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Poetry Riding Wistful Horses

Discussion in 'Serious' started by Teelzebub, 18 Jul 2014.

  1. boiled_elephant

    boiled_elephant Whitelist Bit-Tech in your adblock!

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    That started out very sweet and got hilarious. I lost it at the Shining elevator doors reference :lol:

    I wrote this about a particular person but I think enough time has passed that I'm comfortable sharing it, she wouldn't begrudge it:


    Small Comforts


    In retrospect, it seems to me
    that more than naked honesty
    or quiet support through joblessness
    (although your parents held back less)

    more than a hundred overlaps
    on Venn diagram personality maps
    and swapping songs and TV shows
    and writing each other purple prose

    far more than pulling double shifts
    to buy each other insightful gifts
    and bedroom-bound weekend retreats
    (and having to launder all the sheets)

    a damn sight more than pharmacies
    and being lectured on STDs
    and local Church-attending wives
    inviting themselves to inspect our lives

    more than the autumn countryside
    when we would walk and you'd confide
    and I'd expound my half-baked views
    and you would try not to look bemused

    even more than needing you
    and feeling that I was needed too
    and knowing, when I'd start to roam
    that it was still worth going home

    the things I miss, when the chores are done
    and I've cleared away my meal for one
    and the town falls quiet and the house is still
    and dew forms on the windowsill

    are not your wit or gifts or trust
    or loving support or playful lust
    or how you sometimes looked at me
    (like I was an edible delicacy)

    it's all the smaller things I miss
    feeling you smile when we'd kiss
    sliding hands under your shirt
    while you tried to make dessert

    the warmth of you pressed up to me
    on winter nights at half past three
    your hair still smelling faintly sweet
    your slow breathing, your heartbeat

    your legs, one resting over mine,
    your shoulder tracing a gentle line,
    your soft breasts, eyelashes, your nose;
    it sounds quite shallow, I suppose.


    edit - I really need a new rhyming structure, ****'s getting old.
     
    Last edited: 14 Oct 2014
  2. Teelzebub

    Teelzebub Up yours GOD,Whats best served cold

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    All Things Will Die - Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809 - 1892)

    Trees dappled by sun

    All Things will Die
    Clearly the blue river chimes in its flowing
    Under my eye;
    Warmly and broadly the south winds are blowing
    Over the sky.
    One after another the white clouds are fleeting;
    Every heart this May morning in joyance is beating
    Full merrily;
    Yet all things must die.

    The stream will cease to flow;
    The wind will cease to blow;
    The clouds will cease to fleet;
    The heart will cease to beat;
    For all things must die.
    All things must die.

    Spring will come never more.
    O, vanity!
    Death waits at the door.
    See! our friends are all forsaking
    The wine and the merrymaking.
    We are call’d-we must go.
    Laid low, very low,
    In the dark we must lie.

    The merry glees are still;
    The voice of the bird
    Shall no more be heard,
    Nor the wind on the hill.
    O, misery!
    Hark! death is calling
    While I speak to ye,
    The jaw is falling,
    The red cheek paling,
    The strong limbs failing;
    Ice with the warm blood mixing;
    The eyeballs fixing.
    Nine times goes the passing bell:
    Ye merry souls, farewell.

    The old earth
    Had a birth,
    As all men know,
    Long ago.
    And the old earth must die.
    So let the warm winds range,
    And the blue wave beat the shore;
    For even and morn
    Ye will never see
    Thro’ eternity.
    All things were born.
    Ye will come never more,
    For all things must die.
     
    Last edited: 20 Dec 2014
  3. Teelzebub

    Teelzebub Up yours GOD,Whats best served cold

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    One tall midget reached up high,
    Touched the ground above the sky,
    Tied his loafers, licked his tongue,
    And told about the bee he stung.
    He painted, then, an oval square
    The color of the bald man's hair,
    And in the painting you could hear
    What's undetected by the ear.
     
