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Post by Deleted on Nov 20, 2014 21:04:32 GMT -5
This poem is similar in tone to Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven. It was inspired by it. Of course, it's much shorter and doesn't replicate his genius, but it is a nice token all the same. It's really about nightmares and their impact on your psyche. (BTW, I didn't really cry. Ha! I just put that in there to help the rhyme scheme.)
In the middle of night Awaken with fright Of horrifying dreams And terrifying themes I lay still And my mind begins to fill With the thought My dreams had brought
Be calm said I For these thoughts would soon bass by But my head still swelled With these thoughts that dwelled
Unable to sleep I began to weep For these thoughts had stayed And continued to be played Over and over again When will they end!?!
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Poetry
Nov 24, 2014 11:45:46 GMT -5
Post by jennifer on Nov 24, 2014 11:45:46 GMT -5
This poem is similar in tone to Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven. It was inspired by it. Of course, it's much shorter and doesn't replicate his genius, but it is a nice token all the same. It's really about nightmares and their impact on your psyche. (BTW, I didn't really cry. Ha! I just put that in there to help the rhyme scheme.) In the middle of night Awaken with fright Of horrifying dreams And terrifying themes I lay still And my mind begins to fill With the thought My dreams had brought Be calm said I For these thoughts would soon bass by But my head still swelled With these thoughts that dwelled Unable to sleep I began to weep For these thoughts had stayed And continued to be played Over and over again When will they end!?! I liked the idea of you weeping! Sensitive guy and all that. Either way, the line works. You know @dman24, I was sorry to read we have stalkers watching this thread. I think it's fair to call said people Stalkers by the following definition: "Stalking is unwanted or obsessive attention by an individual or group toward another person. Stalking behaviors are related to harassment and intimidation and may include following the victim in person or monitoring them." Life is short people! Enjoy the time you have reading things that are meaningful to you.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 24, 2014 12:22:43 GMT -5
This poem is similar in tone to Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven. It was inspired by it. Of course, it's much shorter and doesn't replicate his genius, but it is a nice token all the same. It's really about nightmares and their impact on your psyche. (BTW, I didn't really cry. Ha! I just put that in there to help the rhyme scheme.) In the middle of night Awaken with fright Of horrifying dreams And terrifying themes I lay still And my mind begins to fill With the thought My dreams had brought Be calm said I For these thoughts would soon bass by But my head still swelled With these thoughts that dwelled Unable to sleep I began to weep For these thoughts had stayed And continued to be played Over and over again When will they end!?! I liked the idea of you weeping! Sensitive guy and all that. Either way, the line works. You know @dman24, I was sorry to read we have stalkers watching this thread. I think it's fair to call said people Stalkers by the following definition: "Stalking is unwanted or obsessive attention by an individual or group toward another person. Stalking behaviors are related to harassment and intimidation and may include following the victim in person or monitoring them." Life is short people! Enjoy the time you have reading things that are meaningful to you. I am a sensitive guy. I write poetry for God's sake! Plus I'm a cancer, and you know how we are. But being a guy, the crying needs to be kept to a minimum. Guy rules and all. Ok, how about this: I did cry during a few episodes of TVD. Especially the Bonnie funeral scene from last season (love that episode BTW). So that should make you feel better, right? Also, I mentioned that I wrote poetry on VD.net (you really should check it out. I got into a few "arguments" with some former fans about "you know who." I think you know the answer to that.), so a lot of them came over here to check it out. So that pretty much explains the so-called "stalkers." Though I wouldn't call them that. I'm sure they were just curious.
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Poetry
Nov 24, 2014 15:03:17 GMT -5
Post by jennifer on Nov 24, 2014 15:03:17 GMT -5
I liked the idea of you weeping! Sensitive guy and all that. Either way, the line works. You know @dman24, I was sorry to read we have stalkers watching this thread. I think it's fair to call said people Stalkers by the following definition: "Stalking is unwanted or obsessive attention by an individual or group toward another person. Stalking behaviors are related to harassment and intimidation and may include following the victim in person or monitoring them." Life is short people! Enjoy the time you have reading things that are meaningful to you. I am a sensitive guy. I write poetry for God's sake! Plus I'm a cancer, and you know how we are. But being a guy, the crying needs to be kept to a minimum. Guy rules and all. Ok, how about this: I did cry during a few episodes of TVD. Especially the Bonnie funeral scene from last season (love that episode BTW). So that should make you feel better, right? Also, I mentioned that I wrote poetry on VD.net (you really should check it out. I got into a few "arguments" with some former fans about "you know who." I think you know the answer to that.), so a lot of them came over here to check it out. So that pretty much explains the so-called "stalkers." Though I wouldn't call them that. I'm sure they were just curious. OK, that makes me feel better @dman24, your sensitive man credentials are still intact + you haven't lost your guy edge. NY tough guy edge. I did read the comments at VD-net and the vibe I got was lots of negative/derogatory comments about this site and random acts of poetry, lol. I'm glad to hear you invited people to visit the thread, that it wasn't people reading the thread in order to make fun of it, 'cause that was my first impression.
