Poetry Corner

[Weasel Overlord]

Aw thanks ^_^ It's fine if you call me Weasel too, lol. Many just call me Weas, hehe.

We'd done some exercises in the seminar before I wrote it to get a collection of words about beds we'd slept in, and our dream bed; the springs I remember from a bed when I was really young...I'm not entirely sure whether they were actually exposed or not, but memory can be like that, I guess. ^_~

I gotta do another poem for next Tuesday, so I might post that up here when it's finished. ^_^ *giggles away* hee hee...I'm still flabbergasted that people like it O.O

[mr_pikachu]

Well, if you want to be a good writer, be your own toughest critic. ^_^

I liked the description here, especially the "lion's clawed feet" part. Gave the image of a very ornate bedpost to me. Not sure if that was your intent, but that was the mental image I got.

What I found most interesting, though, was the mix of active and static description. To expound, you spent the first three (arguably seven) lines describing the bed itself. But then you changed tone and talked about the dog sleeping and its reaction to the bedspread. I'm not sure if I like or dislike the duality, but it's definitely intriguing.

Anyway, yeah. As I told you earlier, this was an enjoyable poem. Lots of imagery, like Ada commented. Pretty good stuff overall.

[mistysakura]

-removed temporarily due to copyright issues (the work has been submitted for publishing)-

[mr_pikachu]

Ooh, most interesting!

That was a fairly cold outlook on societal norms. I really liked the part about forced conversations - maybe it just me, but I thought that was an excellent observation. The general theme of choosing solitude over company, and doing so simply because one is used to it, worked well for you here.

It was a little weird, though, how it jumped from one topic to another very quickly. The piece seemed to switch ideas very quickly which made getting lost an easy task. Also, a couple of phrasing choices seemed odd, such as "mock conversation / struggling mid-sentence." I had to look at that part awhile to get what the meaning was (or what I think it was, at least), which disrupted the poem's flow.

But I liked the work overall. The emjambment didn't really hurt here; besides, you can claim that the technique was a metaphorical connection to the narrator's diversion from societal norms. Lines 17 and 18 were especially strong and made for a good summation of your theme. All in all, nice job!

[Mikachu Yukitatsu]

Land Of The Moltres
[same melody as in Rhapsody's 'Land Of Immortals', don't know? Well, no big deal]

Lawrence the third rides his ship
To the war against the Gods
Lugia changed the winds over seas

Chosen One must find the way
Where the ancient spheres lie
Gross the waters full of divine rage

Land of the Moltres
Where is the Fire?
Thrown to the battlship in skies

Land of the Moltres
Your king must be free
From here to eternity

Empty Moltres's hill
Zapdos brings the new era
Thunder rules now over Fire
The Island
Of Slowking
Must adorn with all the three
Upholding tales that never end!

Land of the Moltres
Lightning from the mountain
Thrown to the battleship in skies

Land of the Moltres
The peace has to rise again
From here to eternity

Holy force of Freezer
Articuno's wrath
He shall be everywhere
When the One sends the Gods free
Water's Great Guardian
Fails with his song
Now the fate of the whole World lies in the hands of the Chosen One

Yes, I have posted this before. EDIT: I would have more but they are in Finnish language. Do you think I should translate?

[dratinihaunter13]

Originally Posted by Mikachu Yukitatsu

EDIT: I would have more but they are in Finnish language. Do you think I should translate?

sure if you feel like it

here's one
--
"ominous clouds out"

did a dark dig til depth
and creek, swing your weathervane
to bed.
did a look lowered and good
glower, take your mascara
for a dip.
would you wander a while
longer, hover your bodice
to cover.
shutters. part shutters.
i'm holed up.

[Inferno_Dragon]

Here are two more poems that I have written:

Christmas

This holiday could be defined as my favorite time of year.
And why wouldn’t it be?
From standard or strange flavored Candy Canes
To Eggnog no matter if it is plain or if it mixed with Coca-Cola

To be able to spend time with the ones closest to you.
To put the precious ornaments whether frozen or animated
Up on the Christmas Tree whether real or artificial
Listening the annual Christmas Bible story the day before
Setting up the manager in the fireplace

And putting the figurines inside the miniature nativity scene
Putting out eggnog or milk and cookies for Santa
Then just waiting for the day to arrive

Then rush towards the tree whether it is upstairs
Or downstairs depending on where the tree is
Waiting for the family to arrive so you can open those presents
To tear the wrapping paper

like it is tissue paper.

Most people say that treasure comes in chest like in those pirate movies.
But I’d say true treasure comes in boxes wrapped with attractive paper
And decorated ribbons and bows or whatever goes on top of a present

It really doesn’t matter if we don’t get what we want
Or even if we do, it is the experience that matters.
So it doesn’t matter if any one of use gets a PS2, keys to a Jaguar,
Or a lease to the very first house we will ever own.

Savor those memories since Christmas comes and goes once a year
But those memories will be saved in your mind forever.

The Harry Potter Experience

I remember reading the first book
This book was definitely out of the ordinary.

Medieval times mixed together with Modern Times
Something I have never seen in literature

An orphan with an epiphany that he is a wizard
And that an evil wizard took his parents away from him

New friends and awful rivals together at the same school
Fascinating creatures from Hippogriffs to Winged Reptiles

Strict awful teachers to incredible wonderful teachers
Even ones that might sound suspicious in their teachings

Hogwarts have gone through at least 5 Defense Against the Dark Arts Teachers
Wow, that position must be really hard to fill if none of them last more than a year

More epiphanies learned by Harry, ones that shock and amaze.
Harry is a Parseltongue and his Godfather is a convicted criminal.

Though the use of advertising does show up, it really doesn’t matter.
Although the product placement of PlayStation was quite weird

Though they have gotten larger and larger by each book,
I have read the latest two books in more or less than a day.

This book has changed kids and adults everywhere.
This book has gotten them to read.

For a children’s book, you’d think adults wouldn’t be reading it
But sometimes things might shock for when you least suspect it.

Sure, there are people who are against it but I don’t care.
They can complain all they want but we will still be reading it.

I love Harry Potter and his wonderful adventures
I will cherish this series until the end of time.

And that is a total promise.