  4. Voluntary_Pariah

    Voluntary_Pariah a Real Man™

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    This Be The Verse by Philip Larkin

    They f*** you up, your mum and dad.
    They may not mean to, but they do.
    They fill you with the faults they had
    And add some extra, just for you.

    But they were f***ed up in their turn
    By fools in old-style hats and coats,
    Who half the time were soppy-stern
    And half at one another’s throats.

    Man hands on misery to man.
    It deepens like a coastal shelf.
    Get out as early as you can,
    And don’t have any kids yourself
     
  5. Teelzebub

    Teelzebub Up yours GOD,Whats best served cold

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    After reading the windy thread "12 killed in shooting at satirical newspaper office in Paris" like so many other threads in serious I thought this poem most appropriate

    Opinions

    On everything and anything they do like to have their say
    Opinionated people I do meet them every day
    And that their's is just one opinion that point they do seem to miss
    It is true with some people that ignorance is bliss
    On voicing their opinions they never do seem shy
    And that wisdom does not always come with age to them has to apply
    They can seem overbearing and can even cause offence
    As well as being opinionated they lack in common sense
    In them I cannot see anything in which I can admire
    I'd prefer not to meet them since of them I quickly tire
    On displaying their depths of knowledge seem to give them delight
    Suppose if they think they cannot be wrong then they have to be right
    I meet them far too often for my liking one might say
    To some wisdom does not come with age not to them anyway.
     
    Last edited: 4 Feb 2015
  6. Guinevere

    Guinevere Mega Mom

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    I occasionally write apocalyptic poetry. Sometimes grim, sometimes poignant - occasionally silly. I'm sitting on a couple of dozen draft (And I do mean draft!) poems, some are good and some are tat. When I get enough good ones I'll look to publish.

    So here, have a poem of mine. I'm NOT in the mood for grim, so here's something not too apocalyptic and a bit lighter than most of them.


    Blacked out cars. One, two, three.
    I feel them coming. Coming for me.

    Telekinesis, the power of thought.
    They want it all. Want me caught.

    Word on the net, is they scoop out your brain.
    Suck out your mojo, flush the rest down the drain.

    I want to be normal. Leave me alone.
    Where can I go, when I'm not safe at home?

    They're here, right now and right at the door.
    While I shake and shiver, curled on the floor.

    Inside they come, I don't want to cry.
    I won't let them take me. I'd rather die.

    They shout some strange noise. Can't make out the words.
    I look through the window, feel the joy of the birds.

    The wind through the grass, leaves on the the trees.
    I hear them, don't care about get to your knees.

    I stop them. I hold them. Each to a one.
    Get rid of their cuffs. Vanish each gun.

    I make them weigh nothing. All start to hover.
    It's easy to kill them. But why should I bother?

    I think of the birds, and of clear blue sky.
    I head for the door, with a desire to fly.

    I turn and I look. I enter each mind.
    Make them forget me. Make each more kind.

    Agents no more. They choose to move on.
    I close my eyes, and quickly I'm gone.

    Time passes, next year it is now.
    I think I'm a god, just don't ask me how.

    The agents are lovely. Each with a new life.
    With friends, family, small baby, new wife.

    A baker, a nurse. A father of two.
    A courteous dog walker who picks up each poo.

    A farmer, a painter. A writer of song.
    Now lovely guys, they do nothing wrong.

    And me, well the old body's no more.
    Each portal I make is an open door.

    I travel the stars, and make some new friends.

    One day I'll come back, to see how Earth ends.​
     
    Last edited: 4 Feb 2015
  7. boiled_elephant

    boiled_elephant Whitelist Bit-Tech in your adblock!

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    Holy smokes, that was actually really good. Made me think how pervasive the idea of telekinetic kids hunted by agents is, despite having no clear origin point - from Firestarter, Akira and Second Sight to Beyond: Two Souls and the video for M83's Midnight City. It's never become a genre or had a defining incarnation.

