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Old 12-04-2006, 21:06   #1
PrincessTaurus
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Poetry

Anyone out there write poetry as a form of catharsis??? Or poetry for any reason???

Cuz, um...., I've been known to write a little and instead of destroying my work, I've promised my best friends that I'll keep it and let someone read it before destroying it.

I'm not posting my work, but it would be nice to know there are other kindred poets out there!

Perhaps it will help stop my impulse to destroy my written work.
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Old 12-09-2006, 08:09   #2
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Hey Princess,
I write. I have written several short stories, one complete novel and I have two novels started, but on the book shelf for now as graduate school and work take up most of my time.

After Sept. 11th, I began writing some poetry, and my wife and sons, say its pretty good, but I have my doubts, and like you I went through a phase where I wanted to destroy it. I am glad I didn't!

I tend to write poetry in Spanish, although I do have a few in English.

Don't destroy it, original work is hard to reproduce as it is usually inspired and yes, for the record my writing is therapeudic.

Take care, keep writing and let me know if you want me to look at any of it.

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Old 12-09-2006, 10:55   #3
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Thanks for the offer. Same goes to you. I LOVE writing. AND, I'm very cool about understanding everyone's unique style and voice. I usually just enjoy reading it and give positive feedback - what's good about it and unique and creative.

So, the offer stands for all. I LOVE reading other people's writing and I'm so NOT overcritical.

My ex and my mom used to think there was something wrong with me because my writing is SO dark. Chewy enjoys my dark side (thank goodness). That's liberated me in so many ways.

Gotta go decorate the house for the once-Pagan holiday of Christmas.
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Old 12-10-2006, 01:28   #4
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I've written a fair volume of poetry and taught classes on poetry =)

Definately keep your work, if for no other reason than to serve as a comparison for future writing. I have a folder with some poetry I wrote when I was around 12-14 years old. I've held on to it all these years not because it is good (it isn't. It's awful.) but because it helps to know where one came from.

I have two rules for my students when they write poetry.

#1 No one may even -write- the word love. You can't even imagine how much this cuts down on crappy poetry writing.

#2 I won't comment or critique poetry that doesn't take a unique view on something. The world is awash with sappy love poems and other cliches. I insist my students find their voice and their unique perspective in the world and write from it.
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Old 12-10-2006, 14:13   #5
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To forestall the ennui of semi-retirement, I've dallied with the muse for a couple of years. But, since this is my first post to GT, maybe I'd better give a short self-intro: erstwhile grad student, ex-USAF, retired Feeb, and a present campaigner against entropy from here in north Texas.

No one has put up any of their stuff, so at the risk of some embarrassment and a few poetaster accusations, here are a couple of my dabbles, one serious, one not:

MILITARY GARDEN OF REMEMBRANCE

The roses along the gray stone fence are soft as old vellum
Faintly perfuming the ether breathed by those still breathing.
And inside are no thorns, judgments in personam, or in rem.
No, only springtime on the greening earth, a humid pleasing
Of the senses, a slant of sunlight on velvet grass, so, so trim.
Newly opened buds vie with colored paper flowers, teasing
The poor bee between real and unreal, sham and Seraphim.
Fresh-leaved trees leak yellow seeds of new life conceiving.

But the sprinklers that wet the little iron flags do so in vain.
The once-life beneath that lived for those above was aware
When time was and now isn’t his like could never be again.
Still, it was worth all, what he lost and they could only bear,
A father gone, a brother stepped into mist, friends here lain,
If only his sacrifice, given with a ragged last minute prayer,
Helped keep our land from the grasp of a fell enemy’s domain,
Well, then the loss of springtimes - and roses - holds no pain.



POLL-ISH JOKE

Around low fires in caves of the Koh-i-Baba rills and rifts
Where Osama distills religion into a murderous festschrift
To an illiterate army of foolish faithful howling in Pushtu
They’ve never heard what them polls say ‘bout Bush Two.
In beard-stroking wonder the Badmash hear from the Koran
Of killing the infidel, so they don’t hear the cell phone and
Miss their chance for a survey opinion

Me, I wait anxious and angst’d for the telephoning pollster
To call and ask my name, pedigree, am I young or old, sir.
Whether I’m called by CNN, Today, Fox, Hearst or Gallup
I cackle and roar to answer like I’m saying yes for a trollop
For, unlike the misguided in the far land of the Hindu Kush
When they ring me up for a referendum in re: do I like Bush
My reply leaves me secretly grinnin’


Okay, c'mon now. I've shown you mine; you show me yours.
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Old 12-11-2006, 12:15   #6
PrincessTaurus
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Quote:
Originally posted by waltlb
To forestall the ennui of semi-retirement, I've dallied with the muse for a couple of years. But, since this is my first post to GT, maybe I'd better give a short self-intro: erstwhile grad student, ex-USAF, retired Feeb, and a present campaigner against entropy from here in north Texas.

