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Subject: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 06/09/06 at 8:31 am
It's a library -- and there's always a poetry section, no matter how small. You can post yours or something you like that was written by someone else. Comments and discussions welcome -- just don't be cruel :). I'll start off with one of my own and one of my favorites by a popular published poet. (see next post)
ps...now that I see how what I thought were fairly brief poems come out looking long on a post....a reminder not to post anything to lengthy. If something's worth referring to but it's very long, post the beginning and then a link.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 06/09/06 at 8:37 am
The poetry I do now is "performance poetry" which means it is written specifically to be performed live. So I hope it translates to the page okay. Where you see words from "Amazing Grace" -- when I perform it, I don't speak or sing these words, I play the melody on a little clay ocharina (a round handmade flute). Also, the line from "Night Moves" is sung, not spoken. I'm opening with this one because it actually contains some cultural references.
Grace In The Attic
by Connie Kaye
(amazing grace how sweet the sound)
Grace tiptoed across the dusty attic floorboards
taking tiny steps on the tips of her barefooted feet.
Ten year old Grace, calling
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 06/09/06 at 8:40 am
This is a poem by one of my favorite poets, Wislawa Szymborska -- a Polish poet. I believe she won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry at some point. Fabulous.
VIEW WITH A GRAIN OF SAND
Wislawa Szymborska
We call it a grain of sand
but it calls itself neither grain nor sand.
It does just fine without a name,
whether general, particular,
permanent, passing,
incorrect or apt.
Our glance, our touch mean nothing to it.
It doesn't feel itself seen and touched.
And that it fell on the windowsill
is only our experience, not its.
For it it's no different than falling on anything else
with no assurance that it's finished falling
or that it's falling still.
The window has a wonderful view of a lake
but the view doesn't view itself.
It exists in the world
colorless, shapeless,
soundless, odorless, and painless.
The lake's floor exists floorlessly
and its shore exists shorelessly.
Its water feels itself neither wet nor dry
and its waves to themselves are neither singular nor plural.
The splash deaf to their own noise
on pebbles neither large nor small.
And all this beneath a sky by nature skyless
in which the sun sets without setting at all
and hides without hiding behind an unminding cloud.
The wind ruffles it, its only reason being
that it blows.
A second passes.
A second second.
A third.
But they're three seconds only for us.
Time has passed like a courier with urgent news.
But that's just our simile.
The character's invented, his haste is make-believe,
his news inhuman.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Tam on 06/09/06 at 8:47 am
Great poems Con!
One that has always struck me is 1821 by Pushkin.
A little bit depressing but all in all a great poem.
1821
I have outlasted all desire,
My dreams and I have grown apart;
My grief alone is left entire,
The gleanings of an empty heart.
The storms of ruthless dispensation
Have struck my flowery garland numb-
I live in lonely desolation
And wonder when my end will come.
Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted
By tardy winter's whistling chill,
A single leaf which has outlasted
Its season will be trembling still. ~Pushkin
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 06/09/06 at 8:55 am
Great poems Con!
One that has always struck me is 1821 by Pushkin.
A little bit depressing but all in all a great poem.
That's a great one. I've not read it before. I love when a poet can use rhyme but it is not at all forced. Then poetry is like a river. http://www.inthe00s.com/smile/10/sunny.gif
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 06/09/06 at 8:57 am
And these words, by Rumi
Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing,
There is a field. I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn't make any sense.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Tam on 06/09/06 at 8:58 am
That's a great one. I've not read it before. I love when a poet can use rhyme but it is not at all forced. Then poetry is like a river. http://www.inthe00s.com/smile/10/sunny.gif
I agree. And the fact that he gets his entire point across without adding unneeded text.
I liek the two you chose as well. The second one almost made me cry and I don't know why! ;)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 06/09/06 at 9:32 am
I agree. And the fact that he gets his entire point across without adding unneeded text.
I liek the two you chose as well. The second one almost made me cry and I don't know why! ;)
For me...I think it speaks of the freedom of a very pure love -- which many of us wish for but in reality is very rare.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Tam on 06/09/06 at 9:49 am
For me...I think it speaks of the freedom of a very pure love -- which many of us wish for but in reality is very rare.
I think you are right 8)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: KKay on 06/09/06 at 12:42 pm
Finally, I found one of my top 5!!!!
A Considerable Speck by Robert Frost
A speck that would have been beneath my sight
On any but a paper sheet so white
Set off across what I had written there.
And I had idly poised my pen in air
To stop it with a period of ink
When something strange about it made me think,
This was no dust speck by my breathing blown,
But unmistakably a living mite
With inclinations it could call its own.
It paused as with suspicion of my pen,
And then came racing wildly on again
To where my manuscript was not yet dry;
Then paused again and either drank or smelt--
With loathing, for again it turned to fly.
Plainly with an intelligence I dealt.
It seemed too tiny to have room for feet,
Yet must have had a set of them complete
To express how much it didn't want to die.
It ran with terror and with cunning crept.
It faltered: I could see it hesitate;
Then in the middle of the open sheet
Cower down in desperation to accept
Whatever I accorded it of fate.
I have none of the tenderer-than-thou
Collectivistic regimenting love
With which the modern world is being swept.
But this poor microscopic item now!
Since it was nothing I knew evil of
I let it lie there till I hope it slept.
I have a mind myself and recognize
Mind when I meet with it in any guise
No one can know how glad I am to find
On any sheet the least display of mind.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Tam on 06/09/06 at 12:50 pm
Robert Service was a well known Canadian Poet and Novelist.
This is my absolute favourite poem by him.
GTK: Cdn Band Weeping Tile recorded a song based on the mine tragedy in Nova Scotia.
26 miners were killed and the band used the outline of this poem as the basis for their song.
The Cremation of Sam McGee
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee,
Where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam
'Round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold
Seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way
That he'd "sooner live in hell".
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way
Over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold
It stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze
Till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one
To whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight
In our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead
Were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he,
"I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you
Won't refuse my last request."
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no;
Then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right hold
Till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead -- it's my awful dread
Of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair,
You'll cremate my last remains."
A pal's last need is a thing to heed,
So I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn;
But God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day
Of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all
That was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn't a breath in that land of death,
And I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid,
Because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say:
"You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you
To cremate those last remains."
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid,
And the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb,
In my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight,
While the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows --
O God! how I loathed the thing.
And every day that quiet clay
Seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent
And the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad,
But I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing,
And it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge,
And a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice
It was called the "Alice May".
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit,
And I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry,
"Is my cre-ma-tor-eum."
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor,
And I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around,
And I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared --
Such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal,
And I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn't like
To hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled,
And the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled
Down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak
Went streaking down the sky.
I do not know how long in the snow
I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about
Ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said:
"I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; . . .
Then the door I opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm,
In the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile,
And he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear
You'll let in the cold and storm --
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee,
It's the first time I've been warm."
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 06/09/06 at 10:29 pm
Finally, I found one of my top 5!!!!
A Considerable Speck by Robert Frost
Beautiful poem by an unquestionable Master! Thanks K!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Gis on 06/10/06 at 3:54 am
This is one of my favourite poems.
Breakfast - Hannah Hunt.
His place was laid,
The messroom clock struck eight,
The sun shone through the window on his chair.
No-one commented on his fate,
Save for a head shake here and there;
Only old George who'd seem him die
Spinning against the autumn sky,
Leaned forward and turned down his plate.
And, as he did, the sunlight fled,
As though the sky he'd loved so
Mourned her dead.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 06/10/06 at 8:57 am
This is one of my favourite poems.
Breakfast - Hannah Hunt.
A powerful poem, Gis -- a sad and meaningful point.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: KKay on 06/10/06 at 9:01 am
Beautiful poem by an unquestionable Master! Thanks K!
I first read that in like...7th grade. and always remembered it. good comment on intelligence of life and of writers.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: La Roche on 06/10/06 at 2:06 pm
Misanthropic protagonist burning buildings for fun,
Speak softly to children, let them play with your gun,
Classroom beligerance leading slowly to death,
No CNN or Media coverage can capture the last breath.
So whilst the Government looks for a finger to point,
And I become evil for smoking a joint,
Evangelist preachers put heretics to blame,
With false claims of judgement and eternal flame.
Now sick parents concerned with young Michael's new friends,
Read Time magazine, where's the means to their ends?
This one is shifty, this one wears black,
Dr. Phil already warned them, get ready for the attack.
So Drag the waters and find the scapegoat,
Maybe some lyrics that Judas Priest wrote?
Could it be Ozzy with a call for suicide,
Or could it be that your son just wanted to die?
Let's blame Maiden, let's blame Priest,
Let's blame the hero's of the deceased.
Divorce number three wasn't a cause,
Neither was you calling your daughter a whore.
No, the blame is with Maiden, with Sabbath with Priest,
Slayer are guilty, hung by their feet.
With heroin needles and satanic calls,
Megadeth are to blame for it all.
Step back to reality,
Yes it's a tragedy,
That your son took your gun and went mad in the classroom.
Let's reflect and inject some realism in to this situation,
The rifle was loaded, with your ammunition.
You didn't notice all his failing grades,
Or that he cut himself daily with Dad's razor blades.
On the day that he died there was nobody there,
Like the past 15 years you two were estranged,
Can you think to yourself of reason here,
Or is 'cus Ozzy won't cut his hair?
Self righteous scapegoating you can't accept blame,
The fault rests on you, you should have been there.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: velvetoneo on 06/10/06 at 3:07 pm
The Snow Man
by Wallace Stevens
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 06/10/06 at 3:24 pm
Misanthropic protagonist burning buildings for fun,
Speak softly to children, let them play with your gun,
Classroom beligerance leading slowly to death,
No CNN or Media coverage can capture the last breath.
Good job Andrew. This is yours, yes? Good job on a tough subject (at least for me, being here in Colo. and close to Columbine).
