New Poetry Thread
- Thread starter mirinda
- Start date
Karn Maeshalanadae
I'm a pineapple
Hehe.
*sigh* Did anyone try reading it out loud?
*sigh* Did anyone try reading it out loud?
I am a sugar cube in the bitter coffee
unhealthy, yet enjoyable
Each grain has sweet surprises, yet they are quick to disappear
when you put me in a dim liquid
I sweeten it up
though beneath the disguise I am the bane to your life.
Don't know the meaning of this. Maybe being vain and talking about me. Who knows. I just felt like writing about a sugar cube.
unhealthy, yet enjoyable
Each grain has sweet surprises, yet they are quick to disappear
when you put me in a dim liquid
I sweeten it up
though beneath the disguise I am the bane to your life.
Don't know the meaning of this. Maybe being vain and talking about me. Who knows. I just felt like writing about a sugar cube.
I did. If you pause in the middle of each line, it works out fine. If you demand that it flow from start to end on each line, maybe some additional work, but I like it with the pause in the middle. See other comment back in TR.
mirinda
Vernum
A words or two could be replaced or removed, it would make it less choppy. That's a problem I have alot. Other than that yes it does have a very obvious rythym.
Hilarious Joke
Fool
Waiting
A second measurer moves
A blink
A change in the light
A slight gust
A papery sound
A key being tapped
Waiting
A second measurer moves
A blink
A change in the light
A slight gust
A papery sound
A key being tapped
Waiting
Precise Calibre
Storywright
- Joined
- Nov 12, 2007
- Messages
- 447
Preparing for a piano recital? That's what I got out of it anyway.
Precise Calibre
Storywright
- Joined
- Nov 12, 2007
- Messages
- 447
Trust not the one who would tell you what they intend to do for your well-being.
With a bright and smiling face, they shake your hand as daggers swim beneath the mask
They will stand before you and make promises while being behind you all the while
No hesitation, no mercy will they give you when it comes time to drive the knife home
Your blood shall fill their coffers, your soul shall fuel their infernal engine
The lies they bind you with will trap you forever unless you seek the truth
Only by tearing the mask from their face will you find freedom from their chains
Actions will deafen the wicked and drown out deception with muted savagery
A silent soul who acts nobly is better than a soul who only speaks of noble actions
Trust not the one who gives only with their tongue but takes with both hands
With a bright and smiling face, they shake your hand as daggers swim beneath the mask
They will stand before you and make promises while being behind you all the while
No hesitation, no mercy will they give you when it comes time to drive the knife home
Your blood shall fill their coffers, your soul shall fuel their infernal engine
The lies they bind you with will trap you forever unless you seek the truth
Only by tearing the mask from their face will you find freedom from their chains
Actions will deafen the wicked and drown out deception with muted savagery
A silent soul who acts nobly is better than a soul who only speaks of noble actions
Trust not the one who gives only with their tongue but takes with both hands
The uphill struggle against ourselves
sending the main force forward
while the cavalry flanks from the sides
a tactical cliche.
Why not send the cavalry to the supply lines and cut it off
and then send out the reserves to flank and the main force to charge?
And why must one wait for the enemy to starve or smash their walls
when poisoning the water supply or use traitors are just as efficient?
Not sure if this is a good way of talking about the techniques of fighting writer's block.
sending the main force forward
while the cavalry flanks from the sides
a tactical cliche.
Why not send the cavalry to the supply lines and cut it off
and then send out the reserves to flank and the main force to charge?
And why must one wait for the enemy to starve or smash their walls
when poisoning the water supply or use traitors are just as efficient?
Not sure if this is a good way of talking about the techniques of fighting writer's block.
Grimblade
Struggling Writer
Been awhile since I posted poetry. I'm seeing some great stuff on this thread though so why not..
If there could be a gentler wind behind me then I have yet to feel it
On this precipice I'm twirled and twisted by it's brother
It judges as a god should - no sorrow for me or anything that has happened
But what I fear, I will to happen some day.
But calm. Here comes the raging sun
I will this. A parent and a lover
Borne from the wreckage of my conscience
My lack of remorse and guilt thereafter personified.
Incarnate.
This dawn won't be kind to me.
If there could be a gentler wind behind me then I have yet to feel it
On this precipice I'm twirled and twisted by it's brother
It judges as a god should - no sorrow for me or anything that has happened
But what I fear, I will to happen some day.
But calm. Here comes the raging sun
I will this. A parent and a lover
Borne from the wreckage of my conscience
My lack of remorse and guilt thereafter personified.
Incarnate.
This dawn won't be kind to me.
Grimblade
Struggling Writer
Is the sudden inactivity of this thread a compliment or an insult since I was last to post? 
My ego leans towards the former but I'd like to see more posts!
My ego leans towards the former but I'd like to see more posts!
Precise Calibre
Storywright
- Joined
- Nov 12, 2007
- Messages
- 447
As someone with the constant feeling that no one cares what I say, I'm inclined to believe that whenever a thread dies, it's my fault. I AM the thread-killer!
Anyway...
I like the poem you posted grim. Is it about a hanging or something similar? The imagery you used definitely implied that a hangman's noose was involved - at least in my mind's eye.
Anyway...
I like the poem you posted grim. Is it about a hanging or something similar? The imagery you used definitely implied that a hangman's noose was involved - at least in my mind's eye.
