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Poetry....Your favorites, and your own.
#36
Confidence

Why am I afraid?
I look down at this page
My heart beats faster.
I imagine someone will read this
They'll probably think it is stupid.
So I stop writing.
Reply
#37
I'm stronger than this...
I have learned my lesson.
It won't happen again....

The hurt you've caused me.....
The pain I feel is unbearable.
I can't think, eat, or sleep..

I never thought that this would
happen to me....But Like a fool
I walked right into it.........

Love catches up to all of us eventually.
I wasn't expecting it to end like this..
I want to hate you...But I can't........

I'm stronger than this. Maybe if I keep
telling myself that, I'll believe it...
Maybe I'll get some sleep tonight.Maybe.

I'll never drop my guard again...You were
my last chance...and I failed miserably..
I will get through this.In time,I'm sure.

I've got to get you out of my head...Out
of my heart....I will never forget this.
Never forget what you have done to me...

So, I'll just go on...Lick my wounds.........
and continue with my life...without you......
In the end,this will make me a better person.

That's just what I'll keep telling myself.
So I can get some sleep...
Reply
#38
Here are some of my poems:

POEM
I hate poetry, it's so restricted
the endless rhymes afflict it
Stricken with sameness, absent of spices
same old literary devices
No one ever writes a poem
from neither heart nor soul
the base for every poem
is something someone stole
Rhyme, alliteration and breakage of rules
Poets are crazy, messed up fools
Every poem ever written, every single line
is an unoriginal copy,
except, of course, for mine.

DRIVING
You sat there, we rode
My hand in yours
or on your knee
affection
Because I loved you
You don't sit there now
I drive
My hands on the wheel
or on my knee
distraction
Because i loved you
Others sit there, we ride
Our hands to ourselves
No knees involved
Devastation
Because I still love you.

LULLABY
A melody I heard
In a dream
I woke and knew the tune
I played it for her
She wept
And fell in love.

RUSH
raise my arms
Voices go up
Strike the Chord
Bodies move
To my music

PRAISE
God of Grace, God of sound
Melodies in sky and rhythms in ground
The beat of our hearts where you are found
To the music of creation, our Lord you are crowned.

I hope somebody likes these. I have many more if you do.
Reply
#39
Quote:

Dances with Chainsaws:
I'm stronger than this...
I have learned my lesson.
It won't happen again....

The hurt you've caused me.....
The pain I feel is unbearable.
I can't think, eat, or sleep..

I never thought that this would
happen to me....But Like a fool
I walked right into it.........

Love catches up to all of us eventually.
I wasn't expecting it to end like this..
I want to hate you...But I can't........

I'm stronger than this. Maybe if I keep
telling myself that, I'll believe it...
Maybe I'll get some sleep tonight.Maybe.

I'll never drop my guard again...You were
my last chance...and I failed miserably..
I will get through this.In time,I'm sure.

I've got to get you out of my head...Out
of my heart....I will never forget this.
Never forget what you have done to me...

So, I'll just go on...Lick my wounds.........
and continue with my life...without you......
In the end,this will make me a better person.

That's just what I'll keep telling myself.
So I can get some sleep...

I really like this one. Close to home.
Reply
#40
My heart breaks
with every beat
My soul aches for you
I am dying inside
I'll never hold you again
never caress your cheek
never taste you in your kiss
My lungs are bursting
with every breath
Without you I can't breathe
I am miserable
without you
I am desolate
wasted
beyond words
I am empty
and
alone
Reply
#41
Flyers, good taste in poets.

Anyway, some of my own (honest opinions requested), maybe more to come later:

Hope

They came away
with nothing…

I too have seen
the greatest minds of
my generation,
Their brains atrophied,
flung against walls,
walls I raged against
until my hands were
pulpy, gnarled, useless…

Help came and we sat
on rooftops at sunrise;
a scene out of some bad dime
novel that housewives keep hidden
under shadows and sheets.
My bleeding fists quivered
when I looked out on a world
of rejection…

Sun ignited across shingles
and I found solitude up so high,
surrounded by friends;
even if they were on paper…

The cliché new day arrived
and like those before me,
I came away with nothing.

