The Poetry Thread - Page 3
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  1. #61
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    I haven't been writing any poetry recently. I guess I realized I suck at it.

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  2. #62
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    Quote Originally Posted by Jacob Kobryn View Post
    I haven't been writing any poetry recently. I guess I realized I suck at it.
    What was your point of writing poetry?

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  3. #63
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    It was fun. A different art form that I hadn't really explored yet.

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  4. #64
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    Login incorrect.
    Only perfect spellers may
    enter this system.

    --

    With searching comes loss
    and the presence of absence:
    "My Novel" not found.

    --

    Out of memory.
    We wish to hold the whole sky,
    But we never will.

    http://strangeplaces.net/weirdthings/haiku.html

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  6. #65
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    Here's a classic from Gil Scott Heron.

    A rat done bit my sister Nell.
    (with Whitey on the moon)
    Her face and arms began to swell.
    (and Whitey's on the moon)
    I can't pay no doctor bill.
    (but Whitey's on the moon)
    Ten years from now I'll be payin' still.
    (while Whitey's on the moon)
    The man jus' upped my rent las' night.
    ('cause Whitey's on the moon)
    No hot water, no toilets, no lights.
    (but Whitey's on the moon)
    I wonder why he's uppi' me?
    ('cause Whitey's on the moon?)
    I wuz already payin' 'im fifty a week.
    (with Whitey on the moon)
    Taxes takin' my whole damn check,
    Junkies makin' me a nervous wreck,
    The price of food is goin' up,
    An' as if all that shit wuzn't enough:
    A rat done bit my sister Nell.
    (with Whitey on the moon)
    Her face an' arm began to swell.
    (but Whitey's on the moon)
    Was all that money I made las' year
    (for Whitey on the moon?)
    How come there ain't no money here?
    (Hmm! Whitey's on the moon)
    Y'know I jus' 'bout had my fill
    (of Whitey on the moon)
    I think I'll sen' these doctor bills,
    Airmail special
    (to Whitey on the moon)

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  8. #66
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    With auto correct in play
    why worry today?
    This system is so simple
    the users have their pimple.
    wow what a wonderful day.

    Now with you in line
    we can catch up on time
    walking the day way.
    go log in again
    the keystroks aways been.

    filter through the system
    checking notes in line
    streaming vids and music
    wanting to turn a dime
    man, did this blow your mind?

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  9. #67
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    Quote Originally Posted by Jacob Kobryn View Post
    It was fun. A different art form that I hadn't really explored yet.
    That is a good reason. I think you should still do it if it's fun.




    For me, I become crazy and anxious if I don't write. There are way too many notepad files scattered around my desktop.

    Here is something;

    I see it falling across the sky
    its broken wings now burning with fire

    the one who created something out of nothing

    and out of darkness has brought forth light.

    circumferencing around the globe
    seeing everything, it closes its custard eyes.


    (implication that the wings were made by the One itself, as it was trying to build its own wings, its own salvation, but has failed in the end)

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  10. #68
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    Late VD Poem

    A day came and then it went,
    time that could have been better spent.
    But a phrase passes through my head,
    The wanting is better than having instead.

    That statement has held me for the moment,
    not sure how long one can last with torment.
    But there's strength to remain still true,
    to the only one who ever got through.

    Now let more time pass through our hands,
    As the days go and people befriend.
    Stories are spread of what I'm doing,
    I'm sure your proud of who your screwin.

    And if you believe what I'm feeding you,
    then I promise this, it's not the jew.
    That guides this spirit through the dew,
    But the one I cherrish, that one is you.

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  11. #69
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    I've been experimenting with poetry lately, and here's three I came up with.

    The Artist's Soul

    To put your love
    and mind and time
    into characters on a page,

    or small drawings inside a book,
    then to turn around one day

    and notice
    that your very soul
    has been bled away,

    would indeed seem sad to some
    that did not know,
    for how on earth could I convey?

    that it has not died,
    it lives outside me now
    thus my soul shall see bright days

    unimaginable by my mind,
    who in giving thus received
    a gift more precious than I can say.

    Touch

    You touch me
    soft as silk newly worn,
    and cold as snow
    melted by the sun.