No one has put up any of their stuff, so at the risk of some embarrassment and a few poetaster accusations, here are a couple of my dabbles, one serious, one not:

MILITARY GARDEN OF REMEMBRANCE

The roses along the gray stone fence are soft as old vellum
Faintly perfuming the ether breathed by those still breathing.
And inside are no thorns, judgments in personam, or in rem.
No, only springtime on the greening earth, a humid pleasing
Of the senses, a slant of sunlight on velvet grass, so, so trim.
Newly opened buds vie with colored paper flowers, teasing
The poor bee between real and unreal, sham and Seraphim.
Fresh-leaved trees leak yellow seeds of new life conceiving.

But the sprinklers that wet the little iron flags do so in vain.
The once-life beneath that lived for those above was aware
When time was and now isn’t his like could never be again.
Still, it was worth all, what he lost and they could only bear,
A father gone, a brother stepped into mist, friends here lain,
If only his sacrifice, given with a ragged last minute prayer,
Helped keep our land from the grasp of a fell enemy’s domain,
Well, then the loss of springtimes - and roses - holds no pain.



POLL-ISH JOKE

Around low fires in caves of the Koh-i-Baba rills and rifts
Where Osama distills religion into a murderous festschrift
To an illiterate army of foolish faithful howling in Pushtu
They’ve never heard what them polls say ‘bout Bush Two.
In beard-stroking wonder the Badmash hear from the Koran
Of killing the infidel, so they don’t hear the cell phone and
Miss their chance for a survey opinion

Me, I wait anxious and angst’d for the telephoning pollster
To call and ask my name, pedigree, am I young or old, sir.
Whether I’m called by CNN, Today, Fox, Hearst or Gallup
I cackle and roar to answer like I’m saying yes for a trollop
For, unlike the misguided in the far land of the Hindu Kush
When they ring me up for a referendum in re: do I like Bush
My reply leaves me secretly grinnin’


Okay, c'mon now. I've shown you mine; you show me yours.
Thanks! Nice job. My poems don't ever rhyme.

Take care! Keep writing!
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Old 12-12-2006, 06:17   #7
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Waltlb: One word.......AWSOME!
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Old 12-12-2006, 16:59   #8
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Don't destroy your work, share it and make the world a better place. I do poems, greeting cards, and haikus for my friends.

Here is one now...


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Old 12-13-2006, 13:47   #9
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I wish I could skate upon your eyes
In hopes of finding a thin spot,
Allowing me to fall deeply into your
Ever alluring mind.
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Old 12-13-2006, 15:08   #10
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Hey, this is going pretty good - several new good poems. Maybe if we prime the pump some. Here's one I wrote for Christmas:




RECKONING AT MIDNIGHT, CHRISTMAS EVE

There’s frost on the red-green wreath outside the door;
Inside, a strung tree lights the room with colored glow.
Alone by the fire I have the thought “it’s all just décor”
So long as great ordnance rainbows red over field and row
Dumbing the prayers of fearing airmen, soldiers, sailor,
And while in a silent cemetery waits a rust-caked backhoe
To hollow out a final home.

Property bleeds into religion, and armed arrays in rancor
Battle with the belief held in my front-yard manger grotto
Where Mother, Babe, Father freeze in a cold wind foreswore.
Ah, here safe home I wish such thoughts were only sideshow
And I’d once again nap in pajamas by presents on the floor
As when I was young; then no friends turned torn scarecrow,
Were not resting in VA loam.

But, standing outside, stars blink down from a darkened yore,
Seeming to give reproach for what’s lacking in a jejune credo;
On the wind I hear: “Fool, to rail this night men will make war:
Until earth's olden nature change, blood ever stains the snow
Across lands; do not idle moan for the past and the now ignore;
Your loved ones are abed, who asleep look like painted frescoes.
Christmas with them; cease to poem.”