In That Room, In That Bed

(this poem is not my favorite, but was written a few years ago as, strangely enough, a reaction to the Bishop piece and another poet whose name alludes me at the moment)

Next to me,
Her molten hair drips down,
Caressing the pillow and flowing outward,
Forming a pool of Crimson on the tangled blankets.
I lay back,
As she dreams with an innocent smile oblivious
To my contemplation on the twilight’s events.
The sweet smells of sweat and sleep
Fill this place with an aroma like
Sharp-spiced melodies.
Through the window,
Frozen sunbeams penetrate our Spring,
Illuminating us both and stretching to
Touch her flawless snowy skin.
I listen to her glowing night breath
While I wonder if Isis herself
Might compare to her external perfection.
I hate her.

Struck at 4
(reaction to Robert Creeley’s “Myself”)

Think to myself
Armstrong said wrong--
world, now, feels
pressed by

importance. Reaction
changed, mists otherwise
lucid memory of
beaches and

callous smooth against
sand. These, days
meld, questions
of hope, of happy

arrive staring at
a ceiling. Poets,
like the clock,
tell nothing.

The dead
must find words.

2 AM Critic

“When did fortune cookies
stop telling
fortunes and start giving advice?”
you ask as I pull a
crisp twenty out of my wallet.
The satisfied reflection
wrapping your face and the fluff in tone
is a cue that you still feel clever,
even at this hour.
I lay the money on the table
and attempt
a bemused smirk,
while I think to myself that
telling a Fortune and giving Advice
are much the same thing.
The only difference
Is efficiency.

Reply
#42
The King loves his Queen

I'll rip you apart like a soft rock. You'll need a dozen buckets propped up on the sharp horizon to catch yourself in. We'll listen to Abba as we drive to the sea. You'll listen to the high notes while I'll sing along to the bass.
I'll see a hole through your bookcase turn green and drip. I'll kill Americans with my bible missiles of blue paper. You'll grant me a last wish on the banks of the Humber. You'll walk towards the trees and scare away the crows.
Today we took time to stare at the rips in your cardigan. You'll bleed like that forever and never have to listen to the rain. I'll buy you a house where the cuckoos kill.
I'll kill Germans with my boot oil and my stomach noises.

Just lately the ships have sunk into blackness and begun to glow in the mute depths. Just lately we have smelled the glue that keeps the doors wide open. Can we visit so many museums...can we hear the jelly household wandering.
I'll give you a pair of shoes to fit your stumps. The shortest season is our world.
I'll kill the English without wonder. I'll kill them in the ballroom with my forehead noises.

Flood us with pill popping days out to the sea where the carnival rusts over and snaps.
We'll take to the air when they see us there, in our overcoats and our hats.
I'm the liar and you are the comfy chairs. Watch us on TV as we carry out our tasks.
You'll bake a dirty photograph and send it, send it to someone else.
I'll climb the dusty tower block for a meal or two.
<img src="http://dannyswainn.tripod.com//sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderpictures/ra.gif" alt="" />
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#43
"For H.G."

I look back on our time and smile
with fondest memories in my heart
and though we had but a short while
it was beautiful from the very start

The moments that I shared with you
were more than my poor heart could take
Those moments were a dream come true
but sadly, now I am awake

Even though our time has passed
and we must both move on
My love for you will always last
long after you and I are gone

I'll think of you 'til my dying day
and I'll love you 'til the end
Though our time has slipped away
I'm grateful that I can call you "Friend"

So, Thank You for the memories
of the time we spent together
I will take them, keep them here with me
and remember you...forever.
Reply
#44
Utter shit. For your consumption.

<a href="http://www.sas.upenn.edu/~johnpc/" target="_blank">www.sas.upenn.edu/~johnpc/</a>

Oh, and don't call me a shill. I'm just too lazy to copy and paste from one site to another.
Reply
#45
Mine in Misery

The time has come to let you go.
Though you were never mine at all.
As feelings pass, this you should know:
I felt like God before my fall.

The love that I still feel for you
is dying with every part of me.
No words I've said have been more true
than you were mine in misery.

The time has come to leave you be,
to let you love the one you choose.
I'd die to have you here with me,
but you were never mine to lose.

The time has come to let you go.
So soon of you I can be free.
And in my heart I'll always know
That you were mine in misery.
Reply
#46
A Game of Hearts

A poker table,
A barroom night club,
Etched in shades of grey and brown
Fine newspaper shadows
Lie printed on concrete blocks
Sponges masquerading as brain cells

Five chairs sit
Laughter, curses through the smoky haze
Even though no one smokees
Light dust tinged with stale beer's smell
Even though nobody drinks.

