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Poetry

Discussion in 'The Philosopher' started by speed, Feb 15, 2007.

  1. The Ozzman

    The Ozzman Melted by feels

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    Some poetry from Richard Brautigan:

    1942

    Piano tree, play
    in the dark concert halls
    of my uncle,
    twenty-six years old, dead
    and homeward bound
    on a ship from Sitka,
    his coffin travels
    like the fingers
    of Beethoven
    over a glass
    of wine.

    Piano tree, play
    in the dark concert halls
    of my uncle,
    a legend of my childhood, dead,
    they send him back
    to Tacoma.
    At night his coffin
    travels like the birds
    that fly beneath the sea,
    never touching the sky.

    Piano tree, play
    in the dark concert halls
    of my uncle,
    take his heart
    for a lover
    and take his death
    for a bed,
    and send him homeward bound
    on a ship from Sitka
    to bury him
    where I was born.

    IT’S RAINING IN LOVE

    I don’t know what it is,
    But I distrust myself
    When I start to like a girl
    A lot.

    It makes me nervous.
    I don’t say the right things
    Or perhaps I start
    To examine,
    Evaluate,
    Compute
    What I am saying.

    If I say, “Do you think it’s going to rain?”
    and she says, “I don’t know,”
    I start thinking: Does she really like me?

    In other words
    I get a little creepy.

    A friend of mine once said,
    “It’s twenty times better to be friends
    with someone
    than it is to be in love with them.”

    I think he’s right and besides,
    its raining somewhere, programming flowers
    and keeping snails happy.
    That’s all taken care of.

    BUT
    if a girl likes me a lot
    and starts getting real nervous
    and suddenly begins asking me funny questions
    and looks sad if I give the wrong answers
    and she says things like,
    “Do you think it’s going to rain?”
    and I say, “It beats me,”
    and she says, “Oh,”
    and looks a little sad
    at the clear blue California sky,
    I think: Thank God, it’s you, baby, this time
    Instead of me.


    THE MOON VERSES US EVER SLEEPING TOGETHER AGAIN

    I sit here, an arch-villain of romance,
    thinking about you. Gee, I'm sorry
    I made you unhappy, but there was nothing
    I could do about it because I have to be free.
    Perhaps everything would have been different
    if you had stayed at the table or asked me
    to go out with you to look at the moon,
    instead of getting up and leaving me alone with
    her.
     
  2. Øjeblikket

    Øjeblikket Member

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    Shakespeare was so unbelievably talented.
     
  3. Tbass17

    Tbass17 New Metal Member

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    This is an older composition of mine and my writing has evoled since but I feel that this is still one of my best.

    Tick,Tock
    Tick,Tock
    Tick,Tock
    The sound of a clock,
    Counting past these days,
    That are forever growing shorter,
    Tick,tock,

    Silence broken only by the sound of a pen,
    And the never ending countdown of the clock,
    Once a moment has passed it cannot be regained,
    It is gone,
    Lost forever,
    Ticking life away,
    Speak its rhythm,

    As-time-goes-by-we-will-soon-become-what-we-are-destined-to-be-in-our-eternity

    For sure advancements will be made,
    But forever time will govern,
    Unaffected by any machine,
    Every moment passed,
    Is now history,
    And in that moment,
    Something happened,
    New life created,
    Old life destroyed,

    The paths are laid out for us,
    The choice of ours is which one we should take,
    That choice surely is the greatest,
    Those who take the easy path travel with ease,
    But recieve little,
    Those who take the path that bites not only recieve healing,
    But are rewarded and live for eternity,
    The choice of path is open to all,

    The paths are laid out...which route will you take?

    Message any comments/criticism
    Please no snide comments about grammer or lines that don't make
    sense to you. I am willing to enter into mature discussion but will ignore childish attitude.
    Thank you.
     
  4. Øjeblikket

    Øjeblikket Member

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    The Sea-Serpent

    I've a story to tell -- I don't say that it's true--
    But just as I heard it I tell it to you.
    A ship there was sailing upon the blue sea
    With her canvas all set, when the captain, said he
    "I feel that the vessel is all of a tremble,
    A sort of sea earthquake it seems to resemble;
    Send forward the mate to see what is the matter."
    When lo! what he saw would have made your teeth shatter,
    An enormous big snake rising out of the sea,
    Some three hundred feet long it might possibly be,
    And in bulk it might equal a "wide crinoline"
    (At least seven yards round that description must mean).
    With jaws eight feet long, and with eyes fiercely glaring,
    A horn and a mane; he looked horribly daring,
    While the bowsprit he shook in his terrible mouth.
    'T was in Latitude east and in Longitude south,
    This is somewhat obscure, but I think on the whole
    It occurred th' other side of the Antarctic pole,
    The ship making six knots -- leaving foam in her wake,
    Yet she stopped at the touch of this wonderful snake;
    And the Jibboom and bowsprit were snapped like a straw;
    But his strength was outdone by his marvellous maw;
    For he swallowed the stay-sail and also the jib,
    Like a boy gulping oysters -- they went down to glib.
    With his stay to his stomach he turned him about,
    And gave with his tail such a vigorous flout,
    That some timbers to atoms were crushed by the blow,
    And what more might have happened we none of us know,
    When an object appeared for the which he set sail,
    And both object and story were much like a whale.

    - Mr. George Guyon
     
  5. Øjeblikket

    Øjeblikket Member

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    I, being born a woman and distressed
    By all the needs and notions of my kind,
    Am urged by your propinquity to find
    Your person fair, and feel a certain zest
    To bear your body's weight upon my breast:
    So subtly is the fume of life designed,
    To clarify the pulse and cloud the mind,
    And leave me once again undone, possessed.
    Think not for this, however, the poor treason
    Of my stout blood against my staggering brain,
    I shall remember you with love, or season
    My scorn wtih pity, -- let me make it plain:
    I find this frenzy insufficient reason
    For conversation when we meet again.