[Weasel Overlord]

@Inferno_Dragon: I didn't really like the repetition of "awful" and "epiphanies" in the Harry Potter one. For some reason it seemed like you were struggling to find words, so you used ones you felt safe with. I don't know.
And in the first one, in the fourth stanza you reiterate that the tree could be in a different place, and I think that it's unnecessary detail, really, cos you've already said that it can be upstairs or downstairs. That said, I think that the Christmas poem captures the excitement of the holiday really well, and in both poems I liked the first person perspective you used. ^_^

@Dratinihaunter: I loved the repetition of the /d/ sound and the enjambment worked particularly well, I thought. I'm a little uncertain about "hover your bodice/to cover", but only cos I don't really understand the image you're trying to invoke.
I think that the lack of capitals was also effective, (like e.e.cummings, ergh) as it gives the poem a more, sort-of, I dunno, flowiness. And I know, any essay that uses the word "flow" is shot by teachers, but I cannot think of a better word. So sue me. ^_~

And now, two poems of my own. The first is the product of being given a picture, writing as much down as we could about it and then writing the poem later, without the picture in front of me, and the second was the product of a writing exercise we did in my seminar class.
I'd like to draw your attention to the fact that the second one does, in fact, rhyme! Something I'm really proud of, since I can never use rhyme usually. ^_^
Oh, also, for the second poem we were given an object (mine was a mirror) and we had to write the poem from the p.o.v of that object. Fun!
(Upon reading it out loud, something about the rhythm of the last line in the mirror poem doesn't feel right. Anyone think of a replacement for "beauty" that fits with the rhythm more?) Scrap that, I changed "forever more" to "'ever more". Huzzahs! ^_^

Shades of Home

There is a mare, present at every meal.

She snuffles through open half-door for food freely given

From kindly hand.

There is a dog, staring hopefully, longing in his eye

For the food that sits so close,

Yet forbidden.

There is a plant. It sits, forlorn, bare on the windowsill,

As if awaiting water or spring,

Though blossoms bloom outside uncaring.

There are but two shades: dust and homeliness.

And dear family sit side by side,

Grasped tightly by sepia and brown

As they enjoy the simple food before them.

Mirror Poem (no-name)

I see the world through others' eyes
A wistful sigh, a recollection.
I tell the truth, but in disguise
Perfection in a clear reflection.

Bad luck to you if I should break
My body shattered on the floor.
My fragile heart do not unmake
And I'll show beauty 'ever more.

[dratinihaunter13]

thanks for that helpful critique WO =)

here's a quickie

"asleep afloat"

ethereal whispers,
warm west winds,
rested, relaxed, loved,
and you're there.
until my phone sings
my roommate's bass bumps
the dog next door yelps
a police siren wails by,
and I curse when I wake and I walk.

EDIT: i changed some of that last one with punctuation and some clarity. here's a new one:

"Fooled"

My heart is a packed auditorium, silenced.
The magician has vanished.
The pledge
Delayed but convincing,
The audience leaned in.
The turn
Stunning,
The fools waited, expected.
The prestige
Promised but missing,
And my heart is packed, silenced.

The audience must imagine
The magician bowing somewhere
Or they will never leave this performance.

[mr_pikachu]

Got something I wrote in about 20 minutes. The topic? One of my biggest writing pet peeves. It's a pretty short piece, but a little bit unorthodox.

...Okay, more than a little bit.



Spoil Chick

Dew yow aver yews spiel chucking?
Eats vary god four mi.
Avery ward a peers sew précis,
End eye lock grate two the.
Sense yew half nut trade et yore salve,
Yow mussed bee quiet eh foul.
Me spill chocker mikes mea seam knit.
Thee thong ease ay coal toll!

[dratinihaunter13]

very creative mr_pika =) at first i thought it was a poem parodying the way spoiled, rich girls talk, and that was your peeve. but once i saw that wasn't working at all, the true genius came through. why can't spell check read our minds yet for chrissakes it's the year 2007!

[mr_pikachu]

Ehehe, glad you liked it. ^_^ The only bad thing is that if you put it into a new enough version of Word, it will catch grammar errors on one or two lines. Still need to work out that one... then we can have Spoiling End Gram Air Chick! XD

[mistysakura]

Hehe, when I read the first few words, I thought your pet peeve was Aussie accents Anyway, I don't get a couple of bits, but it generally amused me. dh: I really like Fooled (probably also because I like The Prestige). I like the metaphor, as it provides a good image. The last sentence was a strong way to end the piece. For "asleep afloat", I actually liked the original version better. For me, the lack of punctuation created a flowing, ethereal quality, whereas now it's a bit more orthodox and structured. It could just be because I'm used to seeing less punctuation from you, so it stands out. I do like the change in the last line, though (I think it was different, anyway) -- it makes the piece's intention clearer.

Poetry from me will exist here shortly... I'm trying to expand on Solitude (thanks Brian for the feedback; I agree, and once I posted the thing I thought maybe I hadn't developed it enough), but the stupid middle section is resisting change. Or it decides it wants to go off on a random tangent unrelated to the rest of the poem. I'm also wrestling with another poem of mine, called 'The Princess'; the problem here is that I can't seem to decide on the tone, so it sounds a bit ridiculous at the moment. Lastly, there is 'Pavlov's Girl', and its words are complete, but I just want to arrange and record it before posting it here. Too much advertising, enough from me for now.

[mr_pikachu]

Nah, your Aussie accents are just fine. ^_^ But since some things were difficult to decipher... translation time!


Spellcheck

Do you ever use spellchecking?
It's very good for me.
Every word appears so precise,
And I look great to thee.
Since you have not tried it yourself,
You must be quite a fool.
My spellchecker makes me seem neat.
The thing is a cool tool!

[Mikachu Yukitatsu]

Kaunotar punatukka Maarit

(the same melody as in Sailor Moon's Moonlight Densetsu)

Kaunotar punatukka Maarit
Unessa on hän minun oma Maarit
Sekä fiksu että söpö Maarit
Nimeä tuota tuuleen kuiskaan

Kun emme suojaa todelta kiellä
Unelmat nakataan meille tiellä
Silloin mielin heti puhumaan
Pian olemme kahdestaan

Nukkumatta yöllä hukun itkuun
Sen vastauksella tavoittaa voi kuun
Nuppu nuoruuden puhkeaa
Rakkaus avaa kukkansa

MAAAAARITIN kauneudesta voimani mä saan
Jos tukkaa kehun, hän kiittää

Kaunotar punatukka Maarit....