    I've already stretched the boundaries of what could be considered on-topic by posting non-poetry in this thread, but I'm going to do it one more time. My reasoning is, the phrasing and ideas in this make me tear up every time, and that's what poetry is about. It isn't poetry but, like all of his work, it has an unmistakeably poetic quality to it, which is part of what made him so famous and loved. Certain phrases ("The frontier was everywhere.") are so rich and evocative that I find myself remembering them years after first reading it.

    The opening paragraphs of Carl Sagan's non-fiction work, Pale Blue Dot:


    We were wanderers from the beginning. We knew every stand of tree for a hundred miles. When the fruits or nuts were ripe, we were there. We followed the herds in their annual migrations. We rejoiced in fresh meat. Through stealth, feint, ambush, and main-force assault, a few of us cooperating accomplished what many of us, each hunting alone, could not. We depended on one another. Making it on our own was as ludicrous to imagine as was settling down.

    Working together, we protected our children from the lions and the hyenas. We taught them the skills they would need. And the tools. Then, as now, technology was the key to our survival.

    When the drought was prolonged, or when an unsettling chill lingered in the summer air, our group moved on—sometimes to unknown lands. We sought a better place. And when we couldn’t get on with the others in our little nomadic band, we left to find a more friendly bunch somewhere else. We could always begin again.

    For 99.9 percent of the time since our species came to be, we were hunters and foragers, wanderers on the savannahs and the steppes. There were no border guards then, no customs officials. The frontier was everywhere. We were bounded only by the Earth and the ocean and the sky—plus occasional grumpy neighbors.

    When the climate was congenial, though, when the food was plentiful, we were willing to stay put. Unadventurous. Overweight. Careless. In the last ten thousand years—an instant in our long history—we’ve abandoned the nomadic life. We’ve domesticated the plants and animals. Why chase the food when you can make it come to you?

    For all its material advantages, the sedentary life has left us edgy, unfulfilled. Even after 400 generations in villages and cities, we haven’t forgotten. The open road still softly calls, like a nearly forgotten song of childhood.
     
  8. Guinevere

    Guinevere Mega Mom

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    I don't think it's stretching anything to say that most of what Carl Sagen said was pure poetry. He's a bit of a hero in our household, but then I do live with a space scientist :)

    And thanks for the kind words. Akira will always be an awesome movie, as was Firestarter and Midnight City is such a cool video... All three have excellent music!

    Here's another apocalyptic rambling. A long one this one:


