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 LuciaInFurs    |
I thought we needed a little spot for non-creatures related scribblings. (Laura's wonderful "When You Leave" should be left to stand alone, I think.) Rhyming, free formed, sonnets, ballads, tear jerking and side splitting, lets mix it all up! Your own, or something else you love. I was all juiced up for this but now it comes to it... I'm feeling pretty shy. Enjoy this pretty little ditty of the legendary John Cooper Clarke while I get my gut back: Haiku To convey ones mood in seventeen syllables is very diffic- Any thoughts? Works of your own? The Electric Angels (my blog) http://luciainfurs.wordpress.com/ ~*~*~*~*~*~ "Don't you know there ain't no devil, it's just god when he's drunk"  |
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 Tea Queen Laura |
DragonGirl wrote: Thank you.  This topic is right up my street.  Though, I'm sure if I posted my poems in here, I wouldn't stop and would probably end up just hogging the topic.  Maybe just one poem for now...I submitted this poem as part of my summative assessment for my "Activating the Imagination: Poetry" creative writing module at uni. One of the tasks was we had to write a poem which focused on "making things". We had to think of something to make, and incorporate the making process, ( and what was used to make it - items, ingredients, utensils, etc.) in the poem. Summer Seduction Fresh fruits of summer in a clear plastic tub They mingle and tumble, one measuring jug The sink faucet rains freely, shower them clean A chopping knife to cut, see sweet nectar bleed. Put into the mixer, not adding too much Add boulders of ice; burning cold to the touch Wake up the monster, hear it growl, see it swirl A mass of sloshing juices and whirring wails. Pour into a glass, add a pink plastic straw Its tasty tang will leave you thirsty for more Your eyes will beam bright, like the rays of the sun As the cool tastes of summer dance on your tongue. November 2007 Can ya guess what it is yet?  |
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 angel51431 |
hey guys... maybe if we're gonna have in-depth poetry discussion, its better to put these topics in Writings. That forum doesn't necessarily have to be creatures-related writings. Yes, I'm the forum ![[devil]](/images/smilies/devil.gif "[devil]") ... Any questions?Rascii: You make my life difficult, angel. |
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 Dreamnorn |
To those who have read the Warriors books by Erin Hunter, I wrote a fan poem in first-person POV for one of the warrior cats... if you've read the series, you would probably know who is speaking: “What could that mean?” I asked my friend She replied, “It may take some time to wend.” I sighed quietly, groaned, and said, “I think I shall head back to bed.” Fire alone can save our clan. Is that a part of StarClan’s plan? To be consumed and ruined by fire? Destroying accomplishments of times prior? Or does that mean we shall survive? But how can fire help constant strive? Perhaps flames are not what they speak, But a cat? Who will help those growing weak? I pause for a moment in my dreams, I can’t decipher StarClan’s schemes. Haven't I all ready seen enough, With a rust-colored cat, who fought so tough? I might not find out what it is today, But it’s StarClan’s sign, so I’ll find out someday… I kinda wrote it in a rush just last night, because I was being pressured to watch a movie with my brother, so it shouldn't sound as good as I could make it. But I'm proud of it nonetheless.  |
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 Malkin Manager |
This is a poem meant to have been written by Linda of Round the Twist, after the episode "The Copy", in which she gains and loses a "twin sister" by a copying machine. Born from my side My mirror self, my sister, A part of me and now apart. You are all that I have been And all that I am not. You have been with me since our birth Playing hide-and-seek in the corners of my mind Witness to my life. I wonder what it would have been like To have you as a real sister, Adnil… We would have played together, Sis, (Pete was never fond of dressing up) And the girly things we could have done! When Mum died, we could have comforted each other. And then, when Bron found Tom’s cloning machine, The boys and I played around with it, not understanding And then you were there. We were a team, Sis, To win the race and the heart of that dipstick – what’s his name? We ran together through the lighthouse, hearts pumping, lungs gasping, and the finish line – we won! Our prize? A share in a date with Hugh – A sexist dag, dork and total dipstick. I can’t believe we used to follow him around at school! I’ll see you every time I look in the mirror And remember your sacrifice for me I never had to say “I love you”, because You just knew. I wanted to sacrifice myself for you, to reverse my self – but you remembered all my life and told me not to. We fought over the privilege to kill ourselves for the other’s sake. I promise you that I will live my life More boldly, more strongly And never marry a dag, a dork, or a total dipstick. My TCR Norns |
