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My poem
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| Trance-Aqua |
Hey hey all
Was just sitting here and boredom took over "as it does" and thought how amazing it is that people can express the psychology through their words etc....
Back to the topic, heres a little poem i just threw together now.
Something Blue
I watched u walk,
I watched u fall,
I smelled your fear
And reached out within
Your soul to touch
The tears upon your face,
To touch stars
In endless space
We searched within,
We searched without,
We touched corners
Of our minds
We play our lives,
We taste the thrill
We realise the complications
Keep us sane yet real
Nothing mentioned
Nothing gained
We stand our pose
Like grains of beach sand
Life is a smile
We breathe within it...
Let’s take the chance
And live the beginning.
Trance Aqua |
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| {b.s.e.} |
Why did you use 'u' in the first two lines? This person doesn't actually mean that much to you? :conf:
Or that you can't bring yourself to admit who you have these thoughts for?
I don't know.. I'm no Freud. |
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| davinox |
sorry. didn't really like it. im glad you are writing though. i love writing and think it is not only a useful way of expressing yourself.
here's a poem i recently finished.
(sorry for stealing your thread)
The Artist, The Youth, The Philosopher
A little boy, green and brown eyes plastered
Against the cold of the glass, dew beading
And fogging the morning view, to capture
The blurring of shapes and colors fleeting,
Flashing endlessly. It's like a river
Of existence outside, roaring quietly
Into a soft, cool hum half imagined.
The train has been rolling across its track
For as long as we can remember.
It twists and turns and it departs and boards.
But the boy is still young, and marveled by
The bleeding scenery outside. It flows
And never clots into something distinct.
He squints and tries to watch for a pattern.
Rows of trees whiz by, and a blotch of green
Smears across his hazy view—sprayed splattered
Like a gush of paint along brown and gray
Landscapes. The trees make his small lips bend up.
But why did he assume that green makes trees?
It’s what everyone on the train said. But,
Who knows? It could have been paint after all.
The train keeps rolling; time passes swiftly.
Its steel wheels lap in clicks across the track,
Quickly piling into one manifold,
One great, long, rushing, rumbling, rolling sound.
Different men have turned its gears, but always
The same path it takes, though each passenger
Sees their own unique show of scenery.
The boy watches a bit of blue glide by,
And it makes him sad. Not because blue has,
As a color, emotions of sorrow
And sadness that weight down its lovely hue.
No, the boy grew sad because, through the
Fog, he could never know quite what it was.
And his heart longed for it to be a bird.
I’ve been thinking, the boy says, about words.
Go on, says the man sipping a dark drink
Swirling of cream and bellowing with steam.
Well, he says, lightly brushing his small fingers
Against the plastic plush of the chair-back,
Isn’t everything what we make of it?
Isn’t this train, this chair, both our creation?
Are not words simply thoughts to make order
Out of our chaotic, intricate world?
Yes, said the man, that is partially true.
But how can you explain the simple laws
That govern the universe in physics
And mathematics? Aren’t these useful truths?
Then names and thoughts have a use, a purpose.
But obviously this reality
Is of our own making. Our eyes see light,
And our ears hear the rupture of sound waves.
We see the world through time, cause and effect.
But if that’s all reality is, bound
By our logic, by our perception, then
That means the very first effect, the one…
That triggered all of creation? Adam
And Eve and the Seven Days? Why, that’s God
My boy! And Jesus Christ. There’s your answer
Right there. But you’re not religious, are you?
The man scratched an imaginary itch
And the boy, frustrated, resumed speaking.
No, listen to me, for just one moment.
God, Allah, The Big Bang, why take your pick!
All are effects that need some sort of cause,
Which, in turn, need an effect. It’s endless
And paradoxical. Obviously
Our rules for reality only work
In our own reality, and there is
Obviously more to existence then that.
This means the only thing there is, is us.
This train which I get so tired of riding
Is a train to me awake. But asleep
It is a bed of clouds, a forest with
Vines outstretched, grasping down my hands. It is
Anything my mind wishes. But for now,
To someday depart, I must see the train.
The man slowly shook his coffee. He turned
To the window and watched once again
The foggy scenery through the window.
You, young man, are not yet a physicist
Nor a philosopher. You should get out
And experience the world before you
Make such a wild, ridiculous claim.
On the contrary, said the boy, you are making claims
In saying that men hold absolute truths.
I say we know nothing, nothing at all.
The only thing we know for sure is that
We each have made our own reality.
Our minds give us a picture of the world,
And they can change reality at whim.
When you dream, you build a reality
Useless to living but still convincing.
The only thing we know is that our view
Of reality is not complete. Now,
Who is the one who needs to go out and
Experience the world? Closing their jaws,
They stop talking and shift back into thought.
The sky cracks into morning, yellow blue
Shimmering, sparkling through the dewed window.
The boy sits and sighs, soon to realize,
What good can come of words? He sits and sucks
His senses like an anemone, deep
In the depths of existence. Whether strings
Or spirits, the ride is still beautiful.
Who am I to say what is right or wrong?
Who am I to judge another person,
Their life, their experience, and their views?
