Favourite Poems....

[Cage]

Thanks Prober, and 17th . . . . I'm picking my son up later today; he wants to spend some time with me on my b-day. He's been sick all week, and in bed all week, but he's getting up to come see me. Class act kid, man.

InLove, once again, great stuff!

17th, all I can say is WOW! I'm lovin it!

Here's a dark, and somewhat troubling one from me. I wrote it 4 years ago:


Sacred


Fragile veins, needle gashed arms,
horrendous badges upon array.
Every wound a moment in time
in which she’s able to fade away.

Her addiction burns deep inside,
like inflictions of swallowed glass.
Thus, poison she’ll thrust into her veins,
so she can die again at last.

This evil alliance eases the hurt.
Her needs she cannot resist.
It is only when the pain subsides,
that it seems life no longer exists.

Alone she sits in a candle lit room,
the shadows animate the walls.
She hovers a spoon over the flame,
then a sizzle, and again death calls.

Preparing her fix she pulls the plunge,
then a push to bleed out the air.
The needle ready to make its mark,
and assist in containing despair.

A strap is wrapped around her arm,
and then a tap to find a vein.
Soon she’ll find what she’s looking for.
Yes, soon she will feel no pain.

Virtual death is found in this needle,
the needle sets in descending pace.
Knowing she needs it, she injects,
and now the sinner finds her grace.

In parallel she begins to sink;
her head clears, and images blur.
This savior now extends his arms,
and once again, life sleeps for her.


~James~

[InLove]

("Deafness" seems to be a recurring theme around the boards these days, so....)

The Deaf Ear

In the courtrooms and the churches,
The subways and the bars--
People clinging to their fear,
And they turn a deaf ear to it all.

Competition, recognition
Seem to be the order of the day--
The prince and his paupers,
The queen and her daughters
Have a game they've learned to play...
Up the ladder they fall.

Contradiction, blind ambition--
The ego says they must win,
And they sit in smug repose
When you've "failed" and everyone knows,
And they're so glad that it wasn't them.
And they feel so sorry as they tell your story.

I want to hear something sincere--
I want to help heal the deaf ear
Upon which silence falls,
Upon which service calls,
And if no one listens, who will hear?

In the courtrooms and churches,
The subways and the bars--
People clinging to their fear,
And they turn a deaf ear to it all,
And silence falls.

Listen, if you have ears--
Listen....

I want to say something sincere--
I want to help heal the deaf ear
Upon which silence falls,
Upon which service calls
And if no one's listening,
Who's gonna hear?

© 1985

[Phyllis Sidhe_Uaine]

I have a couple of freeform "poems" posted somewhere on the forums (right now I'm not focused enough to seek them out. ) I'll post the links later.

Phyllis Sidhe_Uaine

[InLove]

Hey, Phyll and Company

I think that when I referred to great stuff on other threads, I was really talking about you (and maybe some others) Why else would I point everyone to my own debaucle?

Those threads were here when I got here.

InPeace,
InLove

[Cage]

After a night in New Orleans Good times!


‘Bourbon Street’


A bass guitar is thumping
with the delicious sound of a sax
a jazz man singing about New Orleans;
all the regulars tip their hats

Electric lights brighten the Quarter
the ladies all raise their shirts
“Show your t**s” the chant of choice
for beads they are amazing flirts.

Ageless vampires clear the alleys
as they walk in lines of three
with black trench coats, and long dark hair
these gods of the streets are free

The beggars will beg for a little change
some rolling legless on their carts
the rich walk by in careless haste
walking by with hardened hearts

From orgy bars too tasteless to describe
to a voodoo shop with gods of old
statues carved out of wood
holding memories of Marie Laveau.

Parades, beads, it’s Mardi gras
tis the season for flamboyant display
hurricanes drank all through the night
it’s a haven for decedent play

Ahh, Bourbon St. In New Orleans
its sin is all but ideal
city life, music, bars, and fun
sexy woman, and amazing appeal.

[chakraman]

he's 5 foot 2 & he's 6 foot 4
he fight with missiles & with spears

he's all of 31 & he's only 17
he' been a soldier for a 1000 years

he's a catholic, a hindu, an atheist, a jain
a buddhist and a baptist and a jew

and he knows he shouldn't kill
and he knows he always will

killing for me my friend
and me for you

and he's fighting for canada
and he's fighting for france

he's fighting for the usa
and he's fighting for the russians

and he's fighting for japan
and he thinks we'll put an end to war this way

and he's fighting for democracy
and he's fighting for the reds

he says its for the peace of all

he's the one who must decide
who's to live and who's to die

and he never sees the writing on the wall

but without him how could hitler
have condemned him with avowe

and without him caesar
would have stood alone

he's the one who gives his body
as a weapon of the war

and without him
all this killing can't go on

he's the universal soldier
he really is to blame

his orders come from far away no more
they come form here and there and you and me

and brothers and sisters can't you see
this is not the way put an end to war.........