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LuciaInFurs |
Laura, my first thought for your poem was "SMOOOOTHIE!" Am I right? Lor, I want one now. Malkin, I remember Round the Twist! That was a crazy show, I had to go back to your poem a few hours later because I was expecting something much more upbeat based on such a wacky programme. Love it though The Electric Angels (my blog) http://luciainfurs.wordpress.com/ ~*~*~*~*~*~ "Don't you know there ain't no devil, it's just god when he's drunk" |
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Tea Queen Laura |
Within Imagine a thought that you can't forget Powerful, overtaking, causing you stress. To never feel safe in your own home, But not from a crime or being all alone. Your fear, your thoughts, mind racing thoughts, They nag at you, feed off you, run on and on Forever encompassing, never free from your mind, No matter how much you want it and try. Always believing that soon it will happen, Losing control, the fear, the thought, It's you that it's trapping. Imagine a fear that can be thrown unaware, No where to go to escape from the scare. Ruining your day and disturbing your night, Anything, please, to escape from the fright. For others the 'thing' means nothing at all, To us don't we wish that it could be that small? Instead we worry, we pace and we cry, We keep our thoughts hidden, a secret, a lie. This 'thing' is so awful, impossible to pacify, But do you know what? I'm trying to try. |
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LuciaInFurs |
End of Days Blink uselessly, eyelashes protest the white canvas blindfold. The ink seeps between my fingers, trace the emerald stains. Am I the reaper? Ordinary Vanity, notions we are bound by anything more than our wills and what will. Transfixed; the flow of pressed lip to flowing nib. The secular nature of our passings and (Oh beloved, forgive me my clichés) my lust to whisper to you those three little words: You're a liar. lots of surreal experiences I've had lately glued together with good old fashioned teenage angst! The Electric Angels (my blog) http://luciainfurs.wordpress.com/ ~*~*~*~*~*~ "Don't you know there ain't no devil, it's just god when he's drunk" |
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Tea Queen Laura |
Written for tomorrow's poetry workshopping session at uni. I've decided to be an awkward sod and leave the poem's subject matter to the reader's imagination. brushing away the sleep from your face You look up in fierce yearning to gaze at the skies and survey the warmth and beauty of the place But when cold dusk comes, you hide, shying away Sheltered and warm, from the air’s bitter bite Hidden behind silk curtains, tired from the day Still and slumbering, through the crispness of night Only waking to the call of dawn’s first light |
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LuciaInFurs |
This one makes me think of the extreme opportunists, the "morning people" and "early birds" who are spent by noon. Something about it is still sweet tasting though... that makes sense in my head. The Electric Angels (my blog) http://luciainfurs.wordpress.com/ ~*~*~*~*~*~ "Don't you know there ain't no devil, it's just god when he's drunk" |
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Dreamnorn |
I still have no sense of poetry, but this one I wrote yesterday on impulse after drawing the creature I commanded in SPORE. Here he is, the Eronslaar: A shadow falls over the land, With dripping fangs and two-clawed hand, Within his blackest, mirror eyes, Is the truth of your friend's demise. His wings are flurried, his crown adorned, Yet he by other species scorned. His wisdom boundless, his stories great, He is very articulate. So maybe there's a friend inside? In Kuneer's deserts he resides. More of Eronslaar you shall hear, Don't get too close -- he can smell your FEAR! Wow, I'm just lame like that. x3 The Eronslaar, in my game, looks kind of like an ettin, kind of like a dragon, and very much like a cutesy monster. |
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 Azura |
