The Poetry Thread - Page 4

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  1. #91
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    I wrote this when i was 18, i was going through some deep shit back then.

    All my life i have tried
    i didnt want to show my true face
    didnt want to let them see me cry

    now here we are, you and me.
    you are my last chance for life...
    i dont want to die. Please dont let me die.

    So be with me. Or please leave me. But i cant stand your silence.
    If i cant be fully yours, i want no part.
    If i cant give you everything, then reject me.
    If i cant be yours alone, then what's the point?

    I have nothing else left.
    Ill put all my chips in.
    Even if it means i shall parish at the bridge.

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  3. #92
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    The days are warm and the view is nice,
    Playing in water and using some ice.
    Not a worry about the next days hold,
    Not even worried about getting old.

    The august wind will be soon to blow,
    A better man to educate the snow.
    Above all things I won't make a stink,
    Especially on Friday the Thirteenth.

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  4. #93
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    Awesome thread. I quickly did this simple poem after I saw such thread existed O.o.
    The poem might be a bit cliche to most O.O. .

    Good Riddance Procrastination

    Tomorrow started today,
    The future has become the present,
    Mountains have become footprints,
    Time has become an ally,
    Dreams have become reality.


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  5. #94
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    Icon

    A man lies in a hospital bed,
    Its been a week sense he was dead.
    They stopped his heart to make it right,
    Instead he still puts us in fright.

    Will the prayers of strangers bring something true,
    Another day to speak to you.
    A father, a son, a wife, a daughter,
    It seems crazy we will all laugh harder.

    The feelings are had in such great silence,
    How to communicate with out such violence.
    The orders are alerted of a man's final feat.
    One more time to hear his heart beat.

    Dedicated to my father.....

    Last edited by Corpus_Callosum; July 25th, 2012 at 05:52 PM. Reason: needed to add an s.....
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  6. #95
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    The woman and the child and the sea and me

    I saw a beautiful woman standing in the surf, her long legs ploughing foam-churned furrows in the kneedeep swell.
    She was bare breasted and carried an infant in her arms. She was alone except for the child, which was
    dozing with his chin on her shoulder, closed eyes flickering with dreams.
    "Where is your husband?" I asked over the hiss of the surf, the water darkening my jeans and making them heavy and cold.
    The sun was curling behind the horizon and drawing the starry curtain of night over the shore.
    When the woman turned to me her face seemed crumpled for a moment with pain or grief,
    but quickly blazed with a hot contemptuous smile.
    "This is my husband," she said, "He was a champion swimmer. He was famous, he appeared in a Guiness advert.
    He swam so much the sea washed 25 years off him."
    The waters were being turned to milk by the fat cool moon. I shivered, despite my comfortable sweater.
    "Thats absurd," I said, "why would you say something like that?"
    She sneered at me, a beauty mark punctuating the bold statement of her nose, her eyes glittering with Gulf Stream brine.
    "To make you leave me alone," she said.

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  8. #96
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    Nice one. Try playing around with rhythm and syncopation. Carefully organization the structure of your lines.

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  9. #97
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    With all the knowledge of the heart,
    Medical and even what knot.
    It is not fair He can't be treated,
    Even now the fires are heated.

    will he be there all alone,
    With his wife next to the thrown.
    A young jack to get a hand,
    Now its time to make the amend.

    The sound is where we echo the most,
    I will be ther for my father's toast.
    Then a time out to sea,
    Withh the lives that carry me.

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  10. #98
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    A hero of this man,
    Now sits upon the sand.
    Passing through the hour glass,
    I know he'd rather catch a bass.

    I know feel a leader is born,
    Again from this roses thorn.
    Which trail with the Organ be,
    A toast to Father and one for thee.

    The one who needs isn't she,
    But a boy to be set free.
    An eager brother to bear the burdon,
    I promise to take care and have no burbon.

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  11. #99
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    This year is coming to a quick end,
    Not many more days to play in this sand.
    An eagle shall fly me to that place,
    Where a life's been wanting of my taste.

    The hopes of meeting a grand a fellow,
    In San Fran where I hope to bellow.
    Then the eagle will take final flight.
    On to Seattle to cook up a bite.

    Then play arts and all I know,
    Fullfil the fate that has taken us so.
    More education is in our hands,
    Teaching and preaching to reclaim our friends.