The game is Hearts, and
Stephen deals the cards.

Plastic kings twirling like saucers
Hurled by a rough hand whose
Square fingers danced
Upon keys and candlelit pencils, whose
Hard grip stirred
Castle rocks and dreamcatchers, whose
Maine palm carried mice
Down prison miles and
Up dark towers, whose
Rough fingers toss
The last card.

With the dealing done, and
The youngest first,
Neil plays his cards.

Blue shadows spill over
Darkening clubs and diamonds, as
British tips, stained with
Printers ink and dark mud
Found in London's below, while
A highway's smell clings to boots,
Odin's talisman hanging.

The suit is clubs, and
Play moves to Harlan

"Tick tock," says the watchman
As cranky fingers look at soldiers,
Onyx eyes staring,
Driving in spikes,
That thick red moment found
In galaxies and Bradbury-tinged
Hometown fantasies.

Harlan leaves two spades, and
James must follow

Heart's hitmen look back at
Spectacled spheres with a
Reckless versmilitude found
In cold six thousand
L.A. streets, and Vegas clubs,
Flying cards scrawling
An American tabloid of
Black dalhias and Brown requiems

Stephen moves to play, and
A knock from the door.

I enter.

My trembling notes flash yellow,
A nervous pencil asking
Slipper's feet smash, tripping,
Blue lines and dandelion rectangles
Floating through a lightbulb clone
I reach for my notes, but
They are reading them

Eight ellipsied criticize pages until satisfaction,
Thin smiles creeping, considering
The stories and themes printed there.
I shake my own ellipsies, anticpiating
A well-earned rejection.

Stephen puts down my pages, and
Turns to me.

"Have a seat," they say.
Reply
#47
Holy shit! Chainsaw, I love your stuff. I saved the first two and will use them for inspiration when I stuck on my writing. I'm no poetry expert but you should write a book.
Reply
#48
Ok, I'm taking another turn.
These are all by me.

(Written at the very bottom of a page)
SHORT POEM

Not so much space here
And so a challenge to place here
A brief bit of thought on
on some subject of substance
though I think I am caught
in my own wisdom chase
as it seems I have used all my limited space.
_____________
CLASSROOM

I go to class to write poetry, to listen to music silently, to think and pray while someone else is talking.

I go to class to think about leaving class, to travel to Siddhartha's river, not Duncan's, to embrace my love, a kiss, during an important lecture.

I go to class to be alone among the students, each living and dying, dying to live, but so scared and unprepared for real life, the world outside the classroom. Inside the classroom, the world.

I go to class to choke on spoon-fed knowledge, the silver 747 soaring at sonic speeds down my throat down my throat, in one ear and out the other, completely passing my mind, only left with the heartburn of bland information served over-seasoned so that it will go down on the notepaper more easily.

I go to class to dream about sleeping, to watch a professor with a degree and a paycheck flounder as helplessly as any of us, rippling the glassy cosmic surface, gasping for true oxygen, the clean air that cleans the blood which gives life to the brain which convinces the heart to pay attention in the classroom, because here, there is something to learn.

_____________
ENGLISH 370

Teacher says not to write, "Just listen to me!"
So I write
Just to spite
Because I hate this rape of artists and their artistry.

_____________
I DID IT

Today, I put aside pride and told my past
To stay
Right where it left me, right where I moved on.

-------

Ok, I guess that's too many. Most of you only do one at a time.
Reply
#49
Quote:

HeavyMetalThunder:

I DID IT

Today, I put aside pride and told my past
To stay
Right where it left me, right where I moved on.

I dig this one alot.
Reply
#50
Recovered

Our brothers,
our fathers,
our futures all lost.

Yet we had no war.

The waves beat against
the stony shores anyway,
and here we sit on the docks
waiting for a return.

We wish for definition
in the sanitized world that our
predecessors had manufactured for us:
but still we looked out to the sea
hoping that it would be different.

Storms came and passed;
the tide curled around our feet,
lapping hungrily
at the warmth of our skin
and then moved on.

And we could not move on.

Why must it take guns
and blood
and fathers
to save the world?
To be remembered
must we sacrifice ourselves to?

Ourselves are all that we have left.

The shore is in sight always.
To walk away
is the hardest thing we must do,
to be out where so many
have not returned.

No matter what happens,
we must go there.
Things will be taken away
people will be taken away
even dreams will be taken away.

