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Writing

Posted in: Forum Home >> General Discussion >> Writing

Displaying posts 26 - 48 of 48 1 2 Last
Displaying posts 26 - 48 of 48 1 2 Last
Aug 1, 2009 11:41 PM ET #26 (permalink)

Y, you've got some interesting imagery happening man.

DIE - personally, I just write coz I enjoy it, I'm not trying to get famous for it or anything. But if you want to build a name for yourself that's cool, best of luck to ya - I don't have the ambition (or skill) for it, but don't give up on your dream just coz it's hard to get - maybe you could find yourself a tutor or an editor or somethin to help you along? I have no idea how these things work lol

And yeah, there does seem to be a lack of concern for poetic structure these days - particularly since emo kids started blogging hahah. It's all stream of consciousness nowadays. I tried my hand at Iambic Pentameter (a la Shakespeare) in this one, but I don't know that I managed the stressed/unstressed syllables thing too well hahah... rhyming goes a/b/c/d/d/c a/b/e/f/f/e etc - oh and each line in the fourth stanza is made up of bits of their corresponding lines in the previous stanzas - I like to experiment :)

With, or Without God:

Where?,
Hell's Angels and Heaven's devils divide:
Where still and breathless is beauty and death;
Where peace and puzzlement hold sleepless sway;
Where chaotic confusion comes to reign -
Where sun and night expend all influence.

Where?,
Hearts open and logic deadly collide:
Where holy is a mocking lyrebird;
Where strength and powers are measured, by force;
Where distraction is the normal discourse -
Where voices sinking and striving are heard.

Where?,
Hell's basest is to highest virtue bride:
Where rare choices and red chains are all joys;
Where men to sex like starv'd gulls feed by swarm;
Where thundering rage is cleared is love's storm -
Where all but purest silence is a noise.

Where?,
Hearts and hells and heavens and heads are tried:
Where still and breathless is mocking all joys;
Where peace and powers are measured, by swarm;
Where chaotic distraction is love's storm -
Where sun and striving silence is a noise.


let's see some more of your stuff, guys! i'm enjoying this lol

Aug 1, 2009 11:58 PM ET #27 (permalink)

Great stuff all around guys, I've really enjoyed reading what you've got to offer.

I write for a living, but my focus most definitely isn't on poetry. I've got a few poems (song lyrics? They weren't really written with anything particular in mind), so I guess I'll throw my hat in the ring and share one. This is called "An Invocation to Sin."

Insincere conviction casts shadows of the past
Bleeding palms brought forth from burrowing pain
That home was long ago deserted
Seemingly this ring has been brought so near
When daughters are taken far away
Just a single afternoon
Horrendous breeding of terrible worms
Heralding an unforeseen apocalypse

Flight never seemed so far off
Eternal enemy, taken a love away
Taking that life would not bring you back
Together, nothing gains meaning
Pour into me old friend
Crossing a river makes the journey come to a close

This path, so unnecessary
Burning stars in all times
Past and present
Become as one
Time would be forsaken for the love of the lost
There is just one chance
Oh, Portal quickly closing!

Decadent symbiote
Feeding from my moves
Was this the prediction?
Alone and long lost?
Too much like a prodigal son to be recognized

Our tongues call on the corners
Mother Earth and Father Sky
Amidst nothing but a drifting Sun
Sacred place, please reach through the years
Three of you
Simply not enough
Flowers adorning innocent's hair
Lost Ritual of Banishment
The meaning of which remains
Even when the trappings fall away

Aug 2, 2009 3:11 PM ET #28 (permalink)

Psythe - "personally, I just write coz I enjoy it, I'm not trying to get famous for it or anything."

I get ya man. You have to look at in the eyes of the music business. The only way you're going to have a career is if you get signed.

In poetry, the only way you get a career (which is pretty minimal in itself) is by publishing. Fame in poetry is a bit of an oxymoron too...less you're dead.

I enjoyed your syllabics too man. The resounding 'where' is a nice change and gives the poem direction. I'll see if I can cram out a sonnet sometime.

Meanwhile, here's a ghazal (which is a form based in randomness, usually it pertains to love but...) of mine:

Experimentalist

Watching smiles explode on the screen,
creates a scene, like a window scattering.

