Poetry
 

I am interested in what you have to say, so say it, but be creative please. I like poetry and it can say a lot about something, so say something.

so you say, " say something"
as if it were just that easy
and yet to say simply nothing
as never did George to 'Weezy'

T'would be much easier for me
some silence from my fingers please
to poetically correct thee
making nonsense comes with great ease

er something

Sometimes saying nothing is saying something

i think haiku is pretty much our "medium"---of course, I could be wrong. Inviting people to "write/share" their poetry is pretty much asking for a nausea-fest, doncha think??? Besides, we're all far too ironic to write poetry. :)

I would post some poetry, I mean after all, I started the post, but, poetry does not come easily to me, though I should get back in the habit of writing it.

To see a world in a grain of sand
And heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
~William Blake (Auguries of Innocence)

"You are a very odd little boy, but I suppose... after all, as our mothers always said, well atleast mine did 'always try new things'." ~Hannibal Lector

I was under the impression, he was talking about poems not non-verbal communication. However, what you said sounded profound. :)

Look at the wind blow.
why will it not show?
the river runs but where
the flowers grow but why
Some would say it's for naught
But I say there is a reason,
It's probably just the season.

Pretty bad HUH!!!!!!

Well, it's not bad, lol, and clever, but inspiration, deep inspiration is exactly what I want to see.

Well, here's mine...

Twilight Dreams

My twilight dream haunts more than most.
Is this choice I've made not one to boast?
The light of my body, an aura in flight,
Is this real? Can this be right?

My hands feel no touch, nor my feet the cold floor
I've given so much, yet fate beckons for more.
Fear fuels the question. Fear, understand!
I see there below Me my love cradling my hand.

A love for all time, the love of my life,
' Til death do us part, there is my wife,
Cursing the death that ripped us apart
And I was death's pawn in rending her heart.

A tear for this as I lower my head,
One unanswered kiss, for yes I am dead.
She pauses, then peers toward my uplifted form.
See Me! I'm here! But she turns back to mourn.

Tears flow as she throws herself to the floor.

The last room, the last moment now fades away,
How much pain can a shadow hold in one day?
I was given an option to let live or let die.
To care is to hurt when the cared-for ones cry.

Honor demanded I deflect the blade's bite.
I die and she lives; of course it is right.
Certain I was that all would be well,
I unwittingly sentenced her heart into hell.

I gave myself to protect her voice,
But seeing her pain now mocks my choice.
Her mourning of me burns night and day.
Memories, incessant, stalk to the grave.

Now I see that the mourning burdens so much
Would peace have come sooner with death's biting touch?
"Your safe!" I had uttered with my last dying breath.
Is life with such sadness better than death?

Ignorance, irony, both plague my soul.
My chivalry voided by reality's hold.
'Til death do us part? It can't even now.
The pain in our hearts is stronger somehow.

Wow that's really good, very emotive, creates a real and vivid picture of the old lovers question 'what would you do if one of us had to die?'

That is really good, I think the crazy guy would like it, I liked that. I'll post some poetry later after I've written it. I havn't had much time to do so, I've been caught up on some things, and I havn't found much inspiration, not around here, I usually write about beauty, I havn't seen much beauty around here recently lol.

I woke up this morning, it was my day off,
at the suggestion of cleaning, I replied with a scoff,
then I drove with my husband to bring him to work,
he made fun of me, laughed, and I called him a jerk.

I'm Italian, I can't help it, I talk with my hands,
what's so funny when I wave while I go over plans?
Anyway, we made up and I kissed him goodbye-
on the cheek, mind you, and I have a damn good reason why-

Honey has a cold sore- it's big red and mean,
the idea of kissing it is one of which I'm not too keen.
So I drove myself home and decided to cook,
I made clams and broccoli- about an hour I took.

I had to get that done early so the smells would all fade,
because my honey is allergic to the clams that I made.
That broccoli, oh the broccoli, did a number on me.
I shouldn't have eaten it, looking back, now I see,

I was foolish to think I could digest that much,
I know I should stay away from vegetables and such,
but it tasted so good- I think I have IBS,
now my tummy is bubbling and it will not rest.

My plans for the day were to go to the store,
exchange some shoes I can't wear anymore,
go to the library, check out a good book,
maybe fire up the grill so some fish I could cook,

because the freezer is full of mackerel, and you know,
it tastes so damn fishy, smoking it's the only way to go.
But alas, I ate broccoli, and feel like poo poo,
And now there is nothing that I want to doo doo,

And damn it, I told myself not to cut my own hair,
but yeah, I did it, only because it was there,
so now I have bangs, at least I kept the length long,
the stupid things'll grow out, until then it looks wrong.

I should've picked up a shift, I should've waited to eat,
but my whole day was ruined and I feel so damn beat.
All I'm good for now is to go watch tv,
or sit at the computer logged in as Staceyv

and write stupid poems at the cellar for all
to regret having read them, kind of makes me want to bawl.
And I don't know why I took the car,
I don't think I'll be driving far,
I got drunk last night after work at the bar,
that isn't helping either, 'kay, I'm done now, ta ta.

(that rhymes because in new england, you don't pronounce "r"s.)