But then, why can’t I judge? Why judge my own
Judgment? It’s all very confusing and
Playing with words grows tiresome. The boy
Is still young and has much playing to do. |
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| EvilTree |
| Interesting stuff. I like the thoughts in both your poems. |
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| mezzir |
beautifully composed magimaster!
lsse and while we're at it...i suppose i could post something i've written
although i'm a musician and most of my stuff is written as lyrics
here's one about my frustration with the way love's percieved in our society
turned out ok (and i hate titles, so most of my pieces dont have em)
Twice I have been blinded
By the need for comfort
And thought that a friend
Was more than they intended to be
Sometimes the greatest feelings
You can share with no one
Because the love you feel
Is only in your head
Or even a dead end
And the comfort that you sought
Will ironically foreshadow
Inner battles you have fought
Maybe I’m better off alone
I have friends who are forever
And maybe I’m just an unlucky one
And this love wasn’t meant to be
Seventeen years of wisdom
Can’t be fit into one song
Because sixteen of those years
Were learning right from wrong
And in the past year I’ve started
To open up my eyes
Love is simply a word
For friendship in disguise
Do I have to settle on one?
Do I have to devote my life
Can only one person mean everything to me
Must that person be my wife?
here's one more, a bit more cheezy if anything
It’s the feeling I get
Tropical, subdued
The look in your eyes
When I say I love you
The day is forgotten
Woes left behind
When I look in your eyes
And say that I love you
Deep in a sea of blue
There’s room for me
Those sparkling eyes reflect
Serenity of the sea
And as I lay beside you
Your breathing slow but deep
I know that I belong
The moment I fall asleep
And the moment I awake
And you’re still there at my side
I can look into those eyes
And feel I’ve nothing to hide
There are no words to pass
Between lovers busy with sleep
Talk conveys emotions
But dreams are far more deep
The sincerest emotions of all
Come across beneath the covers
Asleep awake or in between
It’s all a dream to lovers
k one more and i'll shut up, this one i wrote while i was having thoughts of suicide...not serious ones, but i was just kind of thinking about it as a concept
He’s growing slowly tired
Tired of the drama
Tired of trying to sleep away
The pain he has been dealt
One night he can’t sleep well
The next he cannot think
The next he slowly watches crimson
Draining down the sink
His schoolmates start to wonder
If he’s right inside
If he’s hiding something
Or what he has to hide
His parents ask him nightly
If there’s anything they can do
He seems upset and tired they say
But he resists the truth
He seeks a means of solace
A refuge from the rain
The heavy downpour of criticism
That orchestrates his pain
One day he’ll find himself
Too weary from the stroll
And the following morning’s news informs us
How he finally lost control
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| TranceGeek |
| quote: | Originally posted by Trance-Aqua
Was just sitting here and boredom took over "as it does" and thought how amazing it is that people can express the psychology through their words etc.... |
there are so many better ways to express yourself than through poetry!
:o :o |
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| mezzir |
| quote: | Originally posted by TranceGeek
there are so many better ways to express yourself than through poetry!
:o :o |
...says the person who's either never seriously tried it or never was very good at it |
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| TranceGeek |
| quote: | Originally posted by mezzir
...says the person who's either never seriously tried it or never was very good at it |
well no ...
lol |
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| LoCa |
| quote: | Originally posted by mezzir
beautifully composed magimaster!
lsse and while we're at it...i suppose i could post something i've written
although i'm a musician and most of my stuff is written as lyrics
here's one about my frustration with the way love's percieved in our society
turned out ok (and i hate titles, so most of my pieces dont have em)
Twice I have been blinded
By the need for comfort
And thought that a friend
Was more than they intended to be
Sometimes the greatest feelings
You can share with no one
Because the love you feel
Is only in your head
Or even a dead end
And the comfort that you sought
Will ironically foreshadow
Inner battles you have fought
Maybe I’m better off alone
I have friends who are forever
And maybe I’m just an unlucky one
And this love wasn’t meant to be
Seventeen years of wisdom
Can’t be fit into one song
Because sixteen of those years
Were learning right from wrong
And in the past year I’ve started
To open up my eyes
Love is simply a word
For friendship in disguise
Do I have to settle on one?
Do I have to devote my life
Can only one person mean everything to me
Must that person be my wife?
here's one more, a bit more cheezy if anything
It’s the feeling I get
Tropical, subdued
The look in your eyes
When I say I love you
The day is forgotten
Woes left behind
When I look in your eyes
And say that I love you
Deep in a sea of blue
There’s room for me
Those sparkling eyes reflect
Serenity of the sea
And as I lay beside you
Your breathing slow but deep
I know that I belong
The moment I fall asleep
And the moment I awake
And you’re still there at my side
I can look into those eyes
And feel I’ve nothing to hide
There are no words to pass
Between lovers busy with sleep
Talk conveys emotions
But dreams are far more deep
The sincerest emotions of all
Come across beneath the covers
Asleep awake or in between
It’s all a dream to lovers
k one more and i'll shut up, this one i wrote while i was having thoughts of suicide...not serious ones, but i was just kind of thinking about it as a concept
He’s growing slowly tired
Tired of the drama
Tired of trying to sleep away
The pain he has been dealt
One night he can’t sleep well
The next he cannot think
The next he slowly watches crimson
Draining down the sink
His schoolmates start to wonder
If he’s right inside
If he’s hiding something
Or what he has to hide
His parents ask him nightly
If there’s anything they can do
He seems upset and tired they say
But he resists the truth
He seeks a means of solace
A refuge from the rain
The heavy downpour of criticism
That orchestrates his pain
One day he’ll find himself
Too weary from the stroll
And the following morning’s news informs us
How he finally lost control
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holy man thats amazing stuff!!