Hmm... I like writing poetry. I am terrible at rhyming, so I usually use freeform. Here's a poem I wrote... I know what you say Still, it's hard to believe The numb feeling you get When you discover Loss for the first time. It fades, but always remains And you are never free Still, it is possible to Break free of your chains And soar away Away from the pains And the luxuries Until you are one And all That is. It's kind of lame-ish, but I wrote it really quickly. Can you touch the stars? Then you must be an Astro Norn... My Creatures DS username is the same as this one. PM me if you want to connect! |
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 xan |
can any of you explain poetry to me? because I really don't get it |
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LuciaInFurs |
I bet no one posting in this thread "gets" all types of poetry. Some writers just speak out to you, or captivate you; others don't. And the worst bit: No one seems to have any idea what poetry is. Least of all the bloody poets, typical turning of the world, eh? The Electric Angels (my blog) http://luciainfurs.wordpress.com/ ~*~*~*~*~*~ "Don't you know there ain't no devil, it's just god when he's drunk" |
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Tea Queen Laura |
I view writing a poem as telling a story with image and (occasionally) rhyme. It is very hard to define exactly what poetry actually is - maybe it resists definition? Other poets do have their own ideas though, a few examples: "The right word that is also surprising" - W. B. Yeats "A fresh look and a fresh listen" - Robert Frost (My favourite) "The best words in the best order" - Samuel Taylor Coleridge At the end of the day, I think there's no real definition of poetry that's set in stone, every poet and every reader of poetry has their own interpretation. |
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xan |
Would you consider it a literary art that is more basally close to the concepts of visual art? |
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Tea Queen Laura |
Yeah, I'd also go with that - a poem could be seen as a visual form, because it provoke images in the reader's mind. That's why words are often chosen so carefully. |
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 christine |
ah, my poetry lecturer defined it as: "written art focused more on the signifying, changeful, and incommensurable nature of language (sound, shape, interpretive multiplicity, dialect) than on the communicative strategies of language (transparent, uniform, representational, commodity oriented)." when she asked whether we thought this was right, everyone immediately said no... but no one could come up with a better definition. it sort of eludes me too. unless you mean you don't "get" it, as in you don't grasp the appeal, in which case i can't help you, i can only judge you here's a rather long poem that i wrote yesterday... it's a rough, crappy draft, but oh well. --- this is a love note to the angels- who watch over the city as it sleeps silent and breathless through the coldest nights of the winter while the sky mirrors back a thousand broken wishes the angels, unwilling, half smile with both love and brutality how i saw them then on that dusty night in nowhere shrouded in broken constellations and like an earth bound seraphim he half smiled at me wrapped in a pink blanket we spoke nothing of the reverie i wander the street like a lost duckling with glances at every pair of blue eyes wondering who are you? will you take me in? the tribe of the unwilling watch the serpentine twists of the highway as light fades to nothingness there is no answer to my psychic pleas no easy end to anxiousness all there is is endless blacktop i am not the most worthy, or the most pious but lead by legs more willing than i am to escape this place i could see them there as i leaned over the edge and pressed my lips to the dirty glass i could see them then as i eyed every passing car and wondered on the fate of the day i would love them more now if i could hear their voices like bells from far away cathedrals but i would not say this because my thoughts return to the angels the sweet children of the city as i turn at night to the blistering wind my voice swept from me with the soft sound of collective heartbeat whisper, yes, i still love you though you do not love me I wanna be your lover, Lipstick my name across your mirror. Blood red with flaked gunshot glitter |
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Dreamnorn |
I have two recent non-creatures poems to share. ^^ Abandoned is a poem that lulls over painful angst; the kind that stays in your mind and keeps training on and on and on. I wouldn't want to be in the narrator's place, no sir. Fate's Fire is a much shorter piece which is loaded with imagery of a scene. I have left it to the reader to determine what it means exactly, so it can be either really profound with deep meaning or just kind of pretty. |
