New Poetry Thread

[mirinda]

A words or two could be replaced or removed, it would make it less choppy. That's a problem I have alot. Other than that yes it does have a very obvious rythym.

[Hilarious Joke]

Waiting

A second measurer moves

A blink

A change in the light

A slight gust

A papery sound

A key being tapped

Waiting

[Precise Calibre]

Preparing for a piano recital? That's what I got out of it anyway.

[Precise Calibre]

Trust not the one who would tell you what they intend to do for your well-being.
With a bright and smiling face, they shake your hand as daggers swim beneath the mask
They will stand before you and make promises while being behind you all the while

No hesitation, no mercy will they give you when it comes time to drive the knife home
Your blood shall fill their coffers, your soul shall fuel their infernal engine
The lies they bind you with will trap you forever unless you seek the truth
Only by tearing the mask from their face will you find freedom from their chains

Actions will deafen the wicked and drown out deception with muted savagery
A silent soul who acts nobly is better than a soul who only speaks of noble actions
Trust not the one who gives only with their tongue but takes with both hands

[Heretic]

The uphill struggle against ourselves

sending the main force forward

while the cavalry flanks from the sides

a tactical cliche.

Why not send the cavalry to the supply lines and cut it off

and then send out the reserves to flank and the main force to charge?

And why must one wait for the enemy to starve or smash their walls

when poisoning the water supply or use traitors are just as efficient?

Not sure if this is a good way of talking about the techniques of fighting writer's block.

[Grimblade]

Been awhile since I posted poetry. I'm seeing some great stuff on this thread though so why not..

If there could be a gentler wind behind me then I have yet to feel it
On this precipice I'm twirled and twisted by it's brother
It judges as a god should - no sorrow for me or anything that has happened
But what I fear, I will to happen some day.

But calm. Here comes the raging sun
I will this. A parent and a lover
Borne from the wreckage of my conscience
My lack of remorse and guilt thereafter personified.
Incarnate.
This dawn won't be kind to me.

[Grimblade]

Is the sudden inactivity of this thread a compliment or an insult since I was last to post? My ego leans towards the former but I'd like to see more posts!

[Precise Calibre]

As someone with the constant feeling that no one cares what I say, I'm inclined to believe that whenever a thread dies, it's my fault. I AM the thread-killer!

Anyway...

I like the poem you posted grim. Is it about a hanging or something similar? The imagery you used definitely implied that a hangman's noose was involved - at least in my mind's eye.

[Grimblade]

No, though I can see the connection you've made. It's actually a kind of foresight, the narrator is looking into his future and seeing with absolute finality his end. He's completely aware of all the things he's done and though he knows that it was wrong he can't find it within himself to be anything but self-concerned.

I enjoyed reading your poem a couple of posts ago. The architecture of it would do it justice as an oath or mantra in a novel perhaps?

[pyan]

Square on the hillside, the plantation,
Smart in its various bands - gold for the larches' autumn glow,
Green for the pines, lined up below,
like soldiers, dressed for parade.
And in the cars that swish past like frantic mice, they cry:
"Isn't that pretty! Isn't that nice!"
And I suppose it is....I suppose.

But my memory yearns, as memory does,
for the wood that stood on that self-same hill:
Yearns for the wild and tangled ways, for hide-and-seek,
for the smell of damp earth, for the fallen trees,
Remembers the blue of Spring, carpets of bells,
the green, green glade where the rabbits were,
the slots from the roe-deer, seldom seen...

And if the memory lingers, as memories do,
Who can blame me... Will you, then? Will you?


Needs more work, I know...

[mirinda]

I like it pyan.

[Precise Calibre]

I really like that last one.

It reminds me, quite painfully, of the large conifer tree farm that was once across the street from my house. There too was a place of fun times and peaceful evenings spent amongst the trees. Unfortunately pine trees that don't sell well don't generate enough capital... and so the owners sold the land to a developer who ripped the trees out and put in ugly, cheaply-made STC(standard template construction) houses.

What a shame...

[Robsia]

MY CAT

My cat
Raggy ear bit by a rat cat
Scratching up the tatty hall mat cat
Clawing off the hall wallpaper bad cat!

My cat
Crying for his dinner fat cat
Chewing through his dry food bag mad cat
Laddering my last pair of tights that damn cat!

My cat
Wearing my daughter’s party hat cat
Intrepid balloon killer hero combat cat
Stealing my seat right before I sit down flat cat.

My cat
Tree climbing brave explorer type cat
Sliding down backwards claws wide, frantic-eyed cat
Washing paws calmly “I meant to do that” cat.

My cat
Stalking dirty pigeons in the back yard cat
Nonchalant in the sun, “who you looking at” cat
Eyes lidded, tummy stretched for a good scratch cat

My cat.

[Leisha]

Some lovely poems in here. And, Pyan, I'm seeing Cumbria when I read that. Oh, and you used my favourite font. Wonderful.


I felt compelled to write today, so I'll add mine to this thread:

Endlessly on, my life stays the same,
Through darkness and light, sorrow and pain.
Maybe one day soon I'll see an end,
A destination in sight, a bridge to mend.
But how long can I walk this same winding road?
How far can I carry this escalating load?
I see no destination, my path is overgrown.
Yet onward I go, endlessly.

[mirinda]

Good Leisha!