[17th Angel]

I at the time, thought it be interesting to use all the most positive words I could think of to describe such a negative theme. *shruggs*

[InLove]

Hi Angel--I was cajoling when I made the remark about greeting cards.

It says lots about your skill as a writer if what you write evokes pictures and emotions, right? Whether they are warm butterflies or shudders....its art--you are a painter.

Enjoying your writing, too Cage--hope your son is feeling better. And welcome, chakraman!

InPeace,
InLove

[17th Angel]

I know inlove, we coo, we coooo!

Some pretty awesome poems coming out here, from both sides of the scales, truly good to see something we can all have a bit of "fun" with.

Manowar... The singer of that band... He's a true poet.

Burn the bridge behind you
Leave no retreat
There's only one way home
Those who laugh and crowd the path
And cut each other's throats
Will fall like melting snow
They'll watch us rise with fire in our eyes
They'll bow their heads
Their hearts will hang low
Then we'll laugh and they will kneel
And know this heart of steel was
Too hard to break
Too hard to hold

Stand and fight
Live by your heart
Always one more try
I'm not afraid to die
Stand and fight
Say what you feel
born with a heart of steel

[InLove]

Well, things are rather quiet around the boards this afternoon. So, more poetry? Hope you don't mind another original (it's a song, too). Just a story, but based on a real person.

Cactus Rose

Cactus Rose, you old woman,
You've seen so many things;
You came to this town in a covered wagon--
Now people fly around in air machines;
He was lookin' for land, he said,
But he settled for taverns instead;
So you learned to boldly grasp the thorns
To gather roses; Now your hands
Are tired and worn.
And few ever understood
You just did what you could.

Cactus Rose, they say you were a pistol
In your younger days;
But you knew that flowers grew among the thistles,
And no one understood your ways;
You were too tough--they called you shady,
But Cactus Rose, I know you were a lady,
Boldly grasping the thorns.
Now your wrinkled hands, tired and worn,
Show you just did what you could
And few ever understood.

And no one ever visited Cactus Rose
Except a few stray cats and some hobos;
And little kids, when we could slip away--
Late one night, I heard you pray--
Cactus Rose, in the song I watched you play--

And she sang, "Oh, you're a river that flows,
And cools my soul, time and again;
When my spirit is weak,
Parched by this burning desert heat,
You come and quench my pain
Like desert rain.

Cactus Rose, you old woman,
You've seen so many things;
If this old world could just slow down--
If they could only hear you sing;
We'd all be so much stronger
And wiser for your wear.
But Cactus Rose just sits alone,
Waves from her rocking chair.

And she sings, "Oh, you're a river that flows,
And cools my soul, time and again;
When my spirit is weak,
Parched by this burning desert heat,
You come and quench my pain
Like desert rain.

You come and quench my pain
Like desert rain.

© 1987

[InLove]

Tucumcari Moon


It was somewhere just outside Trujillo
In the darkness, staring out my window—
Western sky was in full bloom,
Late-night radio in tune,
Underneath the Tucumcari moon.

It was somewhere just off 66,
Where all those people go to get their kicks—
But for me, that highway came too soon;
For me, that night, there was only room
For me and you and the Tucumcari moon.

Hey, Randy! Slow this pickup down—
Maybe we should turn around?
Don’t really want to go on back to Dallas,
Where the boxes boom,
Neon dims the moon,
And the people rush around.

It was somewhere, backside of Amarillo
In the morning, searching for my pillow—
I must’ve left it at the Blue Swallow Motel
Where we talked all night
‘Til the morning light,
And only the moon could tell.

So, tell me, you in the moon, what does it all mean?
Me and Randy, and all these crazy dreams?
Is it just a tune in the moondusty dark?
Or can you really see into this weary traveler’s heart?

It was somewhere, just this side of forever,
I remembered heaven knows all about whatever—
Whatever comes too soon,
Whatever promises the moon—
Maybe it’s now or never….

Hey, Randy! Slow this old pickup down—
Maybe we should turn around?
Don’t you really want to go on back
To our valley in the sun?
With the mountain’s moon
Where the only tune
Is whatever you can strum?

Hey, Randy! Slow this pickup down—
Maybe we should stop and take just one more look around?
Don’t you really want to know
If this old prairie flower can bloom?
Go and ask the Tucumcari moon—
Me and you and the Tucumcari moon.

© 1997

[Phyllis Sidhe_Uaine]

Here are the links to my poems that I promised:

Poetry, anyone?
Poetry, anyone?

Phyllis Sidhe_Uaine

[17th Angel]

Not bad not baaaad Phyllis... I do indeed like the keys one that is sweet... But I -have- to be the big bad guy from the dark side!!! Say that the "perfect day" one is pretty cool nice work... But i'd be lost in a world like that :P

Inlove, Thanks for those posts, some good stuff there

[Francis king]

[quote=17th Angel;86085]

loathesome revolting spheres...love it... might steal that...

[17th Angel]

[quote=Francis king;86926]

Originally Posted by 17th Angel

loathesome revolting spheres...love it... might steal that...

ORLY!?

*Calls his agent and his lawyer.*