Poetry Corner

[Gavin Luper]

Weasel: I like it. At first I thought maybe it ought to be prose, because I could imagine it as such ... but when I tried reading it as prose, it lost the charm it has in its present form. I especially liked the "perfect pale" ... that just fitted so beautifully. I reckon go ahead and share it with all your friends and family. At worst, they'll think you're pretentious, maybe slightly weird; at best, they'll consider you some kind of edgy, creative genius or something.

Ada: The creepy thing about that poem is, I hadn't spoken to that girl in quite a few months. Then, about a week after I wrote Portobello Girl, she got back in touch out of the blue and we've been in pretty regular correspondence since. Really weird timing.

[Weasel Overlord]

Oh, hot damn. In my gazillions of redrafts, I've just got rid of "perfect pale". Buggeration! Oh well, here's the (possible)50th draft (of the 1st verse, anyway). I decided that every other word to describe snow was cliché, hence the quartz imagery...

Winter's Footsteps.

Snow falls
like quartz.
Tumbled
by the wind,
it eclipses the ground
with flawless crystal.

All sound
dimmed and soft,
save the crunch of
Winter, her footsteps
a clear trail in
pristine snow.

[Gavin Luper]

Argh. But I loved 'perfect pale'!

OK, so I don't know which version I like better. They're both very good. Even though it is cliché, the blanketing worked nicely; at the same time, eclipsing the ground is a nice unusual way of putting it. However, I didn't click with the quartz metaphor for some reason ... I just imagined big rocks of quartzite mineral falling from the sky like projectiles, instead of shimmery snowflakes, which I'm guessing is what you were going for.

That's my tuppence anyway ... I'm not great with poetry or anything.

[Weasel Overlord]

Hahah, lumps of quartz, that image amuses me for some reason. You see, this is the reason I don't write poetry. Cos I have to do so many gosh-be-damned redrafts. I think I might just say to hell with it and keep the quartz. Most of the people I'm sending it to aren't... literature-inclined anyway, so they probably won't think anything of it. Thanks for the help, guys! And now... it's back to drawing snowflakes and stupidly fancy 'S's and 'A's... joy.

[Toxicity]

Thanks for all the commentary on the last poem, guys. But I have another one.

This one is more of an abstract metaphor derived from a recent video game with surging popularity. And if you get the title before you read the first stanza, you'll understand what question I'm referring to.

Answer for Haddaway

Love is the cake from society's kitchen
Its forms are many, ranging from
Dark, tragic chocolate to mother's yellow from scratch
Even zany, rare strawberries and sweet, simple cheesecakes, all of which
Pass through the heart's lips and quench the cravings
Of even the hungriest of souls.

The cake can be taken away
And the soul loses a will to live
A necessity, rather, with lips cracked
And hope given up for dead as
They battle one another for love
With their own form of silverware
Yet even with love available
Her partner Discord is there
Much like the man and his wife
To present broken promises
And disarray:

Souls will take more they should
Sadistic greed giving them pleasure from watching the neglected fight
Others, even mothers, will deny rights to love
Leaving hungry children to fend for themselves at night
And the frailest falling first
Fussy souls even demand a specific cake, even if unavailable
Without a single opposing word and without care
For those broken along the way
Yet if love is unconditional and shared, why do some souls cry?
Because they began to realize that the cake is a lie.

(joke ending: Hooray for repeating metaphors!)

[Gavin Luper]

Toxicity: I don't have a clue what the video game is, but I liked the poem. And the repeating metaphor. Love as a cake is a warm, comforting kind of image; and I suppose the reverse slots in perfectly then, doesn't it? Lack of love is like being hungry, kind of - which you alluded to in the line about the hungry children left to fend for themselves. Which is an emotive image in both the literal sense and metaphorical one. I wasn't sure why these people realised the cake was a lie though, but nonetheless, I really enjoyed the poem.

+=+=+=+=+=+

This is something I wrote the other day. It's about a family member who frustrates me to the point of giving up on him entirely.

Everything and Nothing

You're like an addict with no substance
The moment things start to go wrong
You grab onto any human
You can get your hands on
And you remind me of a lost bird
Trapped in a classroom full of windows
Swooping and attacking
Your very own reflection

I'm frustrated by your ways
And I fear you'll never change

My advice is lame when it comes to you
My sympathy thin when it comes to you
No offer of love will ever get through
If you do everything and nothing for you

You're like a drama king on a revolving stage
Always waiting in the wings to swoop
But the limelight is old
And your audience is not amused
And you think you're such a man
Full of surly silences and cursing
Just like an immature kid
(If you were to ask me)

I'm frustrated by your ways
And I think you'll never change

Common sense is dumb when it comes to you
Love is impotent when it comes to you
No offer of truth will ever get through
'Cause you do everything and nothing for you

If I told you what I know and what I have seen
I'd hope it would open your eyes too
But these observations mean everything to me
And absolutely nothing to you

My advice is lame when it comes to you
My sympathy thin when it comes to you
No offer of love will ever get through
If you do everything and nothing for you

[Shadow Wolf]

Hey all, here I am!
and here we go. Life's waiting to begin!

WO: I compared the quartz with snowflakes, since that is a kind of snow, isn't it? I haven't seen snow, except in movies so I'm not sure. Anyway, I liked tha poem, 'cause it gave me some kind of a cool feeling.

Toxicity: This poem had me thinking of two things repeatedly: love, hunger, love, hunger, love hunger,....

I am looking for the reference, but I only get to the song "What is Love?", bummer.

Anyway, cool poem!

Gavin: O_O The eternal conflicts of a human being. This can be compared to many things, but I mainly compared with a person having love-shyness. For some reason, the drama king metaphor made me chuckle. Awesome!

I'm not good at criticism, so I just praise the poems.



This is something derived from nature. I tried to do this on free verse, but a friend of mine told me that I always use rhymes, even on free verse. So yeah, I'm trying not to use rhymes, jeje.

Anyway, here's the poem. Hope you enjoy it.

The flow of life


It’s time to rise…to rise to her.
She warmed his soul
And now, he feels so light,
He feels like flying,
He’s feeling her


But then…it happens!
Because of them,
He doesn’t feel her.
But why they do this?
They make him feel so cold.


He must go far from her.
He feels so bad for doing this.
But he does not have other choice.
Because of them,
He must fall back.


It’s all still lost?
He cannot be like that forever.
He needs to find a way.
There must be one!
Not all the hopes are lost.


He doesn’t feel so heavy now.
He found a way to her.
It‘s not an easy road,
But he can overcome it.
For her, he'll do just anything.


The road was hard,
But he is back again.
Because of her,
He didn’t lose the hopes.
And now, he’ll try again


She gave him hopes before the wrath.
And that’s enough for him,
He’ll try to go through them.
He’ll get to her.
He’ll rise again.

[Houndoom_Lover]

I'm feeling kinda sad...no, not sad, I'm feeling strange. Its a warm feeling inside me, thinking of these thing that make me feel warm inside. It has destroyed my sadness, my anger, my empitness. I need a title for my fanfic-

-------

The nights grows long
As the heart grows cold
And as we grow older and move a part
I always want to be in your heart
In your heart
In your heart

A Kingdom, of you and me
Can be all that we need, you see
Can you find, just one more time
With you and me
We’ll make a Kingdom of our hearts
You and me, a Kingdom

I’ll be your King, and you’ll be my Queen
We’ll have a court of our memories
Can you find it in your heart?
To fill in the moat, and let the bridge down
I want to be in your heart

The nights grows long
As the heart grows cold
And as we grow older and move a part
I always want to be in your heart
In your heart
In your heart

A Kingdom, of you and me
Can be all that we need, you see
Can you find, just one more time
With you and me
We’ll make a Kingdom of our hearts
You and me, a Kingdom

Just you and me, someday you will see!
That’s really all we’ll need
You and me, in our Kingdom of Hearts.

