Poetry

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AuthorTopic: Poetry
Shock Trooper
Member # 3801
Profile Homepage #0
Hey does anyone here right poetry? I recently showed people at my school some of my writing and they say I'm talented, but I am always doubting myself. Does anyone here want to discuss literature?

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Never regret anything, because it was meant to happen.
Posts: 323 | Registered: Thursday, December 18 2003 08:00
Shock Trooper
Member # 3368
Profile #1
I don't "right" poetry.

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"Like most of life's problems, this one can be solved with bending"
Posts: 287 | Registered: Tuesday, August 19 2003 07:00
Guardian
Member # 2238
Profile Homepage #2
I write songs. That counts as poetry.

"Roses are dead. Violets are corny. When I think of you, baby I get---"

Eh, you get the idea.

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The critics agree!

Demonslayer is "a five star hit!" raves TIMES Weekly!

"I've never heard such thoughtful comments. This man is a genious!" says two-time Nobel Prize winning physicist Erwin Rasputin!
Posts: 1582 | Registered: Wednesday, November 13 2002 08:00
Bob's Big Date
Member # 3151
Profile Homepage #3
I sometimes right poetry. For example, I had to fix a mistranscription of Seth Putnam's 'I Ate Your Horse' to read it to a large group.

As far as writing poetry is concerned, I'm more of a prose man.

[ Sunday, October 10, 2004 08:37: Message edited by: Fear Uncertainty and Custer ]

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The biggest, the baddest, and the fattest.
Posts: 2367 | Registered: Friday, June 27 2003 07:00
BANNED
Member # 4
Profile Homepage #4
t alec seth putnam rules

I've got a poem written. It's... A jewel.

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私のバラドですそしてころしたいいらればころす
Posts: 6936 | Registered: Tuesday, September 18 2001 07:00
Infiltrator
Member # 4389
Profile Homepage #5
They say I'm talented too. *preens*

Just not at what. ;_;

[ Sunday, October 10, 2004 10:26: Message edited by: Mewse ]

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fame fame fatal fame
it can play hideous tricks on the brain
Posts: 407 | Registered: Friday, May 14 2004 07:00
Shock Trooper
Member # 2123
Profile #6
I write a bit. I've entered a few contestes and never won anything. I guess my writing just sucks. I still write though.

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With his last breath he took in more power then any Guardian could hold, then with a scream of pain and furry he unleashed it all to form a barrier betwen the Mantia and the Darkness.
Posts: 228 | Registered: Monday, October 21 2002 07:00
BANNED
Member # 4
Profile Homepage #7
quote:
Originally written by Mewse:

They say I'm talented too. *preens*

Just not at what. ;_;

I assume I-- err, they-- told you this before you woke up sore with a fifty dollar bill taped to your back?
^_^

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私のバラドですそしてころしたいいらればころす
Posts: 6936 | Registered: Tuesday, September 18 2001 07:00
Shock Trooper
Member # 4942
Profile #8
Um... I write a little bit of poetry. I go long whiles without writing, and then I really get into it and write, write, write. I currently keep a little notebook I doodle and write in, and I have several little diddies I am working on. I also try to incorporate poetry with my guitar playing, but no luck so far. Maybe sometime soon I'll come up with something. I guess the more I write and the more I force myself to make songs, the chances of me making something worth listening to increase. I do have a little something that I made one night, its really just a bunch of my other stuff thrown
together. Enjoy.

Striding under an ebony stained sky
crushing the early tears of dawn with the souls of my feet
caked with the chocolate crusting of earth
i gaze at the suspended sphere of swiss cheese
reflecting the luminesence of Icarus's demise,
flanked by little dots of flashing white light
doomed to a fate predetermined by beings who themselves shall only
expierience a fraction of what these swirling masses of gas and rock will
or will they?
i feel small
hmm....
what is feeling?
what is anything?
what is real?
who are you?
who am i?
blah blah blah....
it goes on
and on
and on
till i drown myself in the oceans of depressing mental mastrubation
and i am still being soaked by this dry, meaningless rain
pouring their memories
all the same....
an empty cup

If you all decide to bash my poem, go a little easy, ok? :)

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Wham Bam Shizam
Posts: 247 | Registered: Monday, September 6 2004 07:00
Infiltrator
Member # 4389
Profile Homepage #9
oh noes it seems i have 'got served' as the young folk say
fifty dollars isnt so good

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fame fame fatal fame
it can play hideous tricks on the brain
Posts: 407 | Registered: Friday, May 14 2004 07:00
Shock Trooper
Member # 3801
Profile Homepage #10
If anyone cares enough to read it i'll post some of my writing but if not just delete it it'll probably take up a lot of space but here's some of it:

Time and Space

Dillon Bartkus

All songs start the same
With comfort words or sage advice
No one likes to be different
Too busy to make a statement
And too old to start a trend.