Sudden gathering clouds take sky's view all away;
The world turns East to look for a new dawn's day.
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Old 12-22-2006, 22:14   #11
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Re: Poetry

Quote:
Originally posted by PrincessTaurus
Anyone out there write poetry as a form of catharsis??? Or poetry for any reason???
Hello, again, P.T., YES I write poetry, silly poetry, sometimes even , uh, blue, not dirty, but blue poetry.

I've written some very funny ( I say so ) poetry inspired by my time involved in a forum full of my buds from playing WW2 shooter PC games on-line , ie., Call of Duty 1 and 2, Medal of Honor, all of 'em.

I just today gave them a story about Santa, which, well, ended horribly. But it was funny ( again, I say so ) .

I wrote a " limerick " in Big Bore's G-23 test,on this forum, as a tribute to him. It was funny ( once again, I say so ).

It started, " Big Bore, a man not from Nantucket..."

It was very hard to not go where it seems it must go...lol.

Later, and Merry, X - Mas, young lady.

Eye M. Outte
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Old 01-21-2007, 00:25   #12
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#1

No word from her lips
No soft, gentle wind
Stirs the ashes of my heart

#2

Recite your song of infinite sorrow
Weep if you will for the dying tomorrow
Open your eyes into nothingness
And pretend that you see light.

Tell your children that life is from heaven
Turn your eyes from the truth of its pain
Swallow the pills that dull your perception
Shout loudly that it's not all in vain

Search for the meaning that you must create
Never admit you've created your meaning
Smile with faces of glass at the others
Smile that there is smile beyond dust

Hope is a demon that should be ignored
Love - a fable that we all implore
Close your eyes to the truth that consumes you
Sleep in death or sleep in life.


Wow... I guess I only write poetry when I am feeling incredibly emo.

*shrugs* Can't improve your writing if you don't share it.
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Old 02-04-2007, 22:56   #13
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Wow,you guys are really good.I just stumbled in and wow,seriously great material.I wrote a poem(my one and only attempt)while on guard duty in korea.I was just in country and all newbies pulled duty on the dmz.Its december,snowing the largest flakes,so dark and windy that i have to shuffle in place for 4 hrs. to keep warm.As i nearly froze that night i remembered someone telling me the winter wind in korea was known as the hawk.That night i had nothing to write with even if i was foolish enough to attempt it in a blizzard,so i made up one verse at a time,repeating each until i was confident i could proceed to the next.Like a mantra,it came forth until i was relieved of duty.I have it still in a photo album if anyone would care to read it.I know its crude but,hey i was 19,drafted,and a world away from my little logging town i called home.Please share more of your work,i do enjoy it,thanks...
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Old 02-06-2007, 10:23   #14
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Quote:
Originally posted by 7 CAV A TROOP
Wow,you guys are really good.I just stumbled in and wow,seriously great material.I wrote a poem(my one and only attempt)while on guard duty in korea.I was just in country and all newbies pulled duty on the dmz.Its december,snowing the largest flakes,so dark and windy that i have to shuffle in place for 4 hrs. to keep warm.As i nearly froze that night i remembered someone telling me the winter wind in korea was known as the hawk.That night i had nothing to write with even if i was foolish enough to attempt it in a blizzard,so i made up one verse at a time,repeating each until i was confident i could proceed to the next.Like a mantra,it came forth until i was relieved of duty.I have it still in a photo album if anyone would care to read it.I know its crude but,hey i was 19,drafted,and a world away from my little logging town i called home.Please share more of your work,i do enjoy it,thanks...
Hey, 7 CAV:

I'd like to see that poem.
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Old 02-06-2007, 13:47   #15
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Quote:
Originally posted by waltlb
Hey, 7 CAV:

