Nice, Darkiwng. :goodjob:

Indeed, and may I say how nice it is to see you posting some of it. Why you are so shy when it comes to poetry, I'll never know. Its good stuff mate. Now, seeing as you've posted one poem, you've whetted my appetite for more. In case you missed it, that was an unsubtle hint

I would post my own, but it doesn't exist. Unfortunately I can neither write nor truly appreciate poetry, and I don't have any desire to do either. As far as I'm concerned, my life will now remain completely free of poetry forever now that my english exams are over.

The first in a series of poems:

To see you, standing there
Hand in hand with him
It felt so sad, so unfair
Betrayal doesn’t begin
To describe
This unforgivable sin
What makes him,
Better than I?
Does he not bleed when pricked?
Does he not feel,
When he is kicked?
Is he more of a man?
Does he not care,
Not give a damn?


Could I have some feedback?

This post has been edited by Stargazey: Aug 4 2005, 03:17 PM

Wow... I know someone that have felt that one before, it's very good and actually true when it comes what you think if you see someone you love with another guy..

Great Gazey! Wonderful and beautiful..

yes I agree. i only have a problem with the line "When is kicked" just doesn't seem to fit in, drop the is or ad something in O.o

Thanks . As I said, it's the first in a series.




I don't know why that is in there. Let me go and edit it.

This is one I wrote a couple of years ago. It is "about" something Jonajosa and anyone else who lives down South will recognize.

Green Violence
Transplanted, as were our forebears
Finding new life in the red clay
A manic growth that holds us
In the summer heat
That draws us back when we wander

It softens and hides the shapes of
The hills, as our accent softens our words
And conceals the iron underneath
An explosion of green violence,
Overwhelming and unstoppable as our passions
Makes fantasy monsters of trees whose ancestors
Witnessed true monstrosity

It covers all equally-
The groundhog burrow and the slave shack
The Chevrolet Grandma and Grandpa drove to
Ringgold to get married
Not a native, yet inseparable from
Our image of ourselves
A part of us now,
That covers all, forgives all, grows as our
Children grow,
Not always as we wish, but as it must
Climbing too high, spreading too far, reaching through
The fences we build.

Nice work everyone.
Poetry isn't something I know well...but I like most of it here. You gotta be brave to throw your poetry out there, I commend you...it is wonderful work.

That's really good, Treydog.

Here's the second part in my series of poems:

This is how I am left
Devoid of emotion, bereft
Like an empty shell,
My own personal,
Empty, barren, hell
This is what you’ve created
Through your ignorance and hatred
Violence is not my way
But by my god, you will pay

I must say I am very impressed of all good poetry posted here.I´m not a poet myself, but I appreciate and recognise good poetry when I see one,,and I´ve seen quite a lot of it here already.

Keep your poems coming all you lovely poets out there...I read it all and enjoy it.

The Roses by ED 209

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden roses;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees, 5
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay: 10
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay, 15
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood, 20
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the roses.

This post has been edited by ED 209: Sep 7 2005, 09:28 PM

Simply amazing ED 209 (pssst - try taking out the line numbers, it'll make it look more like you haven't copy+pasted it ).

No a serious poem now! It's about my life in the hoods of East Galway;

The Bad Life

I was walkin down the street
And I guy I did meet
Sold me some hash
In exchange for some cash
Me and Big Mike
Bet up a kid and then stole his bike
So we robbed the bank
And bought a tank
In the slums
There's lots of bums
Galway's a tough place
Just in case
You want to come here
You have lots to fear.


It just goes on like that.

Okay I have two poems, here's one:

For Tomorrow

Heaven is a struggle
A drop of your blood hitting pavement
A cramp from your shoulder’s burden
It’s when you cry for a dream
And hold on
It’s when you raise your fist
And say no.

Heaven is a place
A solitary grave in Nowhere
A giant globe on your back
You are its pedestal
You keep it mounted
Without your endurance
It would shatter.

Heaven is a sunset
Over a golden woods
From the eyes of your children
Watching with innocence
Birds chirping, deer dancing
Life breathing
Through the very lips
That holds your kiss.

Heaven is achieved
When you struggle
For a place
For your children.



And Poem nuymber 2

Divine Fall

Every line was checked and doubled
Every hook pulled and tightened
My equipment will cause no trouble
And yet I am severely frightened
My body’s tension is not subtle
And my heart beat quickly heightens
I only hope I have the mettle
I only hope my nerve won’t lighten

Eyes of mine watch the shadows
Graze upon the black abyss
Oh you sweet and gorgeous tableau
Oh you vixen, lay your kiss
May all my crude, blackened blood flow
May all my sounds be one queer hiss
May my true prideful spirit glow
And write its name upon Death’s list

Dive for treasure or for meaning
Fly for one last piece of hope
Dive forever and without reason
Fly so that I may float
Master fear and conquer treason
Of my body’s quaking coat
Lose the shackles, gain true freedom
Until the tension takes the rope

Not for now and never more
I will not end this at Ballade
It is my future I deplore
Oh Sir Time please send your nod
And freeze this place forevermore
Before my rope begins to prod
Please do not let me see the floor
Right now I’m busy touching God



This post has been edited by DoomedOne: Sep 10 2005, 07:44 PM

Swords, Axes, Halberds And Bows!
All To Slaughter The Common Foes.
But Many Wizards Have Come To Find,
That The True Weapon Is In The Mind.