----
Kingdom Hearts is a cool game.

[mistysakura]

Okay, I'm sick of this poem sitting on my desk. Not fully happy with it, especially the last verse, but maybe clicking the 'Post' button will leave some inspiration. Comments to other poems will come later, I swear, when it's not 12:30 am with work in seven and a half hours.


Cocoon

A still suspended snapshot life
you nightmare while leaves rustle by
You sleep in my palm while I wonder
if the silk renders you blind
from vultures swooping from the skies
as carrion tempts their bloodshot eyes
In prison, does your heartbeat drive
instinctive ignorance, muffled lies?

When dewdrops freeze your fragile veins
do chills creep through your silent core?
I dust snowflakes off you to see
if shift in seasons touch your days
Are you in debt to threads that bind?
Winter hails your apocalyse
Old stillborn, will you strangle safely
while it robs your life unlived?

Watch as the reborn test their wings
A ghostly shell, you hang alone
Beneath your brittle mask, I yearn
to know the moth or buttefly
Will violets bloom your fluttering days?
Will flickering flames wither your wings?
Will you survive the trap you weave?
Have you retreated to the grave?

Is that why you shy from the light,
afraid your soul will shed its skin?
Scared to exhale your treasonous breaths
Tighten the noose to hold them in
As air grows thin and dreams recede
as harsh nature your dim life reaps
In bonds you refuse to release,
ask: have you ever truly lived?

[dratinihaunter13]

ada- i like the escalation in questions by the stanza. it gives the poem progress, which is important in this one's case, cuz most of it is observing something stationary and reflecting. i like the meter in this poem for it's natural flow and the interruptions within it. they seem to come at the correct places. iambic words finish some key lines - recede, release, unlived, alone. gives the questioning tone more urgency. as for the last verse i know what you mean. have you ever truly lived is such a common idea to end on, for a poem that has so many unique ways to express reflections. other than that though, i thought it did the trick

--
"Meltdown"

Two people two feet apart.
One still, staring at the screaming other's skin-
It's loosening like candle wax oozing
Through pores never before open
Eyes swallowed by runny gobs of mascara.
Two people two feet apart.
One still gawking, stupid
Until the inhuman tan-tinted puddle settles.
And there's nothing left to look at.

[mistysakura]

Toxicity: I like the metaphor! The first stanza was described really yummily. How the metaphor extended itself, with hungry children being deprived of love and greedy souls abusing love, was also great. You lost me a bit though, for example with the statement that the cake is a lie, and fussy people demanding a specific cake which breakng others along the way. The first one I just didn't get, while the second I thought didn't really fit the metaphor of cakes. (Since when was anyone hurt in the search for a cake?) The metaphor might have extended itself a bit too far there. Overall, great job.

Gavin: So catchy. Not that I'd have it stuck in my head or anything, but the rhythm and the repetition work really well. I like how your stance gets stronger throughout the whole poem/ song (at first you say he's 'like' an addict, then you say he 'is' a drama king; the use of 'I fear you'll never change' versus 'I think you'll never change'. The imagery of the bird swooping and attacking its own reflection, and the drama king on the revolving stage, work well. I was a bit confused by the drama king on a revolving stage waiting in the wings to swoop though. So is he in the wings or on the stage? (Actually, I don't even know how one gets onto a revolving stage.) Also, the (If you were to ask me) doesn't say much to me. It doesn't add any meaning or connotation. It strikes me as a throwaway line to keep the stanza structure going.

Martin: Wow, the imagery's so powerful. Although ithe 'tan-tinted puddle' made me laugh; I don't know if that was intentional on your part. It somehow reminded me of bimbos wearing fake tan (okay maybe I'm just weird). I like the 'eyes swallowed by runny gobs of mascara' though, it portrays both the physical and emotional meltdowns nicely. Something that confused me though: are the 'one' in line 2 and the 'one' in line 6 the same? It sounds like you're saying one out of the two is staring and the other is gawking, but then who's melting? I presume then the gawking and starting people are the same person, but the 'one's confuse me.

shinypkmnchaser: I like how the image of him rising to her both starts adn ends the poem. It's touching how she gives him the power to fight back. I thought it was all a bit vague though; who are 'they'? What did they do to make him not feel her? What happens? Why must he go far from her, and how does he find his way back? Because I don't really understand what's going on, I can't relate to the characters well and so I can't sympathise with them. But maybe this is some general experience we all go through, and I'm just blind and I don't see the metaphor. In that case, ignore what I'm saying.

Houndoom_Lover: That's really sweet. I must say I don't know anything about Kingdom Hearts, but that didn't matter because the poem clearly portrayed how the boy adores the girl, and wishes they could build a kingdom, their home together. I reckon it'd work well as a song. It would be nice to see some more original concepts though, because 'I want to be in your heart' is a pretty common thing in a song. Something special, maybe some new idea or just some new way of saying 'I want to be in your heart' would be nice.

[Shadow Wolf]

shinypkmnchaser: I like how the image of him rising to her both starts adn ends the poem. It's touching how she gives him the power to fight back. I thought it was all a bit vague though; who are 'they'? What did they do to make him not feel her? What happens? Why must he go far from her, and how does he find his way back? Because I don't really understand what's going on, I can't relate to the characters well and so I can't sympathise with them. But maybe this is some general experience we all go through, and I'm just blind and I don't see the metaphor. In that case, ignore what I'm saying.

Yeah, I understand what you mean. Much of my freinds said practically the same thing that you said. Thanks to your comments, I can make the conclusions about what to change and what to improve.

Well, basically, I've had two meanings about this poem!

The scientific part!

The first: I tried to describe the water cycle in this poem by giving personifications to the elements participating in the water cycle. The main character in the poem is a drop of water. As you know, the sun(her in the poem) warms the soul of the drop of water, making it become gas (hence his "light" feeling) and thus, the water rises to the sky. But the drop of water cannot reach the sun because the gas is trapped by the clouds and the clouds are moved by the wind(they). The condensation process occurs and the drop of water becomes liquid again, falling into the earth. Sometimes these drops fall into the ice glaciers and remain a lot of time in these glaciers, but they can't be like that forever. Finally, the rough path represents the multiple things that can happen to a single drop of water (it can be found in a lake, in a glass of water, feeding a plant), but eventually, the water cycle is repeated, making the drop of water rise again by the heat of the sun.

The personal part!

Well, in this poem, I tried to explain some of the situations that a person must go through to find the love of his/her life and finally, become a loving couple.

Sometimes, a person must "fight against the current" to live with the "love of her/his life". They are motivated by the love of that "special person", but sometimes, they can lose hopes if they are brainwashed by "advices" from the everyday society(they). For example, a common "advice" could be: "She/he is too much for you", "He/she's rich, and you're poor"(or vice-versa) and thus, a person loses hope and their feelings begin to fade making them become sad (feeling empty, cold, etc....)

But it doesn't matter what other people say, the hope is never lost, and that's why they rise again and fight for what they believe is right...love.

In conclusion, this poem is a relationship between love and water.

...and that ends today's lesson.




I'm making a new poem, but this time, I have some help from my professor, so I can produce a good poem. (sice I cannot...repeat...I CANNOT make poems that only I can understand. )

"The only thing I know, is that I don't know a thing."

For now, take care everyone and write to you later.