    We lived.
    Then.
    I watched and I shouted and we watched and we gawped and we watched and we watched and we watched.
    We cried and we watched and I shouted and we watched and we planned and you sobbed and we watched and you slept and I watched and I slept and you watched.
    We bought and we bought and I packed and you watched and you drove and I drove and you slept and I drove and you drove and I listened and we stopped and we queued and we queued and we talked and we listened and we queued and we fought and we grabbed and we walked.
    We walked and we walked and we walked.
    We stopped and we cooked and we ate and we talked and we slept.
    We woke and we shivered and we hugged and we talked and we packed and we squelched and we ate and we walked.
    We walked and we walked.
    We stopped and we ate and we walked and we walked.
    We stopped and we listened and we hid.
    We hid and we watched.
    We waited and we walked and we ran.
    We ran and we ran.
    We fell and we stopped and we shouted and we ran and we ran.
    I tripped and I fell and you fell and we slid.
    We slid.
    You hit and it broke and you screamed and we slid.
    We slowed and we stopped and I breathed.
    I breathed and I breathed and I listened.
    You breathed.
    I wept.
    I crawled and I found and you cried and I smiled.
    I collected and I cut and I cleaned and you clenched and I smiled and you sobbed and I smiled and you laughed and you cried and you cried.
    You shouted and I stayed and you begged and I stayed and you pleaded and I stayed and you threatened and I stayed.
    I stayed.
    You shivered and we hugged and I cooked and you ate and I ate and you sobbed and you vomited and I cleaned.
    You slept and you drank and you slept and you slept.
    I left and I searched and I found and I returned and you slept and you slept.
    You woke and you drank.
    You slept.
    You woke and you drank and you woke and you drank and you woke and you drank.
    And you ate and we talked.
    I searched and I found and I cut and I tore and I made and I tied.
    I packed and you talked and I pushed and I pulled and you cried and you talked.
    You smiled and I pulled and I pulled and you talked and I pulled and you slept and I pulled and I ate and I pulled and you slept and I pulled.
    You slept and I stopped and you slept and we slept.
    You woke and you shook and I woke and you whispered and we watched and we smiled and we watched.
    I threw and it fluttered and it returned and we smiled and it fed and we watched.
    It flew.
    We sat and we waited.
    We drank and I searched and you ate and you spoke and I spoke and you ate.
    I searched and I searched and you ate and I ate.
    We hugged and we slept.
    I dreamt and I screamed and I woke.
    You slept.
    I woke and I pulled and I stopped and I rested and I pulled and I pulled.
    We stopped and I searched and I searched.
    I pulled and I stopped and I searched and I pulled and I stopped and I searched and I pulled.
    You shivered and you shook and I examined and I gasped and I breathed and I cleaned and I promised and you wept and we hugged.
    I pulled and I rested and I pulled and I rested.
    You shivered and you slept and you slept and you shivered.
    You slept and I pulled and you slept and I pulled and you died and I pulled.
    I pulled and I stopped and I spoke and I checked and you…
    I dug and I wept and I dug and I wept and I dug and I buried and I cried and I fell and I cried and I cried and I cried.
    I walked and I cried and I shuffled and I cried and I walked and I cried and I cried and I cried.
    I slept and I walked and I slept and I shuffled and I found and I slept and I walked and I stopped.
    I hid and I watched and I shook and I watched and she hit and I watched and he sobbed and I watched and he died and I watched.
    She cut and I watched and she cooked and I watched and I smelled and I watched and she ate and I watched.
    I salivated.
    She ate and I watched and she packed and I watched and she left.
    I watched.
    I stood and I turned and I walked.
    I walked and I stopped and I thought and I thought and I refused and I walked and I walked.
    I walked and I walked and I heard and I saw and I hid.
    They heard or they saw and I shouted and they grinned and I ran.
    They ran and I ran and they ran and I ran and I twisted and they ran and I ducked and they ran and I tripped and they ran and I scrambled and they ran and I walked and they ran and I stumbled.
    They ran.
    I stumbled.
    They ran.
    I crawled.
    They ran.
    I stopped and I turned and they smiled.
    And…
    They ate and they lived.
     
  9. boiled_elephant

    boiled_elephant Whitelist Bit-Tech in your adblock!

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    Sorry, I'm trying to factor this into the amount of awesome stuff I already knew about you but I can't. It overloads the integer or something.
     
  10. Tribble

    Tribble Steals Avatars

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    Adonis and Aphrodite, why is Adonis so crazed with jealousy, as Aphrodite is as delicate as the morning dew and Adonis grip is as strong as the desert sun.

    Adonis is as mature as any mountain and Aphrodite adorns him in the wildest flowers, the scent of passion is carried on Adonis like a glacial breeze, bountiful lust abounds as Aphrodite is in full blossom, Adonis is saturated in the most glorious saffron pollen.

    Adonis has turn to the deepest darkest ocean, his tears are his foundering waves that lap what was once a mountain, that is now a shore where nothing lays, Aphrodite petals are laden sparsely caressing Adonis undercurrent and tumble in the swell, light flickers from them like diamonds as the sun's rays try to snare their last remnants of beauty, to Adonis depths they fall.