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  12. #100
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    One the morrow a jet flyes with sorrow and cast a shadow on the,
    Then with hands and time and trends a hellthier land will be.
    For the gates of home are guarded with cones and irises of ivory,
    Not a place to rest or speak of my best but leave so humbily.

    The kingdom will fall right next to the mall and down in his-stroy,
    We will speak of kind things and words and dings and take away mrs. ory.
    The horr of Babylon is quite the faun in that secret garden,
    So aim it high and hit the thigh for you gain even God's pardon.

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  13. #101
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    Vulgar you has some remarkable visuals in your poetry. =)

    Jacob you are good at making the Lounge a more hospitable place! Poetry takes a lot of practice. Try some structured poetry.

    I've included some freeform and some structured poetry with instructions. I want to take these and do illustrations to them (my original intent) but havn't had the time.

    Above

    the palace walls lay cold and thin
    darkened by the storm without
    and now my tears are gone
    as i leave for my abode
    going forth, midst mourning stars
    away from wastes and future ruin

    Below

    the blackened days still nearest crouch
    soon seas bled out and toxic crap
    shall portent the age of aiwass
    there is no kingdom for you
    there is no king for you
    you'll stay right here where darkness bids
    and your sole judgement is thy will

    do thy will

    or else all is lost

    Ananta Deva

    i awoke

    moon long since risen and fallen

    through melted sand

    a black slitted eye

    crosses the sky

    a trio of stars slips over the surface

    as if we are moving at great speed

    i feel

    the tip of his tail

    caress my forehead

    from a billion miles away

    i have nothing to say

    like a butterfly has nothing to say

    to a beautiful stranger

    The Pantoum, Wikipedia:

    "The pantoum is a form of poetry similar to a villanelle. It is composed of a series of quatrains; the second and fourth lines of each stanza are repeated as the first and third lines of the next. This pattern continues for any number of stanzas, except for the final stanza, which differs in the repeating pattern. The first and third lines of the last stanza are the second and fourth of the penultimate; the first line of the poem is the last line of the final stanza, and the third line of the first stanza is the second of the final. Ideally, the meaning of lines shifts when they are repeated although the words remain exactly the same: this can be done by shifting punctuation, punning, or simply recontextualizing."

    The Pantoum of the Dark Princess

    Love is a dark princess made of ice
    Sense and lila made of galaxies and life
    You fire burns through me, transcendence's vice
    Between breathless sighing at the end

    Sense and lila made of galaxies. And life-
    Our own child, mildew and all - (sorry)
    Between, breathless, sighing at "The End"
    While cities fall, and galaxies collide


    Our own child, mildewed and all - sorry,
    they hadn't said "I love you" in a while
    While cities fall, and galaxies collide
    Its often easy to forget the purpose of it all

    They hadn't said *I* love you in a while
    Your fire burns through ME. Transcendence is vice
    It's often easy to forget the purpose of it: All.
    Love is a dark princess made of ice

    The Shichigon-zekku Wikipedia:

    "In composing Shichigon-zekku, the character of the phrases (zekku) is important. The rule is as follows: First phrase (kiku - wå): Depiction of the scene Second phrase (shoku - å): Add further illustration and detail to the kiku Third phrase (tenku - âå): By changing the scene of action, reveal the true essence of the poem Fourth phrase (kekku - På): In assimilating the tenku draw together and complete the poem The Japanese terms mean literally: bringing into being; understanding; changing and drawing together."

    Abrahadabra Forums (English Shichigon-zekku)

    A glass prison surrounded by righteous tigers outside.
    The light is irritating and young.
    Above, my ba perches, heaven's black pride.
    And before love, preferring storm to his tongue

    Last edited by Izi; August 22nd, 2012 at 02:40 PM.
    ---- -
    sehertu mannu narāṭu ina pānāt šagapīru ningishzidda
    abrahadabra
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  15. #102
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    "Jacob you are good at making the Lounge a more hospitable place! "

    i mock for fun but i agree!

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    Izi

  17. #103
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    "Begone! ye mockers; even though ye laugh in my honour ye shall laugh not long: then when ye are sad know that I have forsaken you."

    Liber Al Vel Legis, 3:56

    My other pet project, illustrating Liber Al....probably my favorite piece of poetic work over Byron and Baudelaire. Now that the tarot is over I actually have the time. People just don't realize how this artsy fartsy shit eats up a lot of fucking time...poetry included.

