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Old 01-24-2009, 06:28 PM #85
bluten13
 
 
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Poem I wrote

restless, barely asleep
my body yearns for that which it cannot keep.
Your love is all, I ever did want,
Now it only does but haunt.
My love, large
My mistakes, small
I gave you every inch
I gave you my all.
WIth my words I meant no harm to you
These feelings of mine are so very now.
Love me leave me do whats best
know this now above the rest
I love you and probably always will
Hopefully my heart will eventually heal.
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Old 01-24-2009, 06:52 PM #86
Citizen X
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Merged bluten13's poem thread with this one.
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Old 01-27-2009, 12:19 AM #87
ipoppedtammy
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An alternative take on the sonnet:

Miss America Visits the Wisconsin School for the Blind


I pity—but I cannot stand—the blind.

My reddest lipstick is useless; they can see
nothing of the pictures that I’ve signed.
They are without the common courtesy
to even send a backward glance my way,
or bother trying to offend my girlish
sensibilities with a leering gaze.

But I suppose they merely make me nervous:
the dark glasses to mask their filmy eyes,
the insistent tapping of their pointed canes,
the constant company of their canine spies—

—or knowing if one day the world became
the blind leading the blind, I’d have no choice
but be just another empty, average voice.


And another poem, sort of in the style of Seamus Heaney:

Leeches


I stood ankle deep in mud
From rain that washed everything
Spotless but the ground.
All around, the many

Incarnations of leeches,
Variations on a theme.
Sometimes round and gorged,
They dotted the ground, shiny

Truffles filled with blood.
Some stretched into thin
Brown fingers, upright, beckoning
The source of blood scent

To come hither—a hopeless
Gesture. Our hairless skins
Made for easier pickings
Than the yelping gibbons flexing

The branches overhead.
They were everywhere—
On furred leaves, stalks
Of prehistoric growth,

River rocks. The drawstringed
Canvas bags protecting
My feet did nothing to ease
The tingling discomfort

Of my nervous blood.
And I could think of nothing
But my mother—her generosity;
Her flesh forgiving, vulnerable.
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Old 02-15-2009, 11:21 PM #88
Mike.Sen
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No name yet;

Red signs & Blue lights
Talk you into
Trading in your Glock
For a shiny new Clock

Tick…Tock…
Tick…Tock…
…Ha…Ha…

Enter now:
Xylophones knit;
In the chairs,
Time sits.

Wait now:
Time don't sit...


The last line has switched between "time doesn't sit" "time stood up" "time stands" "time stood" and the one that's there now. I can't pick, but I like the one that's there the best. It's more in line with the point. But the xylophones knit part is perfect in sound and feel, but terrible in meaning. The point is that they can't knit when time sits.
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Old 02-20-2009, 06:31 PM #89
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Something I wrote about a decade ago.

Haven (For those who "read" me)

Quote:
I watch you,
Watching me.
Staring into my soul,
No veil between us.
You look upon my naked formless form,
Dissecting my psyche,
Analyzing my fantasies.
For you I am uninhibited and true.
*
I study you,
Contemplating your contemplations.
Do you "feel" me?
Do my words caress your soul, kiss your heart?
Do they stroke places yet charted by the journeys of ecstasy?
*
Creation-
In the ink, you will find the roadmap to places most people lie about wanting to go.
I find you there, an eager traveler.
Strolling down a moonbeam in a dream to a place beyond euphoria.
Still, this is not the destination-
But a mere way station.
One, which may lead you…."there."
"There" is where your most feverish dreams dare take you.
A destination with no location.
Where the end result is without end.
Where we touch each other,
bonded spiritually on a plane where the physical is mundane.
*
I visit you "there" in your dreams,
A sweet essence flowing in your mind,
Inspiring your fantasies beyond the cliché.
Uno mas.

