Poetry thread

[[tr...]]

Thank you Tamzo.

 

 

I have enjoyed the poems that have been posted thus far. I am happy to see that this thread is taking off, and look forward to reading more posts. It's always fascinating to see, who as a writer, engrosses people's interest, and the types of poems being posted...I like the variety...some dark and some inspiring. Keep it up.

[Guest [Si...]]

Edgar Allan Poe

 

 

The Sleeper

 

      At midnight, in the month of June,

      I stand beneath the mystic moon.

      An opiate vapor, dewy, dim,

      Exhales from out her golden rim,

      And, softly dripping, drop by drop,

      Upon the quiet mountain top,

      Steals drowsily and musically

      Into the universal valley.

      The rosemary nods upon the grave;

      The lily lolls upon the wave;

      Wrapping the fog about its breast,

      The ruin molders into rest;

      Looking like Lethe, see! the lake

      A conscious slumber seems to take,

      And would not, for the world, awake.

      All Beauty sleeps!- and lo! where lies

      Irene, with her Destinies!

 

      O, lady bright! can it be right-

      This window open to the night?

      The wanton airs, from the tree-top,

      Laughingly through the lattice drop-

      The bodiless airs, a wizard rout,

      Flit through thy chamber in and out,

      And wave the curtain canopy

      So fitfully- so fearfully-

      Above the closed and fringed lid

      'Neath which thy slumb'ring soul lies hid,

      That, o'er the floor and down the wall,

      Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall!

      Oh, lady dear, hast thou no fear?

      Why and what art thou dreaming here?

      Sure thou art come O'er far-off seas,

      A wonder to these garden trees!

      Strange is thy pallor! strange thy dress,

      Strange, above all, thy length of tress,

      And this all solemn silentness!

 

      The lady sleeps! Oh, may her sleep,

      Which is enduring, so be deep!

      Heaven have her in its sacred keep!

      This chamber changed for one more holy,

      This bed for one more melancholy,

      I pray to God that she may lie

      For ever with unopened eye,

      While the pale sheeted ghosts go by!

 

      My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep

      As it is lasting, so be deep!

      Soft may the worms about her creep!

      Far in the forest, dim and old,

      For her may some tall vault unfold-

      Some vault that oft has flung its black

      And winged panels fluttering back,

      Triumphant, o'er the crested palls,

      Of her grand family funerals-

      Some sepulchre, remote, alone,

      Against whose portal she hath thrown,

      In childhood, many an idle stone-

      Some tomb from out whose sounding door

      She ne'er shall force an echo more,

      Thrilling to think, poor child of sin!

      It was the dead who groaned within.

 

 

[[...]]

Apple Song......Francis Frost (not related to Robert)

 

 

The apples are seasoned

and ripe and sound.

gently they fall

on the yellow ground.

 

The apples are stored

in the dusky bin

where hardly a glimmer

of light creeps in.

 

In the firelit, winter

Nights, they'll be

The clear sweet taste

Of a summer tree!

[[Ni...]]

  Walt Whitman

 

        A Clear Midnight

 

  THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,

        Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,

        Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou

        lovest best.

        Night, sleep, and the stars.

 

[[Bu...]]

Haiku (Japanese 5/7/5 Syllable Poetry)

 

WITHDRAWAL

 

Pain wracks my body,

Salvation: strength to love self,

Outcome yet unknown.

 

 

ButterflyEffect Copyright 2011

[[Bu...]]

HOW TO DEFINE LOVE

 

In this life we are meant to LOVE,

Love one another as well as all that is below and above.

 

Our actions define what love we are capable of giving,

How we treat one another and how we manifest living.

 

The boundaries we build to protect our hearts,

Define that what we give is love not lust from the start.

 

When these boundaries are broken, disregarded or denied,

We are able to see clearly a relationship built on lies.

 

For respect, patience, compassion and humility are gifts given when love is true,

This applies to all of humanity even to me and you.

 

ButterflyEffect Copyright 2011

 

[[Bu...]]

CHANGE FOR THE POSITIVE

 

When you feel helpless: Help someone else,

 

When you feel sad: Cheer someone up,

 

When you feel guilty: Forgive someone else,

 

When you feel lonely: Hug someone else,

 

When you feel afraid: Reassure someone else,

 

When you feel angry: Make someone else laugh!