    Hold Me Sweet

    Hold me sweet
    hold me still,
    don't let me out of sight

    for if you do
    I'll fade away,
    deep into the night

    I'll live among the grass and trees,
    hiding from the light

    then I'll appear
    in one thousand years,
    bringing pain and fright

    your tears for me will by then have dried
    and all that once I had long died,
    so I'll go sit beside our tree,
    resigned to thoughts both wild and free
    of time once spent
    wrapped in your scent,
    when we were left alone by time

    don't let me go
    don't let me fade
    don't let me disappear

    for if you do
    I shan't return
    for one thousand years

    so hold me sweet
    hold me still,
    don't let me out of sight

    for if you do
    I'll fade away,
    deep into the night.

    Last edited by ezekrialase; February 18th, 2012 at 12:35 PM.
    art is never finished, only abandoned~Leonardo da Vinci
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  12. #70
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    Heres one I call

    The Fear of Fear of Fear

    The void of torment torments my void
    I fear my fear of fear itself!
    But the seed of fear I need not fear,
    for fear of fear is worse than fear itself!
    I lie awake all night
    Because I slept all day and didnt go to lectures
    The sound of hatred shatters the quiet silence
    Its my mum, calling to see if I need more money

    Last edited by Velocity Kendall; July 14th, 2012 at 12:31 AM.
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  14. #71
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    Loneliness

    Loneliness
    the cresting wave,
    burning in the summer haze.

    Loneliness
    the shifting smile,
    hidden by the night.

    Loneliness
    the foolish gaze,
    staring back at me.

    Loneliness
    will never change
    so don't bother to try.


    Let the Fire Fade

    oh let the fire fade,
    let the evening die,
    let time now roll away,
    turn morning into night

    now's the time to turn from day,
    from light so blinding bright,
    so let time gently roll away,
    turn morning into night.

    let the fire fade,
    let the evening die,
    let time now roll away,
    turn morning into night.

    art is never finished, only abandoned~Leonardo da Vinci
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  15. #72
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    Quote Originally Posted by Velocity Kendall View Post
    Despair

    I lie in my smelly room, suffering the pain of a thousand agonies!
    Oh the bitter bitterness!
    The bitter, bitter bitterness!
    The wild flame of bitterness has sparked an even bigger, bitterer flame!
    And that flame has burned a bitter bit of my heart to black ashes in the night!
    My playstation3 is broken
    Maybe Im not meditating enough?
    Aw, was that a blatant blow towards me? Maybe it all was, but surely even my worst poetry wasn't that DeviantArt-ish.

    Funny stuff, though.

    Something I've learned about poetry, just through reading poetry, is that what is most important, as with all writing, are the sensations and feelings of the reader. You can write exceptionally passionate poetry, and even write beautifully, but the poem may fall short if the reader can not directly experience what you are talking about. It's an abridged form of story telling, in a way, and is as such much more urgent. We have to convey to the reader in one line or stanza what in a book may take up several pages. Because of this our writing has to be extremely sensuous.

    Another thing is rhythm. It's hard to get the rhythm in a poem to feel right. All poems (and writing in general, one could argue) requires the right flow and rhythm to be most effective. The only way to really learn which rhythms seem right, however, is by reading a lot of poetry by a wide diversity of poets. It's something that will ingrain itself intuitively.

    About rhyming: If the rhymes don't come naturally, and aren't fully in service to the poem, then don't rhyme. It's difficult to pull off a good rhyming poem. Hell, it's hard to write good poetry in general!

    That said, I haven't been writing any poetry recently, but I have been reading some.

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  16. #73
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    Hehe Im only messing, I doubt there are many guys who havent at least contemplated writing slightly mawkish verses about feeling shitty.

    Last edited by Velocity Kendall; July 14th, 2012 at 12:30 AM.
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  17. #74
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    And there's no need to mock meditation. Through any sort of grievances, or periods of pain as well as periods of joy, few things have helped me more in my life.

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  18. #75
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    Im glad it helped you with your period pains

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  20. #76
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    Wow, velocity, you're on a roll! I got a good couple of laughs there.