I'd like to see that poem.
Ouch.ok,easy on my arm..i'll post it tonight.It's stored with a bunch of stuff but,i'll dig it out,if you'll quit twisting my arm.....
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Old 02-06-2007, 21:34   #16
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So funny,im looking for two hours through boxes for the envelope containing this poem,my wife walks by and reaches in one box,pulls out the exact envelope and continues on through the room.I married a genious.Ok so anyway onto the poem.I see i have written at the top"guard duty,radar site 4,dmz,jan.69,heavy snow,15',wind chill ?" THE HAWK[list]
  • Misteriously whispering through the years,
  • He kicks ass and takes no names,
  • His victims range far and wide,
  • All people,especially guards,know his fame,
  • Standing out in the cold,moist,winter night,
  • He will strike swiftly in the dark,
  • Under the stars and the soft,pale moonlight,
  • Comes the torturous sting of the mighty hawk,
  • The heaviest clothes cant stop his attack,
  • Nor the weapon you carry slow his flight,
  • You strain to see him in his act,
  • But you imagined it all,he is far from sight,
  • He has your number believe me he does,
  • He is waiting for that magical hour,
  • To pounce uninvited and rumble your parka fuzz,
  • You tremble from the endless tremendous howl,
  • Fingers tingling,cover soon you seek,
  • Only to find your post has no shelter or blind,
  • Slowly but surely your body begins to get weak,
  • The hawk shrieks into your warping mind,
  • Your replacement arrives and the passwords come out,
  • Beware the cold dark breeze,
  • the Hawk is out.
J.M.
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Old 02-06-2007, 22:17   #17
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Re:THE HAWK

Pretty durn good, I thought, for a guy walking post in a crotch-frosting breeze - the more especially since you didn't have anything to write it out on. Ideas for metaphors and phrasing are not easy to recall sometimes. I hope we see some more posts in this area.
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Old 02-19-2007, 13:02   #18
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Yeah, I get the bug to write every now and then. Here's a recent one:

My Journey

My world is full of mysterious things I can not fully understand,
Yet my mind thinks not of what may be ahead, caring only for what is at hand.
My thoughts and dreams are so innocent, my heart still true and pure.
I have no idea of the perils of life which someday I will surely endure.
I spend my time in wonderful bliss, unaware of my Father above
For I am a child in my mother’s arms and I have yet to learn about love.

My world is full of shiny things like cars and clothes and gold.
I have no worries for I am strong , my only fear is of growing old.
My thoughts and dreams are of wealth and flesh, my heart is all my own.
My only concerns are for myself, my loved ones I have outgrown.
I spend my time in unhealthy ways, ignoring my Father above
For I am a teenager full of youth and lust, and I do not wish to fall in love.

My world is full of work and bills, my days seem to have no end.
I struggle to gain a foothold in life, for on myself I must depend.
My thoughts and dreams are of a fairy tale in which I am whisked away
By the love of my life sent from above with whom to share the rest of my days.
I spend my time in a desperate search, all the while praying to my Father above
For I’m a young adult with so much to give, and I have yet to find my true love.

My world is full of magical days, passionate nights and pleasure.
The happiness inside me can not be contained, my joy is far beyond measure.
My thoughts and dreams are of a life in the arms of the one who has stolen my heart.
It is so comforting to know I will never again be alone, for our bond is too strong to part.
I spend my time in amazement and awe, every day thanking my Father above
For I am still young with my best days to come, and I have truly fallen in love.

My world is full of children’s toys, school supplies and teachers.
I cook and I clean and I bandage their knees, kids are such demanding creatures.
My thoughts and dreams are for my children to lead a better life than me
I give and I give as they take and they take, I wonder why can’t they see.
I spend my time secretly crying, looking for answers from my Father above.
For I am a parent that has given so much to my kids, I have forgotten about my Love.

My world is full of newfound feelings that for so long I thought were dead.
The children are older and doing so well, I’ve had time to clear my head.
My thoughts and dreams are of the life I regained, of the valuable lessons I learned.
I am so thankful to get this second chance in my life before too many bridges were burned.
I spend my time hand in hand with my lover teaching our kids to pray to their Father above
For we are a family that under our Lord has come to truly appreciate love.

My world is full of tears and sorrow, I feel so empty inside.
My Love once said we’d be together forever, but now it seems they lied.
My thoughts and dreams are of the time that we shared, now it seems so long ago.
There are so many things I wish I had said, so many things I wanted them to know.
I spend my time feeling bitter and lost, forsaken by my Father above
For now I must spend my last days alone, I have been widowed by my Love.

My world is full of amazing things I only imagined could be true.
There are no words to describe how I feel, but someday you will understand too.
My thoughts and dreams are of you and your life, for mine has now found it’s way
To the place I belong even though I’ve done wrong, He has washed all my sins away.
I spend my time with my Love once again, as we stand with our Father above
For we are now angels looking down upon you, and forever you shall be loved.
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