Quote:
HOW HARD ARE U??


who are you maddoggin',
pokin' your chest out,
like you got clout from takin' brotha's out.

you are the earthbound grim reaper,
a pawn in the devils game,
soul stealer for Mephisto.
your sickle is your pistol, shank or whatever.

do you know when you die your soul will be severed,
measured, judged, rejected,
then collected by he who dwells in the pits of Sheol.

yeah you tell me its hell on earth,
but i'd rather live hell from birth to death,
than burn eternally--that's hell!!

but, let's bring it back here,
we'll see how raw you are real soon,
you know, when you're the one with the sucking chest wound.
teary eyed as you feel your heart beat for the last time,
in your mind your tormented life plays out--
now you're played out,
on the receiving end of what
you gave out.
thought you made out, til your pulse gave out,
now the groundskeeper's got a new spot to dig a fresh grave out.
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Last edited by shaka zulu : 02-20-2009 at 07:11 PM.
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Old 02-20-2009, 07:13 PM #90
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so glad i found this thread to use for my school assignments
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Old 02-22-2009, 02:49 PM #91
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Quote:
Originally Posted by berry_wendel View Post
so glad i found this thread to use for my school assignments
You do that and you're not cheating us OR your teachers, your cheating yourself.
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Old 02-23-2009, 09:04 AM #92
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Mike.Sen View Post
You do that and you're not cheating us OR your teachers, your cheating yourself.
lol i dont think so. poetry does not translate into the real world
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Old 03-01-2009, 09:46 PM #93
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Exploiting my trust
Your impossibly deceitful
I cant believe the price I paid
Secretly yanking my strings
Blinded by your beauty
Assuring me of the future
Sunken into deep depression
Unable to serve what my justice
Only my anger lingers
My love lost to you

Opinions?
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Old 03-01-2009, 10:18 PM #94
Adema3412
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Quote:
Originally Posted by I<3Tool View Post
Exploiting my trust
Your impossibly deceitful
I cant believe the price I paid
Secretly yanking my strings
Blinded by your beauty
Assuring me of the future
Sunken into deep depression
Unable to serve what my justice
Only my anger lingers
My love lost to you

Opinions?
Punctuation has a place in poetry, it can even make a poem in the case of e.e. cummings. Use it.

You have grammatical errors. Get rid of them.

And most importantly show don't tell. Poetry is all about images, images of a lingering anger, deep depression, deceit, love. Poetry is not words it is images; it does not put emotions on the page, it evokes them from the reader.

After reading your poem I think, O' great, you lost your love, but I don't give a ****. I don't mean to discourage you from writing, especially when it's used as a catharsis, but to write poetry you must do more than just write, I am depressed, you must expand upon what that means.

I'm sure those words have a lot of meaning to you, because of what you think when you read them, but the reader gets nothing, just a shallow depiction of angst. You gotta dig deeper.
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Last edited by Adema3412 : 03-01-2009 at 11:56 PM.
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Old 03-01-2009, 11:05 PM #95
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Quote:
Originally Posted by I<3Tool View Post
Exploiting my trust
Your impossibly deceitful
I cant believe the price I paid
Secretly yanking my strings
Blinded by your beauty
Assuring me of the future
Sunken into deep depression
Unable to serve what my justice
Only my anger lingers
My love lost to you

Opinions?
I second what Adema says. Also, you need some fresher phrasing. "Yanking my strings," "blinded by your beauty," "sunken into depression"...these are all things we've all heard before. Try using images, and also try phrasing things in a way that you've never heard before.
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Old 03-01-2009, 11:55 PM #96
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Quote:
Originally Posted by ipoppedtammy View Post
I second what Adema says. Also, you need some fresher phrasing. "Yanking my strings," "blinded by your beauty," "sunken into depression"...these are all things we've all heard before. Try using images, and also try phrasing things in a way that you've never heard before.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Adema3412 View Post
Punctuation has a place in poetry, it can even make a poem in the case of e.e. cummings. Use it.

You have grammatical errors. Get rid of them.