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 06/10/06 at 3:26 pm
The Snow Man
by Wallace Stevens
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
Beautiful poem. Thanks. I'm glad to be getting such good stuff here!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: velvetoneo on 06/10/06 at 3:37 pm
Elegy for Jane
(My student, thrown by a horse)
I remember the neckcurls, limp and damp as tendrils;
And her quick look, a sidelong pickerel smile;
And how, once startled into talk, the light syllables leaped for her,
And she balanced in the delight of her thought,
A wren, happy, tail into the wind,
Her song trembling the twigs and small branches.
The shade sang with her;
The leaves, their whispers turned to kissing,
And the mould sang in the bleached valleys under the rose.
Oh, when she was sad, she cast herself down into such a pure depth,
Even a father could not find her:
Scraping her cheek against straw,
Stirring the clearest water.
My sparrow, you are not here,
Waiting like a fern, making a spiney shadow.
The sides of wet stones cannot console me,
Nor the moss, wound with the last light.
If only I could nudge you from this sleep,
My maimed darling, my skittery pigeon.
Over this damp grave I speak the words of my love:
I, with no rights in this matter,
Neither father nor lover.
By Theodore Roethke.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: velvetoneo on 06/10/06 at 3:49 pm
A poem of mine...I'm editor of the school literary magazine and this is what was included in it.
Our Love, Snowman
By James Levinsohn.
You thought our being together,
Was an insubstantial flake among the dust,
Embedded in the necklace of your triumphs,
A minor pelt among the big game in your den.
You thought us being together
Was but a lost boot in the highlands,
Worn by a thousand men,
That has trampled upon the soils of the mountains,
The tundra, the desert, the mud underfoot and undersea.
You thought, you thought, you thought
You liked to think so many things,
I know you did though I live outside your head,
I look in on the windows of your veranda,
And you stand there, a cardboard cut-out,
Saying "love must be defined by two,
And love can never be one.
Love must be togetherness,
And not one alone.
It is impossible to be in love alone."
But I am in love with the soil that makes you up,
I am in love with the soil that nature carved you out of,
I am in love with the man you are, the man from the common dirt
And roughage planted in the gardens of the universe.
But I am in love with the stars that hang above you,
Your drawing in the sand,
I am in love with how bright you shine,
The way you make inferior the dim gleams of dying stars.
All the stars will die one day, but in words, in gestures,
In pictures and assumptions, in the expressions in my face,
And in the spirit that runs between them that could never be caught
In a butterfly net, I bring myself closer
I bring myself closer to finding myself through the mirror,
Amidst the running waters, and the whispered kisses of the afterglow
Of a love before birth, a love before time,
A love before worth.
You thought us being together was an art of two,
You thought us being together was as impermanent as you,
As the very atoms in your flesh, the very water running between your lips
When you speak to me in my dreams.
I wish to sculpt you out of snow,
Snow that has fallen mysteriously,
Burning white upon the earth, superheated by the
Furnace of nature in winter, sparks from a
Cauldron of fire.
I wish to sculpt you out of snow,
To show the world that love runs in the waters I was born from,
To show that flowers can thrive in my soil,
To show that emotion can thrive in my soil and not only words,
Stupid words.
And when you melt in the spring,
Your memory will be carried with me
In the rain, the same water
The same feeling, the same gushing explosion
Since the volcanoes erupted
And melted the earth into valleys of fruit and milk and honey
The moisture in the air, the dew upon the life,
The dew upon the life, the green and pink and brown life that
Dies and mates and reproduces and continues, despite death
And tragedy, that is both a number and a glory.
And our love, snowman,
Will come from the beginning of time,
And from time's forever.
I'm living in the past,
In years before the exodus and years before the influx.
I can't let go of what ties me to the earth,
The waters running from my orifices and our eyes.
I'm promising my life before it's begun,
For our love, snowman,
For our love, snowman,
There is no place in the future,
For an existence made of a past I never fully knew,
That I have only seen through another's eyes.
There is no place in the future,
For a vision originating only from eyes
My own.
For I have not found this love,
Our love, snowman.
2005.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: velvetoneo on 06/10/06 at 3:57 pm
The Aquarium-
You turn on the faucet, a hot beam rushes
To excoriate the porcelain and the plastic cups.
To scrub the scales of the mermaids
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: velvetoneo on 06/10/06 at 4:02 pm
The Forest-
You can turn the forest on and off,
As you gesture your fingers, expand them to their limit,
Above a flashlight against a dark wall.
Telling frightening stories to yourself, temporarily alone.
Downstairs, there are people talking, blabbering,
But their words don
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: La Roche on 06/10/06 at 4:06 pm
Good job Andrew. This is yours, yes? Good job on a tough subject (at least for me, being here in Colo. and close to Columbine).
Yes, all me.
Well, it pisses me off, seeing what those kids were doing right under their parents, teachers etc noses and then the way those people come back and attribute blame to people with no involvement whatsoever.. no.. I'm sorry. The fact that you didn't notice that Junior was sawing off a shot gun in the garage and worshipping Uncle Adolf on a regular basis is your fault, not the fault of Rob Halford or Glenn Tipton.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: velvetoneo on 06/10/06 at 4:08 pm
Any comments on my poetry?
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: velvetoneo on 06/10/06 at 5:19 pm
Living, Breathing-
What are you doing these days, what are you doing with your life?
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 06/10/06 at 6:29 pm
Elegy for Jane
(My student, thrown by a horse)
I remember the neckcurls, limp and damp as tendrils;
And her quick look, a sidelong pickerel smile;
And how, once startled into talk, the light syllables leaped for her,
And she balanced in the delight of her thought,
A wren, happy, tail into the wind,
Her song trembling the twigs and small branches.
By Theodore Roethke.
Roethke. Another of my favorites. Lovely.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: velvetoneo on 06/10/06 at 8:55 pm
Any comments on my poetry?
:D
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 06/11/06 at 12:03 am
:D
James, thanks for posting your poetry. I just got home & saw it here...it's late. I'm waiting until morning to read it so I can actually pay attention. Then, comments. On first glance, it reads beautifully...but I'm too tired to really think. :)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Trimac20 on 06/11/06 at 6:29 am
The Aquarium-
You turn on the faucet, a hot beam rushes
To excoriate the porcelain and the plastic cups.
To scrub the scales of the mermaids
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Trimac20 on 06/11/06 at 6:32 am
A poem of mine...I'm editor of the school literary magazine and this is what was included in it.
Our Love, Snowman
By James Levinsohn.
You thought our being together,
Was an insubstantial flake among the dust,
Embedded in the necklace of your triumphs,
A minor pelt among the big game in your den.
You thought us being together
Was but a lost boot in the highlands,
Worn by a thousand men,
That has trampled upon the soils of the mountains,
The tundra, the desert, the mud underfoot and undersea.
You thought, you thought, you thought
You liked to think so many things,
I know you did though I live outside your head,
I look in on the windows of your veranda,
And you stand there, a cardboard cut-out,
Saying "love must be defined by two,
And love can never be one.
Love must be togetherness,
And not one alone.
It is impossible to be in love alone."
But I am in love with the soil that makes you up,
I am in love with the soil that nature carved you out of,
I am in love with the man you are, the man from the common dirt
And roughage planted in the gardens of the universe.
But I am in love with the stars that hang above you,
Your drawing in the sand,
I am in love with how bright you shine,
The way you make inferior the dim gleams of dying stars.
All the stars will die one day, but in words, in gestures,
In pictures and assumptions, in the expressions in my face,
And in the spirit that runs between them that could never be caught
In a butterfly net, I bring myself closer
I bring myself closer to finding myself through the mirror,
Amidst the running waters, and the whispered kisses of the afterglow
Of a love before birth, a love before time,
A love before worth.
You thought us being together was an art of two,
You thought us being together was as impermanent as you,
As the very atoms in your flesh, the very water running between your lips
When you speak to me in my dreams.
I wish to sculpt you out of snow,
Snow that has fallen mysteriously,
Burning white upon the earth, superheated by the
Furnace of nature in winter, sparks from a
Cauldron of fire.
I wish to sculpt you out of snow,
To show the world that love runs in the waters I was born from,
To show that flowers can thrive in my soil,
To show that emotion can thrive in my soil and not only words,
Stupid words.
And when you melt in the spring,
Your memory will be carried with me
In the rain, the same water
The same feeling, the same gushing explosion
Since the volcanoes erupted
And melted the earth into valleys of fruit and milk and honey
The moisture in the air, the dew upon the life,
The dew upon the life, the green and pink and brown life that
Dies and mates and reproduces and continues, despite death
And tragedy, that is both a number and a glory.
And our love, snowman,
Will come from the beginning of time,
And from time's forever.
I'm living in the past,
In years before the exodus and years before the influx.
I can't let go of what ties me to the earth,
The waters running from my orifices and our eyes.
I'm promising my life before it's begun,
For our love, snowman,
For our love, snowman,
There is no place in the future,
For an existence made of a past I never fully knew,
That I have only seen through another's eyes.
There is no place in the future,
For a vision originating only from eyes
My own.
For I have not found this love,
Our love, snowman.
2005.
Wow, not bad, though I kind of lost you after the few lines, lol.
Here's an old poem I dug up from awhile back (don't be too harsh, I had just started out writing poems back then) entitled 'City on the Swan.'
(C) Aug 2005, Trimac20
I lie by the Swan in a lazy state of leisure
Cold steel softens the syrup-scented skies
Brim with the flavours of Eucalypt and salt
Subtle and allayed I smell with my eyes
I
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Trimac20 on 06/11/06 at 6:36 am
The Forest-
You can turn the forest on and off,
As you gesture your fingers, expand them to their limit,
Above a flashlight against a dark wall.
Telling frightening stories to yourself, temporarily alone.
Downstairs, there are people talking, blabbering,
But their words don
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Trimac20 on 06/11/06 at 6:44 am
Another oldie (but a very short one)
Traffic, Trimac20 (C) 2005
A single note is droning,
The carriages are groaning,
Their wheels doubtless troubled,
By the tread of mangled flesh,
The cries of ancient corpses,
Drowned out by the eons,
The tread of mangled flesh
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 06/11/06 at 9:07 am
The Forest-
You can turn the forest on and off,
As you gesture your fingers, expand them to their limit,
Above a flashlight against a dark wall.