But not this.

Do I speak for us all? No.
But do I see them on the shores,
thinking as I do? Yes.

We see each other.
*****************************
Law

“Defying Gravity is easy,” I say
as we float around the café.
“It’s your mind’s projection.”
Your piercing gray eyes,
skeptical as ever,
peer up from Grey’s.
A sip of coffee.
A deep breath.
A gesture at the pages before you.
“You can’t defy Nature”
is the measured reply
that sends me crashing down
Thud!

****************************
Lines

The soothing sound-orgy slapped
Into the air like flashing neon
On a purple night backdrop
And bounced around the shrouded club.

He listened with detached admiration
As a deep thought density
Seemed to swirl on his face.

She reserved herself
To inhale the brassy,
Smoky atmosphere
That glimmered in the surrounding darkness.

Good band, she thought
When the set throbbed into
A twirling resonance
That liquefied on contact.
…nice to dance to…

All at once,
He flowed forward as if liquid metal:
“My life is a bubble,
flitting through the air,
flirting around mortals and gravity
with no apparent path or purpose
until it shatters.”
With a smooth transition,
He seeped back into his own thoughts.

She painted him a mask
With a grin and a thought-provoked look;
All the better to harbor her own notions:
Fucking poets.
************************************
The Gasoline Dream

As I rode
An azure whale
Through foaming sand
And evergreen sky,
I came to earth’s end.
Puzzled by nothingness
I asked
“God? God?”
A joking reply of
“Where? Where?”
Seemed implied
By it’s absence.

Suddenly
Alone in Wasteland
Where parched flowers
Echo to my
Subconscious,
Truth beckoned.
Fires burn rainbows,
Coarse angels crumple
Across the landscape
And I am naked,
Left with only
Ashes and atheism.
***************************
The End

5 Long Island ice teas.
3 Red Stripes.
Infinite shots.

I
Celebrated freedom
Soaked my hands with tears
Vented lovefearhate out a truck’s window
Made the day’s meals a puddle.

I peed in front of an ATM
and waved for the camera.
I made a friend leave me on my lawn
so I could sleep.
It was 5.

In the door at 7,
up at 9
work

sick,
Arrive at 10
Sink down a chair
Munch Pepto tablets all day.
Too sick to think of
stars
night
her

******************************
Road to Atlanta

Night still faded purple,
we stopped.
They won’t sell beer on
Sundays-- what kind of
prehistoric law is that?
Bribery works better
than pleading,
ten bucks for a clerk
is doing the world a favor.
We told the driver
we stole it.
He sped off into the
miles ahead and
as the tang of burned
tires mixed with laughter,
we all knew that
22 doesn’t last
much longer.
Reply
#51
"THIS WAY TO THE GREAT EGRESS"

No more magic have I left.
No sleight of hand, nor trick of mind.
I stand here empty, all that's left
is the fool that fate has left behind.

I thank you for allowing me
this chance to put my skills to use.
Though as you all can plainly see,
the gift I had has turned me loose.

I have no tricks left up my sleeve,
no crystal ball to gaze upon.
When the curtain falls, I'll leave.
And like the magic, I'll be gone.

So, now the show has reached it's end
I hope I've managed to impress
you, your family, and your friends.
This way to "The Great Egress".

Reply
#52
I'd stare at you forever if you'd just give me the time.

I'd snare the stars from the night sky if that would make you mine.

I'd climb the highest mountain, and swim the endless sea.

I'd stroll right through the gates of Hell to have you here with me.

Reply
#53
Good stuff, guys. Keep 'em coming.
Reply
#54
PURGE
-----
When frustration hits,
I want to be a bomb, set to explode and kill the air around me
Burn, burn, burn, with rage and hate
Bear the broken image with pride
Destroy.
Destroy something helpless
Break something of no importance
And scream and bleed without caring about the pain.
Every foul word I know like bullets from my mouth
Gaping exit wounds of high-caliber sin in full auto,
Just dealing death, grinning all the while.

THE UNNAMED FEELING
-------------------
It starts with feeling sick, and tired.
Then your energy is sapped by restlessness.
Inaction nurtures frustration and anger, which leads to seclusion and loneliness.
Yet there is the desire to be alone, despite such a consuming longing to be held while you fall apart in tears from pain without identity.
This is the unnamed feeling.

