come back later and share one with us here if you like
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The sun, on cloudy days,
lights
other worlds
Gold medallion
of the sky
that never dies.-
Good one
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Scott
you're hot
I am blue
without
you-
I just shed a tear -
omg. that is the sweetest thing EVER! -
Sweet and deep
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It's Haiku.
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ROFL!
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Indeed it is
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Ode to Swine Flu.
You enjoyed those pork chops
And that pork rib B-B-Q
But now the table has been turned
And pigs are killing you-
Indeed they are...hahaha.... REVENGE...DARKNESS
Darkness is spreading...DEATH
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Old Bay Haiku
hey old bay you are
so fine you blow my mind hey
old bay hey old bay
fantastic on crab
born in the state of the blue
also great on fish
jazz up deviled eggs
paprika has met its match
eat shit and die bitch
lemon and garlic
two of the varieties but
blackened is the bomb
other spices can
kiss its ass because it has
the ultimate taste
Haiku sucks big butts
this form of poetry lame
America rules -
ROFL! Pig karma!
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LOL "Haiku sucks big butts"
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Yeah that was DEEP
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deep like a fox!
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My mind's f*cked up off chocolate thai,
Hit the gin shop now I'm so high,
Now I need a bitch that's proper and fly,
So break me off a piece of that sweet potato pie-
Delicious...BRAVO
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I found sweet potato Haiku:
Ode to a Sweet Potato
Of all things living
I'd be a sweet potato,
fresh dug up.-
Now I just shed a tear !
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so did I
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Me too
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Yes I have wrote a lot of poems and we have lots of great poems in our new website.-
So why don't you post one? Everyone else is!
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Yeah what she said
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And please don't be intimidated by our creative genius!
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hmm maybe that's why they didn't post!
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when will you be back
I do not know how to find
who are you doll, who?-
I am me.
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Yup just me, myself and I
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Yes and I was totally hopeless.
Poets have my vote as the most accomplished of writers.-
Thank you !
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Yes they are rather cool aren't they?
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Thanks, and I know this is hard to believe -- but that was actually the first poem I'd ever written!
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A virgin poem...WOW now that's deep
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I have some sauce on my pants
What if someone sees it
No, it blends in
They won't see it
Where do all of the judgments go?
Filled my glass, but it leaked out
onto my pants again
They won't see it
It blends
Where do all the stains go?
It's not like hornets ever walk
It's not like kaiser buns talk
It's not like we have a purpose
Go watch a porpoise porpoise
Sauce on my face
Holding back tears
They creep out of my eyes
Mixes with the sauce
Goes into my mouth, mmmmmm
I'm eating my tear sauce mix
It reminds me of death
Cold stark reality of life
Sauce pouring into my eating hole
Sauce pouring out of my vision holes
I am the mortal wind that fights gods
Hearing all that escapes my bountiful mind
Will you pay heed to the warnings of the sauce
Will you pay heed to the teachings of my face
It's not like a cat can flock
It's not like a dog can talk
It's not even a question of integrity
Don't jerk me around Larry.
I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!-
That was so deep it took me underground
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That's hot.
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Shit I missed a lot here. I will have to catch up.
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Ode To Vince, The Poem
Everyone everywhere knows of Vince
He’s the one that tries to convince
Each and every household with TVs
That we really must have one of these!
It’s not a towel or a rag you see
It’s a magical cloth from Germany
Soaking up its weight in cola and wine
Look how that counter top begins to shine!
Now, Vince isn’t really much of a looker
He wanted a woman, so he bought a hooker
She bit his tongue, oh what a bloody mess
There was blood, even on the hooker’s dress!
Now Vince sits, I hear he’s doing time
His once golden voice isn’t worth a dime
Don’t dare ask me where, when or how
Who will now sell the magical ShamWow?-
MadMadMargo...very nice
Poor Vince has no tongue for it
www.youtube.com/watch?v=QwRISkyV_B8
Wow he looks like a beat up bitch
www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2009/0327092sham1.html
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I write poetry all the time, several hundred per year. I've had over 360 poems published. Dozens of my poems are posted on my blog, The Wordsmith's Forge:
ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com/tag/poem
I'll be hosting a live poetry event there on Tuesday, May 5. Folks are welcome to drop by and give me ideas.-
I am hoping that you would be kind enough to drop us a original poem if you are going to advertise here in this discussion. I wait to hear from you.