James -- I like this one the best -- I really get the mood and this opening image is fabulous. There's great stuff in that love poem, very powerful. I bet there are three poems in that one if you ever chose to expand on it.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: velvetoneo on 06/11/06 at 10:19 am
You wouldn't be an aquarist too, would you?
Nah. I like them, but I'm not an aquarist.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Trimac20 on 06/11/06 at 10:22 am
Nah. I like them, but I'm not an aquarist.
Yeah...what did you think of my contributions? Be as harsh as you want...
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: velvetoneo on 06/11/06 at 10:31 am
Trimac, I liked the first one alot better. It reminds me of Wordsworth or Coleridge.
CeeKay, thanks for your compliments!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Trimac20 on 06/11/06 at 10:33 am
Yours are pretty good (just a note, I had no interest whatsoever in poetry at age 16). But a little LONG.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: velvetoneo on 06/11/06 at 10:36 am
Yours are pretty good (just a note, I had no interest whatsoever in poetry at age 16). But a little LONG.
I think I wrote my first poem when I was about 8.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Trimac20 on 06/11/06 at 10:39 am
I think I wrote my first poem when I was about 8.
Really? You seem quite the budding poet. Who are your greatest influences? I'm no expert, really, my interest in poetry really being spawned by listening to the Doors! lol
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 06/12/06 at 12:26 am
Trimac -- I like your City on the Swan poem. You've got a good flow to your words and I like the repitition of the one line. This...
I lie by the Swan in a lazy state of leisure
Cold steel softens the syrup-scented skies
Brim with the flavours of Eucalypt and salt
Subtle and allayed I smell with my eyes
I
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Trimac20 on 06/12/06 at 1:10 am
Trimac -- I like your City on the Swan poem. You've got a good flow to your words and I like the repitition of the one line. This...
I lie by the Swan in a lazy state of leisure
Cold steel softens the syrup-scented skies
Brim with the flavours of Eucalypt and salt
Subtle and allayed I smell with my eyes
I
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Trimac20 on 06/12/06 at 1:11 am
Perth, the 'City on the Swan'
http://www.james.rcpt.to/perth/images/medium-kings-park-city.jpg
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 06/12/06 at 8:53 am
Where Mountains and the Ocean Meet
by Connie Kaye
Some caressing of the face,
Some withdrawing from the land;
Like the woman's deep embrace or
firm and stalwart like the man --
Complicated yet complete
is the place beyond the beach
where I might hide...
where I might seek...
where Mountains and the Ocean meet.
Sometimes stubborn, staunch and proud.
Sometimes violent and loud!
Sometimes broken by the storm.
Sometimes soft
and safe
and warm.
Where salt and moss and wind compete --
sometimes bitter, sometimes sweet.
This, the love that calls to me
This, the voice upon the sea
where Mountains and the Ocean meet.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: ultraviolet52 on 06/16/06 at 5:17 pm
Very nice poems, James - (see, I finally got to check them out!)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Trimac20 on 06/16/06 at 11:46 pm
Where Mountains and the Ocean Meet
by Connie Kaye
Some caressing of the face,
Some withdrawing from the land;
Like the woman's deep embrace or
firm and stalwart like the man --
Complicated yet complete
is the place beyond the beach
where I might hide...
where I might seek...
where Mountains and the Ocean meet.
Sometimes stubborn, staunch and proud.
Sometimes violent and loud!
Sometimes broken by the storm.
Sometimes soft
and safe
and warm.
Where salt and moss and wind compete --
sometimes bitter, sometimes sweet.
This, the love that calls to me
This, the voice upon the sea
where Mountains and the Ocean meet.
I quite liked it Ceekay! It's so...fundamental, yet evocative and poetic.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 07/11/06 at 9:39 am
I wrote and recently read publicly a poem called "I Am Not Your Barbie Doll!" It was a bit therapeutic. Here's an excerpt (it's too long to print it all here):
You, you knew what was wrong.
You planted seeds in that hole --
Seeds of control that grew like vines over time
over all I was....all I thought I could be.
But it's different now you see.
I know how to have my say
so I am telling you today:
"I am not your Barbie Doll!"
My arms, love, were made to spread like wings so I can dance --
Entwine my vines 'round real romance
I'm taking chances from this day on and
I Am Pissed!
I am not your Barbie Doll.
I do not bend just at my elbows and my wrists.
My ankles are not permanently raised
for pink stiletto heals and high rise shoes.
I'm chasing my blues away in my bare feet
completely by my own choice.
I'm wiggling my toes in smooth cool mud
caused by rain that I let fall.
I'm using my voice, Mister:
Don't call me 'Honey' anymore!
...anyway -- you get the idea. A little 'better-late-than-never' rant.
I
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 07/13/06 at 12:16 pm
SOCIETY FUNCTIONS- by Hawk, the Slayer
I have always sought a place where I belong.
I have tried, with no success.
Then one night, due to Peter Gabriel,
this place somehow came along.
As I began to learn the ropes anew,
I met some wonderful faces.
Of course, there are bad along with the good,
But I knew I'd work it through.
I learned about the cliques and aristocracy
And how to gain penguin juju.
I learned that only certain people can write certain threads,
And if you try, some go crazy.
I also learned about the exit and entry,
The fun to be had if you know how.
The laugh, the applause, the bitch-slap...
And I hoped there would be some for me.
Then came the feud with my 'sister'.
She drew up her war paint, and I my war hammer.
She got her friends in on her side,
While I worked up a feverish blister.
I contemplated leaving this place,
But soon found out I had friends, too.
So here I am, in all of my nefarious wisdom and wit,
For now, I'm not just another face.
-HTS
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 07/13/06 at 1:24 pm
SOCIETY FUNCTIONS- by Hawk, the Slayer
Cool -- a current and relevant poem for us. Thanks!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 07/13/06 at 4:59 pm
I used to write quite a bit of poetry, when I was a bit younger.
I was also a bard, in a re-enactment society, from which i will be retiring this Saturday. :\'(
I am stepping down as Bard to the current Prince/Princess.
Therefore, my artistic juices have been quite active.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 07/20/06 at 1:20 pm
RANT & RAVE
You step up to bat, and take a chance.
You never know who's at the dance.
You see the posts, and your brain churns,
Because you want to take your turn.
With fevered fingers and thoughts in hand,
You type your post, and take your stand.
Aworld of thought comes into view,
and everyone can see if it's you.
You catch up on another thread,
And when you look back, your eyes fill with dread.
For someone now has posted back,
And turned it into an attack!
They say we are free to speak as we please.
That's worse than me trying to speak Javanese!
I know exactly how I feel about lies.
It's obvious, when you are chastised.
There are those who do just what you did,
And they aren't chided. Who a trying to kid?
It occurs to me that I'm in "No Poet's Land",
And I might become the leader of the banned.
If I suffer this fate, then so must it be!
But I ask you: Do not grieve for me.
For the day shall come when I shall arise.
Until then, give 'em all black eyes!
-HTS
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: La Roche on 07/21/06 at 6:29 pm
RANT & RAVE
You step up to bat, and take a chance.
You never know who's at the dance.
You see the posts, and your brain churns,
Because you want to take your turn.
With fevered fingers and thoughts in hand,
You type your post, and take your stand.
Aworld of thought comes into view,
and everyone can see if it's you.
You catch up on another thread,
And when you look back, your eyes fill with dread.
For someone now has posted back,
And turned it into an attack!
They say we are free to speak as we please.
That's worse than me trying to speak Javanese!
I know exactly how I feel about lies.
It's obvious, when you are chastised.
There are those who do just what you did,
And they aren't chided. Who a trying to kid?
It occurs to me that I'm in "No Poet's Land",
And I might become the leader of the banned.
If I suffer this fate, then so must it be!
But I ask you: Do not grieve for me.
For the day shall come when I shall arise.
Until then, give 'em all black eyes!
-HTS
This my friend.. is very clever!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 07/21/06 at 8:26 pm
Can anyone out here prove me otherwise?
Some of my poetry comes from ny heart, other bits from my mind, yet others from my feelings...(YES, I DO have them!)
This was written after I experienced several types of outbursts from various ppl (where I live, on this website, etc.), stating that I either needed to "shut up" (and then turned it into an "Oh, Lord" session),
or that if I didn't stpo being so different, I was gonna get my.....assets kicked.
I honestly feel that a lot of what I want to say gets repressed.
I guess I won't look forward to much airtime, when my album gets releasd in about 10 months.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 07/24/06 at 5:46 pm
IN THE MIND OF A MADMAN
Once again, I scream into the darkness as I see it close around me.
The madness closes in like a pressure vice. The insanity surrounds me.
This is not the way it's supposed to be...this is nothing like me!
I scribble endless pages of crazed nothingness.
I feel as though I'm less than meaningless.
My spirit is torn asunder...the madness paralyzes me with its thunder.
It permeates my being...it keeps me shocked awake...I wonder how much more of this I can take.
My brain is being frozen with the thoughts of reality...All I want now is to end the formality.
The wolf's at the door, and he has a mouth to pay.
The tides are ever-changing, and the island's far away.
I feel as though I have no refuge; no shelter from the eternal deluge.
I seek a miracle, while I claw the way to survival,
but I know there is only a glimmer for revival.
My soul is weary...my intellect is weak...I am too exhausted just to turn the other cheek.
Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest? Can nothing overcome this vituperous beast?
I am trapped in the tunnel, with no light of day. How can I continue survival this way?
HTS
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: KKay on 07/30/06 at 10:47 am
well, i listened to the old recording over and over and wrote this out best I could.
i suppose it's my all time favorite poem
please excuse the misspellings - there is lots of poetic license taken in this piece, and i'm sure I got all the spelling of Jack's lingo wrong.
here it is.
Praised be Man
By Jack Kerouac
Praised be man, he is existing in milk and living in lillies
And his violent music takes place in milk
And creamy emptiness.
