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Poetry

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  • Poetry

    I thought some of you cats might like to share poems and discuss others, they can be ones you writ yourself, or just poems you think are really good by other authors, but put the name of the author.

    I'll start of with a poem I writ myself

    Mountain Flame by Peter John Ellis(me)

    I am the flame
    That burned so low.
    I am the way
    Everyone should know.

    Theres a flame on the mountain
    And a fire in my soul
    Theres a world in the making
    And its time to roll.

    I am the wind
    That blew so hard.
    I am the message
    Showed in the card.

    Theres a flame on the mountain
    And a fire in my soul
    Theres a world in the making
    And its time to roll.

    And as I survey
    This broken land
    I see the horizon
    Fall to sand.

    Theres a flame on the mountain
    And a fire in my soul
    Theres a world in the making
    And its time to roll.

    I watch the sky
    Come falling in
    I know now why
    I hear this din.

    Theres a flame on the mountain
    And a fire in my soul
    Theres a world in the making
    And its time to roll.

    What is not is what is
    Find your soul tonight.
    Battle your way through the flame
    The mountain flame

  • #2
    Poem

    Ok...
    I'll make one up right now,and good or bad,let it stand or fall:

    Community Thoughts: Terentek.

    The Smoke curls from my cigarette
    across the monitor's screen.
    Already the words right themselves
    as if coming from a dream...

    All the words are just words
    and not the things I have in mind
    Where universe's lay curled,sleeping
    round the Skullstar caverns of my mind..

    Dragons rise from the river of blood
    Skies pour down sulpher tears.
    there's something about a silent child
    pointing through the years...

    I can't remember the names
    or why they even are
    It's just the whisperings of memory
    Just the way things are....

    How strange,white smoke turned black
    and drift across the words.
    The thread of other worlds and things
    vanished,or banished,all their stories unheard...

    Endings are always there
    Last three lines of life
    thought occupies one
    and all that leaves me is,none.

    Title added after.
    Good....or....bad?
    Terentek.

    Comment


    • #3
      Wow thats cool good imagery especially and the rhymes really helped the flow of it. I'll make up another one(actually semi-make up, I had a other poem that used the same ideas)

      City by Peter John Ellis

      There is a sickness upon this city.
      In the streets, people are attacked
      For no reason at all.
      Vandals burn and destroy the beautiful
      Places we cherished in our youth.

      There is a sickness upon this city.
      Noxious plumes and fumes of smoke
      Drift on the breeze with evil sentience.
      A subtle form of destruction that
      Almost every one of us takes part in.

      There is a sickness upon this city.
      I would weep for hours if I thought too long
      About the pain and suffering that takes place.
      Like a disease this must be stopped.
      There is a sickness upon this city.

      Any comments?

      Comment


      • #4
        This is actually a pretty entertaining pastime.

        Some suggestions for follow ons:

        - Some non-serious verse. Many of us don't regard ourselves as poets. The term
        "poetaster" is too harsh, because we don't have serious intentions in this area;
        it's more a game than anything else. Think of most of us as "rhymsters." The people
        with serious poetical intentions are, of course, permitted to look down on the rest of
        us. :lol:

        - Some vitriolic verse, for something (or someone) that really annoys you. I could
        see Jerico giving us canto after canto on the deficiencies of George W. Bush, and
        that would be okay, because, after all, it's in fun.

        - Some formal verse: Petrarchan, Elizabethan sonnets, villanelles, the ballade, or
        skeltonics.

        - A verse game: pick a form (e.g., the ballade), pick a series of end-rhyme words,
        and let everyone have a go at doing their own "best effort" at the form with those
        end-rhymes. I've played this game with my brother-in-law, and you'd be surprised
        at how different the results can be. It also generally produces humorous results, because
        no one can really take it too seriously.

        LSN

        Comment


        • #5
          Wow...

          Hi Hawkwlord...
          Wow...
          That got me a bit choked up.
          You might as well have been describing my town.
          That's the true art of writing,your thoughts and feelings,anothers.
          No matter who they are and where they live,emotions are emotions.
          After the Tower of Babel,the emotions on our faces our only common tongue.
          Awesome poem Hawklord.
          Really awesome.
          Terentek.

          Comment


          • #6
            Addled

            my brains are addled
            fried and congealed
            like yesterday's egg

            oh no!
            they're coming
            to scrape them off the plate.


            An old one, that. Most of my "poems" are either obscene, personally insulting to individuals, or both. Cathartic, one could say.
            \"...an ape reft of his tail, and grown rusty at climbing, who yet feels himself to be a symbol and the frail representative of Omnipotence in a place that is not home.\" James Branch Cabell

            Comment


            • #7
              Originally posted by Mikey_C
              Addled

              . . . (verses elided)


              An old one, that. Most of my "poems" are either obscene, personally insulting to individuals, or both. Cathartic, one could say.
              What's wrong with posting some of the better examples of those?