The universe is expanding, like resin bread,
except the universe has no yeast.

Infections spread like hunger, cheaper,
faster to die from Swine flu or Bird flu?

Over the past four years, I’ve dyed
my hair red, blue and purple,

but now individuality is common
like a nuclear weapons program.

We can teach our kids how to enrich their lives
by irradiating others.

Aug 4, 2009 2:22 AM ET #29 (permalink)

"...a ghazal (which is a form based in randomness..."

Man, my LIFE is a ghazal lol

Aug 21, 2009 8:50 PM ET #30 (permalink)

This thread kinda died a little lol. Well, there's this comp that I'm thinking of entering for a bit of fun. The theme or whatever is: "Write a poem about anything you can find in the sky." So I was up late last night stitching together random things I've put to paper over the years, and since I've got 14 days to submit I thought I'd see what you all think before I post it up. I went for the obvious choice; a bird. Title is intentionally long, I wanted to describe the scene in the title so I could base the poem itself on things other than physical description. There's not really any structure. Anyway, blah blah, here it is, feedback is appreciated :)

Still Frame of a Single Eagle as it Drifts Across an Untouched Blue and Turns into Golden Flame:

Silhouette the Sun;
In soft focus, you blot the bright streetlamp-
Like blackest shadow, have no sharp edges -
But your halo pierces.

Oh, you distant, watchful Lord,
High priest of your endless domain,
How regal are you! - And how small.
How alone.

Is there solace for you, are your wings your prayer?
Surfer of ethereal tides, do you float and ride?
Or is there only struggle, to rise, to hunt
To suspend, to dive, to seek a season’s love?

As days turn coil to spring;
As sky turns clear to water;
As you fly into your shadow, observant,
With your Eagle’s keen eyes, oh tell me!:

Can you see yourself?

Aug 21, 2009 9:29 PM ET #31 (permalink)

Hate, still runs through these veins. Killing every sense of kindness in your soul bringing fowl things alive again. Being fueled by heatlessness from the world around you. You kill feeling better instantly just because its in you

Aug 22, 2009 12:39 PM ET #32 (permalink)

^Ummm... ok... any background on that? Your work? What's it relate to? What's it about? etc?


Would still love a bit of feedback (pos or neg, don't mind) on my last post. There's a few things I'm not sure about in it, so any and all comments are welcome!

Aug 22, 2009 12:49 PM ET #33 (permalink)

No idea how late I am on this, but....Psythe: drop the "Oh's" and the middle section is a little too romantic in tone for what I think you're going for. Long titles are fun but you might refine it a bit.

Aug 22, 2009 4:42 PM ET #34 (permalink)

did write it couple of days ago
when they did rehire a ex worker back
and my hate for her is so bad it runs to my veins
she did steal stuff and blamed it on a other person

Aug 22, 2009 9:54 PM ET #35 (permalink)

DIE - thanks man, noted :)

Wilco - hahah ouch man, that sucks. Get her fired again lol

Aug 31, 2009 7:43 PM ET #36 (permalink)

Sitting solitary in a room cluttered with life's collections:
cds, books, photos, a calender
informing me of the fall equinox: two times of the year when the sun crosses the plane of the earth's equator
the third and final album by heralded Queens Hip Hop duo Organized Konfusion
a 1970 American horror film a thrash metal band from Fredrikstad, Norway
a supervillain:
a despicable, cowardly wretch a heel: something resembling the back part of the human foot in position,

through my window, I can hear a neighbor mowing the lawn

Aug 31, 2009 7:45 PM ET #37 (permalink)

So, the indentions I put in that ^ disappeared

Sep 4, 2009 5:04 PM ET #38 (permalink)

Apparently, my latest poem didn't rouse much interest. How about this work in progress:

I discovered the ocean for a second first time in my life today. It wasn’t at all like I don’t remember from when I was less than one. The breeze I wasn’t expecting didn’t smell of shrimp, and I shivered twice rolling my wheels through the windy wall toward the sparkling sea. I anticipated a beach littered with surfboards, but found two in use, or being used, by two men trying ride the oceanic equivalent to speed bumps. I wanted to tell them to wait for the tide to come in, but my voice was choked off by the hundred yards between us. Plus, I’d never surfed before. I do remember being carried by my mother from my wheelchair to our temporary spot on the beach and thinking the sand wasn’t as soft as it appeared. It seemed soft today, but we were the temporary fixture this time. Everything around us was permanent: the bar with Captain Morgan perched atop its roof, the $800,000 condos, the boardwalk in the distance would remain in the distance as we drove away, leaving vastness behind.

