Last Rites

   
                    Sickly intention borne to cunning ends
            That weeps crimson tears of fatality
                          Blaspheme stagnant tasks it cannot mend
                                                                  Through rosy veils some reality
   
   And tempered within a seething furnace
   Revenge insidious instigation
   Melds with chrome, obsidian blade burnished
   Purpose moulded in vendettas salvation

                                                                Burning desire to rout and to wreak
                                                        A catharsis of melancholy wiles
                                                                                Vampiric embrace, a thief scorns the meek
                                                                                Collapsing honours walls like veins defiled

No solution in death, none too in life
For mistaken of welcome apogee
If not in blood, wheres the end to our strife?
Condemned to the yoke of our savagery



No ethical walls to breach scrutiny

With the return of fated destiny

                    G A E A ' S      E M B R A C E
   


Hearth of stone in cradle of sanctity
Nestled 'tween the white robes that suffocate
Where, eloquent, resides some harmony
Guarded by an emerald sentinels mandate



Where lucid consciousness scorns ignorance
Reflects my image manifestation
That bends like waves, and flows in brilliance
Falls from skies as sweet tears in it's patience



The denizens of various actions
Furred, feathered, clawed, winged, abound in their mirth
Mete predation with predators passion
Soothe instincts rites of bequeathed and the birthed



Survivals destiny written in sands
   Of sanguine eras and lost, endless lands

Expression


Anticipate such a beckoning flight,
Wherein reprisal of freedom allows,
Upon a nestling cloak of sundry white
Where boundless borders common seeds are sowed

Every compass shadowed in icy doubt
Yet summoned by ancestral spirits guile
To appease endless sacrificial rout
In supplicant endeavours we revile

Taste the shuriken of Natures sweetness
As wooden legs dive like dolphins beneath
Elegantly stumble like feigned weakness 
Where Winter scathe hubris with sword unsheathed

To sing of sun-blanched immaculate planes
Where arbitrary choices find their bane

my English project in full....hehehheh

Alan, I imagine your dreams are like vivid technicolor,
you swear you've woken up but you are still dreaming....

and paradoxical has overwhelmed me with beautiful
musings I wish to breathe within and feel to the tips of
my tingling fingers...

When Shaman writes, he distances himself from his words.  He feels them but from a stiffly professional standpoint.  I think of old English royalty having tea in the castle garden.  When everyone interacts with one other from a certain amount of polite distance, an impersonal formality.  Remember Rose aboard the Titanic?

You are careful to rhyme.  You don't free flow.  And as you say this was an English assignment, so I detect that internal need to make it as eloquent as possible, perhaps in Shakespearean style.

For you, I would like to see how you write when you aren't thinking to rhyme or conscious of it being due as homework.

Lesley that was great. I applaud the way you interpreted it and what you said was absolutely correct. I really appreciate your support that was very kind of you. Thank you very much.

I tell you these poems are great. I cannot pick out a certain poem that isn't deep. Specially Lesly and Shaman.

Alan, I like the song. It is very well written for your series and I like the response Banana said, that was great. You bring a comical edge to your writing and that is a good style.

I am one to prefer dark poems at times. I will post some more of my peoms here in a second and you can tell me if the other ones i posted were better than these new ones, if you could? If you like them at all.

I will try to give my interpretations of what you say here soon I am a bit busy and surprised how much great poetry has just came out of here. Keep writing, Lesley and Shaman that is really good. Alan, keep it coming I want to see more of the lighter side (more banana chan comments!). Thanks you have made my day.

My other stuff is a little more sexually provocative, so I don't know how well it would go over - this being mainly a male dominated forum and all.

I think I should keep the love stuff out of it.

I love Shamans writing. It is more narrative it feels though. Using the splashing of large words. Nevertheless, it is very well done, you must have gone through them over and over again to edit them?

I don't have time to edit my poetry I just came up with it in class when I was bored and I was feeling shitty so that is what I wrote.

lesley, your words have really impacted me and the whole sense of my writing being raw and more emotional I am glad someone point out what I can't find in myself.

I have noticed I sometimes must be in a certain mood in order to write effectively. Any of you have that same feeling?

To Hang my Hat:

Naked in the scouring moonlight,
Through a legion of whores, I find a door,
Wood a rusted yellow
Withered by times musty bellow

Upon its open, there is a light
A stream of heavy white so bright,
Likeness not of that from time but spiritual delight

From my steps I follow through,
My curious nature I know no mood
What I search for I find at last
A place of rest for my worn out hat

Deaths Calling:

Rhine of beauty she stretches far and the glory seeker makes his mark
What he thought he could not comprehend nor understand the fear in hand
And when blasts of fire and the charging men that destroyed countless towns around the land

There lies a man in fright
Every day death consumes his life
Where he thought there be a simple end fear destroyed his good intent

Fire and smoke that rains upon his head and to fall behind one will meet a sudden end
When neither earth nor tree can protect from the violent cheers and screams
There is no end to time or man

And where he thought he find himself he only found humanities restlessness
When the screams and cannons fill his world
There is no lasting peace in the smoke filled air


What do you think? Deaths calling is a dedication to WW2 veterans by the way.

the Still Man:
The hyperspace to its never-ending process
Blank faces of lonely people
To tell the truths of their dotted world
Vague and distant is in this world
And where thoughts of loyalty and justice
Betrayal and superficial greatness permeates
Dismissing thoughts of connection, where the heart could feel home
A fire has eaten the richness of the new and replaced with the old
A world of negativity and status that never existed but in mind
To break free it ends a world thought known but absent
A lasting hope of a rekindled time


Self Doubt:
When I try to think clever
I feel nothing but a fools fellow
My poem just ill spelled of a uneducated manner

The room is still and silent now
I try to write a witches spell
But what I do is not firm, separated and fragmented as the worm

Tonight I write alone in bed, mind flicking of thoughts of them
I improve myself in a world unknown to me
For this I search and forever a slave to be


I am not sure if this verse fits with the rest of the poem but it was originally written with it. what you think?'

Once I mind of myself, it is nothing special that makes me unique
Where I thought I finally stand there was no brace in the broken slab
To fall, I do not know instead to let it take my tortured soul

Of course, Elrond.  Naturally. 

As human beings we tend to dwell most on surging emotions like depression or love and hearts beating quickly, because of the endorphins.  That's when we are most conscious of what we feel and have a need to chart the pattern of the emotion.

I'm glad you didn't edit what you wrote.  You shouldn't even now.  I believe poetry is in its greatest form when it is free flowing and unedited.

Beautiful job.

Oh wow, you got your stuff in there while I was writing... delayed post.  hang on I'll write more in a minute.

These are all unedited and a little raw but I guess you see the truth behind it before it is twisted to sound even deeper.


What you think of the new poems Lesley? Better or worse? Which ones aren't as good and which ones are good? Any one you personally like?

From where I stand, sadness consumes a great deal of your life.  What are you searching for, Elrond?  What do you feel like you need? 

Anyway, don't answer that if you don't want to.  Don didn't make this a self help forum. lol.

But you reveal so much through what you write.  You really do.  It's so incredible...
And yes, I loved them all.

I like to talk to you about it personally through instant messanger but not to much on a message board.

I have only written 9 poems in the last couple of days but how I write reminds me a lot of these famous poets (I am not compariing myself to them) such as robert Lowell who went through depression and such and wrote it to make great peoms that are still loved to this day. If you met me you wouldn't see a very different side than the one I write. I guess this is called "confessional poetry" I believe.

See ya.