 

 

ButterflyEffect Copyright 2011

[[Bu...]]

TWO SOULS, TWO HEARTS

 

Their Signs both in water,

They met lifetimes ago.

Reunited through serendipity,

so their love may once again grow.

 

Enticed by her waves of passion,

he seeks her affections.

Her heart intuitively knows his,

sharing unconditional compassion.

 

He tenderly touches her deep emotion,

Patience and prudence his tools.

Catching and holding her close to him,

discovering her undying devotion.

 

Seeking a way to enter his soul and mind,

she sends her tide rolling through his being.

He drinks in her waters creating the union,

they have spent this lifetime trying to find.

 

The universe has tuned his ears specifically to her key,

each day she sings her siren song only for him.

Two souls with many lifetimes lived,

two hearts joined for all eternity.

 

©ButterflyEffect 2011

 

[[tr...]]

Sigma0123

 

The Sleeper is an awesome poem. Gave me the willies (which is a horrible feeling in this condition)

 

pj, Nicolette

 

Interesting choices I must say. One brought memories of harvest...the other of looking for oneself.

 

ButterflyEffect

 

Yours are very well written. CHANGE FOR THE POSITIVE is my favourite.

[[...]]

You guys are so awesome. What nice poems.

 

 

The Pasture.............Robert Frost

 

I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;

I'll only stop to rake the leaves away

(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):

I shan't be gone long-You come too.

 

I'm going out to fetch the little calf

that's standing by it's mother. It's so young

It totters when she licks it with her tongue.

I shan't be gone long-You come too.

 

 

 

                             

 

 

[[De...]]

Just saw this thread, I used to write a lot of poetry and read as well..I may try adding something as its a bit too late now...Definitely love Edgar Allen and Robert Frost 

[[...]]

New Farm Tractor.....Carl Sandburg

 

Snub nose, the guts of twenty mules are in your cylinders and

    transmission.

The rear axles hold the kick of twenty Missouri jackasses.

It is in the records of the patent office and the ads there is twenty

    horse power pull here.

The farm boy says hello to you instead of twenty mules-he sings to

    you instead of ten span of mules.

A bucket of oil and a can of grease is your hay and oats.

Rain proof and fool proof they stable you anywhere in the fields with

    the stars for a roof.

I carve a team of long ear mules on the steering wheel-it's good-by

    now to leather reins and the songs of the old mule skinners.         

[[Ni...]]

  As Once the Winged Energy of Delight

 

Rainier Maria Rilke

 

 

  As once the winged energy of delight

carried you over childhood's dark abysses,

now beyond your own life build the great

arch of unimagined bridges.

 

Wonders happen if we can succeed

in passing through the harshest danger;

but only in a bright and purely granted

achievement can we realize the wonder.

 

To work with Things in the indescribable

relationship is not too hard for us;

the pattern grows more intricate and subtle,

and being swept along is not enough.

 

Take your practiced powers and stretch them out

until they span the chasm between two

contradictions...For the god

wants to know himself in you.

 

 

[[...]]

                       Written by pj and his little niece, abby

 

    My Mother

 

Without my Mother

I could not

   tie my shoe,

ride a bike

  or say, "I love you".

 

Without my Mother

  I could not hold her hand,

catch a ball, or

  walk

barefoot in the sand.

 

Without my Mother

  I could not

cuddle a kitten,

  give her a dandelion

or lose my mitten.

 

Without my Mother

  who would teach me

not to lie?

  or help me

catch a firefly?

 

Without my Mother

  who would show me

a summer storm,

  being chased by

a rainbow?

 

  or the baby ducks

all marching

  in a row?

 

Without my Mother

  what would I do?

I love my Mother,

I think you would too.

 

copyright..2011

 

 

 

 

                     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                 

 

 

       

 

   

 

[Guest [Si...]]

Here is a poem I wrote.

 

I had a friend to pass away back in 2005.

 

This is dedicated to her, she passed by a car accident.

 

The poem has been copyrighted and is published.

 

My Sweet Diane

Poem X By: ------------ © 2007

(The Legacy of Diane)

In the days of those days,

Not far from the year I lived,

Came a lady named Diane;

She took me by my hand,

And said let's dwell off into the shadow land.

I asked, what do you mean?

She smiled and grinned with a sharp sting.

