Poetry

[Starlyte]

I was just wandering if anyone on the forum writes poetry and if so, would you like to share it here? If you don't write then maybe you could post your favorite poem(s). I'll start it off. I wrote this for my boyfriend.

Love's Promise

I love thee as the

silvery moon shines

radiant on this night.

The fragrant flowers that

drench the air enveloping me

as does our love's delight.

The way the light does

touch your face,

your eye does eye mine own,

And without saying

a word does send a

message from your soul.

Oh, do please speak!

To hear a word,

just one would be divine.

A promise as constant

as the rising sun

binding our love for all of time.

[tendo]

yeah, i write poetry too. ive written maybe 20 or so poems, good poems n e way. as of right now i cant share any, as i dont have my journal with me, and im gettin ready to leave.

[Mentalcase]

Starlyte,

Good thread! I think we may have done this before, but with all the newer members...this should be fine. I'll post a few as well....

It's what you say

Feels like I'm meeting you for the very first time, everyday,

You're feelings keep changing everything,

It's what you say, it's what you do,

It's changing everything, it's changing everything that we must do,

After I meet you a million more times, everyway,

I'm feeling the joy that's inside my soul,

It's what you say, it's what you do,

It's strange in everyway, it's strange in everyway that I once knew,

and I know I need to find my role, I know I need to find my home, I know I will have to find away from you..

This wont be the last time we meet, today,

I'm realizing everything is great,

It's what you don't say, it's what you don't do,

It's driving me insane, it's driving me insane to just know you,

This is actually a song I wrote.

[j6p]

All I Need is a Grant

I've been in school for eighteen years

They won't keep me no more

In about a week or two

my ass is out the door

No I never had to work

Daddy did it all

Now he's gone and pulled the plug

I'm feeling kinda small

Oh all I need is a grant

There are so many mysteries

that I can uncover

Things are lurking in the dark

Waiting for discover

At times my findings may just be outdated

Conclusions might be unrelated

I promise to amend

If you give me one more chance

Oh all I need is a grant

I promise you my pony tale

will not get in the way

I'll grow a beard to fit the part

Look it's getting longer every day

Without a grant I'll have to work

And that will never do

If I have to get a job

I'll be just like you

Oh god, please give me a grant

[Mentalcase]

Very creative J6p!! Here's another one...

Radial Sun

In her eyes, Love is growing,

Gental words, Overflowing,

Summertime, The sub is sinking,

Punching out, Now it's we can..

Stay away or to stay together could be the same thing,

I want to stay together,

So sublime, It's overwhelming,

Patients screaming, This is your dream,

With that in mind, I'm doing my own things,

Packing stuff and moving to your dream.

[Phantom]

Damn, I wish I could write like that. My poetry, compared to the stuff posted here, sucks oaktree bigtime.

Keep them coming, people. It is appreciated.

[Starlyte]

yeah, i write poetry too. ive written maybe 20 or so poems

We look forward to reading them nuthinparanormal.

Mentalcase, you write beautifully! Please post more of you songs/poetry.

j6p, that poem is too funny! Do you have anymore?

Here is another of mine:

LOST SELF

Sometimes I sit and wonder why

This life can be so hard

Just when I think I’ve got it right

Something seems to go wrong.

I try to do all that I can

To make it through the day

But after all is said and done

I’m still in the same awful place.

My temper remains out of control

My thoughts consume my days

I can’t remember the last day that went by

That I didn’t cry or feel shame.

What happened to the girl I knew?

The one I was proud to be

That girl got lost so long ago

I’m afraid I’ll never be set free.

[j6p]

Yes a very fun thread, I am enjoying this. I have no more poems but I do have a few comments. Starlyte, your poems show me your life. The second poem told me that you were down when you wrote it but the first poem spoke of the deep love that you are capable of. I look forward to reading more.

Mentalcase, your lyrics are haunting. They stand alone but it would be nice hearing the music too.

Phantom, I don't want to hear it. I've read enough of your posts to know that you can write poetry.

[Starlyte]

And one more before I go home for the weekend:

Thinking of You

When the wind blows

And sings it melodious song,

When the sun shines

And lights up the dark,

When the rain falls

And wets the thirsty earth,

I will think of you.