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 KC11 |
This is more of a song than a poem, and it doesn't rhyme and all... I posted it on Aithalis. Let's just say it's a song about some issuse I've been having in my life. Reach out Beyound the Wall Can you see me? Can you hear me? Do you know who I am? Am I invisible Just another spirit A disembodied voice To you? I can see The wall The barrier between Your world and mine To the other We are but Two different species One world looking into another And I touch the wall And I touch your hand I reach out and wait For you to do the same If I had a choice Years ago I would not have chosen this But now that I know what lies Beyound the wall I know this is what I need Ohoh Reach out beyound the wall And see what you can find If you could just See me Reaching out for you Maybe you would reach for me too Do not upset the ugly worm, lest it be a dragon in disguise. (>oo)> |
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Tea Queen Laura |
I know this is an old topic, but I was wondering if I could have some feedback on a poem I wrote today: Untitled She walked alone, Not wanting to meet their eyes Hers kept up towards the clouds That rumbled in the sky. She had no companions so to speak, No wish for earthly things Only a desire to be cut loose Free from puppet strings. She longed to be an autumn leaf That she might glide away She felt sad for every shoot of grass For rooted, they will stay. How she longed to be a wind chime For they often dance alone How jealous she was of them waving In the air they call their home. Some say she dwelled too much In distain, for she dwelled for too long But they woke one winter morning To find that she had gone. The trees just stood to witness The clouds silent, refused to tell But an onlooker who had seen it Said the act had played out well. She spread her arms out wide Inhaled the breaking dawn She just let go of all she held... And then she was gone. Thank you  |
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 Prodigal Sock Ghosthande |
I like it. And I'm not usually much of a fan of poetry, so if it can keep me engaged... that's saying something.  |
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 Epaeris |
A Haiku by Epaeris Laura wrote a poem Beautiful, Interesting How lovely to read |
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 rainbowcat1 |
That was excellent Laura! I love writing and reading poetry, and yours was really captivating. I like the rhyme and flow of the words. "Everything you can imagine is real" ~Pablo Picasso  |
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Tea Queen Laura |
Thanks Ghosthande, Epaeris (I like your Haiku ) and Rainbowcat! I really appreciate your comments. I haven't written a poem in a long while so I'm glad about how it turned out. |
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 scoota94 |
I am not sure if this is a dead topic but I thought I'd post here instead of starting a new one Trips, falls, bumps All of these are seen through life Though more often than not With you, It seems hopeless Tears fall, and love is lost Its alright, you'll be fine You hate that line You want to fix it, no matter how hopeless it seems I see the pain stretched across your face And it tears me up, so I comfort you Its routine now everyday is the same your hopelessness Your pain But I'm there by your side I sit Your hopeless, but I help you fight it This was inspired by my best friend Tamsin! ^_^ I will always be there! Don't be worried about who is right, Just follow you heart... |
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 SpringRain |
Wow, Laura and scoota94, your poems are so beautiful. I really enjoyed reading them. Hopefully more are to come! I'm back again after being away a handful of years. 2026 Revamp, Baby! |
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christine |
nice job, scoota! a small critique: you use hopeless a lot close together. maybe another word would flow better? i haven't written a poem in a long time! here is a random poem from right this second: ten after nine, the sun will not rise today down a long lonely road, we made love on the roof of his car and spread a blanket on the sand to rest endless desert, endless days grateful for the darkness bitter green storms on the horizon and his hair, like an eclipse i could run and never touch the ground I wanna be your lover, Lipstick my name across your mirror. Blood red with flaked gunshot glitter |
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 Melody |