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Poetry
Nov 24, 2014 15:08:57 GMT -5
Post by jennifer on Nov 24, 2014 15:08:57 GMT -5
Moving on...here's a recent find...
Famous BY NAOMI SHIHAB NYE
The river is famous to the fish.
The loud voice is famous to silence, which knew it would inherit the earth before anybody said so.
The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds watching him from the birdhouse.
The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.
The idea you carry close to your bosom is famous to your bosom.
The boot is famous to the earth, more famous than the dress shoe, which is famous only to floors.
The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.
I want to be famous to shuffling men who smile while crossing streets, sticky children in grocery lines, famous as the one who smiled back.
I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous, or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular, but because it never forgot what it could do.
“Famous” from Words Under the Words: Selected Poems (Portland, Oregon: Far Corner Books, 1995). Copyright © 1995 by Naomi Shihab Nye. Used by permission of the author.
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shoe20
Team Stefan
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Post by shoe20 on Nov 26, 2014 1:43:47 GMT -5
Here's one I wrote 3 yrs ago deer hunting.....
The Timeless Moment
Twenty feet up a tree, senses sharp as his knife Three months of the year that’s the bow hunters life He sits like a statue, hours at a time Movements made like a slow motion mime
A human chameleon meditates on his stand Quieting his thoughts for the task that’s at hand There’s no ego up there, setting quietly with dark There's nothing more humble, than trying to be bark
He’s out classed in the senses of sound, smell, and sight Whitetails have a big edge, before arrow takes flight So nock up a sharp one: it's blackstrap tonight If deer had canines; Oh my God what a fight
Scanning the woods, he looks through the glass No minutes up there, it’s seconds that pass Then the snap of a twig, no way that’s a squirrel Or the flash of the sun as it hits horns of pearl
Old mossyhorn comes creep’n; he’ll be in range soon To join in the dance, that’s as old as the moon A moment shared by predator and prey When two come together but one walks away.
Shed not a tear; there’s no reason to cry In order to live – others must die Don’t count me with those feeling it’s more honorable to BUY In the circle of life - I’m a harvesting GUY
Killing deer with a bow, some say is a feat I don’t do it for fame, for me it’s the meat Some drink and do drugs to escape reality Give me the movie of life, my bow, and a tree!
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Post by jennifer on Nov 26, 2014 10:23:51 GMT -5
Here's one I wrote 3 yrs ago deer hunting..... The Timeless Moment Twenty feet up a tree, senses sharp as his knife Three months of the year that’s the bow hunters life He sits like a statue, hours at a time Movements made like a slow motion mime A human chameleon meditates on his stand Quieting his thoughts for the task that’s at hand There’s no ego up there, setting quietly with dark There's nothing more humble, than trying to be bark He’s out classed in the senses of sound, smell, and sight Whitetails have a big edge, before arrow takes flight So nock up a sharp one: it's blackstrap tonight If deer had canines; Oh my God what a fight Scanning the woods, he looks through the glass No minutes up there, it’s seconds that pass Then the snap of a twig, no way that’s a squirrel Or the flash of the sun as it hits horns of pearl Old mossyhorn comes creep’n; he’ll be in range soon To join in the dance, that’s as old as the moon A moment shared by predator and prey When two come together but one walks away. Shed not a tear; there’s no reason to cry In order to live – others must die Don’t count me with those feeling it’s more honorable to BUY In the circle of life - I’m a harvesting GUY Killing deer with a bow, some say is a feat I don’t do it for fame, for me it’s the meat Some drink and do drugs to escape reality Give me the movie of life, my bow, and a tree! Man shoe20 - you've been holding out. It's a relationship I don't understand, having never hunted, but it's old as time and you capture becoming part of another world. I was holding my breath, feeling like I was there in the moment. That's my sign of a well-written poem to me, when I can conjure up the scene and emotions. Thanks for joining us.
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Deleted
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Poetry
Nov 26, 2014 19:19:24 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Nov 26, 2014 19:19:24 GMT -5
Here's one I wrote 3 yrs ago deer hunting..... The Timeless Moment Twenty feet up a tree, senses sharp as his knife Three months of the year that’s the bow hunters life He sits like a statue, hours at a time Movements made like a slow motion mime A human chameleon meditates on his stand Quieting his thoughts for the task that’s at hand There’s no ego up there, setting quietly with dark There's nothing more humble, than trying to be bark He’s out classed in the senses of sound, smell, and sight Whitetails have a big edge, before arrow takes flight So nock up a sharp one: it's blackstrap tonight If deer had canines; Oh my God what a fight Scanning the woods, he looks through the glass No minutes up there, it’s seconds that pass Then the snap of a twig, no way that’s a squirrel Or the flash of the sun as it hits horns of pearl Old mossyhorn comes creep’n; he’ll be in range soon To join in the dance, that’s as old as the moon A moment shared by predator and prey When two come together but one walks away. Shed not a tear; there’s no reason to cry In order to live – others must die Don’t count me with those feeling it’s more honorable to BUY In the circle of life - I’m a harvesting GUY Killing deer with a bow, some say is a feat I don’t do it for fame, for me it’s the meat Some drink and do drugs to escape reality Give me the movie of life, my bow, and a tree! Very nice shoe! Good job. Somehow I want to go hunting now!