English translation:

The beauty, red-haired Maarit
In a dream she is my Maarit
Both clever and sweet Maarit
The name I whisper in the wind

When we don't deny cover from truth
Dreams are thrown on us in the road
Then I want to talk with you
Soon will we be together

Without sleeping at night I drown in crying
Its answer can reach the moon
The bud of youth blossoms
Love opens its flower

From Maarit's beauty I get my power
If I praise her hair, she thanks (me)

The beauty, red-haired Maarit...

And then...I know they are polynomials, not polynoms, but here it is anyway:

Polynom!

I want to count the very best
Like no number was
To teach them all is my real test
Derivating in what proportion
I will never buy a Texas
My brains grew too wide
Each Polynom to understand
The paired function inside
Polynom!
It's it and me
I know it's trigonometry
Polynom!
You are my test at school
Argument we must defend!
Polynom!
A term so true
Or square imaginary
You teach me and I teach you
Polynom
Gotta teach them all!
Every expression along the way
With determination I face
I will sum them everyday
To claim my right product
Come in with me
Degree is right
There's the best angle
Paper and pen will beat teachers
It's always been MY dream!

[Gavin Luper]

Heh, gnarly poem Brian. From the title I thought the same as dh13, that it was about spoiled chicks, and then from the first line I thought the same as Ada, that it was having a go at Aussie accents like Kath and Kim, or maybe a Kiwi accent. I eventually caught on though, by taking the time to read your preface. Very original and very amusing, too, I enjoyed it.

[Weasel Overlord]

My last poem, and I think my favourite. Apparently, it made my class want to get out their old paintbrushes and apologise to them, which is always nice, I guess. ^_^
Our task was to take an object (mine was a paintbrush in a jar) and write a poem about or from it's p.o.v. It was quite fun. My paintbrush is sad.
When I wrote this, I had a preoccupation with turps. I originally wanted my poem to be something along the lines of "turps, turps, turps, turps!" only in a song format, and then I figured that it wouldn't be respectable, so here is the result.

A Retirement in Turps

Back in the day I was used.
Watercolours, emulsion, oils.
But now I sit, bemused,
Soaking in turpentine spoils.

I wonder where my bristles went,
And why I sit in this old jar.
The shiny new brush took my place,
And I sit, forlorn, abandoned,

Alone.
An eternity in turps.

[Tyler and Hobbes]

We're... we're... we're goddamn fucking puppets man... XD This one's kind of about... actually, I really don't know what this one's about. Hope it's good, though.

Anemone

Faint notes might fill the air
In my attempt to sing
But everything I've written
Comes out so plain and cheap
Oh come, oh come, my sweet young muse
Please don't abandon me
Just give me a whisper to know you're there
Why won't you answer me?

You might have read a book
Filled with trite fables
And in it was true happiness
It filled up the day
But you can only hope so much
Until it drives you insane
You must stumble through life alone

While a woman wastes away
In a clean apartment studio
Drinking to every half-screamed verse
She turns up the radio
Saying, we interrupt you
Your broadcast was expendable
I'm afraid we have some news
Lord, we have some news

A business man works at home
He's been sick and feels like dying
On the TV screen an anchorman
Looks like he's been crying
As he delivers five simple words
My God, what is happening
He can not look at the screen

A piece of footage obtained
Loops over and over
The beauty of the image
Contrasts with a projection so horrible
It just falls to the earth
Into a tower so fucking magical
Can't help but stare at the screen

Our voices were the multitude
Stripped from mourning in tune
When we cried in our apartment
That sunny afternoon
And we prayed to somebody
Even if we had forgotten who
Screaming, We just want to bring them back
Fuck you, if you won't bring them back

Well you all might stare at the future
Shot through by a burning plane
And you might feel your deep blue blood
Twist in some remembered pain
But don't let it ever get to you
And when you're crying, just say
God, I need you so
Let's hope that that's enough

They say in a southern drawl
It's not about oil
We're just protecting the freedom
Of every girl and boy
And as they rape our rights behind our backs
Sending poor kids out to die
All of us raise our hands
Ignore the curtain behind the man

[Ash_of_pallet_town]

Heres my first poem.

The fog comes in on little cats feet as the men prepare for battle.
Short and Quick the men move to gain an advantage.
Quicker then quick the battle is won,
But no vicktors to celibrate.
Only orphans and widows to morn for the fallen.

[Mewtwo-D2]

I just wrote this one- I'd love critique.

My Warrior


I heard you crying.
Did you know?

My warrior
Marches
Just a few more days to tote the weary load

I heard him crying.
Did you hear?

My warrior
Sleeps
Take me to where they have laid him

I heard our crying.
Did you see?

My warrior
Lays down his spear
And dies.

Ares never failed him.
Morpheus held him prisoner long before.

His courage could have won the war.
His body lost the battle.

You heard us crying.
Did you care?

[mistysakura]

Ash_of_pallet_town: I like the metaphor of fog coming in on little cats' feet, although I was confused as to how it was relevant to the rest of the poem. At first the battle sounds a bit like a chess match, all strategic and stuff, and it also seems to deprive the men of humnaity as they're all just referred to as a collective of soldiers. It's a nice contrast to the end where you have the reality of war, women and children mourning. The way you described the men as "short and quick" was a bit weird though; I'm guessing you meant to describe the battle rather than the men as short, but because of where you put the phrsae, it sounded like you wer describing the men. Also, 'vicktors' should be 'victors', and 'morn' should be 'mourn'.

Mewtwo-D2: one very cool poem. The way in which you used repetition was to great effect, and it wasn't monotonous at all. The end was particularly effective. It was interesting how you interlaced the bits talking about the listener with the story about the warrior. A real critique... hehe, I'll pass. I don't know enough.

fireguardian: just brilliant. What is there to say? Oh yeah, maybe I missed something, but the poem seemed to move off in a direction totally different from where it started. The first paragraph seemed particularly random. But taken separately, this is awesome stuff. Have now run out of words. You're too good for me.