(Laura, there's a song called "I Walk Alone" by Tarja Turunen )Here's mine (I doubt it will be any good) By the ocean under the stars in a tree staring up at the night sky as if I was touching the moon reaching towards the stars feeling through the air flying through the sky dancing through the night the ocean below is simply a river to me compared to the great night sky How was that? XD  |
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scoota94 |
Thats a really nice poem Don't be worried about who is right, Just follow you heart... |
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Melody |
Thanks. |
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rainbowcat1 |
Oh, I loved your poem christine! "Everything you can imagine is real" ~Pablo Picasso |
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scoota94 |
Before its impossible I want to look into your eyes And etch the image into my brain A beutiful tatoo on my mind Wrote this a few days ago, hope its not too bad? Don't be worried about who is right, Just follow you heart... |
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 c1anddsaddict |
This is a poem I wrote after going to Turkey. I arrived there; Like the ancient Byzantines Who founded Byzantium Like the old Ottomans Who ruled Constantinople As a new tourist Who sees Istanbul Two splendid domes of two rival buildings Hagia Sofia with its huge dome and famed mosaics; Old blue mosque with its gorgeous tiles Of equal splendor. Constant darkness In a water-filled cavern In the Byzantine cistern Where long dead spirits walk the tourists' walkway Night and day, As so it is said Now, for secrets Concealed in shady halls Of people locked behind elegant, bleak palace walls So seldom then seen Now seen by so many A tea garden I'll linger for a moment's rest While seated on a soft, gilded seat And sipping the delightfully strong Turkish tea A cool breeze blows from the golden horn... As a farewell to me? I leave Istanbul For the ruined fortress on Anadolu Kavagi Where is often walk in dreams To view the black sea Through the dream-like mist I must leave there Like the ancient Byzantines Whose city was conquered Like the old Ottomans Whose empire did collapse As a new tourist, who must return home DS village My TCR norns STAY AWAY FROM THE MOLDY, DISEASED CHICKEN NUGGET STASH!!! |
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KC11 |
Imagination obscure, twisting and turning, altering, driving mad We live in a world ever changing, of beauty and hate, multicolored In this world we are born with no instruction Safe, we are not Home, not where our heart lies Integrity is relative, there is no one moral code; good and evil are perception Can you lend me, can you spare me? Old ways block the eyes, dull the senses Unless you lend me back, I cannot lend forth Lies and deception always bring the largest pile, the greatest gain Do not cheat, except when you must; do not lie, except when it is necessary. Fine, go without me, do I need humanity? no Everyone knows no man is a island Everyone lies, however Lacking of a singular rule to follow, contradiction bouncing, causing confusion Never let a man live should he have killed your father Otherwise love your neighbor as you would expect them to love you True, true, there is the ultimate punisher waiting for you How can one get into heaven with a manual as this? It seems to be true that the entire world is destined to punishment Never was it a perfect system, so how could it be devised by a perfect being? Gone, gone, going gone, my mind, my brain; to leave the cave is to commit mental suicide. Do not upset the ugly worm, lest it be a dragon in disguise. (>oo)> |
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 Gumbo |
The poem i'm most proud of. House by the River In the dark Of the dusk In the house that his dead father built With his own two cold hands They lay In the cold night winds With her wedding dress a rag. She ran from the church To go see the farmer’s boy Who had lit a single candle To the darkness of his home. He will wait. And their pitiful communion Would have, in a better time, Rocked the foundations of poetry, Drowned entire empires, Raised the oceans, Burst the clouds, with its Deep red beauty. If anyone listened Not knowing what to do they lay Not knowing what to say they lay Waiting For the stray goat That would turn the farmer’s house to ashes. She screamed With her neck broken from the rafter that fell She screamed With her head held up in both her hands She screamed In the tongue That her mother used to sing in. And if you walk past that foundation You can still hear The fiddles, The pride and joy if his father, Sing in the river of the fire In the light In the dawn In the house That his father built again. in the spring you gotta let the flowers fully blossom |
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