[dratinihaunter13]

ada i noticed that just before i checked this page again >_< thanks! *goes to edit*
edit: and i'm glad you got the fake and bake bimbo image

[Gavin Luper]

Martin: Yeah, it was the imagery that really made that poem. I liked the sound of most of it: it was very evocative and rich and unusual, especially the image of eyes being "swallowed" by gobs of mascara. The only thing that jarred with me a little bit was the "tan-tinted" part. That line itself was awesome, but just that word sounded like it didn't fit somehow. Nonetheless, I loved the meaning of what it was conveying: this horrible creature being reduced to an inhuman puddle. The last line, too, was beautifully flat.

Ada: I think it was the way the questions were asked that made "Cocoon" so haunting. There was something bitterly self-aware about them, like the person knows something and yet is unwilling to ever let it breathe, ever escape from its cocoon. I liked the clear structure of the stanzas too, though I admit I initially thought it was a rhyming poem. Also, I thought the last questions of each stanza seemed to be more or less asking the same thing, though I suppose that kind of mounting repetition of the same tentative question conveyed that sense of something/someone remaining in a stale holding pattern for so long. Lastly, I loved the use of "nightmare" as a verb and the last two lines; this time, the colon was perfectly placed.

Thanks for the comments on Everything and Nothing. With the whole stage/wings thing, I kind of meant that he waits in the wings, always ready to leap on this revolving stage ... the same movements, the same choreography. The same consequences. Is that clearer? The (If you were to ask me) was more or less a swipe at the poem's subject: he never actually asks for advice with the intention of acting on it. I put it in brackets because he seems to think my opinions - or anyone's - unimportant.

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Just wrote this one now:

Burning Ear

If I could be territorial, I would
I’d hunt for meat by light
Trample the scrub with my paws
Piss all over the perimeter

I'm sorry I didn’t subscribe earlier
Your snarl reckons it’s too late
Your tunnel vision digs in
You don’t want me anyway

If I could be territorial, I would
I’d root around by night
Trample the runts into the dust
Because wolves shouldn’t whisper
They ought to howl

If I could be territorial, I would
Piss all over the perimeters.

[Master of Paradox]

I considered just putting this in the Poetry Corner, but... well, it's a little long for that. I think the title says it all.

Lament of a Headless Man

You would think being a ghost
Is bad enough by itself.
I ask you, then, to imagine
Wandering the world a bodiless specter
And doing it without your head.

Please consider
How all of the senses save one
Are crammed into an eight-pound lump
Of meat and bone on rickety framework.
Barely balanced, the head somehow manages
Not to roll off your shoulders at the slightest provocation.

You know the people who think they’re clever
When they declare on forgetting something,
“I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached?”
Words cannot express how much I hate those people.

I have no memory of what caused me to lose my head.
There are a hundred ways that the neck can be severed
And the head go rolling off into the endless night.
It was probably one of them; after all,
I don’t think you can be born without a head.

I rose from the grave – not of my own volition, mind you,
There is no way I would choose to be a headless man –
And wandered off to haunt the night. I wasn’t one of those ghosts
Who cannot leave the graveyard, or who must haunt
Somewhere important to them, like their old home
Or the place where they died.
I was a ghost without a cause, a wandering haunt.
It took me a while to realize something was missing.

Yes, it is entirely possible not to realize you’re missing your head
If you happen to be a restless spirit. When you are a ghost,
Your senses are distributed across the entirety of your being.
I see without eyes, hear without ears… as for the other three,
Being incorporeal makes the senses of touch, taste and smell
A bit unnecessary. Speech is a matter of concentration
Rather than moving lips.

You are likely the better for not knowing exactly
How I am writing this.

The day I realized I had no head was a day otherwise notable
For being unimportant; as I recall, I happened to walk by a river
And realized my reflection was shorter than it should be. I promptly
Spun on a heel and retraced my steps, hoping
That I had just dropped it next to a tombstone somewhere.

No such luck. But then you guessed that, didn’t you?
I would not be complaining like this if I had found it.

I lose track of time easily as a ghost; the ways the living use
To keep track of time – hunger, boredom, weariness, the passing
Of sun and moon – mean little to the dead. But I made an effort
To calculate how long I spent hunting for my missing head.
I gave up the math somewhere around five hundred years.
Five hundred years of constantly scouring the world, interrogating the
Living who cross my path, searching for the lost part of my being.

My life before my death is a mystery to me, so I have no clues
As to how I lost my head in the first place. We dead rarely
Remember our days as the living. Our horrid state
Would not improve greatly if we knew what we had lost
In the process of joining the ghastly crew. All I can recall
Is that it was a blade – not a cannon, a rope, or a horrible
Accident of the plow – that cost me the flesh and bone of my neck.
I think it was war, but for all I know I could have picked a fight
With exactly the wrong man. Or woman, or scarecrow.

The living are not much help in my endless quest for my head.
When they see my decapitated form pass down the road,
Every time without fail they scream and run. Damn you,
Washington Irving; you and your stories have made us
The headless figures of absolute fear, even if we mean no harm.

Ichabod Crane was asking for everything he got.

Still, I cannot give up my hunt for my lost head. It burns at me
Like a hunger or thirst, the only thing that drives me as I continue
My unnatural existence. If I find it again, I may well be able
To return to my grave and sleep once again. And I assure you,
I would do that now if I had the chance. This is not fun.

It would be interesting to know if somewhere out there,
My head is lamenting its lack of a body.

[Weasel Overlord]

Hallo again, y'all! I bring more shizlars, heh. I managed to (FINALLY) finish my winter poem thinger for on my cards, so here's the finished product;

Winter’s Footsteps.

Snow falls, tumbled
by the wind.
All sound hushed,
save the crunch of
Winter’s footsteps.

Her breath on the air,
she eclipses the ground
with flawless crystal.

And secondly, my latest Creative Writing submission. We had absolutely NO prompts this week cos my tutor is a bum, so I decided to use an older one of "look at a picture and write something from that", and I mingled it with "something about the end of the world". Here's the two pictures I looked at [Behemoth] and [Bahamut] and here's the poem;


In the hidden caves,
at the end of the world -

Behemoth, he lies. Claws
curled, wings furled, and his
meteor shall clothe our poor world
in ashes.

In the hidden caves,
at the end of the world -

Bahamut, he sleeps. Scales
glimmer, fire blisters, and his
fury shall engulf our poor world
in flames.

In the hidden caves,
at the end of the world -

The Judge, she waits. Before
her, our sins are laid bare, and her
words shall encompass our poor souls
in despair.

I know, I know. It's morbid, lol. Wasn't intentional, I promise. And don't ask who the "Judge" is, cos I have no idea. It just felt like it should be in a three stanza... thing.

[Gavin Luper]

Weasel: I think I like this final revision of "Winter's Footsteps" the best. The imagery is perfect this time. Even though it's simpler than the earlier draft, insofar as it's more concise and there are fewer line breaks, the delicate atmosphere of the original remains. You really got the balance right with "she eclipses the ground with flawless crystal". No more awkward quartz-meteor images for me. So, yeah, two thumbs up.

I liked the second poem too, though I won't pretend to understand it at all.

[dratinihaunter13]

hey in a rush with work but here's the collection of poems i been working on. they all go together, so i'll call the whole thing

Affair

“Pink Padded Room”

Finally, I go insane and she follows me,
Up to a room with a bed and a door
That locks we grasp and
Claw and gasp and fall and
Off come cold clothes covering her skin
So warm and swelling with a secret,
But before I let her body speak it,
I pull back and stare at
The asylum lying bare in front of me.
Sobering.
It’s over in minutes.


“Suspended”

She has me on the end of a yo-yo string,
Swinging wild.
The other end tied down around her finger,
Tight.
The whir keeps me warm while I wait to come up.

I’ve just never wanted to kiss someone so badly.