ALL I COULD THINK
-----------------
Bad thoughts, violent action
You son-of-a-bitch!
How dare you continue to live and breathe
Smirking, smiling, moving on with your life!?
My fist, all five fingers, down to the bone, for you, crushing your skull, shards of satisfied vengeance in your wide, pleading, bleeding eyes.
I still want to kill you.
But all I could think was
Stop.

Reply
#55
Quote:

Smirk:
Recovered

Our brothers,
our fathers,
our futures all lost.

Yet we had no war.

The waves beat against
the stony shores anyway,
and here we sit on the docks
waiting for a return.

We wish for definition
in the sanitized world that our
predecessors had manufactured for us:
but still we looked out to the sea
hoping that it would be different.

Storms came and passed;
the tide curled around our feet,
lapping hungrily
at the warmth of our skin
and then moved on.

And we could not move on.

Why must it take guns
and blood
and fathers
to save the world?
To be remembered
must we sacrifice ourselves to?

Ourselves are all that we have left.

The shore is in sight always.
To walk away
is the hardest thing we must do,
to be out where so many
have not returned.

No matter what happens,
we must go there.
Things will be taken away
people will be taken away
even dreams will be taken away.

But not this.

Do I speak for us all? No.
But do I see them on the shores,
thinking as I do? Yes.

We see each other.
*****************************
Law

“Defying Gravity is easy,” I say
as we float around the café.
“It’s your mind’s projection.”
Your piercing gray eyes,
skeptical as ever,
peer up from Grey’s.
A sip of coffee.
A deep breath.
A gesture at the pages before you.
“You can’t defy Nature”
is the measured reply
that sends me crashing down
Thud!

****************************
Lines

The soothing sound-orgy slapped
Into the air like flashing neon
On a purple night backdrop
And bounced around the shrouded club.

He listened with detached admiration
As a deep thought density
Seemed to swirl on his face.

She reserved herself
To inhale the brassy,
Smoky atmosphere
That glimmered in the surrounding darkness.

Good band, she thought
When the set throbbed into
A twirling resonance
That liquefied on contact.
…nice to dance to…

All at once,
He flowed forward as if liquid metal:
“My life is a bubble,
flitting through the air,
flirting around mortals and gravity
with no apparent path or purpose
until it shatters.”
With a smooth transition,
He seeped back into his own thoughts.

She painted him a mask
With a grin and a thought-provoked look;
All the better to harbor her own notions:
Fucking poets.
************************************
The Gasoline Dream

As I rode
An azure whale
Through foaming sand
And evergreen sky,
I came to earth’s end.
Puzzled by nothingness
I asked
“God? God?”
A joking reply of
“Where? Where?”
Seemed implied
By it’s absence.

Suddenly
Alone in Wasteland
Where parched flowers
Echo to my
Subconscious,
Truth beckoned.
Fires burn rainbows,
Coarse angels crumple
Across the landscape
And I am naked,
Left with only
Ashes and atheism.
***************************
The End

5 Long Island ice teas.
3 Red Stripes.
Infinite shots.

I
Celebrated freedom
Soaked my hands with tears
Vented lovefearhate out a truck’s window
Made the day’s meals a puddle.

I peed in front of an ATM
and waved for the camera.
I made a friend leave me on my lawn
so I could sleep.
It was 5.

In the door at 7,
up at 9
work

sick,
Arrive at 10
Sink down a chair
Munch Pepto tablets all day.
Too sick to think of
stars
night
her

******************************
Road to Atlanta

Night still faded purple,
we stopped.
They won’t sell beer on
Sundays-- what kind of
prehistoric law is that?
Bribery works better
than pleading,
ten bucks for a clerk
is doing the world a favor.
We told the driver
we stole it.
He sped off into the
miles ahead and
as the tang of burned
tires mixed with laughter,
we all knew that
22 doesn’t last
much longer.

You have a really cool poetic voice, Smirk.
I really like all these a lot.
Reply
#56
Quote:

Smirk:
Recovered

Our brothers,
our fathers,
our futures all lost.

Yet we had no war.

The waves beat against
the stony shores anyway,
and here we sit on the docks
waiting for a return.

We wish for definition
in the sanitized world that our
predecessors had manufactured for us:
but still we looked out to the sea
hoping that it would be different.

Storms came and passed;
the tide curled around our feet,
lapping hungrily
at the warmth of our skin
and then moved on.

And we could not move on.