When the stars twinkle

And dot the midnight sky

When the snow falls

And leaves a blanket winter white,

When the flowers bloom

In scents words cannot describe

I will think of you.

When the day is over

And sleep is on my mind

When the dreams come

And life seems so divine

When I wake up

And face a brand new day

I will be thinking of you.

[theSOURCE]

I had to dig this up. I wrote this ditty when I was a teen...many, many years ago.

If only I were made of stone

I'd watch the eons pass

From time primordial - long since gone -

To the future man will surpass.

If I were stone beneath the waves

Of Earth's first living sea

I could have learned how life began

And solved this mystery.

If I were stone I could have seen

When Pharos ruled the land

Then patiently I'd sit and watch

The sphinx reduced to sand.

If I were stone I'd see the night

When stars no longer shine

And all the memories of the world

Would exclusively be mine.

If only I were made of stone

I'd fear not to depart

For when the rains had warn me away

They'd reveal no broken heart.

Come on, Phantom. Let's see your work. It can't suck anymore than this.

[theSOURCE]

Here's an old song I wrote in the 80's about three wacked people I used to know.

Afterthought

You're destiny cannot be found

In your astrological sign

Yet you base you life on Tarot cards

And the numbers one through nine.

You can hear the spirits speaking

Voices from afar

Still with all this knowledge -

You don't know who you are.

Search the stars and all you'll find

Life is just a state of mind.

You don your boldest attitude

And seek the heat that burns

Another night you play your best

Until the pain returns.

You take a chance with every game

And stand to lose it all

You risk your life to have your fun

But someday you're going to fall.

Count your chips and all you'll find

Life is just a state of mind.

She throws herself at any man

Who'll take her for a ride

She hopes they'll save her from being alone

With her thoughts of suicide.

Different lovers come each night

With one thing on their minds

It's a dangerous race in the fast lane

When you pay no heed to the signs.

Search the wreckage and what you'll find

Love's not just a state of mind.

[Rakshasas]

Said the poet Dreaming….

It won `t be long now..

Said the Poet dreaming..

The seasons have a way of moving time

And love comes trailing behind.

If the pyramids can withstand the ravages of war and strife..

This silken rope of longing,

Can withstand all eternities, sea storms and the sublime.

It won `t be long now…

Said the Poet dreaming..

Before the charioteer of the forsaken and sorrow

Gallops in a dusty tear of love `s meaning lost.

If the great library and the hanging gardens are wonders to behold

So is this love of mine

With it `s crisscross patterns of passion and soft hearts

It won `t be long now..

Said the poet dreaming..

The ink stains are barely dry

The paper crackling in the heat of the words

I love you

And you are time

Bewilderment

And a living grace to our dreams

What bliss

What equinox

If you were ever mine

Said the poet dreaming

It won `t be long

Love will sweep us both..

Said the poet dreaming..

[reese2]

Each one of you write beautifully.............. That does take talent, and some of us, just don't have it... I like reading them, and hope there is more to come.

I have my favorites though......

Reese

[espdracomth]

Amazing you all write poems extremely well.I love to read & write poems. Although mine are not anywhere near that good.

[soulfire78]

Ode to an Interesting Thread

Here I sit for hours,

though there are other things to do.

I swear I'll get up outta' this chair,

and say goodnight to you.

What an interesting thread we weave,

through our desktop voices.

Makes it so difficult to leave,

and answer realtimes choices.

I could stay here all night through.

discussing what may be

But now I must bid adieu

and leave it all to thee.

Good night all:) It's 2am here...and this Little senorita es muy sueno!

[snuffypuffer]

I used to write poetry, it all sucks. Keep 'em comin folks.

[Mentalcase]

Cancerish Greed

When will we know this advice sir? when will we be able to see? doing all i can do, cause i can sir, this cancer is inside of me,

Filling my wait with advances, seeing how hard they can be, I know I will you give you a glance sir, a glance of a chance to be free,

I know that your life's a casino, betting a chance on your scene, my soul is a place you can lean on, you can lean on my soul and be seen,

coming on back with avengence, revenge isn't seen on the flee, flip and you will the answers, this cancerish inside is green, this cancerish inside is green, this cancerish inside is green,

When will we need an advisor, when we rise above all and be mean, i try to keep it all defined sir, divition of greed on the scene. divition of greed on the scene. divition of greed on the scene.