Sep 4, 2009 8:14 PM ET #39 (permalink)

eugh I hate it when indents magically disappear hey! :( man I love the ocean tho, the whispered roar of the waves, the smell of salt, running sand through my fingers, the endless horizon, it's a beautiful place... unless it's been overdeveloped, that is.

Oct 3, 2009 10:23 PM ET #40 (permalink)

No Title Oddity

I have been told that if the average household feline
were the size of a tiger, it would dominate
the world with its snake-fangs. Considering the fact
that tigers, the proposed size of above
-average household felines, exist
on the verge of extinction; I have my doubts. Waking
at 8a.m. with my cat licking my hand, I wonder:
How long before she realizes I’m limp-meat?

Oct 4, 2009 7:06 AM ET #41 (permalink)

Edit: Title: None, not finished yet.

Her lips, which once held
The wind that stole my breath;
Which would softly gloat,
And boasted their pink gloss;
Which with a whisper
Could wash my mouth wordless;
Which, like quiv'ring sea,
Would my soul with smiles toss;

Her lips, which I once kissed so tenderly,
Will remain timeless in my memory.

(This post was last edited on October 5, 2009 at 1:13 AM ET.)

Oct 5, 2009 1:13 AM ET #42 (permalink)

DIE, I like your poems in that they're very descriptive of a particular moment in your life (something I find very hard to do - I think I tend to be a bit too vague/metaphorical lol), but at the same time I've always thought that poetry was meant to be about suggesting an idea through metaphors and such, and your poetry seems to be very straight forward and literal, so to me it kind of reads as a simple description with a musing on the end rather than a poem... if that made sense? Not saying I don't like it tho, I'd be downright proud to have written some of the stuff you've posted here. I guess I just find your style of poetry hard to grasp - which, come to think of it, might be half the point :)

Nov 15, 2009 8:26 PM ET #43 (permalink)

Lol so, I'm terrible because I never noticed your second comment and never commented on your poem. I think we're taught that poetry should be vague and shifty, when, in my opinion, it's the opposite. To be honest, a good poem, again in my opinion, alludes to bigger ideas through the presentation of tiny moments.

Nov 15, 2009 9:10 PM ET #44 (permalink)

I can agree with that, tho I think a masterful use of imagery can transform a good poem into a great poem. I always find a mix of imagery and personification makes the biggest impression on me, particularly if they're used as a metaphor for some deep or grand meaning or idea.

Nov 15, 2009 9:12 PM ET #45 (permalink)

I wrote a poem for the first time in years last week when I stumbled into me room pissed. I was surprised the next day when I found out I was able to write legible enough and that I quite liked it.

Nov 15, 2009 10:48 PM ET #46 (permalink)

^Hahahah awesome :)

Nov 16, 2009 3:39 PM ET #47 (permalink)

Lol Oz, No one said it was pretty work, this writing poetry!

Psythe, I agree, all poetic devices enhance a poems ability to be effective. What I mean is instead of saying 'my chest was heavy with sadness,' say something like 'my lungs felt soaked with water' blah, blah....

Or better example, since the last was fabricated and isn't specific to a personal experience: I got my H1N1 yesterday and the nurse sucked, so it was painful. Now, theoretically, I could say just that and leave it to your imagination as to HOW painful, or I could spice it up like:

Having been herded into the vaccination room
like cattle, the nurse stares blankly, her eyes seem wooden, confused
she asks if I am the one receiving the shot. Yes
I say, I usually receive them
in my thigh....................

I'm expressing an awkward, ironic, vulnerable moment through actual instances. Also, that poem's no where near done.

(This post was last edited on November 16, 2009 at 3:44 PM ET.)

Nov 16, 2009 7:39 PM ET #48 (permalink)

yeah, i get what you mean, totally. and i like that particular poem so far, the wooden eyes bit made it for me :)

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