No one cares for art
No one sees things that way
The judged are misunderstood
But the judges are understood too well.

Philosophy travels in people through Time and Space
A modern day philosopher finds a solution
A self-proclaimed Jesus prophet disagrees.

Questions are unanswered, answers are unquestioned
Poets and artists alike are deteriorating.

We say we wait for death, but we wait for salvation.

Infinite Reach

By Dillon Bartkus

What goes up must come down
What is young must grow.
Some visions people cannot see
Some answers we will never know.

The presence of deception has many guises
The bare truth hides behind many mirrors.
Young eyes see reflections posing as reality
They search in blind faith for invisible meaning to come nearer.

Although some ideas are beyond our grasp
Although some wishes are out of reach,
Those dreams will stay there forever
Remaining there so they can one day teach.

The lessons of our life has an infinite reach
While we wait to feel, wisdom collects with age.
Truth moves through time like a wave
Life will be our most learned sage.

Relapse

Dillon Bartkus

A man walks down a road, the hands of a clock tick and tock. These
moments pass by gradually, coexisting unconsciously.
A suffering of pain and death, a pleasure of intense satisfaction. These feelings pass with or without anticipation, motivation, determination.

A wheel is spinning on a table, presently kinetic, future and past potent.
The wheel will go, the wheel will stop. Come and go, pass and have went, Now becomes when, there will be here.

Exultance will equal with humility, the scale will distribute sanction.
This moment will pass and start anew, as that with which are transitory.
An infinite animus kindles the wheel, always momentum, never ceasing, intrinsic palpitating, infringing passive.

Let it be, life will pass, Our souls will be redeemed.
Live in the now, later will come later, the past is preliminary.
We exist in life, we exist in death, we live and laugh, we learn and love.
All the while we grow, we learn, we live, but our path is always winding. In perpetual motion, we are absorbed in our lives.

The wheel is always in spin, every rotation is a relapse,
We are and we are not, the path of our perfection unfolds as a lotus in bloom, an enlightenment yet to come to us.
Our only option is to let it pass.

Depth of Mind

By Dillon Bartkus

Life is like an ocean.
The meaning is deep underneath.

Some people like the surface,
They like the way it looks, they think it’s pretty.
They focus on it, seeing nothing else, their minds hover on the surface
And they never seem to realize what is below.

Some people float in the middle,
They have been to the surface, they are unaware of the deep,
And are content with neither. They know their place well
And are untroubled by restless tides.

And yet some dwell on the bottom.
They are deep down; deep thinkers, their minds are drifting anchors.
They look down on the surface, the middle seems shallow,
Their depth should be revered by all.

And it is these deep souls who feed the fire of living.
These philosophers who stir the waves,
Unafllicted from relentless tempests.
The skin is always nice looking,
But this ocean has a deeper depth of mind.

ciao.

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Never regret anything, because it was meant to happen.
Posts: 323 | Registered: Thursday, December 18 2003 08:00
Shock Trooper
Member # 4942
Profile #11
I must say, I enjoyed your poems Syntyrael. Very involved. Deep. Personally, I would like to see more rythem, maybe a few rhyming words. I maybe reading it wrong, missing the beats. I am not trying to bash, just trying to give some feedback.

Does anyone have critisizms of my stuff?

[ Sunday, October 10, 2004 18:26: Message edited by: Wham Bam Shizam ]

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Wham Bam Shizam
Posts: 247 | Registered: Monday, September 6 2004 07:00
Shock Trooper
Member # 3801
Profile Homepage #12
I adored your enlightening poetry Mr. Wham.

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Never regret anything, because it was meant to happen.
Posts: 323 | Registered: Thursday, December 18 2003 08:00
Warrior
Member # 4973
Profile #13
Wow, my teacher was right when he said poetry was dead in the modern world. Your poetry isn't bad, just not exactly my favorite style.

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There are three kinds of people in the world: those who think, those who think they think, and those who would rather die than think.
Posts: 104 | Registered: Thursday, September 16 2004 07:00
Shock Trooper
Member # 4154
Profile #14
The only complaint I have is that Wham Bam Shizam did not capitalize his I's. Or maybe there's a deep symbolic meaning to that? Hmm...

(Nice poems by the way.)

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You're a moron if you think I'm not.
Posts: 213 | Registered: Friday, March 26 2004 08:00
Shock Trooper
Member # 4942
Profile #15
Thank you Eldiran, and thank you Syntyrael for your wonderful compliments.

t Eldiran: I made that one in a hurry, and that is the meaning behind the un capitalized 'i's. However, they might come to some profound meaning in the future... thank you for the idea...