Now to my own contribution. Another war-related poem, yay. By the way, I'm an Asian, a loner, I'm after an English major and I write morbid poetry, but I don't wage war. *back on topic* I'm a pacifist. I don't really know why I feel qualified to write a song about war given that I'm a sheltered former-elite-private-school eighteen-year-old girl in the 'leafy eastern suburbs' of Victoria, but I felt like it. Anyway, this was inspired by the track 'I have seen the rain' on Pink's album 'I'm Not Dead'. The track was written by Pink's father about the Vietnam War, and I found it a very... peaceful... song about war. (It was in a major key...) So I started thinking what would happen if an emo like me went to war. This is the result. It will most likely be edited as I put music to it, and I hope to put an audio up someday.

Rain Eternal

I have seen the rain
showering kisses of spring
crystallising petals
puddles for a laughing child
bless those fleeting years

I have touched the rain
malicious metal pelting
searing sizzling the skin
bullets brand me veteran
blood my badge of honour

Now all I ask
is shelter from the downpour
a place of rest, a sanctuary
a mound of dirt, no more

As twilight casts its shadows
darkness reigns in the land
may stars guide me to midnight
will I ever see the dawn
cloudless birth of mourning
too many tears to cry
hide me from the rain
one last night

I have seen the rain
burdened clouds shedding tears
empathy glistens like dew
grass blades poke through crevices
of bombshell craters

I have tasted the rain
when desperate pleading dies
choked back by helplessness
eternal raindrops from above
my only reply

Now all I ask
is shelter from the downpour
a place of rest, a sanctuary
a mound of dirt, no more

As twilight casts its shadows
darkness reigns in the land
may stars guide me to midnight
will I ever see the dawn
cloudless birth of mourning
too many tears to cry
hide me from the rain...

Will rain ever be the same again?

As bombshells cast their shadows
human evil conquers
may stars guide me to midnight
I will never see the dawn
cloudless birth of mourning
with no more tears to cry
free me from the rain
this last night


... I really need to edit this. I wrote it with no punctuation, and as I typed it up I realised it needed some punctuation to make more sense. Wherever I put it, it still made no sense. An edit will come when I'm feeling less lazy... Much criticism is good. Also, are there any Latin scholars here who could translate 'Rain eternal(ly)' for me? Thanks!

[Tyler and Hobbes]

Thanks for the praise. But really, I wasn't kidding when I said I had no idea what it was about. Ever have that happen to you? Where a poem just completely takes control until you're not sure when you actually wrote it? I guess it's kind of like banging on drums, to find you've been playing blue grass the entire time.

Your piece was - that was way more than anything I could do in a day. You captured the hopelessness of war, of spending every day wondering if you'll ever see your homeland again. Your point of view throttled me into actually thinking it written by a soldier in Vietnam, and if it was taken by itself you could probably even pass it off as such. The absence of punctuation made me read through it, word by word, but the labor of scrutinizing each verse for meaning felt like it was meant to be part of the poem. Please, please, and I cannot stress this enough, don't change anything dealing with punctuation. It may seem like a small thing, but it adds a lot to the overall theme of weariness.

I never thought I'd actually have to use this, but the Latin for Rain Eternal would be Pluvia Sempiterna (Rain Eternal, or, more like, Eternal Rain). Boy, Catholic school really beats useless crap into you.

Hope I've helped a little.

[mistysakura]

Thanks for the praise, fireguardian.Call it vanity or what you will, but feedback (positive or negative) is the second most important reason I write. The first is, of course, personal satisfaction. Anyway, will take your advice on the punctuation. Actually, when I tried to put some in it just looked... divisive. Eh. Thanks for the translation as well, but I've decided to keep the title as it is for two reasons; firstly people wouldn't get what it meant if I changed it, and secondly, it would then sound like a sheltered former-elite-private-school eighteen-year-old girl's work. Originally I wanted it in Latin to mimic a requiem-type thing, like how requiem aeternam is rest eternally (I think). But the above two reasons overruled it.

Anyway, thanks again. Am in the process of writing the music to it, and I think it's losing any authenticity it ever had... trying not to be too fancy, but not too commonplace at the same time. Will psot when it's done.

[Saffire Persian]

I'm not one for poetry, but I wrote this for my Creative Writing class I'm taking, and felt I might as well share it. Any comments, critique, etc. is greatly appreciated.

R.E.M. | G.A.T.E.

When the day flashes lapis-gossamer
in the star-blown sky,
I lie awake and wonder things
while the silent cat-clock tail thrashes in reply,
counting missing moments
that have unknowingly ticked by.

My eyes waver, and they close
I see light breaking through the hallowed clouds
of darkness mixed with rainbow Catherine wheels.
Disfigured colors, where black is white:
a picture of Picasso artistry-
Ah! Such a marvelous sight!

Then I see starlight, vague images of fleeting shadows,
Where houses have no name,
It's a quiet town with thin-waxed candles
with a single, unmarked grave, grazed by winter's chill.
They wait for the spring that is to come
with its immortal daffodils.

I wonder, then, if my hand should hold a sword,
or perhaps a bow or scythe,
as I come upon an ancient castle,
where magic must reside.
Within, I'll fight the fierce chimeras
and ride the pegasi.

But it is then,
I suddenly realize,
That I really should be building
my castle in the sky
where dreams are made of dreams
and never do they die.

But I'm walking on grass now,
(and the sky seems so far away)
My thoughts seem forever trivial,
as light as a cool spring day
Everything is nothing now,
like a child’s honest play.

The scenery is now familiar
I think that I am home, perhaps this time to stay,
Laughing children, familiar faces,
mouths open as if to say,
to come and walk with them once more,
just like yesterday.

Then, that light appears again,
with it's stunning Catherine wheels
and hypnotizing rainbows.
I fight, but lose the battle against the pulling shine--
I jerk and thrash and throw my head upright
into the territory that is mine.

There's no more grass, no more sky
and no more thin-waxed candles,
just a quiet, monochrome world,
where everything is as it seems
It is then, and only then, that I wonder
if perhaps this is a dream.