    ---- -
    sehertu mannu narāṭu ina pānāt šagapīru ningishzidda
    abrahadabra
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  19. #104
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    At least this one's art related...

    The Ink's Run Dry

    The ink’s run dry,
    I fear.
    And all the lead’s been shattered
    in their dusty boxes.
    Even the colored tubes,
    my wasted fortunes,
    have gone belly up
    in their smelly coffins.

    She just won’t come out to play anymore.
    She left me blank,
    left me in a staring contest,
    with begrugged, neglected canvases.

    Sometimes they shout at me,
    taunting me,
    trying to provoke me,
    make me lose my cool.
    Sometimes they give me the silent treatment,
    turn their gessoed faces to the wall,
    pretend they don’t see me.

    Some day she’ll be back.
    Sneak up on me in the middle of the night,
    give me a good little jolt.
    And before you know it,
    the paint’ll run slick on their bald woven faces,
    just like before.

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  20. #105
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    The end of the world came and went,
    Most are still working to make the rent.
    Lots of time has come and gone,
    We are still waiting to sit on a throne.

    Working to change an enlightened one,
    Knowledge of space and time and a gun.
    Making of places for the secret to meet,
    It has been proven I can take the heat.

    And if the world would better be dead,
    Then don't pay attention and turn your head.
    For the Spirit lives outside of thee,
    And I'm not asking for a bended knee.

    The bridegroom sits upon his cloud,
    Watching and waiting the ominous crowd.
    To pick the two to show His worth,
    Already alive to give new birth.

    Have you seen them walk through a street,
    Parading and flaunting the things so neat.
    For I have heard most of them call,
    You artist are everywhere I have found afterall.

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  21. #106
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    This site should have a poetry section

    Website

    New World Creation: Designers Wanted – Environment of the Week
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  22. #107
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    Quote Originally Posted by Vulgar` View Post
    This site should have a poetry section
    Smartellic...... Nice rap, but I half expected something more entertaining.

    Like this,


    A walk through the park
    it was getting dark.
    I saw his fangs
    I ran through the rains
    A chase from a biest
    Should have headed east

    Now out of a shoe
    looking to a Jew
    Thought I could get a way from you.
    Turns out your were right
    put me up tonight
    So we can discuss the fight.

    And if you are to die,
    I will tell them a lie
    so we don't fry
    and may be they won't cry
    for the death of two
    will make the Jew
    A reality for all of you.


    Now, put this to that little beat of your's Vulgar. I really need to stop reading.......and get back to my abstracts.........

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  23. #108
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    LCD Dictator display.

    chained a captured captive, staring blankly at their trap;
    the wish for want of sleep, slipping sand through rusted tap.
    their eyes have long glazed over, as their brains they fade away,
    the light that beckons onward, beckons nowhere but to stay.
    to stay in desolation; with faces peeled away;
    emotions aren't listening as night turns into day.
    naked and afraid, there's freedom in the dark;
    to cease to be in the data sea, my monitor now owns me.
    the hours pass more aimless, as I lie in laughter lost;
    if time was money, not even the richest could foot the cost.
    never power down,
    never sleep.
    never move,
    and never speak.
    The sound of raindrops collect below fingertip extensions of the mind,
    to the social networks I've given all- I've signed away my life.

    Fudge this AWESOME place!!!

    My SKETCHBOOK: please critique! i can take it!

    To limit one's maximum knowledge is to maximize one's limits.

    Sanity is wasted on the boring.
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  24. #109
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    LCD Dictator display.

    chained a captured captive, staring blankly at their trap;
    the wish for want of sleep, slipping sand through rusted tap.
    their eyes have long glazed over, as their brains they fade away,
    the light that beckons onward, beckons nowhere but to stay.
    to stay in desolation; with faces peeled away;
    emotions aren't listening as night turns into day.
    naked and afraid, there's freedom in the dark;
    to cease to be in the data sea, my monitor now owns me.
    the hours pass more aimless, as I lie in laughter lost;
    if time was money, not even the richest could foot the cost.
    never power down,
    never sleep.
    never move,
    and never speak.
    The sound of raindrops collect below fingertip extensions of the mind,
    to the social networks I've given all- I've signed away my life.

    Fudge this AWESOME place!!!

    My SKETCHBOOK: please critique! i can take it!

    To limit one's maximum knowledge is to maximize one's limits.

    Sanity is wasted on the boring.
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