Praised be the unfolded inside petal flesh of tenderous thought
Petrils on the follying wave valleys idly sing themselves asleep.
Praised be delusion
The ripple
Praised be a holy ocean of eternity
Praised be I
Writing
Dead already and dead again
Dippd in ancid inkle
The flammd of tim the anglo oglo saxon manouveres of old poetos
Praised be wood it is milk
Praised be honey at the source
Praised be the embrace of soft sleep
The valor of angels in valleys in hell on earth below
Praised be the non ending
Praised be the lights of earth man
Praised be the watchers
Praised be my fellow man for dwelling in milk
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 07/31/06 at 3:26 am
Nice one, KKay!
I was never much of a Kerouac fan, but this one's OK!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 08/01/06 at 9:07 am
well, i listened to the old recording over and over and wrote this out best I could.
i suppose it's my all time favorite poem
please excuse the misspellings - there is lots of poetic license taken in this piece, and i'm sure I got all the spelling of Jack's lingo wrong.
here it is.
Praised be Man
By Jack Kerouac
AWESOME. Great choice. Thanks!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 08/01/06 at 9:09 am
RANT & RAVE
Hawk, I hope you will keep speaking honestly. Your poetry tells it like it is and you are not afraid to speak the truth about your experience. As someone told me once... AUTHENTICITY IS ESSENTIAL and requires courage.
Thanks for posting your words here.
~C~
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 08/01/06 at 1:21 pm
Thank you for your words.
My poetry is not all orchids & ticker tape parades.
As I have stated, some comes from my heart, others from my feelings, or other recesses of my overcrowded brain.
If you like, I DO have some of the other poetry I have written over the years.
I have written about cats, and a lazy Saturday afternoon.
I once had a poem published, called "Convictions Of the Heart".
(I had a crush, at the time, and I knew it was foolhardy to try, but I did anyway...)
My last poem posted was written in a moment of financial despair, and things were taking a big toll on me.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CatwomanofV on 08/08/06 at 12:19 pm
One of my all-time favorites.
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Cat
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 08/08/06 at 2:16 pm
I always did like that one, Cat.
Thanks for sharing it with us.
It reminds me of the Carl Sandburg poem about fog.
That's the one that starts "The Fog rolls in on little cat feet....."
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CatwomanofV on 08/08/06 at 4:57 pm
I always did like that one, Cat.
Thanks for sharing it with us.
It reminds me of the Carl Sandburg poem about fog.
That's the one that starts "The Fog rolls in on little cat feet....."
You mean this one?
Fog
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
Cat
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 08/08/06 at 5:31 pm
That be it!
Thanks again for sharing that wonderful poem.
That poem brings back quite a few memories!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Trimac20 on 08/09/06 at 12:57 am
Here's a very short poem I set to music:
'Emotions'
Emotions are like egg-shell figurines,
Exquisite - but tragically poised,
On slender, subtle, branches,
Pre-destined to shatter -and destroy,
And draw strength from incongruity
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 08/09/06 at 1:52 am
Interesting...I can see a style of slow jazz, for that one...
Almost like something you would hear a New Age coffeehouse would play.
(The 21st Century Beatnik- you get karma, daddio.)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 08/09/06 at 10:26 pm
Interesting...I can see a style of slow jazz, for that one...
Almost like something you would hear a New Age coffeehouse would play.
(The 21st Century Beatnik- you get karma, daddio.)
Yeah. I agree. Nice job!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Trimac20 on 08/09/06 at 11:31 pm
Thanks HawktheSlayer and Ceekay! If you want to hear it in its recorded form, go to:
www.soundclick.com/trimac20
And remember to leave a message 8)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 08/13/06 at 5:30 am
THE TRANSITION
My mind races, as I stand upon the brink of time.
I glance back, as I see where I have been.
My heart fills with myriad emotions, as the colors of a rainbow.
The flood of memories streams into my mind.
I am overwhelmed as the past takes shape.
It has been waiting for this day.
I take one last look across the chasm of my life.
I see a shining road that is calling.
"Come to me. Follow my path. Seize the future. Make it true."
As I follow the road, I hope that I, too, may shine.
A. WAYNE HAMILTON/ HTS
(NB: This poem is actually being published & copyrighted. Go to poetry.com, for a more complete description of the contest this is featured in.)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: KKay on 08/13/06 at 8:01 am
here is a real biting piece from jim carroll that i have liked since high school.
Love Story
The penalty for desertion
is death by firing squad.
I'm saving you this trouble
enclosed is a pistol.
loaded with only one bullet.
squeeze the trigger once
perhaps nothing will happen.
but squeeze it a second time...
a third time... You see
I know the games you love
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CatwomanofV on 08/13/06 at 3:34 pm
"You must practice", said the teacher to the child.
"We don't want you to grow up to be wild."
"Patience is the key", he said more to himself than to the boy.
He knew it would take years before his work would bring him joy.
The boy worked and worked to please his teacher.
But his face showed frustration as its only feature.
As the years went on, the boy ceased to exist.
Instead a young man was in the mist.
"Practice" and "Patience" the teacher still said.
Without speaking, the student still heard these words in his head.
Finally the day came when the teacher's job was done.
It was sad because the student was like his son.
Many years later the young man asked his old teacher why he did it.
"It was a headache," the teacher said, "I must admit."
"But, I did it for the love and the joy."
With a tear, the old man said, "I'm proud of you my boy."
"you must practice", the young man said to a child.
"We don't want you to grow up to be wild."
Cat
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 08/13/06 at 6:47 pm
here is a real biting piece from jim carroll that i have liked since high school.
Love Story
The penalty for desertion
is death by firing squad.
I'm saving you this trouble
enclosed is a pistol.
loaded with only one bullet.
squeeze the trigger once
perhaps nothing will happen.
but squeeze it a second time...
a third time... You see
I know the games you love
Wow. That's sharp alright. I'd never seen it before.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 08/14/06 at 5:53 pm
This sounds eerily like someone committing seppuku.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: adagio on 08/15/06 at 11:04 am
Trimac20, I loved your poem "Emotions"
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: adagio on 08/15/06 at 11:14 am
I'm so glad that a poetry section was put in here...thenk you whoever!
Protective Smile
My pensive smile hides my will
While I perch and look thin skinned.
Everyday is borrowed sound
Bruised as one upon silence found
As, I profound, with my head bowed
Bemused with their raging din
And their love's neglectfulness surrounds.
So, frankly, I will be the talk of the town.
I reassess who wears the frown,
And who will wear the smiles and laughter.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 08/15/06 at 12:53 pm
I'm so glad that a poetry section was put in here...thenk you whoever!
Protective Smile
My pensive smile hides my will
While I perch and look thin skinned.
Everyday is borrowed sound
Bruised as one upon silence found
As, I profound, with my head bowed
Bemused with their raging din
And their love's neglectfulness surrounds.
So, frankly, I will be the talk of the town.
I reassess who wears the frown,
And who will wear the smiles and laughter.
Nice poem, Adagio. Is it your original? I like the rhyme pattern and, particularly, the last two lines. Thoughtful.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 08/15/06 at 2:33 pm
I agree, Adagio. Very nice!
The verse pattern seems almost Oriental in nature.
I know it's not haiku, but rather a form of formal Oriental verse.
Something like Miyamoto Musashi would write.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: adagio on 08/15/06 at 3:57 pm
Thank you both! "Protective Smile" is one of my originals. :)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: La Roche on 08/15/06 at 5:20 pm
Ok.. so I got the new Slayer album today.. and this is some pure poetry, yo.
Oppression is the holy law,
In God I distrust,
In times his monuments will fall,
Like ashes to dust.
Is war and greed the master plan?
The bible's where it all began,
It's propoganda sells despair,
And spreads the virus everywhere.
The pestilence is Jesus Christ,
There never was a sacrifice,
No man upon the crucifix.
Beware the cult of purity,
Infectious imbecility,
I've made my choice, six, six, six.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Trimac20 on 08/16/06 at 8:26 am
Trimac20, I loved your poem "Emotions"
Thanks! Clap clap...;). You're also a very capable poet...I won't lie and say you're up there with the greats, but definitely got a talent. Keep on writing!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: adagio on 08/16/06 at 12:21 pm
Thanks! Clap clap...;). You're also a very capable poet...I won't lie and say you're up there with the greats, but definitely got a talent. Keep on writing!
Oh, go ahead......lie! ;)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Davester on 08/16/06 at 9:49 pm
This was read on one of my favorite episodes of Northern Exposure (Season 3, Episode 9, "Get Real"):
O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June:
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only Luve!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile
Robert Burns ~ "O my Luve's like a red, red rose"
The background music which was played during the reading of this poem made it genuinely memorable groove ;) on all...
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 08/20/06 at 1:09 pm
When I was a psychology major at U.Mass., one of my
professors asked me if I'd like to hold the human
brain she kept in a jar of formaldehyde in her office.
I said, "Yes!"
I Held A Brain Within My Hands
by John Small (a.k.a. Johnny D)
I held a brain within my hands --
A wrinkled, pickled pack of glands.
Colorless in shades of gray,
Shrunken, tough and cold as clay.
Evicted from some cranial dome --
A house of meat, with no one home.
I wonder whose soul used that thing
To love and laugh, to cry and sing,
To ponder life and ponder death,
To say to lungs, "Breathe your last breath."
I've learned it's true what wise ones say --
Our bodies here on Earth are clay.
Mere garments to be worn to school,
While learning of The Golden Rule.
And when our schooling days are done,
And Earth's diploma we have won,
We'll know we've all been all along,
The single Self who sings a song
Of love for all still on Earth's plane,
Who marvel as they hold a brain.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 08/20/06 at 1:19 pm
I'm so glad that a poetry section was put in here...thenk you whoever!
Protective Smile
My pensive smile hides my will
While I perch and look thin skinned.
Everyday is borrowed sound
Bruised as one upon silence found
As, I profound, with my head bowed
Bemused with their raging din
And their love's neglectfulness surrounds.
So, frankly, I will be the talk of the town.
I reassess who wears the frown,
And who will wear the smiles and laughter.