Grimblade
Struggling Writer
No, though I can see the connection you've made. It's actually a kind of foresight, the narrator is looking into his future and seeing with absolute finality his end. He's completely aware of all the things he's done and though he knows that it was wrong he can't find it within himself to be anything but self-concerned.
I enjoyed reading your poem a couple of posts ago. The architecture of it would do it justice as an oath or mantra in a novel perhaps?
I enjoyed reading your poem a couple of posts ago. The architecture of it would do it justice as an oath or mantra in a novel perhaps?
Square on the hillside, the plantation,
Smart in its various bands - gold for the larches' autumn glow,
Green for the pines, lined up below,
like soldiers, dressed for parade.
And in the cars that swish past like frantic mice, they cry:
"Isn't that pretty! Isn't that nice!"
And I suppose it is....I suppose.
But my memory yearns, as memory does,
for the wood that stood on that self-same hill:
Yearns for the wild and tangled ways, for hide-and-seek,
for the smell of damp earth, for the fallen trees,
Remembers the blue of Spring, carpets of bells,
the green, green glade where the rabbits were,
the slots from the roe-deer, seldom seen...
And if the memory lingers, as memories do,
Who can blame me... Will you, then? Will you?
Needs more work, I know...
Smart in its various bands - gold for the larches' autumn glow,
Green for the pines, lined up below,
like soldiers, dressed for parade.
And in the cars that swish past like frantic mice, they cry:
"Isn't that pretty! Isn't that nice!"
And I suppose it is....I suppose.
But my memory yearns, as memory does,
for the wood that stood on that self-same hill:
Yearns for the wild and tangled ways, for hide-and-seek,
for the smell of damp earth, for the fallen trees,
Remembers the blue of Spring, carpets of bells,
the green, green glade where the rabbits were,
the slots from the roe-deer, seldom seen...
And if the memory lingers, as memories do,
Who can blame me... Will you, then? Will you?
Needs more work, I know...
mirinda
Vernum
I like it pyan.
Precise Calibre
Storywright
- Joined
- Nov 12, 2007
- Messages
- 447
I really like that last one.
It reminds me, quite painfully, of the large conifer tree farm that was once across the street from my house. There too was a place of fun times and peaceful evenings spent amongst the trees. Unfortunately pine trees that don't sell well don't generate enough capital... and so the owners sold the land to a developer who ripped the trees out and put in ugly, cheaply-made STC(standard template construction) houses.
What a shame...
It reminds me, quite painfully, of the large conifer tree farm that was once across the street from my house. There too was a place of fun times and peaceful evenings spent amongst the trees. Unfortunately pine trees that don't sell well don't generate enough capital... and so the owners sold the land to a developer who ripped the trees out and put in ugly, cheaply-made STC(standard template construction) houses.
What a shame...
Robsia
Masterharper
MY CAT
My cat
Raggy ear bit by a rat cat
Scratching up the tatty hall mat cat
Clawing off the hall wallpaper bad cat!
My cat
Crying for his dinner fat cat
Chewing through his dry food bag mad cat
Laddering my last pair of tights that damn cat!
My cat
Wearing my daughter’s party hat cat
Intrepid balloon killer hero combat cat
Stealing my seat right before I sit down flat cat.
My cat
Tree climbing brave explorer type cat
Sliding down backwards claws wide, frantic-eyed cat
Washing paws calmly “I meant to do that” cat.
My cat
Stalking dirty pigeons in the back yard cat
Nonchalant in the sun, “who you looking at” cat
Eyes lidded, tummy stretched for a good scratch cat
My cat.
My cat
Raggy ear bit by a rat cat
Scratching up the tatty hall mat cat
Clawing off the hall wallpaper bad cat!
My cat
Crying for his dinner fat cat
Chewing through his dry food bag mad cat
Laddering my last pair of tights that damn cat!
My cat
Wearing my daughter’s party hat cat
Intrepid balloon killer hero combat cat
Stealing my seat right before I sit down flat cat.
My cat
Tree climbing brave explorer type cat
Sliding down backwards claws wide, frantic-eyed cat
Washing paws calmly “I meant to do that” cat.
My cat
Stalking dirty pigeons in the back yard cat
Nonchalant in the sun, “who you looking at” cat
Eyes lidded, tummy stretched for a good scratch cat
My cat.
Some lovely poems in here. And, Pyan, I'm seeing Cumbria when I read that. Oh, and you used my favourite font. Wonderful.
I felt compelled to write today, so I'll add mine to this thread:
Oh, and you used my favourite font. Wonderful.I felt compelled to write today, so I'll add mine to this thread:
Endlessly on, my life stays the same,
Through darkness and light, sorrow and pain.
Maybe one day soon I'll see an end,
A destination in sight, a bridge to mend.
But how long can I walk this same winding road?
How far can I carry this escalating load?
I see no destination, my path is overgrown.
Yet onward I go, endlessly.
Through darkness and light, sorrow and pain.
Maybe one day soon I'll see an end,
A destination in sight, a bridge to mend.
But how long can I walk this same winding road?
How far can I carry this escalating load?
I see no destination, my path is overgrown.
Yet onward I go, endlessly.
mirinda
Vernum
Good Leisha!
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