 

I looked at her eye,

Only one that focused upon me,

She whispered, "I love you child"..

as I held her soft hands, taking me within the wild,

She spoke softly and had a way of making me talk,

Dear Diane;

Here with you my lovely friend, I walk.

 

A face of a queen, yet a great friend,

But while I ponder back, "Oh Holy Light"..

It became such a complex trend.

Twinkle in her eye and a mask of blue over a globe,

Seems to be within the sky.

With you, I could just lay down and die.

We could leave the world and our ideas would pass by.

 

I sitteth with you upon the street,

We tried to bless the rosary,

But the waters would wash over our feet,

My friend, my sweet Diane;

I call upon the moon,

I call unto you with such conflict, much swooned,

We should wrap our hands together and sing a song no one can hear,

Only time within time, back to the start;

Death is nothing to fear.

 

I take the sea within my mind,

This puzzle I cannot find,

My sweet Diane;

I haven't forgotton those days,

But you are close, though you seem far far away,

Soon I will see you again, come the seizing day.

 

With these words, I seal,

I now know what a friend is,

And you were for real.

 

May the ocean send a signal over you!

May the flowers grow upon the ground where you now live!

May the spirit go on into the nights!

May I battle alone all these fights!

Bless the month and year, 1996.

May the soul of you be here,

And may I be twixt!

Put your love to rest, for it's as strong as death!

(These words I cannot stress).

[Guest [Si...]]

Another poem I published.

 

It's also copyrighted.

 

 

November

Poem x--------© 1999

 

No flowers,

No trees,

No tears,

No fears,

November!

 

For centuries I slumbered,

And could not remember,

I send this sleep to the month of November!

 

No emotion,

No weather,

No rain,

No pain,

November!

 

A foggy mornin',

A torn petal from a secret flower!

A clock broken, no time, no hour,

November!

 

I slept by the rock upon a river roaring slow,

I watched in silence, as the grass was hidden by the snow,

Emotions run deep, but I will never let them show!

 

No words,

No sentences,

No Grammar,

No letters,

November!

 

With darkness in our life, it's hard to dream,

As we hold on to, "we have to believe".

I'm not cut, but I'm awakening to be.

You have to go on and cut the string.

 

Sucked in by wonder,

Created by lives,

I dig a hole to bury myself in,

As I cut, but didn't die.

I'm hollow, a shadow, and desolate inside!

 

No dreams,

No games,

No life,

No flesh,

November!

 

Magick is burning in my fingers,

It's burning inside a grimoire,

It seems to be locked up, sealed by a rose.

Somewhere there's a place that no one knows.

There's a secret garden,

A secret seed,

The demon buries a pentacle,

But it's lost in a dream.

 

No sleep,

No mourning,

No dust,

No dirt,

November!

 

 

Ok, enough for now

 

 

[[Ta...]]

Wow, we have some really talented people here.  No surprise.  Thanks for sharing guys. 

 

Tamzo

[[...]]

 

       

 

                                                                 

                                                                       

                                                                   

 

          BIRDS                                                                     

 

   Through the sky

 

  across the ocean

 

 beneath the heavens

    beyond the city

 

    off to freedom

 

    without worry

 

   the bird flew.

 

 

 

 

 

 

[[Ni...]]

Wow, there's some lovely, moving poems here.

 

      A Fairy Song

 

William Shakespeare

 

  Over hill, over dale,

Thorough bush, thorough brier,

Over park, over pale,

Thorough flood, thorough fire!

I do wander everywhere,

Swifter than the moon's sphere;

And I serve the Fairy Queen,

To dew her orbs upon the green;

The cowslips tall her pensioners be;

In their gold coats spots you see;

Those be rubies, fairy favours;

In those freckles live their savours;

I must go seek some dewdrops here,

And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.

 

 

[[Wh...]]

Please Hear What I'm Not Saying

 

              Don't be fooled by me.

 

              Don't be fooled by the face I wear

 

              for I wear a mask, a thousand masks,

 

              masks that I'm afraid to take off,

 

              and none of them is me.

 

 

 

              Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,

 

              but don't be fooled,

 

              for God's sake don't be fooled.

 

              I give you the impression that I'm secure,

 

              that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well

 

                    as without,

 

              that confidence is my name and coolness my game,

 

              that the water's calm and I'm in command

 

              and that I need no one,

 

              but don't believe me.

 

              My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask,

 

              ever-varying and ever-concealing.