And most importantly show don't tell. Poetry is all about images, images of a lingering anger, deep depression, deceit, love. Poetry is not words it is images; it does not put emotions on the page, it evokes them from the reader.

After reading your poem I think, O' great, you lost your love, but I don't give a ****. I don't mean to discourage you from writing, especially when it's used as a catharsis, but to write poetry you must do more than just to write, I am depressed, you must expand upon what that means.

I'm sure those words have a lot of meaning to you, because of what you think when you read them, but the reader gets nothing, just a shallow depiction of angst. You gotta dig deeper.
Thank you for your input...this was my first attempt at this and its more meant to be lyrics I am planning on making it darker. What do you mean images like more descriptive words?

Thank you
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Old 03-02-2009, 12:10 AM #97
Adema3412
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More descriptive words, yes, but more importantly images have a certain goal.

When you just write "blinded by her beauty" that's a phrase that could mean anything, get specific.

"My jaw dropped like the gallon jugs on her chest"
"Her words curled around my tongue,
a snake in evening wear"

That's just off the top of my head. Images are what bring the phrase, "blinded by her beauty", to life.
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It is no crime to be ignorant of economics, which is, after all, a specialized
discipline. But it is totally irresponsible to have a loud and vociferous opinion
on economic subjects while remaining in this state of ignorance.
--Murray Rothbard
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Old 03-02-2009, 12:14 AM #98
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What about your boy zulu here? The first poem I posted. Curious to see what ya'll thank. Lol.
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Originally Posted by CrazyLittle: Sapiens is a species. NASCAR is a RACE!!!
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Old 03-02-2009, 12:30 PM #99
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A single light in all that is dark

Like a miniature sun, muted through a veil of gray

A single spot, increasing in size as my vision focuses upon it.

It's brilliance grows, yet it stays warm to the eyes. It's dullness fades, yet it does not pain my sight.

To which I reach out, hand extended, offering to it all that I am. My
existence, my love, my eternity. Reaching with the very essence of my
soul.

And therein I knew what it was. For in that moment, all in my life was light.

And therein I knew my purpose. For a moment later, darkness engulfed me again.




Posted a couple months ago in the GDT. Never posted it here though for direct criticism. Mind you, I NEVER write poetry.
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Old 03-05-2009, 05:29 AM #100
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a voicemail to god

My mother told me to pray to you so I could understand.
Why you had to come down here and take my father’s hand.
I never got to learn to drive with him, or build a castle in the sand.
I used to be the boy to him, but now this home needs a man.
I want my father back you see, he’s my very special friend.
I don’t see why it has to be this way, I just can’t understand.
Please give me back my dad; he made my world feel right.
But now that you’ve taken him, I cry late into the night.
I will never let my mother see because now I must be strong.
This journey has no ending, its only bumpy and long.
Every body tells me that they can feel my pain.
But they’ve never felt their tears washed away by the pouring rain.
I used to watch cartoons and dance around the house.
But now I feel so alone, and I’m quieter than a mouse.
My father used to tuck me in at night, and kiss me on the head.
Now I must tuck myself into this cold and drafty bed.
God please tell me why you needed my father in heaven up above.
Kiss my father on his head, and send him all my love.

Never More

Never more shall I sing the tune of spring.
For the buds of life have died long ago inside me
I wanted to promise you a life worth living, and a big fancy ring.
But how can I give you all this when I myself feel so empty.

Forever in my heart I shall hold you dear.
Changes have forever moved us further apart.
Yet the distance and the isolation isn’t what I fear.
It’s the emptiness that grips me that’s been growing from the start.

I feel weary from years of travel and telling others of my tales.
Speaking words that I have not yet found in my own life.
I feel that all ways I take in life shall end with fail.
And it is too much for me to deal with the hurt and the strife.

Never more shall I sing the words of hope.
For hope has been silenced through experience.
I am no worse then the rich or better than a man on dope.
Yet we are all judged differently and it doesn’t make sense.