[mistysakura]

Beware the blasphemy. Mm... yeah I hope no one will be offended. It's all in the name of art.

Brimstone Diamonds

Warmth licking, stroking, embracing,
searing a tattoo across the skin
like a whisper. Savour the intimacy
stolen from the chilled skies.
Light flickering, crackling, illuminating
the depths of sin, reflecting, diffracting
casting overlapping shadows –
Shades of grey in a world of
vermillion and crimson
flaming roses.
Succumb to the devil’s beauty.

In hell our voices are as one
shrieking in praise, not for escape
no eternal yearning for something beyond.
Forever is this instant of ravishing pain
as we burst into a lacrymosa
each phrase counterpoint to the symphonic
freedom. In hell
We use the Almighty’s name in vain.

Injustice has no place in hell
The killer and the thief share a bonfire
hunger extinguished by the flames
disease overcome by our darkness.
No inhibitions
as we sway, fearless feet on glowing coals.
No thoughtcrime no blasphemy no original sin
for the Lord’s judgment has forsaken us.
No harsh cry of the last trumpet heard.

We revel in immortality
cast aflame, never to perish.
Hell sees our souls recast by death
purified from molten flesh.
We are brimstone diamonds
The magnificence of the inferno
a backdrop for our shameless acts
shedding light on evil truth
its luminescence clinging like a
halo.


So... an artist's impression of hell, of sorts. Anyway, time for my usual author's blabbering. This one came about because I was thinking about how the Catholic Church abolished limbo. The original ideas might go in another poem someday, but anyway thinking about that led on to hell, and how some qualities of it might even be attractive to those in a living hell on earth... which is what is here in great exaggeration. Just a random note, I don't believe everything I write (not in creative writing anyway). this is the favourite of my poems so far, although I think it's quite self-indulgent and in parts it sounds like I copied words out of a thesaurus. I was trying to capture such a magnificent thing, and yet I had to be so vague because, well, obviously I don't know the specifics of hell, and I also tried to make it resonate with what most people would think hell is like (physically; spiritually it's all subverted, of course.) Inspirations: Plantae's short story 'An end to reason' (I was going to make this a trilogy of heaven, limbo and hell, but you've pretty much said everything I want to say about heaven), Mozart's Requiem (Lacrymosa) (or rather, Evanescence's usage of it), Faure's Requiem.

[Zcade0]

This poem is by a good friend of mine named Ryan Riverside:

Empty



Sitting here in an empty chair

Staring at the empty table

Resting in the empty room

Not quite in the empty house


Walking down the empty streets

Stomping on quite deadened feet

Looking in through empty windows

Passing into empty houses


Waiting in the empty lines

Hating all the empty rides

Riding on the empty trains

Trying to find unempty places


Passing through the empty towns

Hearing nothing in empty places

Drowning in the empty lakes

Knowing that’s empty living there


Passing by the empty people

Hearing all their empty thoughts

Crashing through their empty lives

Ignoring all their empty cries

--

he has a lot more, but I thought I'd just post this one for now

[Houndoom_Lover]

I should start posting my poems here! ^_^ Here is my faaaaavorite!!

-----

That is then
This was now
break the dam
and drowned the town

Past was dark
future dim
hold your breath
if you can't swim

---
YAY! ^_^

[Zcade0]

Another one by Ryan Riverside, this one is my favorite out of them all:

--
Reading Can Be Dangerous

She opened the book and compellingly began reading

Her whole heart and mind into what she sees

With the characters her heart is bleeding

And she trembles at her knees


As she gets more involved in the story she can feel their pain more

She becomes entwined with the book

And the book begins to explain blood and gore

But she just can’t break her look


Her character’s hurt, and her character’s crying

And she’s on the floor

Now the character’s dying

But she keeps on reading for more


The character gets stabbed in the back

And she winces with the hurt

On the wood-plank floor there’s a dusty crack

And a blade sticking up out of the dirt


With her dying breath she reads her last

And with the character

Dies with a gasp

The book falling next to her


When she was found and pulled away

Her mother found the book right where it was left

She shrugged and looked to see what it was named

And started reading what was left


Another character, and a later time

Her eyes widened with delight

This reading was sublime

She stayed up late into the night


Her character was a detective

Investigating the previous murder

The mother was quite perceptive

And kept reading further


She immersed herself in the book as well,

Reading as she walked from room to room

Until the detective for some reason fell

And she went to the floor with a terrific boom


The murderer was upon the detective

And the mother felt that someone was on her as well

She was quite perceptive

Even though she fell.


The detective was beaten by the murderer

Beaten bloody and left for dead

Even bloody the mother read on a little further

Wiping the blood from her head


The detective recovered in five pages

As did the mother

Exhausted, she fell asleep after fifteen more pages

As the detective was put in a coma by some other


The brother came by and saw the mother with the book

He went in the room and snatched it up

Just so that he could have a look

He read so long he missed his sup


His character was a bit more involved

He was given lots of clues

Lots of things to be solved

They stumped him until the character knew what to do


When the murderer went after this character

He knew how to fight

He karated his way against the murderer

It was drawn out long into the night


The brother read slower than the other two

So he grew tired partway through the fight

But he did not bid the book adieu

Even after it was again light


At the end of the fight the character caught fire

The brother ran outside, fighting invisible flames

In the book the flames grew even higher

And the murderer took all the blames


With his hands he fought the flame that couldn’t really be there

But yet it crisped his clothes

And it singed his hair

It came and came in murderous droves


In the book the character was doused with water

And so the brother fell to the ground

Relieved to not be charcoal fodder

He read on, ready for another round


The water roused the brother

And he was no longer exhausted

He no longer thought of his mother

Or of how the ground was frosted


He read as his character was kidnapped by the evil one

And taken out into the middle of nowhere land

And thrown near who-knows-what

The snow on the ground chilling the character’s hand


The character had nowhere he could go

He did not know where he was

He was lost in the snow

Just as the brother was


As the character died of exposure

Because he was a slow reader

The brother died as just as sure

Content with the avid reader


And along came the father

Who thought the son was sleeping

And thought ‘oh what the bother’

