03-15-2005, 12:35 PM | #261 |
Thief Queen of Entmoot
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wow! rud, that was awesome! i relly like it! especially the last two lines (jeez, we seem to have really good endings to poems around here lol)
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*smooch* Proud Member of the Evil Mooters and upstanding citizen of the Planet Bob! And all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be... My Space! Cynicism is what happens when a person opens their eyes; stops blinking in the sun, and starts wondering "why". Question everything, believe only that which you yourself deem true. Go ahead- Call me cynical. |
03-15-2005, 12:41 PM | #262 |
Thief Queen of Entmoot
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since we're revitalizing the thread, this one needs some help, i think...
After the Molding As you walk along, you look down and notice that you're stepping on my shattered glass; Because that's what I've done- I've shattered; shattered into a thousand pieces, and with you're thick-soled boots you crush me into a thousand more. Humanity, you cruel b*tch! How could you have done this thing to me? How could you have left me breathing with this hideous anomily that you knew would break anyway? Thanks for the chance to be refired, and to mend that fault; but how can I fix that which I didn't cause?
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*smooch* Proud Member of the Evil Mooters and upstanding citizen of the Planet Bob! And all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be... My Space! Cynicism is what happens when a person opens their eyes; stops blinking in the sun, and starts wondering "why". Question everything, believe only that which you yourself deem true. Go ahead- Call me cynical. |
03-15-2005, 12:47 PM | #263 |
Thief Queen of Entmoot
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here's another!
i kinda like this one... Power, Youth, and Friendship (lousy title) Our last conversation took place in a pyramid. Cleopatra told you that gods would dance for you- I stayed in a shadow in my safe, safe darkness 'cause I didn't want to know what empires I would crumble. So have they? Have the deities preformed as promised? Are you sitting on a throne of clouds, golden in your beauty? It's been 10,000 years since that day so long ago. My darkness is no longer safe; I've been re-born a hundred times- my own throne waits for me.
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*smooch* Proud Member of the Evil Mooters and upstanding citizen of the Planet Bob! And all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be... My Space! Cynicism is what happens when a person opens their eyes; stops blinking in the sun, and starts wondering "why". Question everything, believe only that which you yourself deem true. Go ahead- Call me cynical. |
03-21-2005, 10:33 AM | #264 |
mystical divinity of Unashamed Felinity
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My comment will come from left field, Lady R, but many comments on poetry do. (I've seen comments on my stuff that really take me aback -- where did that come from?? -- but it's fun to see how others react to what I've written.) Anyway, here goes --
Just because of my background and things I've written, it sounds to me like you're talking from a cat's point of view. I'm sure I'm way off the mark here, but that's the picture I got in my mind when I read it. (That BC -- she's so strange... ) But I like it. Here's my latest. (My boyfriend understood it, so it's not that deep...) Sundancers by Beruthiel's Cat Watch in the morning -- Sundancers sparkle, flitting in the wake of Mother's broom. Not to be caught in the golden beam the day casts upon the floor of the room.
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"Never try to out-stubborn a cat!" -- R. Heinlein ~~~~~~~~~ "But I don't want to be among mad people, " Alice remarked. "Oh, but you can't help that," said the Cat; "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad." "How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice. "You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here." ~~ Lewis Carroll ~~~~~~~~~~~ Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana... Last edited by Beruthiel's cat : 03-22-2005 at 02:12 PM. |
03-22-2005, 02:01 PM | #265 |
Thief Queen of Entmoot
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rofl!!! that's funny! i never looked at it that way, but yeah, it kinda does! lol! no, it wasn't written that way intentionally, but you're right it could sound like that...hmm...
btw, cool poem!
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*smooch* Proud Member of the Evil Mooters and upstanding citizen of the Planet Bob! And all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be... My Space! Cynicism is what happens when a person opens their eyes; stops blinking in the sun, and starts wondering "why". Question everything, believe only that which you yourself deem true. Go ahead- Call me cynical. |
03-22-2005, 02:20 PM | #266 | |
mystical divinity of Unashamed Felinity
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Quote:
Well...that just sounded very cat-like to me... Thanks!
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"Never try to out-stubborn a cat!" -- R. Heinlein ~~~~~~~~~ "But I don't want to be among mad people, " Alice remarked. "Oh, but you can't help that," said the Cat; "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad." "How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice. "You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here." ~~ Lewis Carroll ~~~~~~~~~~~ Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana... |
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03-23-2005, 01:27 PM | #267 |
mystical divinity of Unashamed Felinity
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It never pays to clean anything out. I found this poem I wrote nine years ago. Here it is, with a couple of revisions...
Electric by Beruthiel's cat Your one touch -- electric down my spine, awoke the dormant places, buried long. The fallow fields of self and soul called your name. And we became.
