posted
With a nod of the hat to Sol System, I hearby declare this thread on poetry posting HERE to be open!
Oh, this isn't a contest or anything. It's just a thread to show off some our fellow freinds creativity in the area of poetry. Comments, suggestions or rants are more than welcome!
I'll start with one of mine.
"Waking Up To The Sound Of Gunfire"
Waking up to the sound of gunfire It must be true They said so on the news...
The youth of America is arming themselves And are taking aim Pearl, Mississippi... Jonesburo, Arkansas... Springfield, Oregon... Who�s next to pull the trigger? Have you really, really listened? Yeah you - listen... To the sound of gunfire Has any of us really listened?
(J)
------------------ Goodnight my love...the brightest star in my sky...
Goodnight...you have been my sky, my sun and my moon...
posted
*tips her hat to Jordan* ... Well, here's another piece of crap by yours truly ....
Unsent
I didn't stop talking to you Because you made me angry I didn't stop talking to you Because I failed to care I didn't walk away from you Because I really wanted to I walked away because I fell in love
I won't pick up the phone When you call I won't turn to you When you reach out in the hall It's not because I hate you That I do these things It's because I cannot deal With all the pain it brings Not because I want it to...
Because I fell in love with you
And don't ask why Please dont ask why To answer you - I'd rather die But if you really want to know...
It's because I love you so...
I didn't return your letters For lack of want to read them I didn't delete you from my machine Because your voice was bane I didn't walk away from you That's nothing that I'd want to do I walked away - You're all I'm dreaming of ... I walked away because I fell in love
------------------ There are people who one loves immediatly and forever. Just to know that you exist in the same world together is sufficient. Till I loved, I never lived - enough.
[This message was edited by Jubilee McGann on April 15, 1999.]
You didn�t bother to try to stop Just get away, stealing dreams from my head Just tell me what you want Keep talking...I dunno what to say I�m wrapped up in your arms I play both parts, the boy and the girl
Trickier things keep shining from above Still contemplating hitting you But i�m writing it all down I wanna be the one when you lay me down No more I love you�s will I speak To your ears, you don�t listen Listen to me...listen to me...listen to me... My hands are in the fire You burn me...
Yes, I do... No I won�t... I see the song shining in your face Yeah...I wanna be in outer space I�d live for you but you don�t care They wanna put me away They wanna tie me down So i�ll just end it without a sound
I�ve gotta bruise I�ve gotta snooze I�ve gotta run I�ve gotta heart to loose
Shades of my eyes, my past lies I disguise them in colours For you alone It�s my sky Shaded and hated Bloodless white Make me pale... Pale...
------------------ Goodnight my love...the brightest star in my sky...
Goodnight...you have been my sky, my sun and my moon...
A)I actually don't paint myself. B)This is rather old and hastily done. It was the only thing I could find on HD.
Oh, and bonus points to whoever pulls the Paridise Lost allusion out of it...
Paint
The palette lies, a topograph of colour. One camel-haired brush is the artist�s sword. It plunges headlong into the face of the palette�s wood. Reaching, screaming to cover its nude bristles with oily pigment.
The bristles meet the austere surface and scrunge their way through the paint, passing through crimsons, golds and aquamarines, leaving a wake of merged colour lapping together in a greasy ocean.
The sopping-wet utensil rises from its oily refuelling pad to meet the empty canvas. Looming like a blank wall. The artist�s wrist flicks, and a slash of ochre cuts through the nothingness. The artist smiles and the inflictor of the wound falls away
From the canvas, it picks up speed. He hurled headlong down. The paintbrush slams beneath the waves on the top of the drinking cup. Like a medieval priest casting out a demon, the paint, a wraith, slips from behind its camelhair prison and into the confines of the water.
The hours pass. Fresh paint gives way to a stucco of oil. For the final time, a brushstroke hits the canvas, and falls back to the murky water, the primordial soup from whence life sprung yet is the waste product in the life of a painting.