And began reading


The newest character was the villain

Who was hunted by all in their own ways

But he was content in his own killin’

And all against him had to count their days


And as the father immersed himself in this sorry character

He truly felt

That the villain’s character

Was girded around his own mental belt


And as the villain prowled around looking for the plotters

So did the man

Sneaking around the plant potters

Reading man to man


The neighbor’s dog chased the reader

Just as a junkyard dog chased the villain

And both dogs bit a bleeder

And both the men went to their killin’


And as the dog just began to choke

The police were finally called

To come after this joke

And other dogs came and mauled


The father ran away from the neighborhood dogs

Ran into the woods

To hear all the frogs

And the villain ran into the ‘hood


They lay where they were

To recuperate from the blood loss they had

The man reading the words

Their blood loss was bad


As the man lay there dying

Just as the villain did

He could hear a little boy crying

And found where the boy hid


In order to comfort the boy

Who had snapped him from his reading trance

Since he had no toy

He gave him the giant book for a glance

[Gavin Luper]

Hey guys. I'm no poet or anything, and most good poetry just goes over my head, but we had to write a sonnet for my creative writing class, so I thought I'd post it up here. It's probably not very good, but I dunno, I kind of like it.

-------------------------------------

Woman of the Earth

Is there a deed more terrible than this?
The potter’s hands bear down on you like clay
Resilient beauty trampled by my wish
A Vulcan rivulet from pewter grey
The first of many glaring needles will
Put you to death: Destroy the precious few
Distinctions from your parallels and hills
Immerse you in a stream of grey and blue
Your hardened face deceived a poor man’s hope
For you were stagnant with no need to stay
You gave the overlord untrammelled scope
Beneath his flooding you were wiped away.

I smile: your wounds heal up after the rain
Your reformed, rugged beauty breathes again.

[Gavin Luper]

I don't know if this is a poem or a song or just questions. Whichever way, this was very cathartic for me to write.

Daimler

How can you stand to see yourself like this?
How can you stand to do what you don't want to?
How do you cope when you're your own antithesis?
How can you win when you can't get out of bed?

How does spinelessness overcome your resistance?
How does dependency make you a stronger man?
How can you equate alcoholism with breathing?
How can you say suicidal is being yourself?

How do you kill yourself without anyone knowing?
How do your hands pull your own trigger?
How long can spiders plough you into nonexistence?
How long do you think you can keep your silence?

How can I exchange recklessness for temperance?
How can I bury my trespasses?
How can I prevent the death of forgiveness?
How can I even begin?

[mistysakura]

Time to comment...

Zcade0/ Ryan Riverside, I guess: Reading can be Dangerous was an entertaining read. The repetition of the same scenari played out on differnet people reinforced the spookiness, although it did get a bit long. It was especially haunting how different members of the family were pursuer and pursued, villain and innocent. The structure was nice and simple which suited the narrative style; the rhyming seemed forced at times though, especially when resorting to using contractions like "killin'" to rhyme with "villain". Used well, rhyming doesn't stick out, but improves the flow and sound of the poem.

Gavin: I never thought I'd see you in here. Hehe I hope you're slowly being converted.

Woman of the Earth: mm, this is what I was talking about earlier. I love the sonnet rhyming scheme, and the way you've used it here really makes the poem flow and stick together. It's a great form for describing natural beauty (or I guess lack thereof). I didn't get what the poem was about at first; got to the middle, started rereading, and began to understand. Anyway, the poem has some good dramatic word choices and conveys a great respect for the earth (referring to it as 'you' was a good choice). I also liked how the rain was portrayed as the enemy, the destroyer, and yet it was hoped for (the narrator's wish, if I interpret it correctly?) The last two lines made a strong conclusion (once again, the couplet did help), a different perspective. The first line seemed a bit out of place though; I don't know, like it was there because you had written thirteen lines and needed another to make it fit the form. I was also confused with line 10, but then again understanding every word of a work has never been my forte; I usually just understand what I can and guess the rest.

Daimler: Well, I understand this poem, I guess, to the extent that you want me to understand it. The sentences are simple enough, but I get the feeling that as with all personal poems, after reading it I'm still missing something. Because real/ semi-fictional people can't be wrapped up nicely in sixteen lines. And you're not writing it for an audience but for yourself, so you want to write about what's important, not spend time explaining it to an audience. (I know I'm assuming a lot here, but hey you said it was cathartic, so I guess it's based on something in real life.) So that's my excuse for being confused (what/who is (a) Daimler?). Anyway, once again very striking word choices, making the poem a strong statement (despite there being no answers. I guess sometimes it's asking the right questions that requires strength.) I especially like lines 6-7 and 12-14. In terms of the sound of the poem, the rhythm sounds perfectly like prose, and when I try to read it aloud I get stuck on words. Meh. Doesn't mean it's not good in its own right. There's this change in attitude in stanza 4, and I didn't even notice this until the third reading or so, but changing from 'you' to 'I' in that stanza was well done to highlight that change. Meaning-wise, of course, I don't understand. I particularly liked the last line because although it was the end of the poem it was about a new beginning, which provided some hope in an otherwise downward-spiralling situation.

... that took a ridiculously long time.

[mistysakura]

I'd normally edit this in, but since the above post was comments on other fics and this is my own... feel free to argue with me.

The Artist

You waltzed onto my canvas
Brightened up my world
Just for one moment, just one day
You left me without a trace
No photograph to prove you were real
But I can dream

I'm a painter and my eyes won't let you go, no
Splashes of colour and you face me again
A stroke a day brings your portrait to perfection
But under the layers

I can't tell if I'm portraying your true likeness
Are you just another one of my creations?
Do I feel for one I've brought into existence?
Am I just a victim of my imagination?

You leaped onto my empty page
Told me things I'd never heard
One conversation, just one day
You left me only with words
Not written down, they echoed in my ears
They make me dream

I'm a writer and my words won't let you go, no
Pages of journals bring you to life again
Stanzas merge into poetry, anthologies
But in between the lines

Have I changed your essence beyond recognition?
Are you real, or just another work of fiction?
Am I fooled by one I've lied into existence?
Am I just a victim of my imagination?