“I Like This Timing”

Two years ago this is how it would have gone.
We’re both at this party. I know Jeff, you know Danielle.
A brief introduction and a smile that lasts a second too long.
An hour later our eyes make contact again and I ask you,
“Are you staring at me?”
You tell me what? No! No, I’m not!
“That’s too bad. I had a great line if you were.”
You want me to tell you but I won’t.
“I might want to use it later, when you stare at me again.”
The rest of the words don’t matter,
We know where we’re going.
Each time we talk to someone else our gaze drifts back.
You pass it off, you let it go.
That’s when I sneak up on you.
“There’s something I have to show you.”
I lead you somewhere away from Jeff, Danielle, all of them.
I can feel you smiling at the back of my head.
“It’s this.” I face you. “It’s what you’re feeling, right now,
Knowing you and I are here alone and no one’s watching.
Do you feel that?”
I bet you haven’t blushed this red in years.
“That’s what I wanted to show you.” What I still want to show you.

And skip the months of red tape restraints and if only,
If only two years ago, skip it all in this fantastic moment –
When I grab your waist, pull you in, and nothing stops us from
Well… you know…


“Courage”

Picks up not knowing what to say,
Calls the same way,
Cries with the phone off.
Confesses and not into my embrace,
But into the man bracing himself miles away.

She without courage stands silent next to a stove,
Staring at the fireplace to remember.
What if she burned the whole house down?

But she can live for thirty years, three kids, one husband.
She can forget love alive,
Settle next to love rehearsed – be passion’s fool!

She might even only cry on holidays and birthdays,
In her walk-in closet,
Hard enough to break his heart.
Mine too, if I was still around.


“Thank You”

You fit me like a freshly ironed button-down,
Warm, smooth, so I know I look good.
My shoulders straighten, my voice gets louder,
From cuff to collar, you keep me together.

You could move away and never come back,
No goodbye kiss or hug or smile.
I’d look down, remember one night, any of them,
And that’d be enough.

When you wish me sweet dreams,
When you thank me-
You could stand any man next to me,
And I would feel luckier.

So thank you.

[Gavin Luper]

Crop's Cream

Your kiss of comfort: I smile at the thought
Dry and incomplete, my mouth awaits
Succulent sponge, all I have is yours
Let my hands warm you, harvest queen

To think, dream, articulate: I'm too exhausted
But permit me this one vice, and its grip
Lurid golden silk, be my favourite fortress
The best and only colour in my life.


+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

A reflection on my habits over the past month or so: there was an awful lot of beer.

[mistysakura]

I haven't been so excited to post something for a long, long while! This is a reworked, almost unidentifiable version of Cocoon. I'm feeling proud at the moment because the original kinda sucked Actually, I just took a look at the original, and it's much prettier than I remember. Just going nowhere at all. I really like this much better. Major influence: Book of the Dead by Patricia Cornwell. Not a good book, but has some interesting ideas.

Autopsy

Subject. aaaaaaaaaaaaaA cocoon. Homo sapien.

Procedure. aaaaaaaaaaThe body will not yield to questioning.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaThe exoskeleton resists confessions under the blade.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaThe technician resorts to ripping and hacking
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaathrough the layers of restraint.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaThe final tear glistens stagnant blood
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand careful paring reveals
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaathe first glimpse of her body
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaafrom which her skin extends in swathes,
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaacloaking her in a clique of armour.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaHardened folds entwine her fingers --
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaathey grasp in former tension.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaSleeping foetally under the helm
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaais a woman
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawith russet hair, distinctively long eyelashes and
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa small disfiguration on her left cheek.

Findings.aaaaaaaaaaaaaCurled round and round her white neck
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalike a child's safety blanket
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaais a noose of her own making,
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagrowing taut as leather.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAround her throat it creeps, choking a collapsed windpipe
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalike backwater drowning an architecturally unsound dyke.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaThe mottled reds of chafing betray their age --
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadays, months. Years.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaDeprived brain tissues shrink away from exposure by scalpel.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaUnder microscope nerve cells twitch at fading sensations,
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawith them stillborn dreams.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaThe boundless prairie of being
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaflooded by rivers of cranium.

Suggested cause of death.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaA surrender of living.



Okay, other poems!

Burning Ear: Lost as to the significance of the title, but that could just be me (creative writing class makes me feel dumb). I really like the earthiness and pervading sense of violence (trampling the runts into the dust... ouch...) And how the second stanza hints at what he's really angry at, but he just takes it out on the world by being territorial. It's great how it gets more animalistic in each verse, especially if you compare the first and third verses. And I like the lines "Because wolves shouldn’t whisper/ They ought to howl". Oh, and thanks for the comments on "Cocoon". I liked the placing of the colon and 'nightmare' as a verb too; shame it didn't fit in the reworking. And the stale repetition was definitely me getting stuck, although if its effect worked with the poem, hey cool

Winter's Footsteps: You know, you don't realise how repetitve you're being until you try to rearrange events and merge similar ideas into one. I thought you couldn't have gotten any more economical with your words; clearly you can Yay to the falling quartz being gone (I still don't know how quartz falls). The imagery is perfect.

In the hidden caves, at the end of the world --: IApocalyptic indeed. I didn't really try to interpret this one, just treated it as a 'this is the end of the world' thing. I like how the title is really the first stanza. Very nicely structured stanzas. I did have trouble picturing how Behemoth has a meteor though. I keep picturing this Pokemon move, Ancientpower or something. I like how the impending doom changes from physical to abstract in the last stanza. I did find the wording there a bit cliched though. Not sure what I'd do about that.

Affair:

How am I going to do justice to this?

Right. It all fits together really well; it all definitely sounds like it's coming from the same person, and the flashbacks (or pretend flashbacks) link to the present prefectly. 'Pink Padded Room' has a fitting title, and the way the first sentence doesn't end and every word means action until the third last line shows the transition from mindless passion to sobering very well. 'Suspended''s lines are spaced with... suspended... tension. And the contrast between the simile and the straightforward last line works well.

'I Like This Timing': I like this title. Although I'm not sure the sarcasm fits with the rest of the poem, because it's all so sincere and straight from the heart. The situation is so real! But there aren't any unnecessary details either. I thought the last line was a bit forced, because the narrator doesn't sound like the type of person to start using ellipses and being vague and uncomfortable about things. (That's how I interpreted it anyway.) Although a direct statement wouldn't work there either. If this were my poem, I'd be tempted to be lazy and just stop at the second last line

'Courage': it suddenly makes you remember there's a third person. After the daydreams of the last part, it's all back to harsh reality. The contrast works well. I really like the line 'She can forget love alive,/ Settle next to love rehearsed". I didn't get the meaning of 'be passion's fool', because if she were a fool for her passion she wouldn't be settling to love rehearsed... I think I'm missing something. Is the narrator admonishing her, telling her to be passion's fool?

'Thank You': Wow, wasn't expecting it to end in such a positive way. And it works. It's believable. I can feel the resolution. The first two lines struck me as being a bit weird because 'fitting' is quite a physical thing. In the last part the whole physical relationship has certainly fallen to pieces, so going from that to this fitting thing was odd. But from then on, it all works. It's touching to see that he still feels a connection with her and that she still inspires him. (Obviously.)

Crop's Cream: I like it... but it sounds like it's trying too hard to find euphemisms for beer. I'm sure beer is great, but by the time it got to 'harvest queen' I found it a bit corny. Bring on the adjectives, eh? Of course, it's highly likely it's taking the piss out of odes, but in that case I personally prefer it a bit more outrageous. Hehe, lines 5, 6 and 8 are great though.

I have no more brain cells left.