Edited October 18, 2003 by Mentalcase

[j6p]

My kick is when I'm moved by words. It's an art to conjure up an emotion just by putting words down in print. I think anybody can get in anothers face and move them with words but to put them in print and cause emotions to stir is an art.

Every poem here does something to me, for instance take Soulfire78. I know the Lady was tired, you can feel her exhaustion but also her interest in reading her friends poems. A battle ensued, "I want to read more, this is mostly good stuff but dam I'm tired...oh well tomorrow's another day. But I can't just shut down, no, I'll leave this little ditty to let everyone know that I enjoyed their work." And "BLAM" out comes this sweet little poem. Thanks Soulfire78.

MC, I already told you what I think of your work and it remains hauntingly mysterious. You do create a mood.

The SOURCE, You p*** me off...I am envious of your work. You write the kind of stuff that is easy to read but deep. You write like I would like to write. I'd bet that you are one of "reese2's favorites "

Thanks again starlyte for starting this great thread and your lovely poems.

[theSOURCE]

I've really enjoyed reading everyone's works here. All the different styles and messages -- each one unique and special. Good work everybody. Let's see some more.

[Kismit]

I used to write when I was younger . However I won't be posting them here as I feel they allways come out sounding like I have a severe case of middle child syndrome .

Thank you all for posting your poems though ,

Here are a couple of My Favorites ..

Firstly a little Banjo for the Australians in the room , and I'm sorry I only know the first verse ..

I love a sunburnt country, a land of sweeping plains.

Of rugged mountain rangers , of droughts and flooding rains.

I love her blue horizons, I love her jewelled seas .

Her Bueaty and her terror .

The wide brown land for me .....

Banjo Patterson somehow defined Australia in his poetry a legend in his own right .

and this one an old favorite .........

Aunt Jennifer's Tigers

Aunt Jennifer's tigers prance across a screen,

Bright topaz denizens of a world of green.

They do not fear the men beneath the tree;

They pace in sleek chivalric certainty.

Aunt Jennifer's fingers fluttering through her wool

Find even the ivory needle hard to pull.

The massive weight of Uncle's wedding band

Sits heavily upon Aunt Jennifer's hand.

When Aunt is dead, her terrified hands will lie

Still ringed with ordeals she was mastered by.

The tigers in the panel that she made

Will go on prancing, proud and unafraid.

-- Adrienne Rich

Adrienne Rich was a very gifted poet . Who wrote covertly topics which where highly unpopular in her era . What an absolute legend .

[j6p]

They were beautiful Kismit, truly. This may not be the same genre but it's Australian and it always perked me up.

Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport

By Rolf Harris

There's an old Australian stockman, lying, dying. He gets himself up on one elbow,

turns to his mates, who are gathered round,

and he says:

Watch me wallaby's feed, mate

Watch me wallaby's feed.

They're a dangerous breed, mate

So watch me wallaby's feed.

All together now!

Tie me kangaroo down, sport,

Tie me kangaroo down.

Tie me kangaroo down, sport,

Tie me kangaroo down.

Keep me cockatoo cool, Curl,

Keep me cockatoo cool.

Don't go acting the fool, Curl,

Keep me cockatoo cool.

All together now!

Tie me kangaroo down, sport,

Tie me kangaroo down.

Tie me kangaroo down, sport,

Tie me kangaroo down.

Take me koala back, Jack,

Take me koala back.

He lives out somewhere on the track, Mac,

So take me koala back.

All together now!

Tie me kangaroo down, sport,

Tie me kangaroo down.

Tie me kangaroo down, sport,

Tie me kangaroo down.

Let me aboes go loose, Lou

Let me aboes go loose.

They're of no further use, Lou

So let me aboes go loose.

Tie me kangaroo down, sport,

Tie me kangaroo down.

Tie me kangaroo down, sport,

Tie me kangaroo down.

Mind me platypus duck, Bill,

Mind me platypus duck.

