Do You Write Poetry?

[Talysia]

That's a good one, Jacko. I'm impressed!

[Talysia]

Sorry to post after myself like this, but since I thought I'd better have a go at poetry, I thought I'd post it. It's hardly serious, but I hope it isn't too bad.

Autumn, out of all the seasons,
Provides a grand display.
Colourful, for many reasons,
with Autumn nymphs at play.

They force the leaves to change, to start,
To decorate the trees
And turn their playground into art
For fun before the freeze.

They flit from tree to tree, in search
Of seeds to hide and seek.
They sing of Poplars, Oak, and Birch
With whom they used to speak.

But when the nymphs feel Winter's pull
They know it's time to sleep.
They nest in leaves and scraps of wool
With things they want to keep.

And then the end, when dry leaves fall.
A rain of red and gold,
Which settles fast and covers all
And Autumn's story's told.

[Chrystelia]

Originally Posted by jackokent

I wrote this after listenning to yet another episode of my teanage god-kid's chaotic love life.

I fell in love last night
after a party.
It was love at first sight
and everything was perfect, like it should be.

We walked home past the beach
I noticed the moon for the first time
Huge and bright, only just out of reach.
and I held her hand in mine.

We look out over the sea
It was like a mirror you could almost touch
She leaned up and kissed me
Then I said I loved her, very much

We sat on a rock holding hands.
We counted all the stars in the sky
we made a million different plans.
Then we said goodbye.

She came round this morning
I met her at the door
It's cold today, it's started raining
and I don't love her anymore.

I like it. So true when you are 15.

[Chrystelia]

Originally Posted by Talysia

Sorry to post after myself like this, but since I thought I'd better have a go at poetry, I thought I'd post it. It's hardly serious, but I hope it isn't too bad.

Autumn, out of all the seasons,
Provides a grand display.
Colourful, for many reasons,
with Autumn nymphs at play.

They force the leaves to change, to start,
To decorate the trees
And turn their playground into art
For fun before the freeze.

They flit from tree to tree, in search
Of seeds to hide and seek.
They sing of Poplars, Oak, and Birch
With whom they used to speak.

But when the nymphs feel Winter's pull
They know it's time to sleep.
They nest in leaves and scraps of wool
With things they want to keep.

And then the end, when dry leaves fall.
A rain of red and gold,
Which settles fast and covers all
And Autumn's story's told.

Talysia, not bad at all. Very few of my poems rhyme as good as yours.

[Talysia]

Thanks, Chrystelia. I think I'll stick to prose, though. I can't write poems that evoke feelings that well. Poetry (as I've found) is a lot harder than it looks for me!

[Chrystelia]

Just a few lines, but I think it is intelligible compared to the crap I produced the last few weeks.

Fly, fly away, my heart,
For the one who calls awaits,
In the drowned lands far away,
Fly, fly away.

I'm not sure if this can be considered as poetry - more like a song to me.

Note: "the drowned lands" is something from the story I am currently working on.

I hope to add more to it.

[Arumbus]

Not sure this counts - it is the lead in for a chapter I (Shyla's Dark) did on the Legends of Mernac site. It may, or may not make sense if you have not read some of the stories... I am NOT very good at poetry so do not laugh too much - but here it goes none the less:

Shyla’s Dark





Fear sunset, for Shyla comes from the dark


Shyla will seek you out, for she must feed the dark


Shyla detests love and light, for she takes solace in the dark


Shyla craves your hair and soul, for they are the way to the dark


Shyla hides, slices and steals, for she wants souls in the dark


Shyla has no sorrow or remorse, for she is the dark


Pray for sunrise, for Shyla comes from the dark





14th Century Kezian Proverb

Author unknown

[Talysia]

Good to see that someone is using different forms of poetry. My efforts are very basic and formulaic, so something like this is very refreshing to see.

[BUSHLEADER]

Thanks to all of you who commented on my poem "Tanzanian Nights". I also read and enjoyed the eclectic poems and alternative styles of those of you who submitted your work. However, I must admit, I am a bit of a "moon in June" poet, and like my verse to rhyme!

[dustinzgirl]

Here's a short one:

Do you love me?
The words came, unbidden by her kisses, and she ignored them


Do you love me?
He asked again, running rough finger tips across her smooth face


She smiled at him with blue fire; words that were lies fell in the mist
Of course I do not, silly boy.