    - Edna St. Vincent Millay
     
  6. infoterror

    infoterror Member

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    LOL POSEUR
     
  7. Øjeblikket

    Øjeblikket Member

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    infoterror demonstrates his understanding of "owned."
     
  8. bobvex

    bobvex Teh Forum Fuhrer

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    A Poo Haiku

    Somtimes when I fart,
    I am fooled by my bowels,
    Oops, I did a poo.
     
  9. Øjeblikket

    Øjeblikket Member

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    A little dankling for Silent Hill fans.

    It counts as poetry.

    A tale of birds without a voice

    First flew the greedy Pelican.
    White wings flailing,
    eager for the reward.

    Then came a silent Dove,
    flying beyond the Pelican,
    as far as he could.

    A Raven flies in
    flying higher than the Dove,
    just to show he can.

    A Swan glides in,
    to find a peaceful spot
    next to another bird.

    Finally, out comes a Crow,
    coming quickly to a stop
    yawning and then napping.


    Who will show the way?
    Who will be the key?
    Who will tend to the silver reward?
     
  10. The Ozzman

    The Ozzman Melted by feels

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    Here's one I wrote at 4 AM

    Flesh Wound
    Piercing cries of agony
    fill the sky
    as I wait for your downfall
    Isn't this why
    I shed tears for you
    to finally listen
    to what I have to say?
     
  11. Nile577

    Nile577 Member

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    (Kmik - This is a poem I wrote about the emptiness and brutality of nazism and racism. it's supposed to be an horrific vision of what 'fascist sex' might be like; a kind of racist love that tries to 'shut out' the Other through crude stereotypes but actually shuts out love itself and is thus warmed only by nothingness - from/of/as a result of which it 'is not' love. I tried to show an open mouth as a violent furnace. The last stanza tries to show in a brutally sarcastic way the fascist mindset.)

    "The next thousand years are ours"
    by Nile577

    I queued a hundred points and more
    In my best genes and t-shirt, raw
    From blue-eyed line to gaping maw,
    And filled the narrow distance thence
    With hardened nothing's recompense
    Which passed the waiting time in line
    With love's great written Romance rhyme.

    And in her pleasure scream did lick.
    Red lips and teeth and tongue
    The point.
    And, pouting, framed a darkness whence
    A hundred truths did howl consent
    And, from the furnace, ashes stirred
    To razor outlined father-fit
    And, gasping love, she clung once more
    To torso-muscled inches thick.
    Which fit, and struck
    THERE
    Spot above the rest,
    In washed out, othered, blackened depths.
    And "O" and "Ahh" and org did kindle isms in the asmic tingle
    For Here was England's roomy truth:
    Red cross did brand her whitened youth.

    The glow of love

    shut out

    The glare
    of corner
    Shopped flicker;
    Warmed by the nothingness
    Of which it was not.

    All that perfection.
    All that biology.
    Strung out, glistening.
    Twisted bodies in a helix.
    Basking in the hubris of the chiliastic night.
     
  12. -C

    -C C

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    I wrote this poem a couple of years ago. Hope you enjoy.


    Silhouette
    -C
    A Tree whispered… “Calm befall my Hill…
    Vivid Shadow cometh to relish thy still”
    Nourish his mind with silence until reflects the dawn
    For this time is novel… this time he’s not alone

    Vivid Shadow ambles… still glances behind
    The footsteps he always fancied, subsist inside his mind
    Forever has he wanted, and that long it has been
    They would come in candid, they would come in kin

    A voice grazed around him… toning his reflection
    Stumbled with his wishes, her presence is perfection!
    Flared his eyes burnished, in hope his hands have met
    Gawking down the dais road and wished for a Silhouette

    He knows she is auspicious… but linger is her pace
    Certain is her resilience and deeper is his Faith
    She might head back to the village, recur another day
    And he will perpetually dream, smile and sing and pray
     
  13. iampastastorytotelltellit

    iampastastorytotelltellit New Metal Member

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    Location:
    Turkiye
    A SHROUD FOR MY DARLING
    The shrine of a woman whose hair blazes in henna
    soars overhead in an undertone
    these violet autumn days inflict their madness
    driving you out of your senses and books
    tumors, dead ants

    chills and shivers cover me
    curiosity
    is the genesis of a revolutionary
    and above me in an undertone fly
    cancer, begonia, death.


    White gauze behind the windowpane
    and eyes plucked out
    real human eyes heavy like rocks
    a mother endures all the agony
    and the dust stirred up by her corpse,
    you warden of anguish, you autumn days.


    Under the rain of the rebel leader
    I clobber my own scorched and paltry beauty
    Saturday afternoons pierce like a cramp
    my hope
    is a ferocious animal
    which keeps toppling the banknotes and mass meetings
    and chokes the houses we live in
    with the aroma of cinnamon and with weariness,
    curiosity
    is the genesis of a revolutionary


    in the bazaars some coppersmiths wash
    and women who knead dough are dragged with clangs
    in their mortars they pound their stubborn streak
    and their vile hopes too.


    I cannot love a girl secretly
    a thousand curiosities prick me all over
    those gloomy smells of incense our mothers
    craving food in pregnancy must eat dirt
    unite the ropes of my heart against the moon
    my heavenly pain throbs in my wrists
    sawdust convulsing sawdust
    sawdust of the sledge that beats on my temples.

    İsmet OZEL (Turkish Poet)
    (Translated by Talat Sait Halman)
     
  14. kmik

    kmik Member

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    Can you, please, provide a brief analysis on that?
     
  15. toxi44

    toxi44 New Metal Member

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    this is gr8*
     

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