I pray one day we'll need no more
To bolt our souls behind our doors
Lovely poem, Pat.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: adagio on 08/20/06 at 2:49 pm
Thank you, Johnny...your's is too. :)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 08/20/06 at 4:16 pm
When I was a psychology major at U.Mass., one of my
professors asked me if I'd like to hold the human
brain she kept in a jar of formaldehyde in her office.
I said, "Yes!"
I Held A Brain Within My Hands
by John Small (a.k.a. Johnny D)
Very nice, Johnny. Great poem!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 08/20/06 at 5:22 pm
Thank you, Johnny...your's is too. :)
Thanks, Pat! :)
Very nice, Johnny. Great poem!
And thank you too, CeeKay! :)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CatwomanofV on 08/20/06 at 8:25 pm
I guess no one liked mine. :\'(
Cat
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 08/20/06 at 10:24 pm
"You must practice", said the teacher to the child.
"We don't want you to grow up to be wild."
"Patience is the key", he said more to himself than to the boy.
He knew it would take years before his work would bring him joy.
The boy worked and worked to please his teacher.
But his face showed frustration as its only feature.
As the years went on, the boy ceased to exist.
Instead a young man was in the mist.
"Practice" and "Patience" the teacher still said.
Without speaking, the student still heard these words in his head.
Finally the day came when the teacher's job was done.
It was sad because the student was like his son.
Many years later the young man asked his old teacher why he did it.
"It was a headache," the teacher said, "I must admit."
"But, I did it for the love and the joy."
With a tear, the old man said, "I'm proud of you my boy."
"you must practice", the young man said to a child.
"We don't want you to grow up to be wild."
Cat
Mysteriously poignant ... we take birth in this world of illusion, and our well-meaning loved ones innocently educate us to share the illusion ... very moving, Cat.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 08/20/06 at 10:30 pm
I wrote and recently read publicly a poem called "I Am Not Your Barbie Doll!" It was a bit therapeutic. Here's an excerpt (it's too long to print it all here):
You, you knew what was wrong.
You planted seeds in that hole --
Seeds of control that grew like vines over time
over all I was....all I thought I could be.
But it's different now you see.
I know how to have my say
so I am telling you today:
"I am not your Barbie Doll!"
My arms, love, were made to spread like wings so I can dance --
Entwine my vines 'round real romance
I'm taking chances from this day on and
I Am Pissed!
I am not your Barbie Doll.
I do not bend just at my elbows and my wrists.
My ankles are not permanently raised
for pink stiletto heals and high rise shoes.
I'm chasing my blues away in my bare feet
completely by my own choice.
I'm wiggling my toes in smooth cool mud
caused by rain that I let fall.
I'm using my voice, Mister:
Don't call me 'Honey' anymore!
...anyway -- you get the idea. A little 'better-late-than-never' rant.
I
Your message is crystalline throughout, CeeKay -- sharp, like steel, to the point -- a saber of a poem.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 08/21/06 at 12:55 am
Your message is crystalline throughout, CeeKay -- sharp, like steel, to the point -- a saber of a poem.
Thanks, Johnny. Nice way to put it ;) Sometimes the only way to say is to say it.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 08/21/06 at 2:39 am
Johnny, Cat & CeeKay- All masterfully done!
Each with its own theme, and yet wonderful for each purpose.
Johnny- You & I would get along SO well in mundane life! (I'd've done that very thing, with the addition of asking for a cup, to drink the juice....just to see the reactions on the prof's face!)
CeeKay- Very powerful. I felt the emotions and saw your pain, as I read it....my brain just does that.
I have heard that writing is therapeutic...I don't know. I will have to keep trying, and saee where it gets me.
Cat- I learned piano as a young child, and so I felt this one hit close to home. I just wish I had stuck more with it.
Well done!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 08/21/06 at 9:22 am
CeeKay- Very powerful. I felt the emotions and saw your pain, as I read it....my brain just does that.
I have heard that writing is therapeutic...I don't know. I will have to keep trying, and saee where it gets me.
Thanks Hawk. I've always found writing poetry somewhat therapeutic. But what I is moreso for me is actually speaking the words in front of other people. Very freeing.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: La Roche on 08/21/06 at 9:30 am
I will hold your face in my hands,
and watch as you bleed and die.
Giving up is never easy,
So I'll always percivere,
Killing is what I endure for,
Brutality is what I need.
Bleeding through the cloth that holds you,
Nails pierce your flesh, you'll scream
I will live through all this torture,
My abilitys will grow.
Hostility will overwhelm me,
Violence is all I know.
Holocaustic mercilessess,
Suffering spreads all around,
Terrify the population,
Fetal Debris vile sound.
I will live through all this torture,
My abilitys will grow.
Hostility will overwhelm me,
Violence is all I know.
Scorch the flesh and feast upon it,
Seeking new meat from the grave,
Splitting carcasses for blood lust,
Bang your head against the stage.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: KKay on 08/21/06 at 9:40 am
yeah, ok.
i actually do write songs. i put some up when we had the musician thread, but that's long gone.
so here is one called "Accident d'Amour"
Ranting and Chanting the mantra again
over and over say never again
got in the car but i shouldn't have sped
i need this as much as this hole in my head
what caused all this trauma
what's the panic for
everybody buckle up for
Accident d'Amour
Spend the night before you leap
two curl up but one can't sleep
refugee of love tugs for pity at my sleeve
the bloody battle ends in truce
but the enemy won't leave
sleep deprived and cautious like a prisoner of war
someone call a medic for this
Accident d'Amour
Get insurance, fire and life
deductible double over night
soul and body dividends
coverage stops when courage ends
you think you're protected
don't act too secure
read your fine print policy of
Accident d'Amour
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CatwomanofV on 08/21/06 at 1:06 pm
Cat- I learned piano as a young child, and so I felt this one hit close to home. I just wish I had stuck more with it.
It's funny because I didn't exactly say "piano" or anything else, but yet, it seems to be implied in that poem, huh?
Cat
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 08/23/06 at 10:44 am
Uncertainty Principle
'tis true 'tis clay our bodies be
Ape-vortices of quarks
Mere smears of mud from Mother Earth
Brief flickers in the dark
We pull apart each particle
In cyclotronic rage
And pry inside with eyes surprised
Uncertainty's our cage
Dear Heisenberg, you showed us how,
Our apelike brains must fail
To grasp the asp of certainty
And hold it by its tail
For certainty's indeed an asp
And ego is its bite
When war is fought by those who thought
That they alone are right
-- John Small (a.k.a. Johnny D), 2006
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 08/23/06 at 11:52 am
BRAVO JOHNNY. Excellent! :) :)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 08/23/06 at 1:03 pm
yeah, ok.
i actually do write songs. i put some up when we had the musician thread, but that's long gone.
so here is one called "Accident d'Amour"
Ranting and Chanting the mantra again
over and over say never again
got in the car but i shouldn't have sped
i need this as much as this hole in my head
what caused all this trauma
what's the panic for
everybody buckle up for
Accident d'Amour
Spend the night before you leap
two curl up but one can't sleep
refugee of love tugs for pity at my sleeve
the bloody battle ends in truce
but the enemy won't leave
sleep deprived and cautious like a prisoner of war
someone call a medic for this
Accident d'Amour
Get insurance, fire and life
deductible double over night
soul and body dividends
coverage stops when courage ends
you think you're protected
don't act too secure
read your fine print policy of
Accident d'Amour
Interesting piece.
If this is a song, I congratulate you.
Remind me to post one of my favorite originals- "Doing Time On Planet Earth".
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 08/23/06 at 1:14 pm
yeah, ok.
i actually do write songs. i put some up when we had the musician thread, but that's long gone.
so here is one called "Accident d'Amour"
Ranting and Chanting the mantra again
over and over say never again
got in the car but i shouldn't have sped
i need this as much as this hole in my head
what caused all this trauma
what's the panic for
everybody buckle up for
Accident d'Amour
Spend the night before you leap
two curl up but one can't sleep
refugee of love tugs for pity at my sleeve
the bloody battle ends in truce
but the enemy won't leave
sleep deprived and cautious like a prisoner of war
someone call a medic for this
Accident d'Amour
Get insurance, fire and life
deductible double over night
soul and body dividends
coverage stops when courage ends
you think you're protected
don't act too secure
read your fine print policy of
Accident d'Amour
Love it! I want to hear the music. Play it for me!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Tam on 08/23/06 at 1:25 pm
I have wrote a few poems over the course of my life...
Some suck, some don't...
So I am going to take a chance and post this one:
Like You
You don't know
What happened to me
When you did what you did
Children are innocent
And they love
Unconditionally
You took that love
And used it
You spoiled it
You spoiled me
You taught me that
Love is not kind
It is selfish and
Self-serving
You taught me that
I was worthless
No good and I served
One Purpose
No one would love me
No one would believe me
You taught me that
Death would feel
Better than living
And I almost
Believed it
But the most important
Thing you taught me
Was that I NEVER
Want to be like you
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: adagio on 08/23/06 at 1:52 pm
Good poems, everyone. This is a poem/parody that I wrote for a parody, but also I use as a poem:
The Gates
It's done, the prophets wrote upon my wall
But it's crumbling, it seems.
The gate has turned to dust before my eyes
Through which failings brightly gleam.
Emotions have been torn apart
With the reality I've seen.
There will be no applause for me,
Just silence without cease.
Between these two gates I wait,
Of laughter and of pain.
To see which one will open first,
Which piper have I paid?
The laughter gate has been sown,
Tear-watered without fail.
The gate of pain is opened by laughter.
I am caught between these fates.
This knowledge is my deadly foe.
In silence do I wait.
