poetry

[Rûdhaglarien]

HobbitChick88, Starr Polish, and Elfmaster XK... I love all three of those. This is one I like of mine... 'tis still not very good.


[Cursed] of the [Sickness][Cured] with the [Pain] 9/4/2002

Paint me the color of the sky
Fall into your mind
And corrupt your soul
Fill your mind with lewd thoughts of simplicity
Let your eyes scream hypocracy
Just like your mouth saw red
The blood red of horror
And the fear of the knife
That cut your soul
And bled your wrist
The copper of rust
Because your blood, just as you,
Wasn't pure anymore
So it wasn't innocent crimson
But tainted gold
And slowly faded grey- to black
Locked away in mystery
And given to the surreal
Of all the tire tracks that criss-cross my world,
Yours cut deepest.



I know... bad teenage poetry.

[HobbitChick88]

Elfmaster XK and Starr Polish, both of yours were good!Rûdhaglarien, yours was really good too!! It was kind of morbid, but it made sense and you can sense the emotions in it. All of them are very cool.

[Starr Polish]

I refuse to post my dark poems. What if someone found them.

I liked it though. Imagery is our friend.

Yes, I have strong feelings about posers. Not necessarly the 'poser punks', but all types of posers...yet, like I say in the poem, that's all you ever are, really.

[Elfmaster XK]

Very perceptive starr, i think you may be right....

I liked that one too Rûd....sorry i will spell it wrong so stop there.

I post it and don't care if anyone sees it. I write a lot about feelings, mostly in songs now, but i like to keep some to myself. There are examples of a few earlier in this thread, i linked them. Is there a possible link to anything you've done Starr?

[Rûdhaglarien]

Thanks. Yeah, I know it's morbid. I've said it before... morbidity just works for me... I don't know.

[Starr Polish]

I can't remember if this is defunct, but:

www.angelfire.com/journal/records

It has a few stories and poems by me, and some really old computer artwork that SUCKS.

[BeardofPants]

Can I just say that the stuff I've read on this thread has been (in my inexpert opinion) really, really good! I envy those who can dredge up creativity like that.

Something I wrote when I was bored. Orginally entitled "Looking out" but currently untitled until I think of a better one... (suggestions would be good!) I'm still fine tuning it, but this is the gist...

Look out from within to see
… Nothing; that pristine flower
Its petals once allured, once endured
My crushing grip and I ponder
Look out at the ignominious, the petty martyrs
Those bigots that lived in my head
They said there was only one way.
Take to the horizon, once azure
Now the colour of disease.
Look out from within my cage of glass
Crystalline grass shattered
In the imaginations of the people
Scorched land and bombs upon the ivory sand.
Oil slick upon the saccharine waters
Of my mind, troubled yet infinite dissolution
To those who cared to stumble.
Look out from within my fragile shell
And I wonder, could it have been different?
Withhold one more fragment of waste
In my electronic dream, in my mechanical grasp
And then I realize
I am the master of lies.

[Starr Polish]

Wow, BoP. Powerful. I like, especially the rhythm it has (well, the rhythm I found, anyway). I like to read poems aloud I'm not very good at titles though. I think the best title I've ever given a poem is...eh...my poem titles suck.

I seem to have a knack for writing short poems. I like to say a lot with a few words. And I only rhyme if I'm trying to write songs. Ah..with the one exception of the poem I wrote last year on 9/11. Yeah...

Hmm...I think I'll go dig up a poem I wrote awhile back, inspired by a Britney Spears picture. Don't let that worry you, though. Trust me, it's very cynical.

[edit] Found it! Oooh, this was during my 'weird punctuation is FUN' stage! There are two versions of it.

Raising Hemlines

[version 1]

We spend our lives
Reading gossip columns
Oggling at clothing
More out than fit
And slowly watch the raising hemline
As steady as the tide
Creep up our idols legs
Until they even reach
That breaking limit

[version 2]
Shallow lives consist. of gossip columns about our favorite stars. while we sit and stare at their latest fashion and oggle at how they manage. to still be decent in something. more out than fit.

[Elfmaster XK]

That was good BoP - when i read it i thought maybe your title could be 'false perceptions' or something like that.