    Adonis encapsulates Aphrodite as if she is bound to him, foraging and coveted by snow driven flesh, Adonis sediments are deep within Aphrodite and cut like coral shards, Aphrodite's nectar flows still lingering on lips so soft ones tongue should never know, Adonis rises with the heat of molten lava to boil away the ocean to devour Aphrodite's heart, yet it was already given with one look as if to gaze at the eternal heaven, Aphrodite cascades over Adonis just like a waterfall, plunging, frothing, foaming, white, constantly spiralling out of control, so Adonis carries Aphrodite as any sea eagle would clutch its prey.
     
  11. Teelzebub

    Teelzebub Up yours GOD,Whats best served cold

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    The Idiot

    Almost
    Shades of pine in derision on the loom/

    Generous sway through timeless appease the trees,
    Brandished by timely groves chased after wind breeze,
    Sullen...
    I hit my head on a passing potatoe through the leaves;

    The Idiot

    Charmed in an almost decadence shattered fragments
    They say that we are young only once on point
    Visible
    Shattered glass amidst the decorum shredded braid,

    Tempted again through the wind/

    Blatant

    My head swell as if an almost glow;
    Black ash through peach cornerstones
    Farmers in delusion there frequent solution
    Viable breach of peace

    Sullen fragments out on the pavement floor lest I implore,
    Control freeks in sullen apartment dealings fly's on wall
    The ocean with sun no fun we run in timeless fight
    Shallow scheme amidst the chore a quaint bore of illusion

    Fought back the tears with a smile etched in the decorum once more
    A tree to loom in timeless bleed
    Achieve
    Certain factual death?

    The idiot would squirm ego burn another page is now turned;
    Ass!
     
  12. Nexxo

    Nexxo Stopped treating this country as if it was his own

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    Take me down to Hai-
    ku City where the grass is
    green, and the dammit
     
    Pliqu3011 likes this.
  13. g1lgamesh

    g1lgamesh Member

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    Gilgamesh here

    I write poetry as well (and not the soppy stuff) but they are of my OWN composition, rather than someone else's work.

    I-Iraqi

    Came to liberate us they said,
    have they lived with us,
    and sat down,
    and broken our bread?
    How can they offer help,
    when they know,
    not our ways?
    Do they live with us?
    where do they spend their days?

    Come to give us freedom,
    they may have said,
    but their 'armoured horses,
    say ' born to kill'
    only to see our people,
    crimson, screaming shrill.
    They come from the land,
    with a brand new sun,
    where life is bought,
    by the barrel of a gun.
    They come from a world
    known for friendly fire,
    a place of cowboys,
    just goons for hire.

    Here we stand our ground,
    for this is our soil,
    a land of the ancients,
    not of grinding gears
    and the smell of,
    powered gun oil.
    and strange crops,
    polluting the soil
    Can we speak with these men,
    the ones with the shaded eyes?
    walking around like world,
    is trembling at their feet,
    a cold father of lies.

    Do these people,
    deserve our thanks?
    but what good,
    are thrown shoes,
    at heavily armoured tanks?
    Gloat now you people,
    of the land of no history,
    and powerful banks.
    As we will still be here,
    and know we are from,
    as your world will turn to dust
    and your name,
    unfettered,shriven, lost
    transparent and gone.

    written by Christopher Cressey (g1lgamesh)
     
    Last edited: 14 Jul 2015
  14. g1lgamesh

    g1lgamesh Member

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    A song for Hussain (i wrote this one SPECIFICALLY for the SHIA muslims in southern Iraq and the poem has gone around IRAQ and back to the UK again) this was written (i was a bit late) for their Ashura festival.but as i said it was late and as such it will be used for this years.

    A Song For Hussain.

    A song for Hussain

    When the world trembles,
    as equine hooves thundered,
    and a broken treaty,
    has forced its way.
    When exhausted minds
    And thrashing manes
    Has eclipsed,
    all but heat of the day.
    When curled tongues and snarled breath,
    Has paved way to a raven’s death.
    With maddened eyes
    And horses sighs
    Does peace make way,
    to the red flower of lies.