I can't hide in a fairytale forever
I jsut want an escape from this confusion
Though it hurts, I need your truth to set me free
I wish not for your love, but your return
To burn down my creations, expose my illusions
My true feelings for an unreal you

Let me shed my tears for loving an imitation
Stand reality against my work of fiction
I twisted you into a false existence
I'm a victim, a fool for my imagination

May I paint myself with feet firmly planted on the ground
Someday I'd like to know the real you.

Disclaimer: eh, if I said this was 100% fiction I'd be lying. But most if it isn't personal experience. 'You' isn't any particular person either, but an amalgamation of a whole lot of experiences.

I forgot to say that this is a song. It's by far the most 'normal', down-to-earth, unpretentious, and yet somewhat girly and stupid thing I've written. But I like it for some reason. It was fun to write. Except the bridge (? the thing with six lines, anyway) is weak (I've rewritten it about seven times already... argh) and so are a couple of lines. The idea came to me just as I was getting to bed, and I just had to stay up and finish it. This will be arranged and recorded with my trusty mp3 player some time as well; I imagine it with acoustic guitar but I don't have one and can't play one, so... oh yeah, Rain Eternal's arrangement is done, I just need to practise and record it.

Influences: A lot of Missy Higgins, quite a bit of (gasp) Avril Lavigne(thank goodness not lyric-wise), a tiny bit of Delta Goodrem and Killing Heidi. Also Just Words and Daimler.

[Gavin Luper]

Ada: Well, I had to comment back. I didn't feel like explaining the poems at the time, but I'm more in the mindset to do that now.

Woman of the Earth - You pretty much got the idea of this one. That's the first sonnet I've done and it was a challenge, so I'm glad it mostly worked out okay. It was, as you said, about natural beauty: I was comparing the beauty of nature and the beauty of females, both of which I find fascinating (without sounding like a loser!). The poem's about how you have something beautiful, but you think, 'you know what, this could be better if it was changed like this' ... and the next thing you know, you get your wish and you go, 'shit - what have I done?' There's a bit more to it, I suppose, but that's the idea at the core of the whole thing.

Daimler - I still don't feel like talking much about this one. It really was (or is) intensely personal and also very black. That seems the best way to describe it. But thanks for letting me know your thoughts on it, because that helped me. As for your question: consider Daimler to be either a place or a process, I don't know which. It's a bit abstract but it makes sense to me.

(Mate - I sound like a sap. Who'd have thought I'd be writing poetry or lyrics or thoughts like that voluntarily?)

Now, to The Artist - I really liked this. It definitely isn't as dark and pensive as some of your other poems, but it still sounds like it suits you, and evokes a realistic mood of introspection. It really did feel like it was a song, too, and not just a poem. I really loved the idea of painting something and realising that your own imagination had kind of tainted that image, rearranged the reality of what had actually happened.

I also thought I felt the Missy Higgins vibe - weirdly, the "You leaped onto my empty page" reminded me of "You breathed infinity into my world", from Higgins' "They Weren't There". Also, the same line reminded me of "Miss You" by Killing Heidi, so the girly influences seemed present for me, even if these songs didn't have anything to do with the actual creation of your poem.

And I also have to express my undying love for you, seeing as you referenced both Daimler AND Killing Heidi as influences! Haha. Could I be so rude as to ask which song/s in particular influenced "The Artist"? ^^ Yeah, I'm a bit too much of a fan, but oh well.

Cheers!

[mistysakura]

Hehe, you sap. Welcome to the world of poetry. Nah, really, I reckon there's something about poetry that makes people talk about things in ways they wouldn't normally, dig into their emotions in ways they wouldn't normally. Which makes them sound like melodramatic emos a lot of the time. It magnifies the emotional side of people even if it doesn't usually show. Unless they're a psychopath or something. Although apparently Mao was a decent poet in his early years. Now I'm going totally off-topic.

The Killing Heidi songs that influenced me? You know what, I can't name them either. With them it wasn't so much direct influence, but when I was writing I could hear the music playing in my head and bits of it were very much in the Killing Heidi style. No, actually, I do remember one song sticking out lyrically: Summer Long. But I can tell you that the Missy Higgins songs were 100 Round the Bends and Scar (both so influential that when I actually do the melody properly I'll have to dig myself out of a plagiarism hole), and for Avril Lavigne it was Things I'll Never Say and My Happy Ending.

[Gousuto-chan]

Here's something I had to write for a Creative Writing course last semester. It was an ode, and we could write about anything. I wrote about my Gameboy Color.

Ode to Atomic Purple

Under my bed I find you
with apologies I dust you off
How long has it been, old friend?
Years ago I would've been ashamed
to leave you carelessly on my dirty bedroom floor.
I remember those days fondly
My childhood now locked inside your translucent casing
whiling away hours and batteries
my eyes fixed on your fantastic 8-bit screen
The tapping of the A button keeps
a prevalent tempo which echos through my home
Nothing else is of consequence
Just one more level
just one more level
Child, come eat your dinner
Hold on, just let me save--the siren call of my youth
Oh Atomic Purple
You are a window into the wonders of technology
chips and wires abound below your invincible surface
tempting me to defile you with a screwdriver
But I have too much respect and I'm busy right now
Just one more level

[Gavin Luper]

Ada: Yeah, this poetry thing is quite odd ... but I'm finding it cathartic. I love Summer Long too, lyrically but also the breezy sound of that song is so lazy.

Gousuto-chan: I never thought I'd see Game Boys and poetry mix. But there you go. ^^ I thought it worked quite well, too; I really enjoyed the refrain of 'just one more level'. And the need to save before doing chores - man, that rings a bell from way back.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

OK, I wrote this kind of randomly. It was actually just a stream of consciousness thing I wrote to get some things outside of me, but I kind of made it into 'lyrics'. Though this would make a very disorganised song indeed. I would imagine this to be something like a distorted version of "Joining You" by Alanis Morissette (at least in terms of mood), without a chorus. Nothing rhymes or probably even has any rhythm in this, it really was just a free writing kind of thing.

EDIT: Took out the "and also" ... feels like it flows better, as Ada said.