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Wham Bam Shizam
Posts: 247 | Registered: Monday, September 6 2004 07:00
Warrior
Member # 4414
Profile Homepage #16
I wrote a lot of poetry back in the days when I rather stank at it, such as high school. So, most of my poetry is bad, fit only for being screeched into a microphone at a crowd of pale teenagers and accompanied with heavy downtuned guitar. But now that I'm no longer an angst-ridden idiot (and I've grown to despise my former target audience), I'm trying to rediscover my abilities and put them toward something better.

This is one of my favorite poems out of all I ever wrote. Surprisingly, I wrote it in high school. I present it here so you don't have to dig through the copious garbage of my web page, which at the moment, since I am busily preparing a massive update, I'd rather you didn't.

GALLOWS
At the closing of my final year
I'll show you no trace of fear
Remember that I'd not be here
Had you not caught me unawares.
Jailer, as you turn that key
From the look in your eyes, I can see
The time has come, apparently
For me to climb those one-way stairs.

Lock rusty irons on my wrists
Behind my back, my fighting fists
Held harmless now and motionless--
I hope now you're feeling brave.
Forgive me, please, for smiling
Your fear of me is flattering.
I thank you all for everything,
Now I'll walk freely to my grave.

The men I killed--what were their names?
Adam? David? Justin? James?
They proved pathetic at my games;
I can't help laughing at the thought.
Of all that still amuses us
What I like best is scandalous:
That, mostly, I'm notorious
Not for what I am--for what I'm not.

I once felt love, and pain, and hate
Despairing as I denied fate
Futile, yes--but now too late
I've done it all; I guess I'm through.
Remember this last song I've sung
As I am from the gibbet strung;
To all who watch me dying young
May my last words torment you:

Three hundred pairs of hungry eyes;
Throats that swell with vengeance cries
From Hell, I'll still laugh at your lies--
Once this rope loses its slack.
Curse me, scorn me, shout and pray,
Cry "Monster!" and fling stones my way;
But from this scaffold I survey
A mob of myself staring back.

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AIM/Yahoo IM: Cavanoskus

Scary artwork and Bad Poetry
The Wildlife Research Team
SnakeNetMetalRadio

"We, who are about to die, salute you."
Posts: 86 | Registered: Friday, May 21 2004 07:00
Warrior
Member # 5086
Profile Homepage #17
quote:
Originally written by Lighter:

Wow, my teacher was right when he said poetry was dead in the modern world.
Poetry is not dead, the poets are. Your teacher does not know as much as he might seem to. Poetry has always been and always will be an expression of oneself, not an article to be judged by a fool with a piece of paper that says he knows what poetry is.

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I love stupid people acting smart...
Posts: 53 | Registered: Wednesday, October 13 2004 07:00
Infiltrator
Member # 4389
Profile Homepage #18
I posted this before. Whatev.

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Little rabbit little man
Want to try this game again?
Little pixie little girl
Sleeping silent sleeping curled

Want to wake to try again?

Little Jack and little Jill
Taking little violet pills

Tried to wake but fell again
Tried to run but fell again
Lost sight of their well again

Little monkey little girl
Little hairs where once were curls
Little sneakers with no feet
Great round eyes afraid to peek

Little whore little girl
Little fingers little world
Rattle words between your teeth
The same old words afraid to speak

Must be different can’t be new
Can’t say I’m afraid of you
Must rebel but can’t repel
Can’t bring yourself to leave this hell

Little pixie little girl
Chomping on your crunchy curls
Dreaming blue haired silver boys
Dreaming shiny hidden joys

Tried to wake but fell again
Tried to fall but stuck again

EDIT: Oh, and Cav: There's a poem on your site which I saved on my computer, I liked it so much.

The one beginning "Humankind has built a dam..."

That one.

[ Wednesday, October 13, 2004 13:18: Message edited by: I love you for your inner beauty ]

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fame fame fatal fame
it can play hideous tricks on the brain
Posts: 407 | Registered: Friday, May 14 2004 07:00
Bob's Big Date
Member # 3151
Profile Homepage #19
Never write a poem meant to be spoken aloud or speak a poem meant to be written.

If it works equally well both ways, burn it.

[ Wednesday, October 13, 2004 13:35: Message edited by: Fear Uncertainty and Custer ]

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The biggest, the baddest, and the fattest.
Posts: 2367 | Registered: Friday, June 27 2003 07:00
Guardian
Member # 3521
Profile #20
I'm taking a poetry writing class this semester, and I've written two poems for it so far. The second one I wrote is rife with blatant, uncorrected mistakes, but this one is passably refined. Unfortunately, it's also horribly convoluted. Apologies in advance.

"Elephants Do Remember"

We walk amongst the pillars
All wrinkled leather and brute sinews
And gaze at the behemoths that sit above
Rheumy eyes offering no clues.

A dusty mind lies somewhere
Within a casing of gristly bone
Safe from greedy, acquisitive paws
The contents reserved for its owner alone.