I no longer find my own life to be worth living
So forever hold on to me if you find me of any worth.
I’ve got nothing left, and nothing worth giving.
I’ve welcomed my death since the time of my birth.

“Never more” the raven cooed at me as I lay upon my bed.
Never more I repeat as I think about my past.
Never shall I feel the respect for myself as I rest my running head.
I close my eyes and hope I don’t wake up; I want this day to be my last.
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Old 03-08-2009, 11:03 PM #101
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is there any format for poetry? i want to start but i dont know where to...
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Old 03-08-2009, 11:22 PM #102
Adema3412
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Quote:
Originally Posted by BigDaddie101 View Post
is there any format for poetry? i want to start but i dont know where to...
Yes and no. There are a variety of poetic forms, from sonnets to haikus, sestinas and odes and even our good friends limericks. However the majority of writers don't follow these forms and write in free verse; that doesn't mean there isn't a sense of rhythm or continuity within the poem's structure, but simply that the writer is not following a predetermined form.

My words of advice is just write, put some words on paper, don't try to force rhyme, just try to create images, different scenes. You want to show your pain or your happiness, you don't want to just tell them you're sad.
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Old 03-10-2009, 03:55 AM #103
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The
Craftsman queues his clock, the
Tinman tills his timepiece, and the
Penchant man primes his pendulum, but
What's a watchman without his watch?




Red signs & Blue lights
Talk you into
Trading in your Glock
For a shiny new Clock

Tick…Tock…
Tick…Tock…
…Ha…Ha…

Enter now:
Xylophones knit;
In the chairs,
Time sits.

Wait now:
Time don't sit...

I wanted some commentary guys...
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Last edited by Mike.Sen : 03-10-2009 at 04:06 AM.
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Old 03-10-2009, 12:57 PM #104
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Mike.Sen View Post
The
Craftsman queues his clock, the
Tinman tills his timepiece, and the
Penchant man primes his pendulum, but
What's a watchman without his watch?




Red signs & Blue lights
Talk you into
Trading in your Glock
For a shiny new Clock "shiny new" could be changed as it sounds cliche, and somewhat vague. Use a more specific image

Tick…Tock…
Tick…Tock…
…Ha…Ha…

Enter now:
Xylophones knit;
In the chairs,
Time sits.

Wait now:
Time don't sit...

I wanted some commentary guys...
The opening stanza with the workers and their professions was interesting and seem to be a good lead in. However, I think the poem is a bit sparse, with only two to three words for many of the lines (after the first stanza). I think it's acceptable to have such short lines, but it might be hard to make an impact on the reader unless you explain your ideas more fully. For example, "Xylophones knit" seems like an unusual and eye catching image, but without any real explanation surrounding it, the reader can't understand what you are trying to get across.
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Old 03-11-2009, 01:43 AM #105
Mike.Sen
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Quote:
Originally Posted by mulletmadness View Post
The opening stanza with the workers and their professions was interesting and seem to be a good lead in. However, I think the poem is a bit sparse, with only two to three words for many of the lines (after the first stanza). I think it's acceptable to have such short lines, but it might be hard to make an impact on the reader unless you explain your ideas more fully. For example, "Xylophones knit" seems like an unusual and eye catching image, but without any real explanation surrounding it, the reader can't understand what you are trying to get across.
I appreciate the commentary, but I actually disagree on this point. Poetry isn't meant to explain itself. It's supposed to either be naturally obvious based on common human experience, or be worked at. Xylophones knit is supposed to refer to a musical instrument knitting a quilt of sound, but that can only happen with time, so when I say time sits in the chairs, it doesn't make sense.

And it was really two poems, I should have made that clear.

And the 'shiny new' is staying because it's cliche. It rolls. It doesn't need anything specific unless something a-mazing comes to mind. I'm not going to overwork a poem. Then it would get contrived.

Thanks for the commentary though. Sorry I disagreed, but hey, that's half of critique, right?
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