07-27-2004, 05:30 PM | #201 |
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thank you very much, Rûd. i appreciate it.
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07-28-2004, 05:15 PM | #202 |
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new poem
Sorry is an ugly word.
Can’t you hear >>>the brutality >>>the hypocrisy >>>and the emptiness of it when you say it? I don’t want a word. I can’t do anything with it. >>>I can’t feel it’s softness >>>against my warm body. >>>I can’t hear it whisper >>>gently in my ear. >>>I can’t put my tired head >>>in it’s loving lap. Sorry is a selfish word. You become it when you say it.
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07-29-2004, 10:15 PM | #203 |
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nerd your poems are so great! i like the second one best
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07-30-2004, 12:47 AM | #204 |
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mow-dee-mow.
Sorry is a selfish word. I hate it. Especially when someone doesn't really mean it.
This is a poem which has the same theme (even the same... "character", shall we say) as a poem that I forced myself to write a while back because I hadn't written anything. ((If I can find the first one, perhaps I will meld them together, or at least post them together somewhere.)) Both are meant to be -- sort of -- like an Irish folk song, though I didn't follow any set rhyming scheme or stanza structure. ::: “A Sad Irish Tale Of The Sea.” There once was an Irish lass so fair, her beauty was considered beyond compare. -- She loved the beach and she envied the sea –- But, her envy be her downfall, as you shalt see. For the tale of Anna Lynn is as sad and as true, as it is long and lengthy for you. The lass’ hair, it was long and red. And her eyes were the colour of Ireland’s grass. Her skin; hued of rosebuds and cream. Sea-foam and the waves: they took her away as payment for her envy of greater things. Row home, Anna Lynn, row home. .....For the ocean is waitin’ ..........The sea, she is fadin’ ...............We’re waitin’ to welcome ye home. Come home, Anna Lynn, come home. And her Lover, he cried long into the night, praying for his Anna Lynn. And the town, it waited with bated breath, for the return of their pride, their love, and their kin. Row home, Anna Lynn, row home .....For the ocean is waitin’ ..........The sea, she is fadin’ ...............We’re waitin’ to welcome ye home. Come home, Anna Lynn, come home. Long years passed and her Lover, at last, married a maid not so fair. And the town gave her up for dead, supposed she rested in darkened blankets of sea, instead. Row home, Anna Lynn, row home .....For the ocean is waitin’ ..........The sea, she is fadin’ ...............We’re waitin’ to welcome ye home. Come home, Anna Lynn, come home. But, one day when the sky was as grey as cold eyes, and the sea, she was angry and fierce; there came a ship from the Heavens borne in from the west, come toward the town and its piers. Row home, Anna Lynn, row home .....For the ocean is waitin’ ..........The sea, she is fadin’ ...............We’re waitin’ to welcome ye home. Come home, Anna Lynn, come home. There at the head, just before the mast was a lass whose hair was long and red. The ship -- built for cargo -- had brought them Anna Lynn, instead. Row home, Anna Lynn, row home .....For the ocean is waitin’ ..........The sea, she is fadin’ ...............We’re waitin’ to carry ye home. Welcome home, Anna Lynn, you’re home. ::: You can, of course, vary any part of it ye wish. I, myself, usually do not see the chorus but once or twice, always at the end, but rarely anywhere else. I find it unfortunate that I do not have a voice befitting folks songs from Ireland or Scotland, as I love them so. ... Dammit.
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08-02-2004, 04:49 PM | #205 |
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Oh! That was beautiful!
I know what you mean. I love Irish music. Sad songs are my favorite, and Irish music is a treasure-trove of tragedy. I wrote a song in imitation of a few ballads I've heard, and come up with a tragic little love story, about a lost love (not that great thought). Here it is: Johnny McFarlane Well Johnny McFarlane I greatly admire. He worked for my father, a farm-hand for hire. He's gone just this morning to sail far away; I'll run after my Johnny, oh Johnny, please stay! Don't sail away, Johnny, Don't sail away! Come back to me, Johnny Come back to me, stay! Come back to the house on the hill one last time; Oh, don't sail away, Johnny; Johnny be mine! I went to a dance but I left all alone, And Johnny he asked for to walk with me home. Me mother don't like him so he's gone away; I'll run after my Johnny, oh Johnny please stay! Don't sail away, Johnny, Don't sail away! Come back to me, Johnny Come back to me, stay! Come back to the house on the hill one last time; Oh, don't sail away, Johnny; Johnny be mine! Well I gave him my love on the first day of spring; He kissed me in secret and gave me a ring. My father found out so he's bound far away; I'll run after my Johnny, oh Johnny, please stay! Don't sail away, Johnny, Don't sail away! Come back to me, Johnny Come back to me, stay! Come back to the house on the hill one last time; Oh, don't sail away, Johnny; Johnny be mine! When I found my Johnny he was dying fast. Said he, "My bright love, you've found me at last!" "Johnny," said I, "Oh didn't I say I'd run after you Johnny, oh Johnny, please stay!" Don't sail away, Johnny, Don't sail away! Come back to me, Johnny Come back to me, stay! Come back to the house on the hill one last time; Oh, don't sail away, Johnny; Johnny be mine!
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It's New Years Day, just like the day before; Same old skies of grey, same empty bottles on the floor. Another year's gone by, and I was thinking once again, How can I take this losing hand and somehow win? Just give me One Good Year To get my feet back on the ground. I've been chasing grace; Grace ain't so easily found One bad hand can devil a man, chase him and carry him down. I've got to get out of here, just give me One Good Year! Last edited by Rosie Gamgee : 08-02-2004 at 04:55 PM. |
08-05-2004, 03:39 PM | #206 |
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*sniff* i love irish ballads; they're so sad, though those two were beautiful you guys!