              If it's amusing or clever or just uses language inventively, that's good enough
              for most of us.

              So give. :lol:

              LSN

              Comment


              • #8
                Lowering the tone ... (by request)

                Well, a mild example is about our ex-lodger (he inspired quite a few):

                John is gone,
                he is no more;
                his stains still spread
                across the floor...

                It's factual, regrettably. :x

                A gratuitous piece of filth (fictional, fortunately):

                My name is Tricky Ricky
                And I know it's a bit sicky
                But I like to stick bananas up my bum

                I pull them in and out
                And I give a little shout
                And I make banana custard when I cum

                :oops:
                There, what have you done to me? I wanted people to think I'm an intellectual. Amusing? Clever? Who knows....
                \"...an ape reft of his tail, and grown rusty at climbing, who yet feels himself to be a symbol and the frail representative of Omnipotence in a place that is not home.\" James Branch Cabell

                Comment


                • #9
                  Re: Lowering the tone ... (by request)

                  Originally posted by Mikey_C
                  Well, a mild example is about our ex-lodger (he inspired quite a few):

                  . . .
                  It's factual, regrettably. :x
                  We didn't need to know, but it was amusing enough. :lol:

                  Originally posted by Mikey_C

                  A gratuitous piece of filth (fictional, fortunately):

                  . . .

                  :oops:
                  There, what have you done to me? I wanted people to think I'm an intellectual. Amusing? Clever? Who knows....
                  That was funnier still. It was closer to a limerick-type
                  stanza, but it was effective enough.

                  More, please. :lol:

                  As for the protest about being taken for an "intellectual," I'm assuming you
                  aren't serious. ;) As if it matters... I'd like to see what Doc and Jerico and
                  DeeCrowSeer can do with this. I'm tempted to try my hands and feet at
                  a skeltonic for this occasion. After your sterling example, I'm feeling "inspired."

                  LSN

                  Comment


                  • #10
                    Poetry is really interesting because it can mean whatever you interpret it as, and there is no rules or anything. Same with really all kinds of Art. I personally prefer music to poetry, but they are quite different mediums.

                    This poem is one I wrote in English class(for my folio i think). Its a bit random, about my guitar.


                    Guitar

                    He is responsive to the slight touch
                    Of one of his taut strings
                    He cries out in pleasure
                    With the vibrations.

                    A change of mood;
                    He gives a subtle change in tone
                    And his song also
                    Changes; wistful, wishing

                    for someone to sing to.
                    So his song may be heard
                    And the world can know
                    How he feels.

                    His long neck leads up
                    to his head, but
                    the song comes
                    From his body.

                    From his very soul.

                    Comment


                    • #11
                      Re: Lowering the tone ... (by request)

                      Originally posted by L_Stearns_Newburg
                      As for the protest about being taken for an "intellectual," I'm assuming you
                      aren't serious. ;) As if it matters... I'd like to see what Doc and Jerico and
                      DeeCrowSeer can do with this. I'm tempted to try my hands and feet at
                      a skeltonic for this occasion. After your sterling example, I'm feeling "inspired."

                      LSN
                      So you throw the gauntlet. :D Here is a bit of an excuse for not coming up with something more clever...


                      For poetry there is little time
                      Though not for lack of clever verse
                      Nor tedious rhyme
                      Instead, I must write
                      My ideas banal and trite
                      I'm even forced to admit
                      That some are pure shit
                      But they help make my future seem bright

                      Tenure is a savage mistress
                      She is ugly and cruel
                      She tries to keep my life stable
                      Though at times I'm unable
                      To use writing as a tool
                      To impress editors I must fool
                      So I can keep this intellectual label

                      Nice break from my serious stuff. I'm sure to have something more clever when my head clears.

                      Comment


                      • #12
                        Probably just me

                        Hi...
                        I'm probably out on a limb here,a limb that has several large savage dogs just waiting for the limb to break....
                        I don't believe in style rules poetry.
                        I mean isn't poetry all about expression?
                        Why would you handicap your thoughts,and make them fit into this or that style?
                        That's abit like wanting to paint a picture,but poking yourself in the eye before you do it.
                        I admire those who can,but don't feel the need to do so myself.
                        Expression is what matters,not the format of a stanza.
                        The cat sat on the mat.
                        Brilliant rhyme,nursery room haiku.
                        Except for the (silly bulls).sorry,juvenille attempt at humour.
                        Hats off to all you gentlemen that can do it.
                        Perhaps it's my hidden envy,I just write what I feel,2 lines 4 lines 5,7, whatever.
                        My appologies for this interuption.
                        Terentek.

                        Comment


                        • #13
                          A little ballade. I like working within the confines of rules.
                          It's a game: you pick a form and a set of end-rhymes and
                          see if you can function within the confines.