Beware Poisons

You’re like a bigger version of me
and I can see you anytime I want
without a mirror and I can make you
become a better me
‘cause that’s what I use you for
and you’re okay with that or at least you were for a bit,
but either way it scared me right back
and now I just hope I keep it to myself
and I won’t walk into your house and see
your folks discussing me and how sad it is that I went wrong.

When I come face to face with you
and I’m in a mood
it all just melts away
and I suspend reality
as I leave my tongue behind
with my old school and everything I used to say and still do,
because it’s too hard to maintain
and everyone needs to de-stress now and then
everyone needs to de-stress sometimes
I just do it in a way that happens to be slowly killing me that’s all.

Well it’s sickening to watch
especially for you but sometimes
I find that sickening is glamorous
and it helps me get through
but I know you can’t see inside my head
so I won’t even try to explain what drove me to this beast in the first place
and why I still let it consume me
and suck me dry
sometimes I wish I were stronger
sometimes I wish I could get away from myself for a while without involving poisons.

[mistysakura]

Gousuto-chan: Ah, you're tapping into our collective childhood memories... I had a translucent white one, and you could see all the electronics in it, and I was always tempted to take it apart except I was scared I wouldn't be able to put it back together again. I liked the poem because it resonated with me, brought back some good times. I liked the repetition of 'just one more level', and how it applied both to the past you and the present you, rediscovering the games.

Gavin: I can totally relate to writing random stuff to get it out of my head. Yeah this is a pretty disorganised thing, but it doesn't matter... it starts sorting itself out as it goes, which is nice to see. I like the last line of each stsanza; they're all strong statements, sort of recognising the problem but resigned to it in some way. The last one bothers me a bit though; maybe it's the "and also", but something makes it sound almost like an afterthought. Also, the first stanza confuses me, but that doesn't matter either. With the second stanza, I can relate to the need to stop keeping up appearances, just de-stress and be myself for a change (if I can even find that).

Me? I just carry everything around with me, which gets tiresome sometimes (see Lose Control, Evanescence) but I prefer it to the alternative.

[darktyranitar]

This following poem is basically based on Sabaton's Metal Machine. Notice a pattern here?

Yup, there's fic titles in here! See if you can find all 38 of them (counting out the one that are repeated more than once; be aware that one line may contain more than one title).

Wrath of Fire

Make a move
It’s the war of the forum
Kingdom heartless come;
Scattered light
An end to reason
The origin of storm

Oh, a bloody sword
And a fast paced fic;
And now an even bloodier sword
I’m guilty by design

It’s the wrath of fire
To those who still care
The demon inside
Moitié Moi-même;
It’s the wrath of fire
Do avoid water
Sooner or later
You’ll be warped and broken

Dear Katie
The punchy punchy Pokemon said
“Kachi wo Sagashite”
I know you’re thinking, “just tell me why!”
Who will save me?
I’m lost in the haze
Alone with the maiden (fish)

The word Kitt and Katt
Is tattooed on the silent man
By chance, is he experiencing metamorphosis
Or has he gone DP?

It’s the wrath of fire
Screams of pains
From the Pokemon master league
It’s all part of the divinity;
It’s the wrath of fire
We are The I Syndicate
The knights to remember;
It’s the wrath of the fire
The absolution’s reign
A sanctuary… the symmetry…

[mistysakura]

So:

Make a move, War of the forums, Kingdom heartless, Scattered lights, An end to reason, The origin of storms, Bloody sword, A fast paced fic, Bloodier sword, Guilty by design, To those who still care, Demon inside, Avoid water, Sooner or later, Warped and broken, Dear Katie, The punchy punchy Pokemon, “Kachi wo Sagashite”, Just tell me why, Lost in the haze, The maiden (fish), Kitt and Katt, Tattooed, The silent man, Chance, Metamorphosis, Gone DP, Screams of pain, The Pokemon master league, Divinity, The I Syndicate, Knights to remember, Absolution’s reign, Symmetry = 34 fics I recognise. Not bad. That was a fun read.

Anyway, a remake of Death Sonnet -- Untitled and Solitude. I tried to expand more on stuff in Solitude this time, because I agree with Brian that last time everything was a bit rushed.

Tightrope

Suspended, we tread a precarious path:
We play at life; death, in ambush, awaits.
“It must be so,” we whisper, yet the wrath,
In our delusions, leaves unscathed our fates.

Behold the crafted marble monolith –
Stroke the cool white surface ‘neath our skin.
Bouquets of flowers sweetly blooming, with
Six feet between them and the corpse within.

But yet, at times the scythe doth strike a blow,
The chill so close we shiver in its wake.
Our tears, etched with mascara, freely flow;
They sleep alone, their vision turned opaque.

The tightrope holds; eternities away
The abyss seems; yet one heartbeat astray…



Solitude

Some choices are forever,
like being alone.

Wandering
a metropolis, tracing a path
unique, unknown to all
save accidental strangers
straying into sudden, intimate presence.
A mumbled ‘Sorry’, as scruffy sneaker tumbles
over polished leather. Unheard apology
fading into nothing, leaving once again
a cloak of safe anonymity.

A date
on a table for one,
savouring silence free from squabbles
over bill-paying alternatives.
Dining at one’s leisure, the tongue
relishing every succulent bite,
the ears unobstructed by endless chatter.
Every sense focussing
the stillness the silence the wafting aroma the heat the juiciness
salt and pepper are company enough in this meditation.

Walking home
alone in darkness,
rejecting the advances of the night
its smoke-filled dance floors
crowded with mingling strangers.
Doing away with the art
of "How do you do?"
"Nice weather today."
"And, um, so..." mock conversation
struggling mid-sentence.
Apparently uncaring, grasping
the impermanence of the spoken word.

Company is overrated.

So are 'choices' -- merely synonymous with 'habits'.
Some habits never die.

[darktyranitar]

Hehe. I had fun making that one too. Anyway, I made a mistake: it's actually 37 fic title in it (I mistake Wrath of Fire for my first fic - Dragon Flame - when it is actually the original title for the aforementioned fic. Moitié Moi-même was a fic by Toxicity that got deleted when TPM moved, and Who Will Save Me? is a one shot by Bulbasaur4 that is written way when TPM was in Ezboard (or something like that)

By the way, good poem, Ada. I enjoyed it.