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yeah dude, come on...
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Further more if anyone else drops their blog link and no poem, there blog link will be deleted by admin per my request.
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Attention BC members: Please also join us here
and ignore the mild case of swine flu, just work over that, thank you.
YOUR POEMS NOW
www.blogcatalog.com/discuss/entry/your-poems-now
YOUR POEMS NOW PART 2
www.blogcatalog.com/discuss/entry/your-poems-now-part-2
YOUR POEMS NOW PART 3
www.blogcatalog.com/discuss/entry/your-poems-now-part-3 -
ramblings.
I understand, Muse.
It is not the words I write but the value of the words written.
I agree. Still, if I write 10 thousand words and all are trash
except for words 1,917 thru 2,006 are not only revealing
but interesting, and the words from 7,218 thru 7,246
are not only "interesting" but excellent! - doesn't that make
me - in the true sense of the word - a poet?
Hey, only kidding, Muse. Lighten up a little.
--------------------------
I am the sleep gap,
the way-wind surfer,
a tom-tom man
with staccato pulse
targeting the dish
and scooping the net.
Happy. Excited.
---------------------
Suffice it to say
it has been
a rough day
and on no account
as we shall see
if there is any
satisfaction
in moving
the action
beyond the realm
of dreams.
---------------
Listen.
Here. Now.
The cat walk
dreamer
on the high wire,
stalker with grim face
and ready claws,
poised to pounce,
catch,
and crunch anew
the tempted,
the neglected,
and the edible.
-------------------
We learn what we learn. Choice is not a factor. Nor is truth. Step on a crack, break your mother's back. Sugar and spice isn't always nice. Puppy dog tails sweep aside the snails. Snapping turtles clamps tight and only releases at midnight. So cross your heart. If you lie, you die. Reality intrudes slowly. Content to follow its own path.
---------------------------
Rivy thank you for taking the time to drop us this poem, love it.
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Great thank you everyone for your participation,
so far I have a good size amount of poems to choose from for my blog.
You may continue to post whatever poems you would like for consideration. -
I'm a novelist, not a poet, but this is one I've written a while ago:
The summer rain fell on me
In a torrent that came suddenly
But I let it wash over me: I didn't care
I let it soak my clothes and through my hair
Though the thunder then shook the town
My mood refused to be dampened down
For my heartstrings strummed a sweet melody,
A song of love and of you and me:
"Because of you, the man I am today
"Is more than the man I was yesterday.
"And thanks to you, I have come to know
"Love is about holding on and letting go
"About learning to cherish and to forgive
"About discovering what it really means to live
"And all this exploration
"All this passion and jubilation
"All the opening of life's doors
"Is because you are mine and I am yours."
Let the summer rain follow me everywhere
I am immune to woe and care
Lightining can strike, rain can come down
And thunder may shake the heaving town.
But you are my teacher in love, my heart says
And my heartstrings' melody still plays,
A song of love lasting for eternity
And once more the refrain occurs to me:
"I have seen and come to know
"Love is about holding on and letting go
"About being tender and forgiving
"About learning what makes life worth living
"About knowing what is most sure and true
"Is the love I will always bear for you
"And that this true love's melody
"Will always be playing for you and me
"And we will find we can open every door
"Because you are mine and I am yours."-
Thank you so much for your contribution, that's a fine poem indeed
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Thank Heavens For You
I heard there was a talent contest
That turned music into tragedy
But Simon Cowell didn't
Really care for music did he
He turned a heartwrenching lyrical masterpiece
Into a Christmas bauble
And replaced the sweetest trill
With the harshest warble
The stars used to be the musicians
The artists and the writers
But now it's decided by marketing
We should revere WAGs, fraudsters, even bumfighters
Cheryl Cole's being paid five million
To write a series of books
While your average literature graduate
Has to do poorly-paid work
So thank heavens for those out there
Who still believe in real music and craft
Thank heavens for Radio 1 and The Guardian Culture section
And thank heavens for people like you, you may be the last.-
Very nice, thank you for taking the time to share
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My tears run dry, My laugh turns mute.
I do not hate, i do not love.
I only sit. and sieve.
As days go by, i see the change,
though every day has gone the same.
faces don't protrude and skip my heartbeat,
Kind words sound through my hollow heart and fade.