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"Never try to out-stubborn a cat!" -- R. Heinlein ~~~~~~~~~ "But I don't want to be among mad people, " Alice remarked. "Oh, but you can't help that," said the Cat; "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad." "How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice. "You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here." ~~ Lewis Carroll ~~~~~~~~~~~ Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana... |
04-08-2005, 03:29 PM | #268 |
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Short and beutiful. It's one of those poems that one can feel, physically.
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04-08-2005, 03:37 PM | #269 |
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Something I wrote.. Based on something real.
They were nothing but the words they had written, nothing but a pale face on a screen. They let me in to some places they considered too dark nothing their world had ever seen. What they looked for in a place full of emptiness, was something they wanted me to be. My own story was just some words I had written, and that I expected them to know just like me. For one day their faces broke through the screen, showing bodies and minds far too real. Unexpected they were like thunder in spring, came to demand and to make me feel. Without a doubt they reached for pieces of me, coming too close so I pushed them aside. Crept back into the screen for some walls to define me, hoping it isn't too late to finally hide.. Here is the same poem with a picture that suits it well..
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"Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known. " - C. Sagan My (photography) website My Flickr page Last edited by Nerdanel : 04-08-2005 at 04:35 PM. |
04-16-2005, 10:21 AM | #270 |
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That's really amazing, Nerd. Brings feelings to the surface that I know very well... I especially like the image of the last line.
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04-16-2005, 10:24 AM | #271 |
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Pass by Me
Pass clouds on a summers day sun on a winter morning pass pass all things cold and dark all things strange and stark pass pass life undesired lust unabated pass all things end |
04-17-2005, 04:56 PM | #272 | |
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Quote:
I wonder how obvious it is what it's about.. Very obvious I guess.
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04-20-2005, 08:51 AM | #273 |
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As good as ever, Nerdy!
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04-20-2005, 02:59 PM | #274 |
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A bitter smile meets me at the door
the cold wind blows out pushing my hair back from my face to expose the built-up shame. A careful mason is my love, to place each weighted word as slowly as my back will bear, for this, am I to blame? A thousand chips obscure my frame each placed with love, not ire each meant to strengthen my resolve each etched with my small name. From far away, I seem so large my shadow cast so long but ‘neath these bricks, and chips and stones a small man, all the same. deBish |
04-22-2005, 03:11 PM | #275 |
The Lovely Hobbit-Lass
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Not bad, Bish! A little on the obscure side, I think, but the imagery is pretty artful.
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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! |
05-08-2005, 05:21 PM | #276 |
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In My Dreams I Shall Not Be Awake
Lost on the border between dream
and truth, the eyes can see, but never the youth of things to come or things that are; only the past which is gone by far. A worn-out map of a scape long gone, the dwelling woods, the remains of a song blinds the traveller whose steps will fail; destinations, roads still behind a veil. As a flash of lightning the mist disappears, a sudden scream that awakes no fears reveals the nest of things to be; finally she found her way to the sea.
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"Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known. " - C. Sagan My (photography) website My Flickr page Last edited by Nerdanel : 05-08-2005 at 05:46 PM. |
05-08-2005, 05:45 PM | #277 |
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Let Me Go
Let me sleep in the mountains,
let the rain chill my skin; Let the ocean awake me, let me weep within. Let the forest embrace me, let me go with the wind; Let me live by the skyline, let me die in sin.
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05-19-2005, 04:26 PM | #278 |
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The first poem you've posted there, Nerd, it makes me feel very melancholy... and I like it.
As for the second, I have only this to say [ask, more like]; How is it that your last line is always so gooood? S'not fair, I tell you. / Skeletons Those old souls are rattling in my closet again, and I'm afraid that they'll accost me some time in the night; that all of those secrets will tumble out of the keyhole, and smother me while I'm dreaming. These fitful turns of pseudo-slumber leave me lagging all day long, and they slow my already weak ambition. This tired mind is hurting, now—it's so full of twisted tales and make-shift memories. The worst part is that I can't even remember which ones are real. Fact is fiction in this story collection. You can't sort the false from the true anymore. There's that dark place we never speak of and those bad people who over-shadow our dreams, but never our conversations. And then there are always those terrible nights that we all remember, but pretend we forgot long ago. There are all of the inner demons who sweep down our stairwells, but are never invited into the dining room for tea. Instead we keep them in closets and lock them up tight. But they dance sometimes when they're lonely.
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06-13-2005, 07:00 PM | #279 | |
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Quote:
Keep writing!
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06-17-2005, 08:20 PM | #280 |
Dreamweaver
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good poems, very good, is this for anyone?
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Lord, what fools these mortals be! ---------------- We are the music-makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams; World-losers and world-forsakers, On whom the pale moon gleams: Yet we are the movers and shakers Of the world for ever, it seems. ---------------- Shanti, shanti, shantih... |
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