    I don't know if songwriting is accepted here? Thought I'd contribute with a song I wrote and recorded just under a year ago. It's called Anhedonia and can be heard here: http://soundcloud.com/thewholeshebang
    It's a bit more poppy and icky than the stuff I usually do. Well, so is that other Lost My Way song, but whatever.
    Since this is, after all, a poetry thread, I'll post the lyrics as well.

    Anhedonia
    The simplest of beats
    A one-hit retreat
    On the FM
    You do it to yourself

    We'd like to think you're still here
    We'd like to think you still feel
    But you're fading
    Like soft words on a mirror

    We ran to the beach and got off our socks
    And you went to town to get fucked up

    Anhedonia, please let her be
    She knows you much better than me
    Oh she's young and she's in
    But her world is a world full of sin
    I bought a gun, I bought it for fun
    I bought a gun, I bought it for fun

    I tried to make things anew
    I tried to look inside you
    And there was nothing
    In there for me to use

    Saw you on Huron today
    Mind all wasting away
    Can you remember
    How sweet we used to play?

    Anhedonia, please let her be
    She knows you much better than me
    Oh she's young and she's in
    But her world is a world full of sin
    I bought a gun, I bought it for fun

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  21. #77
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    Well if we're doing songs, here's one I wrote a few months ago. More folky than the ones I usually write. http://soundcloud.com/jkobrin/time-wont-let-me-go-demo

    I remember the day she was taken away
    I cried "Don't let her go!"
    Oh the cold in her eyes extinguished my faith
    for time has let her go

    Oh the piper calls me to his gate
    but time won't let me go
    and into the dawn I carry my shame
    for time won't let me go

    Oh time may make me a beggar,
    time may fill me with hate,
    well I found a way to bury my pain
    but time won't let me go

    Oh time may make me a beggar,
    time may fill me with hate,
    well I found a way to bury my pain
    Oh time please let me go

    Oh time please let me go

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  22. #78
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    Illustrated pome

    Illustration has changed a little (okay, maybe more than a little). An inkwell that belonged to a family named Sharp...
    Name:  poem.jpg
Views: 185
Size:  165.7 KB
    Poem by me.

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    I used to be able to do some writing and poetry in my native language, since switching to English... forget it (I've gone almost completely visual since switching).
    I think it might be very true, that a different part of the brain is engaged in a foreign language situation.

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    The Blessed and the Damned

    Let the Darkness envelope.
    Let the Silence deafen.
    Let the Demons roam.
    Let the Senses fade,
    and turn your Sightless eyes
    towards what once was Heaven,
    and Hear the ceaseless wailing
    of the Blessed and the Damned.

    art is never finished, only abandoned~Leonardo da Vinci
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  25. #81
    kev ferrara is offline Registered User Level 17 Gladiator: Spartacus' Dimachaeri
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    Been a long time since I was in such a bad mood that I had to write a poem. But here was one of the last ones I wrote, maybe a decade ago:

    embittered by my tether stain
    the ink pen scratched along the parchment of my isle.

    sacrosanct alone
    at the Houston of my travails
    on Benzedrine and Al Capone
    it developed with the evening lark,

    a ghostly smoke click ritual pleased
    morbid TV demeanor

    Then but then
    Joy came towards me on a street in Venice
    grinning like the keys of a piano.
    and shaking the smile tree in dry season
    I came upon a clearing
    in the nightly tar.

    An ebullient dollop dolled mature.
    A bouyant drop in armature
    brings hard to shore aground.
    An edifice of fog, a town,
    a dueling glare, a daring growl,
    a grueling dare, ungodly how the hour cares
    for a tumbling ice cube child
    in the wake of the last fair remaining,
    last fair un-prefabricated maiden
    fresh from startled pollen failed
    now awakened to the mourning-aired
    greyed-down version of her spire.

    At least Icarus tried!


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  26. #82
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    I keep meaning to post this here. I think it's brilliant..Gordon Ramsay quotes as poetry:


    A Gordon Ramsay Poem

    Holy mackerel
    It’s dry, the skin peels away from me
    I’m amazed you’re still open
    I feel like I’m on the Titanic
    I’ve never seen anything so backwards


    stupid cows

    ramsay turns

    expecting scallops

    it’s raw

    IT’S RAW

    stupid cows




    The blog ---> http://gordonramsaypoetry.tumblr.com/

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  27. #83
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    Thought this might be funny even though not mine.

    a haiku about going to school tomorrow:

    no no no no no

    no no no no no no no

    no no no no no


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    Cheesy blues song I wrote. Maybe I'll record the song.