Bad words sound through my hollow heart and fade.
I no longer jump at the sound of my name.
as if predicting each meander of fate.
All of a sudden, All of a sudden,
suddenly slips by to predictability.
And I'm numb.-
@cazywaz...very nice, I'm liking this one a lot
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really nice poem btw, Cold And Beautiful, its really deep and thought about.
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Thank you, it was during my "blue period"...:)
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Okay, this is in free verse. And I'm no T.S. Eliot. But it's...what it is:
It's called "I still go to parties" and it's about..well, if you can't tell, I've screwed it up:
Late, uninvited and looking both and then some
(Like the Messiah in the prison of the Inquisitor)
She opens the door she's been knocking on
-- Lets the night wind precede her like a reputation
Coloured lights around a large mirror, beer smells and -- did that turntable actually come with a DJ ? --
Who is this 'prospective housemate' of his, anyway, and how old is she supposed to be turning?
At any rate, I don't want to see her. Not tonight.
Not given the way that she is and the way that they are.
Bright eyes and smooth skin reproaching everything not actively blessed with celestial origins;
Every smile is a cold proposition engraved on stone tablets
Announcing the salvation of some and others being left behind to the new Locust masters of the Earth.
As decided from before the morning of the First Day.
(She remembers fireworks over the ocean one night, a short walk from her Aunty's place
And how she, years later --
DESCENDED into fireworks
A plane in the night skies over London
On the night when they burned the guy.
It's as if -- sometimes, you know -- every life has its moments of time-stilling compensation.
(I sometimes think that the covenant was made with such moments
And not with us.)
So skinny -- the dress only emphasises it -- in exactly the way I can’t be anymore...
Not without love, or amphetamines, or a month of Sundays
Not without that endless school holiday Dreamtime in which you said you’d do all the things which we left undone between your first kiss and your last exam.
Not without that can't-wait-much-longer-or-it'll-be-too-late conversation between me-as-a-child and myself as a time-traveler with a grievance:
"You won't care." I'll say to her "You'll forget this. You'll forget why you ever even cared. It will pass you by, like a tumbleweed or a person who only half recognises you.
But if we fail to seize this day
We will on very new year’s day feel like the defeated coming home to the dead.
...she's lissome too..
Like the promise of happiness, bottled, and branded and splashed about the glossy front pages of things
Like she was Absolut vodka or running for President with a campaign based on exploiting the DRAMATIC potential of the new media.
Like she was genetically engineered from the drool (or worse) of every lustful schoolboy
Who ever used a glossy image to take himself for a means and not an end.
But it's worse than that: SHE'S a schoolboy herself in that tiny, elfin
Bright-eyed, fulsome, optimistic, girlish ("I'm so happy because you all love me"), jazz ballet Boho Princess way
Not just (or not only) an arm to be pointed at a prize car or (bejeweled) bestow a benediction on a battleship.
Instead
Her eyes entice promises as much as they announce them
And the promises that she extracts are from life and the gods first and only secondly
-- Derivatively -- from men.
And all this is made clear as she reaches the lounge room
Where every photograph of our darling dancing eyed girl is a like an avuncular high-five from the Most High:
(Only daughter of an only son)
A sonnet to a sacrament performed by nature at the birthday of her favourite child.
Age, unfortunately, is an impotent and increasingly pedantic meditation on the meaning of the word of “youth”
It’s the long breath that follows the breathlessness
The way a forgotten rock star
Follows the curious, posthumous history of his name
In the newspapers
From the days of pinball to the days of pacman
She sits disgruntled on a milk crate
And lights a cigarette in a way that she realises once cost her a good couple of hours
Practicing in the mirror when she could have been staring at the sun
And she realises that
We are principally
And irrevocably
The sigh of a sad animal (and a genius who is not ourselves)
After sex.-
@Maladjusted,
Just wondering, how long did it take you to write this poem?
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wonderful -
I write a lot of poems that are personal. I prefer not to post them... -
i dream about you and i lost my breath, i saw you and i lost my nerve.
i gave you my heart and i lost my hope, i gave you my love and i almost lost my life. ~ I Lost Everything
www.luckyless.blogspot.com -
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Here is my poem that I posted recently on my blog:
dharbarkha.blogspot.com/2009/09/she-is-woman-poem-by-barkha-dhar.html
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