[firepokemon]

Railway:

10 years ago today I was seven years old, with three of my friends, we walked along the railway, not knowing what dangers would be ahead, laughing talking about what we'll do when we grow up, having so many dreams, having so many hopes.

Walking along the railway laughing and teasing each other, having no worries at all, pushing each other and laughing our heads off, not caring, not wanting to care.

Train speeds along the track track, we're laughing, we're teasing, we see the train, the train keeps moving, wheels going round, train moving, then one of us is left on the track, he's got his foot stuck, and the trains getting closer.

And I'm screaming trying to run over to him, but they're holding me back, and theres nothing I can do, but wait for whats going to happen, and hes crying, and he looks at me, and the train hoots his horn, and he keeps looking, and he looks, and the train goes over him.

And each of those carriages going over him, blood is splattered everywhere, the train is well gone now, didn't even bother to stop, and there he is, not recognisable, and we're looking at each other, thinking it's all a dream, but it's reality.

And 10 years has past, and all I can do is think of that day, the day that changed my life. So much guilt is inside me, I could of saved him, but they stopped me. The other two they don't seem to care but I did, he was my best friend.

And that best friend is gone, and I just keep looking at those eyes, wondering if he'd still be here today, I blame myself for what happened, I knew not to go on it, my parents warned many times, the parents of my best friend, won't even acknowledge me when I'm walking down the street, and everyone else in high school is so happy, they don't seem to have the worries, and those two other friends of mine, they're in the football team, where I should be, but getting near them, just makes me swallow pity

Life changes so much in those 10 years but those eyes keep staring at me, I'm sleeping and I'm dreaming, and I picture that day in my dreams, I picture his foot getting stuck, and I picture myself trying to help, but I get held back, and hes crying and hes looking at me, and the train keeps moving and train goes over him and each carriage rides over, and then the train vanishes, and this bloodied lifeless unrecognisable body is left.

10 years ago my life has changed, but for my best friend, he never got to have a life, he never got to get his first kiss, never got to go to the Prom, never went on a date, never be the Detective he wanted to be. For he had only started life, and that life was stopped, while I have life, but I'm not using it.

Those eyes keep staring at me, in my dreams, he stares, when I'm on the bus to school, he stares, hes watching me, I can see him, I saw him and I couldn't help him. Haunted eyes keep staring, haunted eyes keep following, life must go on. But that look in his eyes, those eyes of his and then theres that bloodied lifeless body. And then theres him crying staring into my eyes. I see those eyes.

- This is a poem I posted earlier in this thread or one in the archive. Its at least 3 years old now. I still like it. I think I must have been inspired by the movie "Stand By Me". Although when I wrote it I didn't actually think about that. But I saw the movie "Stand by me" a few weeks ago and it got me thinking.

[mistysakura]

I really like it. The eyes are very haunting. The description doesn't shy away from reality, and everything is pictured in an in-your-face way. Repetition is used to great effect; it's like we see the narrator reliving the images over and over again. I think that the poem would be more effective with more specific images though. For example, in the first stanza, you describe the narrator and his friends 'having so many dreams, so many hopes' and being innocent in general, but there aren't many physical specifics and it seems like a somewhat cliched picture of childhood. Maybe if you talked about what exactly they were laughing or teasing each other about, for example, we'd be able to see the situation more clearly. More importantly, I'd like to know more about the friend. At the moment, his eyes haunt the narrator and his hopes and dreams (of becoming a detective, among other things) have been dashed. He seems to be a fairly generic person. If you put in some of his quirks (like wanting to become a detective) and things that made him special to the narrator, we'd have more sympathy with the narrator. Also, there are some grammatical things; apostrophes are left out a lot (such as 'hes' in the foruth stanza) and 'Train speeds along the track track' doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

Great poem though. Beautiful emotion.

[mistysakura]

These stories are cool. We all came to TPM differently, but what matters is that we're here now, eh? Oh, starjake, LVH did end. It also had a sequel, which didn't end, and a non-Pokemon version which really didn't end. The version of LVH in the archive doesn't have the final chapters though. Ah, great times. Great fic.

I just went through the entire Poetry Corner! Hehe, I'd forgotten Leon-IH, Toxicity and Tainted's poetry slams (topic hoggers ) and everyone's 'songs', especially DannyBoy and Tara's. Looking back, the quality of stuff in there has really increased (although of course there was brilliant stuff all the way through). I also discovered poetry I don't remember writing. How strange. The worst thing is it hasn't improved much . But... Martin's stuff used to rhyme! All the time! How weird is that? And man, his stuff has definitely improved through the years. I also noticed that I used to be a pretty bad critic. I think we all tend to write a lot more in-depth responses nowadays though.

To make this less self-centred, have you guys ever looked over your old writing? Memories?

[Mikachu Yukitatsu]

These lyrics are based on Blind Guardian's 'Time Stands Still (At The Iron Hill)'. Note that I haven't edited them too much with my limited imagination. The short version can be found in Whack-a-TPMer v.2. The characters in this poem, even those who are based on real people, are fictional and their opinions here do not necessarily represent the real opinions of their real life models.

Time Stands Still In Whack-a-TPMer

L_P fails at dawn
Kevin is gone
And deadly the trolls reign

mr_pikachu:

"Finally I've found myself
At this forum
Gimmicks and flames I've seen here
For what I've became a mod of the lost?
Barren and lifeless TPM lies"

bridge:

Lord of all Fanfic
A mod in the night
mr_pikachu of hope
He posts in his glorious battle alone
Farewell to the valiant moderator

chorus: (repeat 2x)

The fate of TPM
Lies deep in PCG
When time stands still in Whack-a-TPMer

mr_pikachu:

"I post alone
All's in my fic
I'll dare you
Come out
You coward
Now it's me or you"

He gleams like a star
And the quality of his posts
Like a raging storm
Proudly the moderator
Challenges Mikachu
"Pathetic Whacker" he cries

Mikachu Yukitatsu:

"Slowly Mikachu
Yukitatsu appears
Welcome to Finland
You shall be damned"

bridge:

Lord of all Fanfic
A mod in the night
mr_pikachu of hope
He posts in his glorious battle alone
Farewell to the valiant moderator

chorus: (repeat 2x)

The fate of TPM
Lies deep in PCG
When time stands still in Whack-a-TPMer

The hanzi signature
Is getting closer
Swings his pencil down on him
Like a SPAMstorm
He's crushing
Down the Fanfic's
Proudest king

Mikachu Yukitatsu:

"Under my sig
So hopeless it seems
You've posted too much
Now feel the pain"

bridge:

Lord of all Fanfic
A mod in the night
mr_pikachu of hope
He posts in his glorious battle alone
Farewell to the valiant moderator

chorus: (repeat 2x)

The fate of TPM
Lies deep in PCG
When time stands still in Whack-a-TPMer

The Fanfic-king's broken
He is whacked and falls
The most proud and most valiant
His postcount survives
Praise our mod (repeat 4 times)

[starjake]

I guess I'll post my two cents...I wrote this a long time ago, and I just discovered it sitting hidden in my computer.

Soulmates

Sometimes, when God knits us together
Inside our mother’s womb
And the time comes to give us souls
He’ll find there’s not enough room

It’s because our heart is inadequate;
The soul’s simply too large
There’s too much love and perfection
There’s too much positive charge

So God must do the one thing that
He does not want to do
He takes the soul in question
And then splits it into two

These soul-halves are the perfect size
For the human heart to bear
But since these souls aren’t quite complete
They are quite worse for wear

So God makes the decision as
He splits this soul in twain
That “Sometime in the future,
These two souls will join again.”