 

              Beneath lies no complacence.

 

              Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.

 

              But I hide this.  I don't want anybody to know it.

 

              I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.

 

              That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,

 

              a nonchalant sophisticated facade,

 

              to help me pretend,

 

              to shield me from the glance that knows.

 

 

 

              But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope,

 

              and I know it.

 

              That is, if it's followed by acceptance,

 

              if it's followed by love.

 

              It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself,

 

              from my own self-built prison walls,

 

              from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.

 

              It's the only thing that will assure me

 

              of what I can't assure myself,

 

              that I'm really worth something.

 

              But I don't tell you this.  I don't dare to, I'm afraid to.

 

              I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,

 

              will not be followed by love.

 

              I'm afraid you'll think less of me,

 

              that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.

 

              I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing

 

              and that you will see this and reject me.

 

 

 

              So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,

 

              with a facade of assurance without

 

              and a trembling child within.

 

              So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,

 

              and my life becomes a front.

 

I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.

 

              I tell you everything that's really nothing,

 

              and nothing of what's everything,

 

              of what's crying within me.

 

              So when I'm going through my routine

 

              do not be fooled by what I'm saying.

 

              Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,

 

              what I'd like to be able to say,

 

              what for survival I need to say,

 

              but what I can't say.

 

 

 

              I don't like hiding.

 

              I don't like playing superficial phony games.

 

              I want to stop playing them.

 

              I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me

 

              but you've got to help me.

 

              You've got to hold out your hand

 

              even when that's the last thing I seem to want.

 

              Only you can wipe away from my eyes

 

              the blank stare of the breathing dead.

 

              Only you can call me into aliveness.

 

              Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging,

 

              each time you try to understand because you really care,

 

              my heart begins to grow wings--

 

              very small wings,

 

              very feeble wings,

 

              but wings!

 

 

 

              With your power to touch me into feeling

 

              you can breathe life into me.

 

              I want you to know that.

 

              I want you to know how important you are to me,

 

              how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator--

 

              of the person that is me

 

              if you choose to.

 

              You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,

 

              you alone can remove my mask,

 

              you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic,

 

              from my lonely prison,

 

              if you choose to.

 

              Please choose to.

 

 

 

              Do not pass me by.

 

              It will not be easy for you.

 

              A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.

 

              The nearer you approach to me

 

              the blinder I may strike back.

 

              It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man

 

              often I am irrational.

 

              I fight against the very thing I cry out for.

 

              But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls

 

              and in this lies my hope.

 

              Please try to beat down those walls

 

              with firm hands but with gentle hands

 

              for a child is very sensitive.

 

 

 

              Who am I, you may wonder?

 

              I am someone you know very well.

 

              For I am every man you meet

 

              and I am every woman you meet.

 

 

 

                                                                    Charles C. Finn

 

                                                                    September 1966

 

 

 

 

[[De...]]

This is one I wrote a little bit ago, its kind of sad but one of my favorites, kind of fits the way I've felt through this journey as well.

 

I'm the one who was left outside

to tend the hearts you left behind

in the silent night, my tears abide

to escape their way from hopes demise

 

When pain became the constant fear

crimson drops met bloody tears

when'st not the cause of a wasted year

but lack cause of the bringer cheer

 

When is it that you'll learn to see

the dismemberment of my divinity

For this flaw, I do decree

that you shall stop this heresy

 

Stop this taunting

Stop this torment

Reaching deep

into my chest

 

Crushing my soul

upon a stone

Standing naught

but there alone

 

I'm the one who was left outside

to tend the hearts you left behind

in the silent night, my tears abide

to escape their way from hopes demise

 

 

What would you guys think about maybe starting a poem we all add to? Like one person writes one or two lines, then the next adds one or two lines...sort of each one of us building upon it? I forget what its called but could be fun!

[Guest [Si...]]

What would you guys think about maybe starting a poem we all add to? Like one person writes one or two lines, then the next adds one or two lines...sort of each one of us building upon it? I forget what its called but could be fun!

 

Yeah, we could do that.

 

 

[[Ni...]]

 

 

That's a good idea Defaulted26

[Guest [Si...]]

 

 

That's a good idea Defaulted26

 

Nicolette,

 

You start

[[Ni...]]

Ok Sigma, lol, I'll start.

 

 

Foaming waves of green,

 

Through the mist I did glean,