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Nov 26, 2014 19:43:45 GMT -5
I love the rain. There's a beauty about it that really appeals to me. This poem is about it, and the many affects it has had on me throughout my lifetime.
The Rain
The rain makes a beautiful sound As it falls outside my window Welcoming me to a state of peace and beauty Quieting the racing thoughts of my mind
I'm always happy when it rains It has a subtle beauty all its own From the pitter-patter on the rooftop To the symmetrical streams as you glance outside your window
Many wish only for sunny days Hoping the rain would never fall So they could spend their days and weekends Bathing and basking in the sun
I too like the sunny days But I especially love the rainy ones Peaceful thoughts and good memories always come to me Flowing gently like the rain
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shoe20
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Post by shoe20 on Nov 27, 2014 7:31:14 GMT -5
Not mine, but I like it...... Happy Thanksgiving, all
The Man In The Glass
When you get what you want in your struggle for self,
and the world makes you King for a day,
Just go the mirror and look at yourself,
and see what that man has to say.
For it isn't your father or mother or wife
whose judgment upon you must pass,
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life
is the one staring back from the glass
You may be like Jack Horner and chisel a plum
and think your a wonderful guy.
But the man in the glass says you're only a bum
if you can't look him straight in the eye.
He's the fellow to please - never mind all the rest,
For he's with you clear to the end.
and you've passed your most dangerous, difficult test
if the man in the glass is your friend.
You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass,
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
if you've cheated the man in the glass
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Poetry
Dec 3, 2014 18:03:02 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Dec 3, 2014 18:03:02 GMT -5
This poem I wrote was inspired by a passage from the Song of Solomon (that's the Bible BTW).
Come my Darling
Come my darling, let us go into the fields So we may drink of our love Let us delight each other with kisses and love expressions Let us conceal ourselves, so we may partake of our love in secret
And when we have had our fill Let us lie in each others arms Under the full-mooned sky Gazing into each others eyes Fully satisfied
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Poetry
Dec 15, 2014 8:51:14 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Dec 15, 2014 8:51:14 GMT -5
This is a pretty straightforward poem about the simple yet profound gesture of a kiss. Its value is immense, especially when true love is involved. The world needs more kissing and less sex as far as I'm concerned. ( Wow, can't believe I said that... being a guy and all. Ha!)
Kiss me
Kiss me Kiss me... here Yes... there! Kiss me everywhere Kiss me, to your heart's content Kiss me, for my soul's ardent Kiss me, with all your passion for me Kiss me, for eternity
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Post by Deleted on Dec 19, 2014 15:33:43 GMT -5
Death is pretty much a taboo topic. Though it's clearly in the back of our minds at any given moment. All it would take is someone else's death to remind us of our own, and the thought of it happening.
Death
Death is unknown Its face never shown Until, In the still, of night When all seem good and right It flashes upon the sight Of the unfortunate soul Whose fate is to behold Death's gruesome face. And when it has taken its toll Neither time nor space Will ever displace The horror upon that poor soul's face
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Poetry
Dec 21, 2014 11:11:57 GMT -5
Post by jennifer on Dec 21, 2014 11:11:57 GMT -5
Death is pretty much a taboo topic. Though it's clearly in the back of our minds at any given moment. All it would take is someone else's death to remind us of our own, and the thought of it happening. DeathDeath is unknown Its face never shown Until, In the still, of night When all seem good and right It flashes upon the sight Of the unfortunate soul Whose fate is to behold Death's gruesome face. And when it has taken its toll Neither time nor space Will ever displace The horror upon that poor soul's face Nice one @dman24. I find thinking about death a very fascinating and necessary part of life myself. We live in the shadow of mortality every day. Why not acknowledge it and open the door for a conversation? I like your imagery of "Death's gruesome face" and the "horror upon that poor soul's face." When I think of death as an entity, I find myself thinking about Death in "The Book Thief," a somewhat ambivalent, constant presence who has a bird's eye view of humans and a job to do when the time comes. When I think of death literally, a person takes a last breath - that no one knows is the last one - until no more follow. What occurs inside the person dying must be as individual as the number of people in the world.
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Poetry
Dec 24, 2014 9:15:31 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Dec 24, 2014 9:15:31 GMT -5
Here's another one of my favorites from William Wordsworth.
The Daffodils
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
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