Now you see, that one made me laugh, honestly, that was cool. You see me with poetry, I really have to be inspired in order for me to weld words together, but as for that, you know the whole describing your day thing, that was good, I don't think I could have done that, I probably would have gotten bored. Not that it was boring, but when I'm not inspired I tend to lose my attention.

This job is boring.

I sit around jangling bangles
playing with online pool angles
ensuring my hair is untangled
while everyone round me gets mangled.

This job is boring.

McDonald's shake keeping me awake
nothing to do in my break
doesn't matter at all if I come in late
or sleepy, hungover, or looking a state
oh how I wish I could go home and mate
but I'm obviously busy - staring into space.

This job is boring.

The hardest work I ever do
is type a name in a box called 'to'
sometimes I might pop to the loo
other than that there is nothing to do
I know it sounds crap, but it's true.

This job is boring
if it wasn't so bloody appaling
wasting my time in the morning
spending the whole long day yawning
I'd think it my natural calling.

It's just that it's so bloody boring.

now THAT'S a good one! This thread would've been perfect if it was named the "how my job sucks poetry thread". Everyone can gain inspiration from that topic.

lmao. That one made me chuckle, my poetry isn't that funny, but when I do post, it's probably going to be wierd. I'll do it when I get home.

People are always asking why-
they live their lives willingly enough
some go to extremes not to die
most would rather just ask why.
Why would one choose to die-
some people are just a bluff,
while others look for answers in the sky.
nature will listen to all who share.
while most wouldn't dare, there are those
who are very willing to say goodbye.
Again, most would ask why, even if the thought
has crossed their minds,the thought of dying
is to much to bear. THere will always be the question of why,
only the one with so much despair can answer why they choose
to die......

It seems silly to say
but I'm scared of the day
that my love
runs away.

It's gone so far now
but I still don't know how
I can love;
not allowed.

You don't say 'you and I'
you believe it's a lie
do you really
know why?

Think these things never last
'cause they move much to fast.
Aren't you just
holding on to the past?

This is me and you lover
there ain't any other
and I'd never
recover

if you ran away.

Hmm, I wouldn't know what that one would be about, but, it's good, I'm not sure I can say that I like it, but I can't deny, that it's pretty good. lol. Here's something that I wrote after seeing the moon again.

Standing there so quiet, so honest, so loving
Her pail white face haunts me so
She is devious but you can trust her, trust not that face that looks so trusting
So tranquil and modest, she looks so honest
Her spell entrances you and you'll never be free
Midnight wonder her pail white face will be all that you see

Curse her, damn her for your misfortune
She stares into your face so innocent still
Blame her, she is there, she saw all, mistake, mishap, misfortune
She'll take you, she'll do all against your will
Oh so clever is she, leave now and will still be all that you see.

It's not finished, I started a new stanza, but I'm not done with them, so stay tuned for the rest.

bridge of my nose is a warm shade of red,
bubbly thoughts bounce around my light head,
tingling sensations, they make me feel fine,
pour me a luscious glass of that deep, dark red wine.

lol. That's good, I guess, a quick little rhyme.

Go there
go there, you vile
purple beast.
Think you can keep me?
Leave all your
stupid rehearsals
for someone else.
Don't do it to me.
I see you now
you cold pain
go away
be gone
this is too much
for my bones
is all I want
something not this.
Go there,
before you break me.

I suppose I’ve been wanting to say that I love you.

I don’t want to say it,
in case I’ve got it wrong,
and it might be just to get
you to say you
love me.

I suppose I’ve been wanting someone to love me.

I had it once,
it was wonderful, natural, pure
but it didn’t last
it grew too small,
and now I’ll never know if it was real.
But you –

I suppose I’ll never know if you love me.

You didn’t then,
I don’t think
you say you feel the same
as two years ago.
Was that love or not?

I suppose I want it to be right.

I want everything now
as it should be
god I want you to love me
as you do
as I think you do
do you? Do you?

I suppose I should stop thinking you love me.

Let you decide
and you’ll let me know
if you want to
but that’s the hardest
thing to accept
that I love you

and I suppose, you might never love me.

You might never love me.

God it's spewing out of me at the moment isn't it, something must be trying to get out!

I love you.
I know this isn't new.
but without your love,
I will fly from here like a dove.
Please dear,love me
I am lost. You said you would never leave.
But you did.
you said his name was steve
why not nate at least the sound of the name
doesn't bring on hate. What the hell I guess its
time to find another mate. I think I'll find a girl named Kate.
If you change your mind, I'm still at the lake....
Come back please. I'm on my knees.
Love me please.

The Fog and The Ghost


the entire thread

If anyone wants to read one of my short stories I can email it to you, just email me asking for it, and I will attach the files to it. Be warned that you may like it, or it could be a waste of your time, but I liked writing them. They're just fragments of stories, just some creative writing. I liked them, most especially my most recent one, just ask me for a story that you want to here, give me a day, and I'll email it to ya. Peace email at mad_hatter64@hotmail.com

Everything Philip Roth has ever written.

you lie in bed and wait for me
you shiver but it's not cold
you sit at home and wait for me
so young in years but so old

You stare at me when I'm around
You'll only eat if I am there
You follow me around, around
of anything else, you don't care

You climb under the covers
upon my navel rest your head,
you love it under the covers,
sleeping close to me in bed

Most would say you're co-dependent,
addicted to me like a drug.
I just think that you're a good dog,
as you stare and lie on the rug.