Keep posting them! :) |
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| mezzir |
| quote: | Originally posted by LoCa
holy man thats amazing stuff!!
Keep posting them! :) |
hm lsse....ooh i have one with a title...i'll post that
wrote it after i read Ishmael, by Daniel Quinn (ishmael.org for more info, AMAZING book)
Adam
Feed me for I’m lonely
Break me from this curse
I’m thinking of my solitude
And what thing could be worse
My view is from afar
Of distant blessed lands
But the rust upon these bars
Tints my cursed hands
Cast out for eternity
I disobeyed His will
But thanks for my determination
Man can eat his fill
I ate from the tree of knowledge
Of good and evil, in truth
But how this caused my ruin,
I’m not that wise a sleuth
In all my deeds were noble
Fabled far and wide
But something still does bother me
From it I cannot hide
In all His time of ruling
Past and present still
No one deserved so bad a fate
As I, Adam, the ill
i'll see if i can dig up some more later |
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| SuperFarStucker |
I write a fair bit of this poetry nonsense... :p
| quote: | emotion runs thick through the veins
a molten toxin
of the broken; faltering
an endless loop
thirsting for the pain
screaming silently
thereafter nothing remains
a broken shell
agony, defeat, betrayal
hurtship...
they found ecstasy in loss
but me...
I am cursed with bitter, burning tears
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| quote: |
a shaky bad feeling
it makes my head scream
"what the is wrong with me"
an akward displaced moment
"im just not that naive anymore"
looking at the world
through jade stained eyes
now it all should look yellow
but to me it's dripping red
and burning up
the tapestries of my sanity
what's the axiom?
is there no answer?
is there no basis?
the patterns only emerge
in my questions
which inevitably
fail to be answered
perhaps
im just asking the wrong ones...
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and
| quote: |
Not all fences are built
with word, thought
not all spirits are slain
by sword, man
some are made of bricks
filled with envy
filled with desire
with failure;
others are chain-link
woven together
by the heat of anger
and forged
with the bitter cold
of isolation
others are made
from rebarred concrete
the stone crushed
by the weight of ignorance
what matter though
is the fence’s composition
they all are designed
to keep out one thing;
people
we no longer reach for the stars
we reach for the black dirt
with sparingly placed white sand
at all the vantage points
in that little box
of dirt.. and sand
painted in excess
in glory
but it’s still dirt
when you rub away the coloured acrylic
and, all we will get
is a mouth full of sand
and choke
if we’re lucky
we’ll die
at ease
and think
wouldn’t it be nice
... I don't taste anything
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Anteceding one is actually taking a theme from another [famous] poem and putting my own twist on it. Kudos if you know which one, cause I sure as hell don't remember :(
| quote: |
This is my million monkeys
On a typewriter
But they aren’t
Writing up the works of Shakespeare
They’re typing up
Words without the weight of meaning
Much like the aesthetic lack of elegance in opulence
as the homeless man’s "box" does
No
My words are crude
And they mean nothing at all
I don’t believe I know how to
Use them properly
All roads herein lead inwards
Into the Heart of myself
But, I don’t know where it is…
It’s just a million typewriters
Pounding away at monkeys
In my mind
I can almost picture their screams
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*edit*.. one more of mine that I like
| quote: |
We are neurotic creatures
Forever captivated by –
Enraptured by –
Our dreams
We thirst, we hunger, we breath
It’s a creep so insidious
So thick, so overbearing
I can taste it
Like I can feel
The salt in my open wounds
In my dreams
And I can feel it
Like I can smell
The dank and decaying flesh
Of my soul
In my dreams
And I can sense it
That we are different
For we thirst not on the blood of our enemies
But their feeling of defeat
Their crumbling dreams
And this serves
To only make our passion stronger
Until somebody too, thirsts upon our soul – our dreams
Like a ravenous leach
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My stuff isn't very good, but it makes me feel better when I'm depressed if I write something. A form of self-expression I guess. |
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| {b.s.e.} |
There once was a man from Nantucket... can I tell that one in front of the kids?
I've never taken poetry seriously as an outlet for expression of self, however it it seems to suit some people more than others. I always end up making stupid lymrics, or bury my meaning too deep in symbolism. Here's the only thing that comes to mind right now. ;)
there once was a boy named Marvin,
lives in a country that's starvin'.
But Christ came his way, for only 8 cents a day, still won't be roast beef he'll carvin'.
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