- Pat Carrasco aka Adagio -
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 08/23/06 at 4:57 pm
yeah, ok.
i actually do write songs. i put some up when we had the musician thread, but that's long gone.
so here is one called "Accident d'Amour"
Ranting and Chanting the mantra again
over and over say never again
got in the car but i shouldn't have sped
i need this as much as this hole in my head
what caused all this trauma
what's the panic for
everybody buckle up for
Accident d'Amour
Spend the night before you leap
two curl up but one can't sleep
refugee of love tugs for pity at my sleeve
the bloody battle ends in truce
but the enemy won't leave
sleep deprived and cautious like a prisoner of war
someone call a medic for this
Accident d'Amour
Get insurance, fire and life
deductible double over night
soul and body dividends
coverage stops when courage ends
you think you're protected
don't act too secure
read your fine print policy of
Accident d'Amour
Ditto what Hawk & CK said ... love to hear you sing it.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 08/23/06 at 5:01 pm
I have wrote a few poems over the course of my life...
Some suck, some don't...
So I am going to take a chance and post this one:
Like You
You don't know
What happened to me
When you did what you did
Children are innocent
And they love
Unconditionally
You took that love
And used it
You spoiled it
You spoiled me
You taught me that
Love is not kind
It is selfish and
Self-serving
You taught me that
I was worthless
No good and I served
One Purpose
No one would love me
No one would believe me
You taught me that
Death would feel
Better than living
And I almost
Believed it
But the most important
Thing you taught me
Was that I NEVER
Want to be like you
Clever -- twisted -- a dark funnel-cloud of verse dissipating into calm realization...
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 08/23/06 at 5:05 pm
Good poems, everyone. This is a poem/parody that I wrote for a parody, but also I use as a poem:
The Gates
It's done, the prophets wrote upon my wall
But it's crumbling, it seems.
The gate has turned to dust before my eyes
Through which failings brightly gleam.
Emotions have been torn apart
With the reality I've seen.
There will be no applause for me,
Just silence without cease.
Between these two gates I wait,
Of laughter and of pain.
To see which one will open first,
Which piper have I paid?
The laughter gate has been sown,
Tear-watered without fail.
The gate of pain is opened by laughter.
I am caught between these fates.
This knowledge is my deadly foe.
In silence do I wait.
- Pat Carrasco aka Adagio -
Wait not for fate to take its toll
On your uncertain sight
Reclaim the power of your soul
To turn your dark to light
Intense poem, Adagio -- dark, yet open to the possibility of hope...
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 08/23/06 at 5:07 pm
BRAVO JOHNNY. Excellent! :) :)
Thanks! :)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: adagio on 08/23/06 at 7:16 pm
Wait not for fate to take its toll
On your uncertain sight
Reclaim the power of your soul
To turn your dark to light
Intense poem, Adagio -- dark, yet open to the possibility of hope...
Good way to put it, Johnny! :)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Tam on 08/23/06 at 10:01 pm
Clever -- twisted -- a dark funnel-cloud of verse dissipating into calm realization...
Thanks Johnny! :)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 09/14/06 at 2:36 am
We need more poets!!!!!!!!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 09/14/06 at 12:59 pm
We need more poets!!!!!!!!
We do. In the meantime, I know I have some new pieces I can post....but their home and I'm at work. Let's drum up some business, hm?
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 09/15/06 at 12:51 pm
With loving gratitude for the selfless heroism
of the 300+ firefighters who ran up those stairs on September 11th
while everyone else ran down ...
axe in hand
axe in hand
against the tide
a selfless man
refused to hide
axe in hand
gripped in a glove
a selfless man
infused with love
axe in hand
as others fled
a selfless man
ran up instead
axe in hand
they climbed to save
300 strong
their lives they gave
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: adagio on 09/15/06 at 2:55 pm
Good poem Johnny. :)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 09/16/06 at 10:38 am
Good poem Johnny. :)
Thanks Pat. :)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 09/16/06 at 10:41 am
A poem of spiritual reassurance that I was inspired to write recently ...
if ever you have wished there was
a switch to turn off pain,
and give your tired heart a rest
from Earth's relentless game,
fear not, my friend, there's such a switch
it's effortless to find
step back from thoughts and sense-inputs
and just observe your mind
observe the swirling maelstrom of
your brain's incessant cries
and soon you'll know yourself as love
a love that never dies
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 09/16/06 at 10:46 am
Another spiritual poem that I felt inspired to write recently.
Spiritual growth usually proceeds at a slow, gradual, almost imperceptible pace.
But sometimes ...
sudden explosion of light in your brain
sudden explosion of love in your chest
visions of paradise, bright astral planes
fear not, beloved, 'tis all for the best
suck in the oxygen, breathe deep and slow
think of whatever dispells all your fears
focus your trembling mind on the light
light full of sweet love that brings you to tears
wet is your face as the brine of bliss flows
sobbing and laughing, your arms flung out wide
geyser of lightning within your spine glows
too late, your ticket's bought -- go for the ride
higher and higher the fire ascends
filling your neck and your head and your crown
shakingly bashful embarassment ends
sweet is the silence, you'll never come down
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: KKay on 09/16/06 at 2:30 pm
light fare:
Starkle starkle little twink
who the heck you are I think
I'm not under what you call
the alcofluence of incohol
I'm just a little slort of sheep
I'm not drunk like tinkle peep
I don't know who is me yet
but the drunker I stand here the longer I get
Just give me one more drink to fill me cup
'cuz I got all day sober to Sunday up.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 09/21/06 at 10:08 am
I wrote this a couple of days ago ...
look up at night
science says
the moon's a dead
basaltic lava shell
eternally
in freeze and thaw
where no lifeform may dwell
yet
when
I gaze
in-to the sky
upon a moonlit night
I see
a ball
of love from God
reflecting Rama's light
I see
God's hand of gravity
warp Einstein's
weft of space
and
gently glide
upon the tide,
caressing Neptune's face
there's nothing dead,
there's only life --
the wise ones
tell us this
look up
at night
it's all
one light
God's
sweetly
starry
bliss
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: karen on 09/21/06 at 11:24 am
One of the first poems I voluntarily learned off by heart
Nooligan
I'm a nooligan
don't give a toss
in our class
I'm the boss
(Well, one of them)
I'm a nooligan
got a nard 'ed
step our of line
and your dead
(well, bleeding)
I'm a nooligan
I spray me name
all over town
football's me game
(well watchin)
I'm a nooligan
violence is fun
gonna be a nassassin
or a nired gun
(well a soldier)
by Roger McGough
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 09/21/06 at 4:19 pm
I wrote this a couple of days ago ...
look up at night
science says
the moon's a dead
basaltic lava shell
eternally
in freeze and thaw
where no lifeform may dwell
Very nicely done! I'm enjoying your poetry, Johnny. Thanks!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CeeKay on 09/21/06 at 4:20 pm
One of the first poems I voluntarily learned off by heart
Nooligan
by Roger McGough
That's a fun one. Are you sure Davey didn't write it :D
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CatwomanofV on 09/21/06 at 6:04 pm
Some of you may know this.
You wonder how these things begin. Well, this begins with a glen. It begins with a season which, for want of a better word we may as well call- September. It begins in a forest where the woodchucks woo, and the leaves wax green, and vines intertwine like lovers; try to see it. not with your eyes, for they are wise, but see it with your ears: the cool green breathing of the leaves. And hear it with the inside of your hand: the soundless sound of shadows flicking light. Celebrate sensation. Recall that secret place. You've been there, you remember: That special place where once- Just once- in your crowded sunlit lifetime, you hid away in shadow from the tyranny of time. That spot beside the clover where someone's hand held your hand and love was sweeter than the berries, or the honey, or the stinging taste of mint. It is September- before a rainfall- a perfect time to be in love.
And if you want to hear the "master" recite this: http://www.thefantasticks.com/webpages/glen_speech.html
For those of you who do not know-that is Jerry Orbach (the "master" at delivering that speech)
Cat
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 09/21/06 at 7:58 pm
Very nicely done! I'm enjoying your poetry, Johnny. Thanks!
Thanks CeeKay. :)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 09/21/06 at 8:02 pm
Some of you may know this.
You wonder how these things begin. Well, this begins with a glen. It begins with a season which, for want of a better word we may as well call- September. It begins in a forest where the woodchucks woo, and the leaves wax green, and vines intertwine like lovers; try to see it. not with your eyes, for they are wise, but see it with your ears: the cool green breathing of the leaves. And hear it with the inside of your hand: the soundless sound of shadows flicking light. Celebrate sensation. Recall that secret place. You've been there, you remember: That special place where once- Just once- in your crowded sunlit lifetime, you hid away in shadow from the tyranny of time. That spot beside the clover where someone's hand held your hand and love was sweeter than the berries, or the honey, or the stinging taste of mint. It is September- before a rainfall- a perfect time to be in love.
And if you want to hear the "master" recite this: http://www.thefantasticks.com/webpages/glen_speech.html
For those of you who do not know-that is Jerry Orbach (the "master" at delivering that speech)
Cat
Yes, this thespian loves that speech & loves The Fantasticks & loves the first El Gallo, Jerry Orbach.
But, of course, such sentiments never stopped ol' Johnny D from cranking out a song parody:
Try to remember
The size of your member
When gals said
"Wow - you're quite a fellow"
Try to remember
The size of your member
When you were loved
At the bordello
Try to remember
The size of your member
When you could employ it
To bow your cello
So, to remember,
Just take your Viagra,
And swallow
Swallow
Swallow
Swallow
Swallow
Try to remember
When masculine gender
Meant acting tough
And mucho macho
Try to remember
When masculine gender
Meant being like
Uncle Horatio
Try to remember
When masculine gender
Meant getting plenty
Of hot (censored)
So, to remember,
Just take your Viagra,
And swallow
Swallow
Swallow
Swallow
Swallow
Deep in December
It's nice to remember
There's more to life
Than eating Jell-O
Deep in December
It's nice to remember
What doctors now
Can do for fellows
Deep in December
It's nice to remember
That diamond-shaped pill
That is blue, not yellow...
Deep in December,
Be nice to your member...
...and swallow
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: CatwomanofV on 09/22/06 at 11:37 am
Yes, this thespian loves that speech & loves The Fantasticks & loves the first El Gallo, Jerry Orbach.