    The devils puttin' on her dancing shoes
    One sole at a time
    Gonna paint this red town blue
    Work her way down the lonesome line
    One soul at a time
    She wont stop til' she's satisfied your demise
    I'm so frightened I'm not comin' out tonight

    Last edited by Waxon; March 15th, 2012 at 02:51 PM.
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    Ask and receive, for your gifts will overflow
    Acknowledge your wishes, and strength will follow
    Say your prayers and it will come true
    In whatever you do, God will work with you



    Thanks for making the thread, Jake.

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    Five year ago today,
    I was sent to play,
    in a land without structure.

    With a life left behind,
    No one to tell time,
    How far I will away.

    It seems to me,
    to little a plea,
    to beg for a place to stay.

    Now what to do,
    five years a brew,
    to go back that fateful day.

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    Greetings, Mr. Sandman



    The Turk fell into the sandpit
    the sound was like a bag of rice plopping onto a pregnant belly
    Split into quarts, drizzled over the sides
    Balsamic in the blood drum, making tea dry & bitter
    his vital organs and organic equilibrium
    Spilled forth into the Aqaba sea
    Which was the only “blue” that eyes could savor for a long stretch
    Too much made you thirsty, city-sick
    The desert does have a way of burying the deceased in a day’s time
    It took his aspirations, yes it did
    Confiscated it in a swift but brutal power grab of moisture
    The bronze boots he flew about with did little for heat relief

    chalked mouth for a chalk outline
    A detective’s story erased by the erosion of the wind

    Words left his mouth as if unspoken
    Saliva, larva of tongue, dark crevices left as evidence
    That a man once boomed from a knowledge-drilling concave
    Where rivers of phosphate
    and serpents of Arabic languages roamed

    Sanskrit tablets written in octagonal whispers
    Hissed about the shapeliness of shapeless landscapes
    A farm that only grew grains of sand
    Always happening upon travellers during a drought
    drinking mirages with dry ice
    Sipping the traditional universe from a silver tablespoon
    It is ceremonial to do so

    Shadows take form

    The monster of every desert
    is the towering, barebacked lack of water

    Don’t be so polite to the blasted thing

    You’ll
    only slay it
    when you cross it

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  33. #88
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    Friday the Thirteen the days are melting away,
    Can't believe how much fun I'm having today.
    Now the end is coming true,
    Spend the summer at the blue.

    This is going to be so great,
    Now that evals are strarting to quake.
    The earth may spin round and round,
    I don't have to live underground.

    So follow your heart and remember what true,
    A laugh from them is quite a brew.
    Got room for many to enjoy a feast,
    Nothing in my story carries a biest.

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    Both are anxious that the world should be priest-governed, though they have probably never confessed so much, even to themselves. And the " fourteen " — or such of them as were old enough to hope and discuss their hopes — talked over their golden future. liking is a tender plant, and never thrives long when watered with tears. Let the 'arth around your married happiness be moistened by the dews of kindness.

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    I don't write too often; only when I'm really down on myself and feel like giving up on life itself, but it's something that I've carried along for a while and have been doing it on my own without really seeking to push it any further than what it ought to be: a piece of me.



    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    I'm so irritable
    I know
    I'm sorry thats the way it goes

    I'm manic depressive
    High one moment
    and lowered without incentive

    I come and go
    Hibernate then explode

    I wasn't there for a lot of moments that were important
    I'm sorry for that and can only hope you understand
    For everything I am, I guess I'm not that bad,
    Just a little bit of both, so dont let go of my hand~

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    God, why must we romanticize the past
    while living like hell during the present, so cold?
    The warm happiness never seemed to last
    and all I dream for now is some rest for my old soul... </3
    But my young heart screams not so fast!
    How can I leave without being able to let go?

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    nobody loves me the way you do
    what's inside of me that no one else can see but you?
    is it really there?
    why can no one else feel its presence?
    some say life is beautiful, and I can sense it
    but I can also see it's rotten til it's very essence
    it's just we don't wanna believe it
    so we carry on with our ugly diseases...

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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