They’ll join again in happiness
The split will be undone
The two souls that lived separate lives
At long last, again are one

Some say that love can happen
Only ‘tween husband and wife
Others say love happens
Only o’er the course of life

But I say that love grows between
These two halves of one soul
And that that love intensifies
When those two halves are whole

And so I say I love you
And I know you love me too.
For when God split our soul,
He put half in me and half in you.

[mistysakura]

This is Ada's poetry assignment (plus Conscription, which is a hanger-on/B-side of sorts. Actually, Conscription is part of a trilogy called Luna Tales, but the other two aren't quite ready yet.) The collective title is Between The Lines. I shan't blabber on about it here; if you're interested I've attached the tiny, tiny abstract I wrote on it. (Sorry, it's plain text. Ridiculous file size limit.)

EDIT: "Between the Lines" is now in an attachment. I have done this because I don't think internet archives save message board attachments, and I'm trying to make it so I can wipe everything from the net in case of publication.

Conscription

The old roller coaster knows his time. Thirty-two marching seconds up, feet shackled to the motor, millimetre after impossibly familiar millimetre. He squints and arthritis-rusted joints clank but up is the lesser of his chores, for the cogs he trusts are more ironic than the free-falling physics of gravity.

The apex was once his favourite
for the secondaaaaaaaaaasplit in balance

Now he sees nothing but routine molasses before plunging, incoming ground ear-splittingly asphalt. Whipped away at thirty-six, scarcely a wheezing breath before the centripetal flail whirs him, a top on a string, once, twice, three times. Always the same screams at forty-five.

At the end of another shift number twenty-eight, his groaning rods crackle into their joints. As the young fools laugh, relieved, he can’t help but think he is missing something.





As you may guess, Conscription didn't make it because a) Luna Tales wasn't finished b) I wasn't confident enough to put prose poetry on my assignment. Also, Element's lines are supposed to be indented (so you have the numbers in one line and everything else one space in), but the forums don't like that, so just imagine it for the moment That's all; all comments, as always, are very much welcomed. Praise, bashing, constructive criticism, "poetry sucks"... bring it on.

[firepokemon]

Mikachu - Interesting poem but well I need to find that tune so I can properly read it.

Starjake - That was fabulous. I don't know if it is intended to rhyme but it gives off a rhyming vibe to me. Overall, it reads really well and one gets a sense of the importance of souls. It reads beautifully.

MistySakura - Man I feel bad cause you replied heaps to my poem. But I don't really get these ones at all. I've forgotten most of what English has taught me. So not sure how your poems are suppose to work. But they are certainly intriguing particular the elements one. And you allowed me to discover a new word, "Whorls", which, I could not find in the dictionary or on dictionary.com. But then it does show up as whorl? So I'm a bit confused. Sorry I wish I could say more, but I don't get your poems.

The Conscription poem is something I can comment properly on. It has lovely use of language namely: "arthritis-rusted joints clank but up", it just has a lovely flow to it. The third part to it sounds even more wonderful with creative use of language, ie. "centripetal flail whirs him". I just think the fourth part of it seems somewhat short. Its not that its bad or anything. It just seems to finish prematurely.

-----

Another one from 2002 that I am going to post again. It requires major editing. But I thought I'd post it first unedited from 2002 and then hopefully repost it one day in an edited form. It ha a tune to it, but I couldn't describe the tune to it if I tried.

Untitled


My mother shes drinking away her fears
My father hes drinking away his
It's a tendency to drink till excess
I'll swagger home so alone

Alone in a scary world of violence
where gangs are recruiting children
children killing children
their parents getting wasted

Where it's not safe to walk the streets
20 bars on just one street
Broken glass and blood on the ground
Fights they are erupting
Mothers suddenly rising
Children running
Children dying
father's staggering
Fights they are eurpting

My mother shes drinking away her fears
My father hes drinking away his
It's a tendency to drink till excess
I'll swagger so alone

Girl heldup at knife point
Her parents at a bar
Drinking to excess
Lady where is your child?

Shes alone in a world where she fears.
Your always at a bar leaving her alone

Son adoring father
Father at a bar
Son all alone
Son wants to be like father
son follows father

My mother shes drinking away her fears
My father hes drinking away his
It's a tendency to drink till excess
I'll swagger home so alone.

It's a cycle of destruction
One way or another
Mother was once a child
Child was left alone.

End the destruction now
Dependency on alcohol
Hell it's wrong
All you mothers
All you fathers
don't leave your kids alone.

My mother shes drinking away her fears
My father hes drinking away his
It's a tendency to drink till excess
I'll swagger home so alone

My mother shes drinking away her fears
My father hes drinking away his
It's a tendency to drink till excess
I'll swagger home so alone.

It starts with One.
Have another
Broken Dreams
Broken Homes
Violence erupting
Because you left your kids alone.

[dratinihaunter13]

fp, the four line chorus definitely gives it that tune you were talking about. and they're the right four lines for this poem's chorus that's for sure. the way i saw it, mothers and fathers drinking away fears, when what the drinking's doing to their kids - that's what ironically should be frightening them most. maybe that's what they're drinking away in a sad cyclical sense.

this one's short and not sweet

"I'm a Fire Dying Down"

ash smell
firework smoke blankets the sky
my eyes star still
light touches against my eardrums
sidebyside a pillow indent, still warm
i roll in too big but it's still warm
snug like an embrace. one embrace.
i could start smoking tonight.

[Shadow Wolf]

I just popped this yesterday, but it has been on my mind. It hasn't been edited, since this is the first time I write it, but thoughts are welcome.


Cardinal love

My heart: my place.
Their love: my race.
Each person: a space.
Four corners with grace.

In East, my family
and West, my friends.
At South, my enemies.
On North, an end...

For you... for me...
For us to blend.

[Mikachu Yukitatsu]

I remember from school I suck at analyzing poems so I won't comment on yours. However, you can obviously comment on mine and I like that. Here's my newest one. Almost as bad as my first TPM sig, eh?

Jumalatar epäilemättä nätti neito ajatusteni
A goddess without a doubt the pretty maiden of my thoughts
Kuulut mulle kuulut muulle isoan sinua vaan olet toisen
You belong to me you belong to another I want you but you are another's
Hän sinua koskettaa saa minä vain katsoa kauneuttasi
He may touch you I may just watch your beauty

Joyful enchantment noble nymph appearance mesmerizing
My source of pain, my sorce of strength
Kiitos että saan katsoa sinua sen pitäisi riittää mutta
Thank you I may watch you it should be enough but
Eräs sinua koskea saa
Somebody may touch you

En tiedä mikä sinussa on niin ihanaa kasvosi vartalosi luonteesi
I don't know what's so sweet in you your face your body your nature
Palvon hiuksiasi silmiäsi suutasi korviasi nenääsi poskiasi otsaasi
I worship your eyes your mouth your ears your nose your cheeks your forehead
Lost my heart to your beauty
Lost my game battle for you

Puutarhan kaunehin kukka tämän linnan kaunotar
The most beautiful flower in the garden the beauty of this castle
Läpi kaupunkien kaikukoon ylistyksesi
Through the towns let your praise echo
Jos sinua koskettaisin varmaan palaisin tai jäätyisin
If I touched you I would surely burn or freeze
Miten voikaan joku hipaista sinua ja elää kuin hän
How can someone touch you and live like he

I am swallowed
By the ocean
Of your beauty
Everytime we see

Viettelee hän tahtomattaan lumoaa hän tietämättään kumpikaan meistä ei tunteisiini
She tempts without wanting she enchants without knowing my feelings neither of us
Voi vaikuttaa
Can affect
Suomen kaunein tyttö on liian vaatimattomasti sanottu ikinä en irrottaisi
The most beautenous girl in Finland is said too modestly never would I release
Jos halata saisin
If I got to hug you