And Starr, you're right, that was some weird punctuation. But still good.

I wrote this about a symbol! Some ppl should know what i'm talking about...i hope

The Ankh

An object
An Item
Just a possession
No! It’s more than a metal creation

A symbol
An image
The sign of life
No! The ankh brought life itself

A magical amulet
There to serve
As long as you need
Then, gone in a flash
But no, it’s powers are not gone from you

Now the object
The item, the symbol and image
Are left from your life
You are the ankh
The life it gave
But no. It’s life is always in you.

[Eruviel Greenleaf]

This is a really bad poem that I just wrote but I'm posting it just because I feel like posting something. It's rather obvious what it's about, I think. Considering the day and all. Er. Right. Dunno why I'm even posting this but I'm going to shut up and post before I erase it all.

5 Minutes

In the first minute the clouds are stained with blood
As they move across the sky she sighs
The pool reflects the blood in the sky and the fire in their hands
She wonders how long the world will last
How long this moment will last

The second minute seems shorter but longer
The sky is now full of ashes and tears
Silence now seems normal and the fire flickers remembering
She thinks about nothing important
A song stuck in her head

In the third minute the pool is deep and inviting
The night seems to warm and light
And the mountains edge closer to loom over her ominously
She decides she is stuck somewhere
Unable to escape her lack of caring

The fourth minute is announced by the bell
The sky is blue and friendly again
Leaves and feathers float in the pool and are content
She feels incapable of caring
And is afraid to cry

In the fifth minute she no longer cares about the time
The night is quiet and still
As if everything in the world had paused to reflect on the past
She can care now without the burden
Of the whole world falling on her

Five silent minutes can change so much.

[Rûdhaglarien]

Wow, BoP, I really, really like that one. Especially the line about the crystalline grass. I'm no good with titles, either... I just put down whatever I'm thinking about. I mean, I have one called 'Honest Meadow Coffee House'... it has absolutely no connection with the piece, I don't know.
Starr, yes, very cynical... I feel the same way. They're so superficial.
Mmmm... pretty, EXK, very pretty.
Eruviel, yeah, I wrote a poem about 9/11, when it happened, yours is better, though.


Hmmm... I feel like posting something... you don't have to read it, if you don't want....


Little

Screaming to get out
Needing to be free
I lost me long ago
Somewhere deep inside of me
I don't know what to do
Needing only you
But you're not there
You left me standing alone
When you lost interest in my words
In my thoughts
My actions
I was too simple for you
I wanted to breathe
I asked for nothing more
But you asked so much more of me
I would have done anything for you
You could have taking any of me for you
But you forgot me
Dropped into a cobweb-filled corner of you mind
Lost inside
Help me find my way out
You left me standing there
Saturated
Drowned in a flood of blood-red tears
That bleed from my mind
My ears, when I lay sleeping
If sleep ever came
I called your name
But you didn't turn back
Fill my mind with your soul
Don't turn away from me
Truth be told
I need this pain.

Hmmm... that's really long for a post here, sorry if you read it.

[Draken]

Wow just found this thread, some good stuff on here everyone!
And I was just clearing out some old files and found one of my jokey teenage efforts, here goes:


The Girl in the Pub

If this was Gothic, sword-girt myth,
She’d be a dragon-offered maid,
I an iron-plated hero.
And when the lizard had been slain,
I’d lift my grating, fire-scorched helm,
Cleave Andromedean chains…
And then we’d fall in love.

If this was bloody hostage crisis
I’d push her clear of spitting guns,
Then act as bullet-stopping shield.
And as the SAS mopped up,
With medics pumping morphine in,
Our eyes would meet across the carnage…
And then we’d fall in love.

If this was deadly, star-strewn space,
I’d burn a path through alien hordes
Trying to surround her,
Then both of us would hold the line
Against invading swarms.
And then we’d let our lasers cool,
Stepping over green remains…
And then we’d fall in love.

But this is just a normal pub,
Full of normal people,
She’s with her friends,
I’m with mine,
I doubt I’ll ever meet her.
Life never lives up to my dreams,
But then again,
It’s safer.



(In my defence I was only 18 at the time. She had long auburn hair and was just the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I never saw her again.)

[Rûdhaglarien]

In my defence... I'm only fifteen.