Why must it take guns
and blood
and fathers
to save the world?
To be remembered
must we sacrifice ourselves to?

Ourselves are all that we have left.

The shore is in sight always.
To walk away
is the hardest thing we must do,
to be out where so many
have not returned.

No matter what happens,
we must go there.
Things will be taken away
people will be taken away
even dreams will be taken away.

But not this.

Do I speak for us all? No.
But do I see them on the shores,
thinking as I do? Yes.

We see each other.

My new favourite poem....
Reply
#57
Thanks guys! Feedback is always great and I appreciate the compliments. Constructive criticism is also always welcome. I've had poems ripped to shreds in workshops many times, so I am used to it.

HeavyMetalThunder:

I want to steal the following lines from you:

Quote:

Gaping exit wounds of high-caliber sin in full auto

Quote:

I go to class to think about leaving class, to travel to Siddhartha's river, not Duncan's, to embrace my love, a kiss, during an important lecture.

Quote:

DRIVING
You sat there, we rode
My hand in yours
or on your knee
affection
Because I loved you
You don't sit there now
I drive
My hands on the wheel
or on my knee
distraction
Because i loved you
Others sit there, we ride
Our hands to ourselves
No knees involved
Devastation
Because I still love you.

Awesome stuff.

Dances:

I have been really digging on your stuff all along. We have such different styles it seems. You throw your emotions on the page and paint, I tend to sit back and write and play with human nature, that sort of thing. Its very refreshing for me to read. Oh and I love this one:

Quote:

My heart breaks
with every beat
My soul aches for you
I am dying inside
I'll never hold you again
never caress your cheek
never taste you in your kiss
My lungs are bursting
with every breath
Without you I can't breathe
I am miserable
without you
I am desolate
wasted
beyond words
I am empty
and
alone

Reply
#58
[quote]Smirk
[QB]
Quote:

I go to class to think about leaving class, to travel to Siddhartha's river, not Duncan's, to embrace my love, a kiss, during an important lecture.

I'm not a super well read dude, so anytime I can make literary references, (non-cliche ones) I'm pretty happy. Bonus when someone recognizes it and likes it! If you get a chance, you should read David James Duncan's, "My Story as Told By Water." Even if you don't agree with him, it's pretty arresting stuff.

Smirk, you and Dances both have really cool voices. The best way I can describe it is heartbreaking. The emotions of your poetry come out really well, but not in an overbearing way. I don't know. The way both of you write is simultaneously scary and ultra-inviting, universal and deeply personal. It's an awesome balance you both have going.

My own voice is mostly a narrative sort of deal, which I'm not always particularly fond of. It makes it hard to step back and look at the world and say, "Hey here's what the poet sees that you guys are all missing!"
You two do that really well.

Reply
#59
Quote:

HeavyMetalThunder:

Bad thoughts, violent action
You son-of-a-bitch!
How dare you continue to live and breathe
Smirking, smiling, moving on with your life!?
My fist, all five fingers, down to the bone, for you, crushing your skull, shards of satisfied vengeance in your wide, pleading, bleeding eyes.
I still want to kill you.
But all I could think was
Stop.

Wow....There's a raw, powerfully frightening, sense of anger in this poem....A rage that you can just feel when reading it....You sir, scare the hell out of me....in the best way possible....
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#60
Quote:

Dances with Chainsaws:
Quote:

HeavyMetalThunder:

Bad thoughts, violent action
You son-of-a-bitch!
How dare you continue to live and breathe
Smirking, smiling, moving on with your life!?
My fist, all five fingers, down to the bone, for you, crushing your skull, shards of satisfied vengeance in your wide, pleading, bleeding eyes.
I still want to kill you.
But all I could think was
Stop.

Wow....There's a raw, powerfully frightening, sense of anger in this poem....A rage that you can just feel when reading it....You sir, scare the hell out of me....in the best way possible....

The "i still want to kill you" line was originally, "I still want to murder you" but that even freaked ME out! So I changed it.
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#61
Heh...

Anyway, I really enjoy talking about poetic voice.

For me, at least, my poetry doesn't come from a deeply personal place. I sometimes follow the "emotion recollected in tranquility" school and write very loosely about events or experiences in my life and try to do something creative with that moment. Most of the time, I will think of a line and build a poem around that one line.