But, of course, such sentiments never stopped ol' Johnny D from cranking out a song parody:
Try to remember
The size of your member
When gals said
"Wow - you're quite a fellow"
Try to remember
The size of your member
When you were loved
At the bordello
Try to remember
The size of your member
When you could employ it
To bow your cello
So, to remember,
Just take your Viagra,
And swallow
Swallow
Swallow
Swallow
Swallow
Try to remember
When masculine gender
Meant acting tough
And mucho macho
Try to remember
When masculine gender
Meant being like
Uncle Horatio
Try to remember
When masculine gender
Meant getting plenty
Of hot (censored)
So, to remember,
Just take your Viagra,
And swallow
Swallow
Swallow
Swallow
Swallow
Deep in December
It's nice to remember
There's more to life
Than eating Jell-O
Deep in December
It's nice to remember
What doctors now
Can do for fellows
Deep in December
It's nice to remember
That diamond-shaped pill
That is blue, not yellow...
Deep in December,
Be nice to your member...
...and swallow
ROTFLMAO!!!!! I have tears from laughing so hard. Applause to you. I will never be able to hear that song again without thinking about your parody.
Cat
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 09/22/06 at 10:29 pm
ROTFLMAO!!!!! I have tears from laughing so hard. Applause to you. I will never be able to hear that song again without thinking about your parody.
Cat
Thank you, Mistress of Feline Felicity! ;D
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 09/22/06 at 10:31 pm
I wrote this poem today ... not quite sure where it came to me from ...
burning times
vicious masculinity
from time to time would rise
evil chauvinistic glee
afraid of women wise
proud self-righteous regal robes
with empty hearts within
cast an eye of hate on those
most innocent of sin
death by water
death by flame
death by sword and spear
mothers
daughters
sisters blamed
for men's jealous fear
the crucible of truth is hot
melt bigotry within
and mold its molten monstrous mass
in monument to sin
committed by men long ago
'gainst half the human race
so none can shun what once was done
to women full of grace
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 10/06/06 at 8:01 pm
I wrote this today as the Harvest Moon is culminating ...
earth
from orbit
void
of night
fight
the fear
light
the light
oil
or coal
wood
or gas
glowing rods' decaying mass
humans cower
in
the dark
ancient memory
flint for spark
the dark
abates
day comes
once more
yet dark
awaits
beyond
night's door
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: KKay on 10/13/06 at 9:36 am
I love the original work! Keep it coming!
Ps: The Fantastiks parody? Priceless.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: KKay on 10/13/06 at 9:38 am
Number 20
by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
The pennycandystore beyond the El
is where I first
fell in love
with unreality
Jellybeans glowed in the semi-gloom
of that september afternoon
A cat upon the counter moved among
the licorice sticks
and tootsie rolls
and Oh Boy Gum
Outside the leaves were falling as they died
A wind had blown away the sun
A girl ran in
Her hair was rainy
Her breasts were breathless in the little room
Outside the leaves were falling
and they cried
Too soon! too soon!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: karen on 10/13/06 at 9:59 am
A favourite of mine which I learnt at school about 25 years ago and always think of at this time of year
Autumn
by John Clare
I love the fitful gust that shakes
The casement all the day,
And from the glossy elm tree takes
The faded leaves away,
Twirling them by the window pane
With thousand others down the lane.
I love to see the shaking twig
Dance till the shut of eve,
The sparrow on the cottage rig,
Whose chirp would make believe
That Spring was just now flirting by
In Summer's lap with flowers to lie.
I love to see the cottage smoke
Curl upwards through the trees,
The pigeons nestled round the cote
On November days like these;
The cock upon the dunghill crowing,
The mill sails on the heath a-going.
The feather from the raven's breast
Falls on the stubble lea,
The acorns near the old crow's nest
Drop pattering down the tree;
The grunting pigs, that wait for all,
Scramble and hurry where they fall.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 10/15/06 at 11:01 am
Number 20
by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
The pennycandystore beyond the El
is where I first
fell in love
with unreality
Jellybeans glowed in the semi-gloom
of that september afternoon
A cat upon the counter moved among
the licorice sticks
and tootsie rolls
and Oh Boy Gum
Outside the leaves were falling as they died
A wind had blown away the sun
A girl ran in
Her hair was rainy
Her breasts were breathless in the little room
Outside the leaves were falling
and they cried
Too soon! too soon!
Now THAT is sweet!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 10/15/06 at 11:02 am
A favourite of mine which I learnt at school about 25 years ago and always think of at this time of year
Autumn
by John Clare
I love the fitful gust that shakes
The casement all the day,
And from the glossy elm tree takes
The faded leaves away,
Twirling them by the window pane
With thousand others down the lane.
I love to see the shaking twig
Dance till the shut of eve,
The sparrow on the cottage rig,
Whose chirp would make believe
That Spring was just now flirting by
In Summer's lap with flowers to lie.
I love to see the cottage smoke
Curl upwards through the trees,
The pigeons nestled round the cote
On November days like these;
The cock upon the dunghill crowing,
The mill sails on the heath a-going.
The feather from the raven's breast
Falls on the stubble lea,
The acorns near the old crow's nest
Drop pattering down the tree;
The grunting pigs, that wait for all,
Scramble and hurry where they fall.
Thanks for the seasonal verse, karen - delightful!
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 10/15/06 at 11:03 am
I love the original work! Keep it coming!
Ps: The Fantastiks parody? Priceless.
Thanks KKay !! :)
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 10/15/06 at 11:06 am
I wrote this a couple of days ago ...
God sees
what we see
God
sees
Through our
eyes
God cries
when you cry
God
cries
Through your
eyes
God knows
what it's like
To be
you
To be
I
God's Love
never leaves
never
goes
never
dies
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 10/15/06 at 11:09 am
And I wrote this one yesterday ...
BE
Beautiful Emptiness
BE
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: KKay on 10/16/06 at 10:32 am
e.e. cummings:
you shall above all things be glad and young
you shall above all things be glad and young
For if you're young,whatever life you wear
it will become you;and if you are glad
whatever's living will yourself become.
Girlboys may nothing more than boygirls need:
i can entirely her only love
whose any mystery makes every man's
flesh put space on;and his mind take off time
that you should ever think,may god forbid
and (in his mercy) your true lover spare:
for that way knowledge lies,the foetal grave
called progress,and negation's dead undoom.
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 10/23/06 at 5:17 pm
e.e. cummings:
you shall above all things be glad and young
you shall above all things be glad and young
For if you're young,whatever life you wear
it will become you;and if you are glad
whatever's living will yourself become.
Girlboys may nothing more than boygirls need:
i can entirely her only love
whose any mystery makes every man's
flesh put space on;and his mind take off time
that you should ever think,may god forbid
and (in his mercy) your true lover spare:
for that way knowledge lies,the foetal grave
called progress,and negation's dead undoom.
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
good things to remember ... thanks
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 10/23/06 at 5:18 pm
I wrote this today ...
dirt
of Earth
tears
of God
muddy mixture, salty sod
forms
a clay
God
has thrown
on the wheel of Earth our home
Potter's
wheel
spinning
world
dream unreal in which you're hurled
feel
the Potter's
loving hand
wheel
and water
soil
and sand
'tis
a gift
to visit
Earth
'tis
a gift
of
human birth
love
this gift
remember
God
and always
know
you're more than sod
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Foo Bar on 11/15/06 at 10:15 pm
All we want is a headrush.
All we want is to get out of our skin for awhile.
We have nothing to lose, because we don't have anything.
(Anything we want anyway.)
We used to hate people.
Now we just make fun of them.
(It's more effective that way.)
We don't live, we just scratch on, day to day,
With nothing but matchbooks and sarcasm in our pockets,
And all we're waiting for is for something worth waiting for.
Let's admit America gets the celebrities we deserve.
Let's stop saying "Don't quote me",
Because if no one quotes you,
You probably haven't said a thing worth saying.
"Sex, drugs, God, cash. Sex, drugs, God. America."
We need something to kill the pain of all that nothing inside.
"Sex, drugs, God, cash. Sex, drugs, God. America."
We all just want to die... (a little bit.)
We fear that pop culture is the only kind of culture we're ever gonna have.
We want to stop reading magazines,
Stop watching TV,
Stop caring about Hollywood.
But we're addicted to the things we hate.
We don't run Washington and no one really does.
Ask not what you can do for your country,
Ask what your country did to you.
"Sex, drugs, God, cash. Sex, drugs, God. America."
The only reason you're still alive is because someone has decided to let you live.
"Sex, drugs, God, cash. Sex, drugs, God. America."
We owe so much money we're not broke, we're broken.
We're so poor we can't even pay attention.
So what do you want? You want to be famous? and rich? and happy?
But you're terrified you have nothing to offer this world,
Nothing to say and no way to say it.
(But you can say it in three languages.)
You are more than the sum of what you consume,
Desire is not an occupation,
You are alternately thrilled and desperate,
Skyhigh and f*ked.
Let's stop praying for someone to save us and start saving ourselves.
Let's stop this and start over.
Let's go out.
Let's get going.
"Sex, drugs, God, cash. Sex, drugs, God. America."
This is your life, this is your f*king life.
"America. Sex, drugs, God, cash. Sex, drugs, God. America."
We need something to kill the pain of all that nothing inside.
"America. America."
Quit whining, you haven't done anything wrong because frankly, you haven't done much of anything.
"Sex, drugs, God, cash. Sex, drugs, God. America."
Someone's writing down your mistakes.
Someone's documenting your downfall.
- Nicole Blackman on behalf of KMFDM, Dogma.
The track is an excerpt from her peom Indictment, which is about three times longer and even more delighfully scathing.
I'm posting this because random chance gave me the privilege of seeing her perform it live around 10 years ago. The version she used for her live audience was about half as long as Indictment, but was even more ascerbic.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 11/16/06 at 4:31 am
This is dedicated to those who hate me because I am who and what I am.
(They know who they are...)
LEADER OF THE BANNED- by Hawk, the Slayer
I know in this world, there are those
Who share laughter and goodwill with me.
However, there are others in this world
Who want only my pain and misery.
I am different from most, I know this is true.