    Ashura!

    Two men, that will stand
    firm against the night,
    Not for glory nor might,
    but what is human,
    And to see beyond sight.
    Scimitar in hand,
    they rise from sand
    And face an avalanche
    Of an onrushing tide.
    Heads held high
    with pride open
    as azure like the sky.
    Whilst asking not for reason ,
    or a swirling lie.
    Ashura

    Armies clashed
    Whilst swords danced,
    and maddened faces,
    as sky-born hopes.
    are broken,
    feeble and dashed.
    Ashura

    Yelling men
    with horses screams,
    Spells a dark flight,
    of broken dreams.
    Ashura

    The two men unbowed
    And with straight backs
    Fend of swift as lighting attacks.
    Ashura

    Dust in mouths and with stinging eyes
    The two screamed defiance into the lies.
    All the world waited with baited breath,
    as these men well stand,
    and taunt our brother
    with a lightning dance of death.
    Ashura

    Snarling arrows flew straight and true,
    Like the sting of wasps,
    Full of woe and rue.
    Ashura

    Swirling sand and flashing spears,
    Thick as broken tears.
    for the two fought for you and I
    Not as god or hero,
    But simply as men…
    So stretch forward,
    your hand,
    and bring the two,
    forth towards,
    a moonlight sky.

    composed by C cressey (g1lgamesh)
     
  15. g1lgamesh

    g1lgamesh Member

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    I caught the few post apocalyptic poems earlier in the thread and as such I will show an old one of mine (this is the non-rhyming type of poetry) that is along a similar vein.

    Horizons Dark Clouds....

    Frigid wind rushes through the autumn leaves,
    which blow through the yellow withered grass.
    The overgrown bushes and trees
    resemble the ramparts of a castle
    Funnels of destruction,
    reach down from,
    the ink-drenched sky,
    that stir into a conflagration of parts

    My sight reaches out,
    To the dreaded horizon,
    And spy the proud structures of man,
    now all but a memory.
    It’s cities jutting out from the soil
    Like the jaw bones of a whale,
    beached aeons ago.

    I glean domes of fire on the horizon,
    Reflecting into the squalid clouds.
    The sight of mushrooms in the sky
    Fills me with angst,
    to mine very marrow.

    White flakes fall from the sky
    But they are not of snow.
    Rather of countless thousands
    That once existed in a terrible light.
    I fall to my knees,
    And lament for the multitudes.
    The gnashing of my teeth begins
    And the wail of my throat
    greets the dawn
    Of a false sun.

    I once existed, however I have now become torn!

    by c cressey (g1lgamesh)
     
  16. Guinevere

    Guinevere Mega Mom

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    Zombie thread revival !

    Well, I decided that as I'd written a few apocalyptic poems it would be good to get them into print. So that's what I did.

    "Poems For The Apocalypse" is now available in paperback from Amazon:
    http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1516910397

    And feel free to add some likes to me on that book-face website I hear is a thing.

    https://www.facebook.com/poetapocalypse
     
  17. VipersGratitude

    VipersGratitude Well-Known Member

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    Humanity i love you
    because you would rather black the boots of
    success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
    watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

    parties and because you
    unflinchingly applaud all
    songs containing the words country home and
    mother when sung at the old howard

    Humanity i love you because
    when you’re hard up you pawn your
    intelligence to buy a drink and when
    your flush pride keeps

    you from the pawn shop and
    because you are continually committing
    nuisances but more
    especially in your own house

    Humanity i love you because you
    are perpetually putting the secret of
    life in your pants and forgetting
    it’s there and sitting down

    on it
    and because you are
    forever making poems in the lap
    of death
    Humanity

    i hate you


    ~e.e. cummings
     

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