One thing that I tended to notice was that almost all of my poems deal with human nature and in particular, the inability of humans to "connect" with one another. I have tried to branch out from that a little with minimal success, but hopefully I will write some more stuff soon.
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#62
Quote:

Smirk:
Heh...

Anyway, I really enjoy talking about poetic voice.

For me, at least, my poetry doesn't come from a deeply personal place. I sometimes follow the "emotion recollected in tranquility" school and write very loosely about events or experiences in my life and try to do something creative with that moment. Most of the time, I will think of a line and build a poem around that one line.

One thing that I tended to notice was that almost all of my poems deal with human nature and in particular, the inability of humans to "connect" with one another. I have tried to branch out from that a little with minimal success, but hopefully I will write some more stuff soon.

See, but that's what I was talking about. That method of writing is really special. you write about how people can't connect, but then the voice, the vibe that your poems have just oozes connectedness. That's why I liked those above poems so much, because just reading them, I knew .
That's too cool.
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#63
Very good stuff,guys! Here's one...

In the park the jester walks
loneliness his majesty
heartache his queen
the stars his audience
the elements of the city
compose a symphony
air water concrete steel
sing in the stillness of night
as he dances for the multitudes
the fool walks alone

Comments/thoughts always appreciated!
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#64
Quote:

RepairmanTom:

In the park the jester walks
loneliness his majesty
heartache his queen
the stars his audience
the elements of the city
compose a symphony
air water concrete steel
sing in the stillness of night
as he dances for the multitudes
the fool walks alone

I like this one....The imagery, the pace, it's quite good. If you have any more, please don't be shy about posting them....
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#65
Too much time
has passed
for us to ever
be right again.

Some things just
shouldn't ever be
spoken aloud.

Too many things
have been done.
Too much has been
said.

We can't take back
the evil that we've
produced.

We can't stop this
from happening
anymore.

God help us.

We've gone too far
this time.
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#66
Nowhere.
That's where I am now.
I'm stuck here, and there's no way out.
Like a lost child, I cry out for someone.
Something.
Anything.
Help never comes.
I'd give anything to be somewhere else.
To be someone else.
To have a future.
A life.
A chance.
Nowhere.
That's where I am now.
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#67
CRUELTY
-----------
Grandfather lay dying
His farmer's frame gone frail and thin
A life of work and progress comes to this?
His stonecutter's hands built much
He raised a family through hard times
Always working with an able heart
Now slowed to the crawl of counted days
We all sit, waiting, counting
In the parlor, yellow-lit, we listen
In and out, the machines breathe for him
Goddamn those machines!
But God bless them too
We in the parlor, he in the bedroom
We all sat praying, as Grandfather lay dying
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#68
Did I play
with you a lot
when I was small

Did you swing
me in the air
then catch my fall

Did your heart
burst with pride
when I was small

Did I ever
learn to catch
a shiny ball

I can't seem to remember you
except at the fair
Mommy said theres Daddy
think you ruffled my hair
were you proud of me
please how do I get
to the fair
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#69
Dances: To be totally honest, which I think we all have to be here, I'm not digging on the latest piece ("Too Much Time"Wink as much as I do your usual work. I think the pacing is a bit off, but that can easily be fixed with a revision (the hardest thing to do with a poem: revise and change your "baby"Wink. If I am out of line providing constructive criticism, tell me and I will STFU.

Heavy: WOW. "Cruelty" is fucking AMAZING. That is easily my favorite work so for that you have done. It invoked emotions in me. Really stunning work, great word choice. Congrats.

Repairman: Another great work. Like Heavy's it invoked emotions in me that I didn't see coming. It reminded me a lot of some of Robert Creeley's work (If you haven't read him, you should).

A new one from me:

First Time

She's balled up like
a sex crime victim:

Purple panties pulled
quivering
crying
clutching a shattered hymen,
specks of blood
rub tears.
Talking to herself
she repeats
"It can't be like that."

But it is.

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#70
Quote:

Smirk:
Dances: To be totally honest, which I think we all have to be here, I'm not digging on the latest piece ("Too Much Time"Wink as much as I do your usual work. I think the pacing is a bit off, but that can easily be fixed with a revision (the hardest thing to do with a poem: revise and change your "baby"Wink. If I am out of line providing constructive criticism, tell me and I will STFU.

Smirk, your criticism is not only greatly appreciated, but dead on as well. The pace is off...I don't usually write those kind of poems, so it is going to take a while to get it right. I'll keep trying, though....
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