I cross fire I cross water I cross forest I cross ice
I cross mountains I cross wastelands I cross cities I cross oceans
I'm still not worthy enough to feel you what has your boyfriend done
to deserve you to feel you to be loved by you to see your grace

Välimatka välillämme ei haittaa minua uneksin haaveissani olet minun
The distance between us doesn't bother me I dream in my dreams you're mine

En saa unta näen sinut uneen vaivun näen sinut
I can't sleep I see you I fall asleep I see you
En näe sinua näen sinut näen sinut näen sinut
I don't see you I see you I see you I see you
Toivoton on rakkauteni en voi tulla tilalle
Hopeless is my love I can't come instead
Sen miehen jota kadehdin joka sinut omistavi
Of that man whom I envy who owns you
Saisin itseni kasaan saisin tunteeni sanoiksi
I wish I got myself together I put my feelings to words
Runo tämä riitä ei laulu tämä riitä ei
This poem isn't enough this song isn't enough

Vaikka toisin sinulle maat
Even if I brought you lands
Ja taivaat et suutelisi
And skies you wouldn't kiss
Vaan enhän ansaitsisikaan
But I wouldn't deserve either
Kumma että edes näen
Strange is that I even see you
Puhuvan sinun näen
I see you talking
Nauravan sinun näen
I see you laughing
Laulavan sinun näen
I see you singing
Tanssivan sinun näen
I see you dancing

On olemassa se
It exists she
Sinä jota hän ei vie
You whom he doesn't take
Ajatuksissani
In my thoughts
Olet sinä minun
You are mine
Haaveissani
In my dreams
Omistan sut
I own you

[mistysakura]

firepokemon's Untitled: I agree with dh -- great four-line chorus. The simple words chosen give the poem a childlike feel, which makes it even more poignant because of the violence it describes. I also liked the repetition because it reflected the drinking cycle that's going on, and these children are trapped in a cycle of destruction. But proofreading's always good. Also, I thought the last stanza was a bit redundant. I liked how the link between violence and binge drinking was implied throughout the poem, but then it's spelt out in the last stanza and goes cliched. Similarly, I thought the stanza beginning 'It's a cycle of destruction' was unnecessarily preachy -- what parent would need to be told to not leave their kids alone after seeing these horrific images? It's good to leave some things for the reader's imagination I look forward to more of your stuff; I really like this style.

I'm a Fire Dying Down: Sorry didn't get around to this sooner. As always, great imagery. I instinctively like the use of 'star' as a verb, although I'm not sure what it means -- is it a typo for 'stare'? The image of the indent in the bed is just painful. I thought the word 'smell' in the first line stuck out though. The line would have worked without it, and would possibly be stronger because it accentuates the ash. And what's with the 'light touches against my eardrums'? I didn't think they had pressure nerves to feel touch... or maybe I'm taking it a bit too literally. In any case, I don't get the image you're trying to convey there.

Cardinal love: I like the line 'four corners of grace'. It's just... graceful. The poem's simplicity has great potential. These things you're talking about -- love, family, friends -- are so fundamental, you don't need complicated images top clutter them. I thought the four directions thing could be developed more though. So far, they're just used as four categories in which to define 'your' life, and it also touches on 'your' personal space. But since the compass points are, well, directions, it would be interesting to develop the metaphor of how they guide your life or something.

Mikachu Yukitatsu's Untitled: Yay, foreign language stuff! It's a sweet poem. I like how he's watching her from afar and she's tempting him subconsciously. And all the images just spilling out show that he's overwhelmed by the beauty in everything she does. But I'm getting a bit of a stalker vibe Especially with the 'I own you' at the end, it's a little creepy. Post more though. By the way, what was your first TPM sig?

[Mikachu Yukitatsu]

I have my first signature on paper somewhere, give me some time and I'll find it. Meanwhile, here's my second signature.

Tatoe hi no naka, kaminari no naka, koori no naka,
Ame no naka, yukino naka, onna no ko no kimono no naka!
MikachuYukiTatsu
Finnish -> English
Tulta ällös tukahuta, Liekkein Jumalata pyyä, -> Thou shalt not smother the Fire, not catch The God of Flames,
Saati sitten Salamata, ällös Ukon Mahtia mieli. -> Let the lightning without saying, thou shalt not crave for Thunder Might.
Et Kylmähänkähän kajoa, Jumalaa Jään hiihä älä. -> Nor shalt thou touch the coldness, nor ski after the God of Ice.
Jos saat Yhen, jos saat Toisen, kohta Kolmannen yrität; -> If thou hast One, hast a Second, immediately hast a Third try;
Tulee tuho Taivahista, hävitys myös Maaemistä! -> From the Heavens shall come havoc, devastation from the Earth, too!
Kukas tuohon kasuamahan, ilmaantuvi auttamahan -> Who is now to arise there, who shall appear to help us,
Estämähän Taivahista, hävitystä Maaemistä? -> Prevents havoc from the Heavens, quells devastation from the Earth?
Vetten Vahti kasuamahan, laulamahan Merten Herra; -> Guardian of Water is to arise, God of Sea shall sing to help;
Eipä estä Taivahista, hävitystä Maaemistä. -> Alone Guardian Song shall fail, not prevent the devastation.
Kouluttaja kasuamahan, Sep’ on Valittu, Uljas Uro; -> Mighty Trainer is to arise, the Chosen One, Valiant Hero;
Jopa estyy Taivahinen, hävitys tuo maaemistä. -> He shall even prevent havoc, quell devastation from the Earth.

EDIT: A translation.

Tatoe hi no naka, kaminari no naka, koori no naka, ame no naka, yuki no naka, onna no ko no kimono no naka!
Even in the middle of fire, in the middle of thunder, in the middle of ice, in the middle of rain, in the middle or snow, under a girl's kimono!

This poem reflects my way of thinking when I was younger.

[Cadmus]

an invitation

i open my eyes and see you for what you are
flesh and bones, blood and muscles.
i listen to you and hear you for what you are
a human like many others.
and the funny thing is ...

i open my heart and see you for what you are
a beautiful rebellion, a paradox of sorts
i listen with my soul and read the new echoes
a mystery - i'm a "junkie" - i need to unveil.
and i understand, finally ...

you are my love, you are my dream,
with you i've learned to breathe.
you are my love, you are my dream,
my agenda is not to suppress your freedom.
don't be scared of me. - "smile!" -

please, hear me.

i invite you to (come and walk with me)
i love the streets of paris (do you love them too?)
you love the trevi fountain (can you take me there?)
i invite you to (the best adventure of all)
the lights (diamonds on black velvet) can you see it?
rays of the sun (through the crying mist) can you feel it?

will you open the gates?

"oh my love", you are my fantasy,
with you i've learned to fly.
"oh my love", you are my fantasy,
my agenda is not to suppress your freedom
don't be scared of me. - "smile!" -

please, hear me.

open your heart, listen with your soul.

you are flesh and bones
("the power of ...")
you are love and sanctuary
(i am carried away)

i invite you to, a place where you've never been,
do you want to, my little explorer?
i invite you to, the best place in the universe:

a world for two.

[Mikachu Yukitatsu]

OK, here is my first TPM signature from 2001. I am not sure about the capital letters, here's how I wrote it on paper back there at least.

As Articuno
Was I The Lord of Winter
In my Realm, Finland
Where The Snow covers forest
Where The Lakes are Frozen
As Psyduck was I
Hugged by Maiden Elf Misty
In Land of Immortals
Where Sun rises from Mountains
Where the Cherry Blossom Bloom
And as Magikarp I
Swam up The River Huang He
In The Empire of China
Where The Ancient Wisdom began
Where The Mighty Dragons fly

Misty was the first anime girl I ever noticed, that's why I used to be a big fan of her.