BTW... I don't think that you needed a defence....

[Eruviel Greenleaf]

I like your poem, Draken.

[Elfmaster XK]

Oh, i missed a few. I like them all though!

I wrote a poem about 9/11 but it was about 20 odd verses long. so i won't post it, anyway, reading it disturbs me, so i wouldn't want anyone else to feel disturbed!

[The Ringbearer]

Ooohhhhh! I absolutely LOVE writing poetry! Sadly, I'm going to be in trouble soon if I don't vacate the computer chair, so I'll post one or two later.

[Hrothgar]

These are all really good, my poetry tends to be rather off, that's putting it nicely. Probably because I am as deep as a puddle.

Well here is a short one

'pon the sea of life we sail, and all the horror we bewail.
For racked with storms we journey on, our fate unknown.
Shelter from the terrors of the deep we seek, somewhere that we may hide.
But I fear that we've missed the tide.
But the light of hope doth we keep near, and with our hearts we steer, we steer.
for now the way doth become clear.

ok, done now

[The Ringbearer]

That is beautiful, Hrothgar!


A 3/4 finished poem for y'all, based on Sam's song about the Troll:

Old Mr. Tom B. was in to take his tea
With fair Goldberry; what? the table set for three?
What was up with the extra cup?Was another guest to sup
In Tom B.'s house today?
Do day! True day!
An extra place today was set
At Tom B.'s house for tea.

Soon came a horse riding through the gorse
With a well known wizard whose beard was coarse
Gandalf the Grey to pay a visit that day
To Tom B.'s house by the river.
Quiver! Sliver!
A wizard came to pay a call
At old Tom's house by the river.

In they went and Goldberry sent
To fetch the cake that for today was meant.
With blueberries, blackberries, strawberries n' more
Atop the snow-white icing.
You sing! I sing!
With dainty hands she had placed these treats
Atop the snow-white icing.

The tasty smell floated through the dell
To a place in the forest near an old well.
The fairy lights like colored wights, floated round here nights,
Marking the fairy's flights.
Their flights! Fair flights!
The delicious smell had reached this place
Lights marking pixie paths.

The dell awoke;clustered like a smoke
Fairies chittered and squeaked, flying from an old oak.
"By the Sun! Won't this be fun? Cake is better than any old bun!"
A green pixie exitedly chittered.
Flittered! Skittered!
"Let us go! Scrumptious cake awaits!"
The fairies exitedly chittered.

Spreading multi-colored wings, darting off as if on springs
Red, purple, green, blue, gold, all the colors of kings
Darted 'cross the moss so swift eyes were at a loss;
Making a bee-line to Bombadil's house.
Mouse! Grouse!
With a flick of their wings and a giggle
They made a bee-line to Bombadil's house.

The three had just sat down to tea,
When from some place they could not see
A sound of flittering, chittering, and skittering
Was heard from outside the door.
The floor! The moor!
They heard a sound of giggling
From outside of the door.

Then in the window blew, and in the window flew
The pixies and fairies in green and blue
And red; they flew 'round Gandalf's head and under Tom's bed
Then stole Gandalf's pointy hat!
Cat! Bat!
The pesky things flew around the room,
Then stole Gandalf's pointy hat!

The Ringbearer.


*pant pant* sssssssssss, our poor fingerssssss.

I can't decide who should rid the house of the fairies. I don't want to make a fool of the others by having Goldberry take care of it, but I don't know how to make Gandalf or Tom react. Any ideas?

[Hrothgar]

That's great Ringbearer.

The only thing springing to mind for the Fairy problem is this:

Then Gandalf called some sparrows in
and old jolly Tom did grin
They chased the Fays away
away! hooray!
they chased they Fays away.

Or something along those lines

Hope I helped! :-)

[katya]

Oh my gosh, I love poetry. I write some once in a while, especially haikus if I am feeling lazy. sometimes I write LotR inspired poetry but not a lot. I am shy about sharing any of it though because I think it sucks. anyway I love reading poetry too. Does anyone like e. e. cummings? I love his stuff! Although sometimes it is hard to read... I like Emily Dickinson too. But one thing I do not like it when school tries to teach me how to write. We hates it.