------------------ "......" �������������-The Breen at Internment Camp 371
[This message was edited by The_Tom on April 15, 1999.]
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*SNAPS SNAPS SNAPS for Jordan and The_Tom* ..
My poetry is CRAPOLA compared to you guys!
TSN ... Meet me in "THE ROOM" .. I have a few things to discuss with you on your taste in art.... *whip crack in the background*
------------------ There are people who one loves immediatly and forever. Just to know that you exist in the same world together is sufficient. Till I loved, I never lived - enough.
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A little piece from my english class...And it was Jordan who gave me an idea to put my stuff on the net....thanks man.
Contemplation
A man pauses on a footbridge. A garden of life surrounds him, wrapping him in its lucid touch.
The emerald leaves flash their multi-faceted faces, as if they were precious gems waiting to be plucked. Balsam grass peak out of the bank, As caramel cattails tease the wind into a soothing dance.
His senses become overwhelmed. He draws in a deep breath, The glory of life permeating his body.
The sound of calm water flowing beneath him, Draws his eyes to the brilliant pink lilies That dot the stream. He draws back, taking in the entire scene. And for a moment, A small instant, He understands it all. He knows his place here.
He sighs as a stray thought brings him back. He smiles, the sparkling trees returning it. The essence of the scene is there As he looked ahead, Accompanying him on the path.
------------------ Jeff Raven - Having more fun than any human being should be allowed to have
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[Disclaimer: this was written from my brain into submission window at 4am EST ... I.E:It is unedited ramblings. You guys are the first to hear it. Tell me what you think.]
*havn't figured out a title* I spent my lifetime trying to learn That you spend it, cheaply. There's no time to burn here ... We are running, and running, We don't know why. We are chasing ourselves, Until we die.
Time is the fire that burns within us, Fueling us onward. Time, who is our Master, and we, His unwilling slaves. Cruel Time, torturing us. Torturing me, who has no Time to loose...
No time for these games You play with my mind.... You play with my soul ... And I gave you my heart, a willing victim. I have watched it burn in your hand. You reached your hand in my chest, And twisted my enire being around.
Absolute power, but power corrupts. You have all the power.... I'm yours to devour... And you like how that is, You like to play with me... You could tell me day was night I'd believe you...I'd believe you.. But you know this, I'm your prisoner And you know this.
And you like it... And you like it.
Well find a new play-toy, Master mine. This feeling I have... Is no longer divine. Set me free, I don't want to play. If you ever want me... You'll come find me one day. When you want to be real, After you've had your fun, the battles been won... You know how I feel...You've known forever.. You know how I feel.
Come find me, When time permits you... Come find me.
But remember...Time is cruel. Remember. Time is not yours, and it devours. It will burn you, as you have burned me... And change things. Don't take your chances on forever... It might not be there when you need it.. It will dissappear...Dissappear...
So come find me... When time permits you... Come find me.
I have no time for your games anymore.
------------------ There are people who one loves immediatly and forever. Just to know that you exist in the same world together is sufficient. Till I loved, I never lived - enough.
When you drive for hours.... arrive, to find you nowhere gone. You've just been mouthing "Broom, broom" and rocking wheel; Of course you have, The heap is rusted through.... and off the road since you drove through 13 schoolyards laughing like a Prescott......
And when you are the burning man who seeing the flame runs for nearest garage and grabs a pump. Then squirting and blazing in the forecourt, shouting: "Come on.... Splat my ratatouille across the sky..."
Then welcome. Ah.... Ooo Compluzian... Beghzzli.
In Blue Jam Blue Jam Blue Jam
Example Opening Narration - Chris Morris' Blue Jam
------------------ An unborn scream burst in my stomach, and spread like cold mercury through my chest. I covered my face with my hands, but kept looking through my fingers. "Write that down!", he told the stick. "Is visibly destroyed, yet unable to turn away".
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