[mistysakura]

an invitation: Hey, this reminds me of PancaKe's style. She used to post a lot of poetry. Anyway, I like the details in the second verse and in the chorus (fifth stanza). The second verse has nice ways of phrasing things and the chorus makes 'you' a unique person. It's sweet. However, the use of the word 'agenda' is strange to me. To me, agenda has either business or evil (secret agenda) connotations. It doesn't fit the loving tone. Also, some of the phrases such as ""oh my love", you are my fantasy, with you i've learned to fly" sound kinda... Hallmark. Maybe the ideas could be phrased in more original ways, drawing attention to the unique qualities of 'you' and of the relationship. Keep posting! We love new people.

Mikachu: Hehe, I could read the Japanese! I was never really into sigs. But I was a Misty person, as you can tell.

[Houndoom_Lover]

Hmm, I'm feeling a little off today.

Star crossed Laser

A consequensal reaction
To a very plausible scene
A deviation of the matters
Between the you and the me
And you can take that to the bank
While the dogs bark
And marbles shout
Shave his beard
And grow it twice
There’s only a question what grows out

A tapering of meaning
Between the pressing day
A depilation of ajarring
And their awful ways
Hurry back and worry not
For you are far from home
Golden glitter ponies
Ask banana gnomes

Can you tell me secrets-that will always come true?
Is there nothing left- for anyone to do?
What’s the point of going-if you only come?
Will there be more then us-if you only run?
And what if you run-will you be caught?
And if you’re caught- will you be locked up
In a padded cell to rot rot rot rot?
Rotten oranges bring the morning spring.

When one is so lonely
Alone is all they can be
To try and be something else
Why, that’s just democracy
So burn the city!
Torch the town!
Let their screams be a mariachi band!
Who cares who comes?
Who knows who goes?
Mangoes are not daffodils.

Time ticks by-go slowly go
If you have to go-that is-I’d rather you’d stay
Yes, stay close, stay by.
Stay close, Stand by.
Stand By
Stand By
Stand By

POWER ON

[Gavin Luper]

vade mecum

is this all I’m good for?
you want to borrow my luggage and so much more
but you haven’t come around here for weeks now.
I’m not proposing a fight to tear us apart
I’d rather defuse it before it starts
and keep the ulcers as souvenirs to rehash

and isn’t it appalling
how I can be so self-absorbing?
I rock up an hour late to everything
and I lack class or the courtesy to even ring
seems I’m living somewhere up my own butt.

and all the stuff I’ve been ignoring
fundamentally abhorring
every day, in everything I make myself do
I run and it chases me

so I’m just meant to grin and bear it right?
my lot’s been cast as awkward in life
and dude there’s nothing I can do about it.
I throw a cricket ball like a girl
and my voice is too much like a constant slur
and I’m too weedy to back my mates up

and I’m so bored I’d rather be anywhere else
feels like I’m doing nothing ad nauseum
and there’s nobody more sick of my voice right now than I am
I’ve become the most self-aware hypocrite ever.

and all the thoughts I’ve been obscuring
fundamentally enduring
every day, in everything I make myself do
I dodge but it still finds me

and does it mean I don’t love you
if I can’t say that I’m missing you?
I must be the most frigid bastard.
and how am I supposed to know
what I will feel tomorrow?
it’s only OK if I stay nescient.
‘cause there’s a surly masochist
bouncing off the padded walls inside me
so many dormitory floors I’ve yet to pass out on.

and all the things that I've been doing
this resentment that’s accruing
every day, in everything I make myself do
I drink and it swallows me

and I’ve already got enough dictators around me
even if I’ve no trophies to bear as such
and when I come to your cocktail party
in my beanie and the oversized shirt you hate
I’m still not sorry if you’ve had enough.
and yet I’ll sit there,
take another plastic glass of punch
acquiesce while you psychoanalyse me
I always keep this poker face
always, all for you.

and all the stuff I’ve been ignoring
fundamentally abhorring
every day, in everything I make myself do
I run and it shadows me

[Cadmus]

A Believer

He's walking down the street
Trying to enjoy what he sees
He likes to dive into his thoughts
Music in his ears, it's all good

Coming across others
He bows and smiles
Asking nothing less than the same in return
He likes it that way

The world should be a nice place
It's his wish to the stars
A believer
Oh, he's a believer

But he can't sleep anymore
Wasted by nightmares and scares
The ghouls ripped apart his beliefs
When they raped him of his sanctuary

[Shadow Wolf]

The path of answers.


Here I am...thinking again
looking for answers
wondering
where to find 'em
because
everyone needs answers
to understand
what to do
where to go
when to act
how to be

Answers are the way
but with no answers
there's no path to walk.

I ask my friends
my family
anyone
I talk
I ask
but I don't get answers.

After I ask
after I talk
after they hear
my friends say the same,
my family say the same:

"You are mature"
"you are smart"
"you can solve it"
"just wait"
"everything will be OK"

Those aren't answers
just advices... empty advices.

Because I'm smart,
because I'm mature,
I have to know the answers?
If I knew, I would not be asking.

They hear... but they don't listen!

I think
I wonder
where to find answers
because
no one gives me answers
only empty advices
and advices are not paths.

I wait
but I don't get answers,
Time does not give me answers.

I ask again
I want answers
...but again,
The same empty advices:

"everything will br OK"
"just wait"
"you can solve it"
"you are smart"
"you are mature"

They hear... but they don't listen!

I think
and think again:
"Where to find answers!?"
"Where to find my path!?"

I read books
I look on the net
but I still don't find answers
because they give empty advices.

I follow them
but I end up the same way as before
because I tried advices
but I didn't found answers

I scream
I cry
but I don't get answers

How do you find answers when everyone thinks you know em!?
how do you get answers by following only advices!?
how do you get answers!?

I say: I don't know
I tell 'em: I don't know
but they say the same

"You are smart"
"you can solve it"
"just wait"
"everything will be OK"
"you are mature"

Again!
the same empty advices!

They hear... but they don't listen!

Being mature does not give me answers!

Waiting does not give me answers!

Being smart does not give me answers!

Nothing is OK!

I can't solve it!

What to do!?

I think again
And I figure
What if they don't know?
then...
that means...
My answers aren't their answers
My path isn't their path.
They don't know my path.
I must know my path... by myself.
I must make my answers.

I heard... but I didn't listened!

I'll keep looking
because
I want to make my answers.

Everything will be ok
I am mature
I am smart
I can solve it

Because...
There's no path.
I make my path.
I walk my path.

[Gavin Luper]

Cadmus: Clearly-written and short, but far from sweet; it's quite a dark poem. It starts off fairly normally, I suppose - we get this image of a normal guy, music in his ears. The line about him asking nothing less than the same in return foreshadows the twist nicely. And it sounds like a horrible twist for the person described. But the poem itself is a success, I reckon, in conveying exactly that: the initial innocence, then the shattered event that clearly happened.

shinypkmnchaser: That was a pretty raw tirade, and it worked best like that. Any more structure and the anger of the narrator would be vastly diminished, I reckon - and I like angry poems. It works well as this loose, but focused, set of musings and questions. If anything, it was too long - after a while, the effect of the repetition dwindled a little bit - but other than that, I found it a really powerful piece. And something I haven't much thought about before, really: how we search for answers from other people, and sometimes come up short. It reminded me a bit of a line from Cat Stevens song ("If they were right, I'd agree, but it's them they know, not me!"), which is sort of what the poem ended up getting at, at least for me. Indeed, the last stanza was really strong.

Cheers!