                          This is a little example of the old "unreliable narrator"
                          approach. It was written to order from a set of pre-selected
                          end-rhymes.

                          If you don't like finger-exercises in formal verse, you should
                          probably ignore the below. If the joke doesn't work for you,
                          it's not my problem. :lol:

                          Using the very same end-rhymes, I've got a completely different
                          ballade that I may post. I did 2 at once. That's the amusing thing
                          about picking a set of rhymes and a set pattern. You can crank
                          out a whole series of very different verses to the same pattern.
                          "Where did that come from?" is a common personal reaction when
                          writing such things.

                          LSN

                          ----

                          Come on inside. Escape the wind and dust.
                          Take off your coat and have a glass of wine.
                          To hell with water. That will make you rust.
                          Dismiss your qualms, or ask them to resign.
                          The one we serve and think of as divine
                          Is somewhere else, perhaps at the bazaar.
                          You're just in time to help with our design.
                          Tonight's the night you might sleep with a star.

                          آ§

                          These three men here are fellows you can trust.
                          You'll never hear them make a fuss or whine.
                          They'll never leave a party in disgust.
                          If oak is out, they'll switch to knotty pine.
                          You've heard the tales from those who would malign
                          A man because he leaves a little scar.
                          Forget all that. These fellows are benign.
                          Tonight's the night you might sleep with a star.

                          آ§

                          These bits of fluff blew in here on a gust.
                          They'll twist your joints until your limbs align.
                          You'll find them large in derriere and bust
                          And ready to encircle and entwine.
                          They'll get a little miffed if you decline
                          To play some game because it seems bizarre,
                          But they're good girls. They're yours and ours and mine.
                          Tonight's the night you might sleep with a star.

                          آ§

                          I feel electric. Take that as a sign.
                          I know he'll come, returning from afar.
                          Tomorrow morning we'll be feeling fine.
                          Tonight's the night you might sleep with a star.

                          Comment


                          • #14
                            A Skeltonic for Jerico (and G**rge D*by*)

                            The skeltonic is a very amusing form, with some interesting
                            possibilities for humor and satire.

                            Here's one for Jerico, to whom I extend the invitation to produce
                            something better. (Shouldn't be hard.)

                            This one is also dedicated to that inspirer of so many silly
                            and heated debates in "Political Pressures." It's not to be
                            taken seriously.

                            LSN

                            ----
                            G**rge D*by* sucks.
                            I'll not mince my words.
                            His thoughts and his flesh
                            Are carrion for birds.
                            The stench of his rottenness,
                            The stink of his filthiness,
                            Accentuate his uncleanness.
                            So vitiated,
                            So corrupted,
                            So adulterated.
                            The senses rebel
                            At the smell
                            His bowels expel,
                            But his sentiments would
                            Make his sewage smell good.
                            G**rge D*by* sucks.
                            I'll not mince my words.
                            His thoughts and his flesh
                            Are carrion for birds.
                            He's a source of disease
                            And infested with fleas
                            And exudes a foul cheese
                            Of smegma
                            And derma
                            And sperma.
                            Dishonest and cheap,
                            A black-hearted creep,
                            He robs those of sleep
                            Who their virtue would guard
                            Or keep sheep in their yard.
                            G**rge D*by* sucks.
                            I'll not mince my words.
                            His thoughts and his flesh
                            Are carrion for birds.

                            Comment


                            • #15
                              Very good :D

                              I enjoy structured poetry, but I'm no expert when it comes to the forms. I actually find it easier to write with rhymes and a regular rhythm - but I admire those who can write free verse. I lack the confidence to come up with much which isn't facetious - anyway bawdy verse has a fine ancestry; even TS Eliot indulged.

                              Here's some genuine "doggerel", which also has a tune:

                              If doggies did
                              what we all do
                              then how would doggy do?
                              If we all did
                              what doggies do
                              then wouldn't it be poo?

                              Doggy-do,
                              I hate you;
                              can't you see you're sticking to
                              the bottom of my shoe?


                              Doggy do and
                              doggy don't;
                              doggy should
                              but doggy won't -
                              if doggy did
                              then doggy's good;
                              doggy would
                              if doggy could...

                              Doggy-do,
                              I hate you;
                              especially when you're sticking to
                              the bottom of my shoe...


                              But doggy did
                              what doggies do;
                              what else could doggy do?
                              If doggies didn't
                              do what he did
                              there'd be no doggy-do!

                              Doggy-do,
                              I hate you;
                              it's time that you stopped sticking to
                              the bottom of my shoe!
                              \"...an ape reft of his tail, and grown rusty at climbing, who yet feels himself to be a symbol and the frail representative of Omnipotence in a place that is not home.\" James Branch Cabell

                              Comment

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