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08-05-2004, 04:07 PM | #207 |
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Thanks! *takes a little bow*
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It's New Years Day, just like the day before; Same old skies of grey, same empty bottles on the floor. Another year's gone by, and I was thinking once again, How can I take this losing hand and somehow win? Just give me One Good Year To get my feet back on the ground. I've been chasing grace; Grace ain't so easily found One bad hand can devil a man, chase him and carry him down. I've got to get out of here, just give me One Good Year! |
08-06-2004, 09:20 PM | #208 |
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Thanks, Ravyn. I've already edited it and changed probably five or six lines.
Here's a "poem" (more like a blurb, really) that I just wrote... maybe five minutes ago. So, I'm sitting here, alone, ..............drinking rain water as if it were champagne and hoping that everything's all right for you. Because if it isn't, then nothing matters, anyway. .................................................. ....(If you'll just walk through that door, I'll promise to spring for some real champagne.)
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08-08-2004, 04:57 PM | #209 |
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that's a really great 'blurb' ( ), Rûd! simple, few words with feeling.
Rosie, i love your ballad.. beautiful!
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08-09-2004, 02:24 PM | #210 |
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Thank you.
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It's New Years Day, just like the day before; Same old skies of grey, same empty bottles on the floor. Another year's gone by, and I was thinking once again, How can I take this losing hand and somehow win? Just give me One Good Year To get my feet back on the ground. I've been chasing grace; Grace ain't so easily found One bad hand can devil a man, chase him and carry him down. I've got to get out of here, just give me One Good Year! |
08-10-2004, 05:07 PM | #211 |
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Stupid... stupid.
I've only just realized that I forgot to tell you how much I enjoyed your poem, Rosie. I really did!
And, BTW: The Village rocks my socks off.
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08-11-2004, 01:06 AM | #212 |
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Ruh and Rosie- I really like those poem/balads you two wrote! LOVELY stuff!
I have that Anna Lynn song going through my head, but of course not so much the Johnny one because... well... as a guy I find Anna much more appealing . Last edited by Tessar : 08-11-2004 at 01:08 AM. |
08-12-2004, 04:47 PM | #213 |
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Because When You're Gone
Because when you're gone my world wille all the sadder; Because you are leaving and I'll feel as though something is missing Because my eyes mirror my heart, and I may feel empty for a while; But because I know that you have to leave, and we'll both do just fine anyway; I'll wish you good luck, and smile through these tears, for I can't always be selfish- you're far too wonderful to keep to myself.
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08-12-2004, 10:59 PM | #214 | |
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|smiles|
Quote:
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08-13-2004, 12:33 AM | #215 |
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Another Five Minutes 'n' Mebbe There'll Be Another! Oy!
"An Olde-Time Commercial For Laughs!"
Come! Be witness to the lies they’ve told you. Be sure to bring a picnic lunch.// We wouldn’t want you missing out on all of the “fun”, now would we? We’ll hang a man. And burn another. Castrate a father. And drown a mother. We’ll take off your head. And we’ll starve me to death. No, we wouldn’t want you to miss all the “fun”. If you can ease the quease in the pit of your stomach, you might even see the quartering of a soldier. We’ll kill kings. And torture heroes. Do you mind if I have a bite of your sandwich? Old women will knit by the edge of the platform. (Bloodstains make scarves nicer.) And young boys will sit on fathers’ shoulders, laughing at the condemned as they pass. Did you remember to bring the egg salad? Their sins out in public, for the whole county to see, seem to dull the brightness of our own misdemeanors. Here! We can throw rotten food at another. And sneer in the face of a man about to lose his insides. Rapists. And murderers. Thieves. And bewilderers. Anyone different shall pay! You can spread the blanket beneath that tree o’er there. ...Forgive me for faltering, but you’ve forgot the egg salad. I guess that leaves more lunch for me. Maybe I should just make a thread for blurbs, since that's most of what I write. Insta-Blurbs, I could call it.
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08-14-2004, 02:43 PM | #216 |
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lol, that's good, though i think you're right about it being more of a blurb. i write alot of those too, though; do you think they might be considered prose, perhaps?
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08-14-2004, 11:32 PM | #217 | |
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Quote:
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08-24-2004, 02:50 PM | #218 |
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A Poem! A Poem! A Real Poem!
Like a bullet to your brain that sends you shooting through the stars,
this girl, she'll steal your bleedin' heart. Once she holds on, she can never let go and you can never forget her, because she's burned in your skull -- like that bullet in your brain. [0621/2204] Like a knife in your back that sends you reeling to the ground, this girl, she'll always let you down. Once she turns away, she can never look back because she's just that good, and just like that -- her blood is on your hands. Like a poison in your drink that sends you running for the sea, this girl, she is just like me. Once she kisses you, you can never forgive, because she won't undo, and she knows you can't swim -- forever a tale of more woe. [082404] ... The first stanza was Upon reading your mind and my memoirs... And I built upon it today. I'm not so sure I like that second half of the last line. |shrug| Whatever.
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08-24-2004, 07:23 PM | #219 |
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No, I cannot forgive you
For my heart is too small To contain a big river Which in the end will fall ..........(for eventually, ..........everything falls) Into cold sharp rocks Of joyless self-destruction I only own a humble spring In a place I cannot mention ..........(even you will fall ..........and I shall not rise again) No, I cannot forgive you For my heart is too small My forgiveness is not endless I do need it all ..........(the fallen are the evil ..........but we will all fall)
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08-24-2004, 11:05 PM | #220 |
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Wow, Nerdanel, that was really good! I loved it. *applauds*
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