He pause for a moment, pressing his hand against her cheek
Why not?
The boy, who had just become a man, wanted to ask, but he did not
Instead, he grinned beneath the darkening moon
And pressed his lips against hers
I can make you love me.
His voice rose from the deepest parts of his heart


She would have responded, but breath and life and all things warm
Fell away into bursts of hail.

[daisybee]

The poems posted have been really good
I post stuff on another site, as I seem to end up writing poems when I get pen to paper
Heres one

Regret

Wishing I could turn back time,
Knowing that I can't.
Hoping that it's all a dream,
Knowing that it's not.
Praying for a miracle,
Knowing it won't come true,
Helpless in my fantasies,
Knowing what I do.

PS Talysia, I love rhyming poetry and that was good!

[jackokent]

Originally Posted by dustinzgirl

Here's a short one:

Do you love me?
The words came, unbidden by her kisses, and she ignored them


Do you love me?
He asked again, running rough finger tips across her smooth face


She smiled at him with blue fire; words that were lies fell in the mist
Of course I do not, silly boy.


He pause for a moment, pressing his hand against her cheek
Why not?
The boy, who had just become a man, wanted to ask, but he did not
Instead, he grinned beneath the darkening moon
And pressed his lips against hers
I can make you love me.
His voice rose from the deepest parts of his heart


She would have responded, but breath and life and all things warm
Fell away into bursts of hail.

Dustinzgirl, I think your poetry is truelly amazing. You should do an anthology - I really mean it.

[Rik Roots]

Yep. I'm currently in the middle of NaPoWriMo - National Poetry Writing Month - which means writing a poem a day through the whole of April. Here's one I prepared earlier:

Lych Woman

They've carried grandad Clegg across the stiles
and down the hill feet first, their misty arms
a sheen of moonlight joined around his box.

Eyes closed, she watches future histories
parade along the road, each witnessing
a source of strength. The bench beneath
the churchyard gate is damp against her legs,
now numb from sitting still. Old Clegg was good
for sharing gossip over steepened tea -
she'll miss his wisdom when he goes, she thinks.

Another coffin tops the hill, so small
a man can carry it alone. Her John
was four when Jesus called him home
so unannounced, an autumn drowning. Thumbs
of fog massage her shoulders; time to leave
the witnessing and take the straight road home.

The last to pass is fuzzy - just a shape
of light above the muddied path. A voice
behind her whispers: "Tis yersen, old wife."

[Tamageta]

When she came within a breath of me,
Gasping with some unneededly suppressed laughter,
Me, complacent, started with a sudden and swift desire;
Started, shaken from my indifference that had been years growing,
At her smile-forming mouth, the lips - white teeth between them -
Pushing outwards tentatively, softly,
Unknowingly hinting at lasciviousness.

Your semi-unashamed laughter takes
Me in like dreams envelop me: taking shape
Around me, making me believe in things unkowable. Your
Arms are Earthbound angels' arms, formed fearfully
With a thousand black hairs that like underwater life
Lie with serene beauty.

M., you, like a mystic equation
Are more than the sum of your parts;
You become like heat in a desert's morning.

[Redhawk]

DANTE’S SECRET copywrite May 13, 2000 Laura S. Hewitt

In a castle dark and gray
In a time that’s not today
Stands a Lady tall and proud
Afore her father voices loud

Tears that fall from eyes so green
As the Lady makes a scene
Her hair ripples red and gold
Mother wonders at her bold

A lad that grew from stripling boy
Into a man whose heart felt joy
As magics powers to command
Flowed easily from mind to hand

Yet wondered whence the laughter came
And over years twas not a bane
The golden curly headed girl
Became to him a shining pearl

He set out when the time was right
To seek the lady through the night
And found her broken near the hill
Then franticly he worked to heal

When opened eyes first saw his face
She knew not of this time or place
Not of the secrets he would share
Nor of the path fore woven there

And once the story finally told
The lady’s anger twas quite bold
But as the truth bloomed in her mind
She saw in truth he had been kind

Their hearts together beat as one
Rekindled what had come undone
A love that lasted long through time
Of faith and hope that truly bind

To fight against the evil deeds
That harm the common peoples plead
To live their lives without such strife
By magic power and the knife

So joined together of one heart
Forever always not to part
No matter what the distance be
The time is right for them to see

In a time when Knights they fought
And a daughter pleaded naught
In a castle dark and gray
In a time that’s not today.