A menagerie of shimmering beings
Might swirl within its remote interior
Entrapped by bars of rusted iron
His placidity untouched by their furor.

Rubbing fevered eyes, we restore
Ourselves once more into lucidity
And face the hateful, jealous beast
Surely sneering at thwarted curiosity.

But in the act of turning away
A touch at the arm arrests me
A hollow appendage the thing offers forth
I accept it, peer within - and see.

The battered lump letting its life out
With every tortured breath, sinking into a morass
Eyes meeting mine from the face full of tears and rents
A mother’s eyes, tender to the last.

Too much, and I break away to meet
A pair not unlike those staring from the slime
Carrying with them
All the grief and sorrow of a lifetime.

Still shaken, I make haste to depart
But I am forestalled once more by my sense
Of a question that must be answered
Yes, I do believe in elephants.

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Stughalf

"Delusion arises from anger. The mind is bewildered by delusion. Reasoning is destroyed when the mind is bewildered. One falls down when reasoning is destroyed."- The Bhagavad Gita.
Posts: 1798 | Registered: Sunday, October 5 2003 07:00
Shock Trooper
Member # 2123
Profile #21
Something I wrote and posted at Polaris.

From deaths old ashes something stirs
Green once again pushes throught burs
And admistit the wasted blasted land
A lone a flower is left to stand

Amist the bleak of death decay
Our shining hope and ray
For what will fall will awalys stand
Even if by another hand

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With his last breath he took in more power then any Guardian could hold, then with a scream of pain and furry he unleashed it all to form a barrier betwen the Mantia and the Darkness.
Posts: 228 | Registered: Monday, October 21 2002 07:00
Infiltrator
Member # 4256
Profile #22
Once more,
You wish,
Actually Its alright,
I enjoy most of the poems written by the members here-
I could dig out my little assays into poetry but then I would feel, well, rather unpolished and crude.
Posts: 564 | Registered: Wednesday, April 14 2004 07:00
Shock Trooper
Member # 4942
Profile #23
Don't worry about being unpolished and crude. The poem I posted was contructed in a matter of minutes. Talk about crude... Err.. your poem doesn't include school students without pants, does it? ;)

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Wham Bam Shizam
Posts: 247 | Registered: Monday, September 6 2004 07:00
Infiltrator
Member # 4256
Profile #24
Not crude that way you, you, you,... ah shoot this does not work. Crude as in rough hewn, ungainly, as in written in elementary school for whatever. Heh

THIS is not mine but it is one of my favorite poems.

HA’ we lost the goodliest fere o’ all
For the priests and the gallows tree?
Aye lover he was of brawny men,
O’ ships and the open sea.

When they came wi’ a host to take Our Man 5
His smile was good to see,
“First let these go!” quo’ our Goodly Fere,
“Or I’ll see ye damned,” says he.

Aye he sent us out through the crossed high spears
And the scorn of his laugh rang free, 10
“Why took ye not me when I walked about
Alone in the town?” says he.

Oh we drank his “Hale” in the good red wine
When we last made company.
No capon priest was the Goodly Fere, 15
But a man o’ men was he.

I ha’ seen him drive a hundred men
Wi’ a bundle o’ cords swung free,
That they took the high and holy house
For their pawn and treasury. 20

They’ll no’ get him a’ in a book, I think,
Though they write it cunningly;
No mouse of the scrolls was the Goodly Fere
But aye loved the open sea.

If they think they ha’ snared our Goodly Fere 25
They are fools to the last degree.
“I’ll go to the feast,” quo’ our Goodly Fere,
“Though I go to the gallows tree.”

“Ye ha’ seen me heal the lame and blind,
And wake the dead,” says he. 30
“Ye shall see one thing to master all:
’Tis how a brave man dies on the tree.”

A son of God was the Goodly Fere
That bade us his brothers be.
I ha’ seen him cow a thousand men. 35
I have seen him upon the tree.

He cried no cry when they drave the nails
And the blood gushed hot and free.
The hounds of the crimson sky gave tongue,
But never a cry cried he. 40

I ha’ seen him cow a thousand men
On the hills o’ Galilee.
They whined as he walked out calm between,
Wi’ his eyes like the gray o’ the sea.

Like the sea that brooks no voyaging, 45
With the winds unleashed and free,
Like the sea that he cowed at Genseret
Wi’ twey words spoke suddently.

A master of men was the Goodly Fere,
A mate of the wind and sea. 50
If they think they ha’ slain our Goodly Fere
They are fools eternally.

I ha’ seen him eat o’ the honey-comb
Sin’ they nailed him to the tree.

[ Wednesday, October 13, 2004 16:29: Message edited by: m's devotee ]
Posts: 564 | Registered: Wednesday, April 14 2004 07:00

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