We shun what we don't understand.
The ones who use anger, hatred, and pride
Seek the Iron Leader of the Banned.
They think to cause strife with their harsh words and barbs,
While making themselves righteous or holy.
When they hurt me, they mark it as a victory notch
And they swear they will have a monopoly.
They spit in my eyes, they rend at my brain,
They try to shove acid in my heart.
But what they don't realize is the acid is there,
And the spewing is ready to start.
Before, I'd have taken great pleasure in letting
The vile poison spatter on their faces.
But now, I know that no stooping to their level
Will gain me any higher places.
I seek not to stoop, not to lower myself,
But to raise them from their plane to mine.
But now that I know, and my brain has been cleared,
It just seems a futile waste of time.
My shield is raised, in armor I'm clad.
I fight with my rapier wit.
You can beat me, defeat me, or just kick me down,
But never shall I just bend and take it.
So, come all you heathens of hatred and scorn!
I challenge each of you, one and all!
You seek to hate me, because I'm not you.
You want the Leader of the Banned to fall.
You may try if you wish, but get only one shot.
If you think you may do it, try your hand.
But know that in spitting on me, you face wrath.
The wrath of the Leader of the Banned.
-HTS
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 12/19/06 at 5:06 am
THE SNOWFLAKE OF A CHILD- by Hawk, the Slayer
We all know of that special time,
When the most trivial things can warm a heart.
The memories of Holidays past
Come roaring into our heads with the years.
Remembering those special moments
Like the sleigh ride in Baltimore...
The Holiday party at your best friend's house...
Spitting egg nog out, when Grandpa gassed at the table.
Perhaps the reunion with long-lost loved ones in December,
Or the "midnight snowball fight", when you hit that car.
The carolling door-to-door in the neighborhood,
Or eating that last piece of Divinity your uncle said he wanted.
Of all the wonderful sights I have seen,
The most unique to me shall always be
That first Christmas when a child felt her first snowflake on her nose.
Her eyes sparkled in such awe and wonder, I shed a single tear.
She looked so tender, and happy in her first snow.
The snowman was perfect, her teeth gleamed in her smiles.
She reached up to catch a ne wflurry and said,
"Daddy! New snow! New snow! Wow!"
Oh, that we could see through the snowflake of a child again.
If we could, the world would be a much more peaceful place.
-HtS/A. Wayne Hamilton
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: MLB on 12/29/06 at 3:28 pm
It's Raining in Honolulu:
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 12/31/06 at 4:53 pm
That's a wonderful poem, Michelle!
Did you ever live in Hawaii?
That's where my mom lives.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: La Roche on 01/05/07 at 10:09 pm
Mother Fuc.kin Epic!
This was in my war phase.. which to be fair.. I've not yet come out of.
Balance of earth the final swing,
The acts of God stop everything.
From heaven above he calls his name,
Stop this war just end these games.
Heaven and Hell and Humans decide,
The game we
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: La Roche on 01/08/07 at 8:01 am
I Could burn your church down,
And rape you on the Alter.
I could crucify your child in hate,
and destroy your family.
I could cum in the Chalice,
and force it through your parted lips.
Even fudge you with a crucifix,
But I won
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 01/09/07 at 3:16 am
ReichStar- Do you do any pieces about dead swans in stagnant pools? :D
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: La Roche on 01/09/07 at 4:59 am
ReichStar- Do you do any pieces about dead swans in stagnant pools? :D
Did one about searching through a graveyard for a recently deceased child.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 01/09/07 at 5:01 am
Did one about searching through a graveyard for a recently deceased child.
But no dead swans in stagnant pools?
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: La Roche on 01/09/07 at 5:14 am
But no dead swans in stagnant pools?
Wouldn't be hard.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: velvetoneo on 02/02/07 at 8:43 am
THE BROKEN HEART.
by John Donne
He is stark mad, whoever says,
That he hath been in love an hour,
Yet not that love so soon decays,
But that it can ten in less space devour ;
Who will believe me, if I swear
That I have had the plague a year?
Who would not laugh at me, if I should say
I saw a flash of powder burn a day?
Ah, what a trifle is a heart,
If once into love's hands it come !
All other griefs allow a part
To other griefs, and ask themselves but some ;
They come to us, but us love draws ;
He swallows us and never chaws ;
By him, as by chain'd shot, whole ranks do die ;
He is the tyrant pike, our hearts the fry.
If 'twere not so, what did become
Of my heart when I first saw thee?
I brought a heart into the room,
But from the room I carried none with me.
If it had gone to thee, I know
Mine would have taught thine heart to show
More pity unto me ; but Love, alas !
At one first blow did shiver it as glass.
Yet nothing can to nothing fall,
Nor any place be empty quite ;
Therefore I think my breast hath all
Those pieces still, though they be not unite ;
And now, as broken glasses show
A hundred lesser faces, so
My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore,
But after one such love, can love no more.
To his Coy Mistress
by Andrew Marvell
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv'd virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.
SONNET VII.
by John Milton
ON HIS BEING ARRIVED AT THE AGE OF 23.
HOW soon hath time, the subtle thief of youth,
Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!
My hasting days fly on with full career,
But my late spring no bud or blossom sheweth.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
That I to manhood am arrived so near,
And inward ripeness doth much less appear
That some more timely happy spirits indueth.
Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,
It shall be still in strictest measure even
To that same lot however mean or high,
Toward which time leads me and the will of heaven.
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great taskmaster's eye.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Johnny_D on 02/11/07 at 11:47 pm
"What goes around, comes around",
the outback shaman said.
He flicked his wrist,
and from his fist,
the boomerang then sped.
The smart-ass tourist laughed at him,
then saw the shaman duck;
the boomerang flew back,
and CLANG -- the ass-hole's head it struck.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: yoidy on 02/26/07 at 9:30 am
This is a poem that really moves me.
Hurt Hawks - by Robinson Jeffers
I
The broken pillar of the wing jags from the clotted shoulder,
The wing trails like a banner in defeat,
No more to use the sky forever but live with famine
And pain a few days: cat nor coyote
Will shorten the week of waiting for death, there is game without talons.
He stands under the oak-bush and waits
The lame feet of salvation; at night he remembers freedom
And flies in a dream, the dawns ruin it.
He is strong and pain is worse to the strong, incapacity is worse.
The curs of the day come and torment him
At distance, no one but death the redeemer will humble that head,
The intrepid readiness, the terrible eyes.
The wild God of the world is sometimes merciful to those
That ask mercy, not often to the arrogant.
You do not know him, you communal people, or you have forgotten him;
Intemperate and savage, the hawk remembers him;
Beautiful and wild, the hawks, and men that are dying, remember him.
II
I'd sooner, except the penalties, kill a man than a hawk;
but the great redtail
Had nothing left but unable misery
From the bone too shattered for mending, the wing that trailed under his talons when he moved.
We had fed him six weeks, I gave him freedom,
He wandered over the foreland hill and returned in the evening, asking for death,
Not like a beggar, still eyed with the old
Implacable arrogance.
I gave him the lead gift in the twilight.
What fell was relaxed, Owl-downy, soft feminine feathers; but what
Soared: the fierce rush: the night-herons by the flooded river cried fear at its rising
Before it was quite unsheathed from reality.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: yoidy on 02/28/07 at 10:29 pm
Here's another one of my favorites:
The Fury of Aerial Bombardment, by Richard Eberhart
You would think the fury of aerial bombardment
Would rouse God to relent; the infinite spaces
Are still silent. He looks on shock-pried faces.
History, even, does not know what is meant.
You would feel that after so many centuries
God would give man to repent; yet he can kill
As Cain could, but with multitudinous will,
No farther advanced than in his ancient furies
Was man made stupid to see his own stupidity?
Is God by definition indifferent, beyond us all?
Is the eternal truth man's fighting soul
Wherein the Beast ravens in its own avidity?
Of Van Wettering I speak, and Averill,
Names on a list, whose faces I do not recall
But they are gone to early death, who late in school
Distinguished the belt feed lever from the belt holding pawl.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: yoidy on 02/28/07 at 10:36 pm
Here's some light verse of mine. Whaddya think?
Borders Bum
Borders Books & Music
Is how I rev my mind
I can read, hear, and see
The finer things I can't buy
Had a cherry tart for breakfast
A cheese croissant for lunch
Will I stay for dinner?
I'll dine two hours after brunch
If I'm lost in the aisles, don't look for me
I'll be reading Idiots' Guide for Dummies
On bended knee
I'll sit down and leaf through Maxim
'Til the sofa's clear
Sippin' Borders' juice and coffee
Warming up for beers
When I read the travelogues
Of Greece, Italy, and Spain
I'll have vacationed on their beaches
Somewhere in my brain
Feed your inner child
That's what I've been told
I'm reading Chicken Soup
For the Duck Hunter's Soul
When I'm daydreaming in the bathroom, don't drag me out
'Coz the EZ flush toilet
Is what power's all about
I'll sit here and read McCall's
Until security comes
Don't you rouse me from my nap
I'm a Borders' Bum
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: HawkTheSlayer on 03/16/07 at 4:50 am
yoidy-
Those were some of the more profound poems I have read in some time.
You have excellent taste.
Karma awarded, and well worth it.
Subject: Re: Poetry (yours and theirs)
Written By: Philip Eno on 04/16/20 at 1:56 pm
A wonderful poem from Irish-British comedian Spike Milligan, on what would have been his 102th birthday, he sadly died in February 2002. I grow up with Spike Milligan as my favourite comedian and in older life I was honoured in meeting him many times. I am trying to work out online when he wrote this poem, for it has a message for the situation the world finds it in today.
Smiling Is Infectious
by Spike Milligan
"Smiling is infectious,
you catch it like the flu,
When someone smiled at me today,
I started smiling too.
I passed around the corner
and someone saw my grin.
When he smiled I realized
I'd passed it on to him.
I thought about that smile,
then I realized its worth.
A single smile, just like mine
could travel round the earth.
So, if you feel a smile begin,
don't leave it undetected.
Let's start an epidemic quick,
and get the world infected!"