Words, Letters , Books, News,
Read, Burn, Learn What You Chose.
This Must Be Done, That Must Be Read!
Why Must We Do What Destiny Said?
Learning Can Be Such A Marvelous Tool,
Especially When Enforced By School.

I wanted to contribute, so I quickly did two. Stargazey had some excellent poems there.

This post has been edited by Wurlon: Sep 10 2005, 06:46 PM

Untitled

I sit here and look at you,
While you look back at me.
I wonder what you want;
You wonder what I see.

I let my imagination run,
Should I make the first move?
Will we turn out to be “friends”?
I’ve begun to hate that groove.

Sadly the time tics slowly by,
And you say that you must go.
I stay seated here still thinking:
Will true love ever be so?

Here's a ballad I wrote for school not too long ago,



The Molten Minotaur



In a land of forests, mountains and deer,
the towers constructed rise quite clear.
It is a place of all trade and constant farming,
but the local beasts are rather alarming.



Animals and beasts still roam the land,
Of which each must each be killed by hand.
Even local men-at-arms attempt their best,
but some of the beasts can be quite a test.



There was once a ranger named Heckalo,
Who was skilled with the spear and the bow.
His gold had accumulated by selling hides,
and the women would love the pride of his strides.



Heckalo was sure to be the best at his skills,
those who followed him hunting adored his kills.
But one monster was too tough for him to defeat,
the minotaur had a hard hide from its head to its feet.



Avoiding the minotaur was always a must,
or the foolish foe would be face-first dead in the dust.
But Heckalo had a plan to slay the strong beast,
he would use flaming arrows from the tower to the east.



It was months before the beast began its attack,
so Heckalo rushed in his chain mail suit of black.
He was fortunate; the minotaur was smashing the east gate,
Heckalo ran with a horse’s strength to avoid being late.






This ranger climbed the mighty gray tower,
then aimed with his bow and fired with all his power.
The fiery arrow struck the minotaur in its snout,
but the arrow did nothing but make the beast shout.



Frustrated with failure to kill the brown furred thing,
Heckalo sprinted to the gate to reach the west wing.
There he found pitch pots and piles of rough rope,
so Heckalo tied two pots together with one hope.



With all of Heckalo’s accuracy he swung the two jars,
and these swirling meteors spun like thick red bars.
Then the ranger released the fiery bombs down,
and so this beast became a fiery mixture of red and brown.



Heckalo rushed through the wing to the gate,
to see the beast howling and screaming with hate.
But it was not long before the beast could withstand it anymore,
So it collapsed on its back on the burnt dirt floor.



Every guard at the gate gasped at the sight,
A minotaur was never killed while still in the light.
Heckalo now the best and feared of all rangers,
was honored by every townsfolk and even strangers.



There were no beasts or monsters now to duel,
So now Heckalo spent his days on a bar stool.
He would wait for an opponent to come fight one day,
Or a beast like the minotaur to battle and slay.


This post has been edited by Wurlon: Sep 30 2005, 04:41 AM

Stargazey- Your poems are very... haunting. Something about them seems to just strike a note, ring a bell, in my head. I really don't know how to describe it better.

Make your own decision whether it is poetry or songs, or some disgusting form of sewer trash that should never have crawled from it's place.

"Change"

Everything is changing
but it stays the same,
Nothing ever changes
but the sounds and the names.
Rivers always flowing
but they stay the same.
Forests always growing
but they still look the same.
Everything is changing but
nothing has changed.
Everthing and everyone
still seems the same.
Life is always different
Life is always the same.
Different world, different names
but it's all the same.
The worlds always growing
always ever so small.
River's always flowing
the water still flows along.
Forests always growing but
still covered with trees.
Music's always different
but we still feel the beat.

"I am"

I am wrong, I am right.
I am black and I am white.
I am good and I am bad.
I am happy and I'm sad.
I am evil, I am good,
I am just misunderstood.
I am just like you,
I am all confused.
The world passed me by,
I once wondered why.
The world is a place,
Full of anger, hate and bias.
Hate because I'm black or white,
Hate because I'm wrong or right.
Hate for no reason at all,
Now they must take their fall.
Pride will kill them all.
Pride comes before a fall.
What comes before pride?
Washed out by the tide,
No one's along for the ride,
Now the arrow of fate will fly.
Time and time again,
It seems like it will never end.
I am evil, I am good.
I am just misunderstood.
I'm at both extremes,
I will never be between.
I'm alive and I am dead,
I'm the tail and I'm the head.
I am the cat and I'm the mouse,
I am in and I am out.
I am war and I am peace.
I am nowhere in between.
There are two for now. They aren't great, but they both evolved somewhat in the process of typing them out.

My latest, beautiful poem.

"If you"

If you sell pieces of your humanity
Pass them off as your currency
And rap them up for the black market
While the world sulks in a crude casket

If your fame is airborne on blazing wings
Rocketed out to space leaving smoke rings
That linger on to masticate the ozone
While you live up and above all alone

If you make people tremble in fear
Of losing their families and all they hold dear
Enslaving villages with the army of Nike
And with your axe try to strike at their psyche

If you breed death in your giant factories
While sitting down and sipping Peach daiquiris
Acting like you never did nothing wrong
Paying your parrots to keep singing that song

If you regret nothing and enjoy every ounce
Of pain you have caused so you can trounce
Then remember this one sole simple line
You are an enemy of mine