Don't let him go running amuck, Bill,

Mind me platypus duck.

All together now!

Tie me kangaroo down, sport,

Tie me kangaroo down.

Tie me kangaroo down, sport,

Tie me kangaroo down.

Play your didgeridoo, Blue,

Play your didgeridoo.

Keep playing 'til I shoot through, Blue,

Play your didgeridoo.

All together now!

Tie me kangaroo down, sport,

Tie me kangaroo down.

Tie me kangaroo down, sport,

Tie me kangaroo down.

Tan me hide when I'm dead, Fred,

Tan me hide when I'm dead.

So we tanned his hide when he died, Clyde,

And that's it hanging on the shed.

All together now!

Tie me kangaroo down, sport,

Tie me kangaroo down.

Tie me kangaroo down, sport,

Tie me kangaroo down.

[Kismit]

Awww!! J6 that was Bonza it really embodies the national spirit of fighting on don't you think ...

Another one ..

The Man from Snowy River

by A. B. "Banjo" Patterson

There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around

That the colt from old Regret had got away,

And had joined the wild bush horses — he was worth a thousand pound,

So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.

All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far

Had mustered at the homestead overnight,

For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,

And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.

There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,

The old man with his hair as white as snow;

But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up —

He would go wherever horse and man could go.

And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,

No better horseman ever held the reins;

For never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand,

He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.

And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast,

He was something like a racehorse undersized,

With a touch of Timor pony — three parts thoroughbred at least —

And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.

He was hard and tough and wiry — just the sort that won’t say die —

There was courage in his quick impatient tread;

And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,

And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.

But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,

And the old man said, ‘That horse will never do

For a long and tiring gallop — lad, you’d better stop away,

Those hills are far too rough for such as you.’

So he waited sad and wistful — only Clancy stood his friend —

‘I think we ought to let him come,’ he said;

‘I warrant he’ll be with us when he’s wanted at the end,

For both his horse and he are mountain bred.

‘He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko’s side,

Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,

Where a horse’s hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,

The man that holds his own is good enough.

And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,

Where the river runs those giant hills between;

I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,

But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen.’

So he went — they found the horses by the big mimosa clump —

They raced away towards the mountain’s brow,

And the old man gave his orders, ‘Boys, go at them from the jump,

No use to try for fancy riding now.

And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.

Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,

For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,

If once they gain the shelter of those hills.’

So Clancy rode to wheel them — he was racing on the wing

Where the best and boldest riders take their place,

And he raced his stock-horse past them, and he made the ranges ring

With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face.

Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash,

But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,

And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash,

And off into the mountain scrub they flew.

Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black

Resounded to the thunder of their tread,

And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back

From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.

And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way,

Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;

And the old man muttered fiercely, ‘We may bid the mob good day,

No man can hold them down the other side.’

When they reached the mountain’s summit, even Clancy took a pull,

It well might make the boldest hold their breath,

The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full

Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.

But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,

And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,

And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,

While the others stood and watched in very fear.

He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,

He cleared the fallen timber in his stride,

And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat —

It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.

Through the stringy barks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,

Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;

And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound,

At the bottom of that terrible descent.

He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill,

And the watchers on the mountain standing mute,

Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still,

As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.

Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met

In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals

On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,

With the man from Snowy River at their heels.

And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam.

He followed like a bloodhound on their track,

Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home,

And alone and unassisted brought them back.

But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,

He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;

But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,

For never yet was mountain horse a cur.

And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise

Their torn and rugged battlements on high,

Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze

At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,

And where around the Overflow the reedbeds sweep and sway

To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,

The man from Snowy River is a household word to-day,

And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.

[Kismit]

and more on Clancy

and possibly my favorite Banjo Patterson poem .

Clancy of the overflow

I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better

Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,

He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,

Just on spec, addressed as follows, "Clancy, of The Overflow"

And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,

(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar)

Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:

"Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are."

* * * * * * * * *

In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy

Gone a-droving "down the Cooper" where the Western drovers go;

As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,

For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.

And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him

In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,

And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,

And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars.

* * * * * * * * *

I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy

Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,

And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty city

Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all

And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle

Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street,

And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,

Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet.

And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me

As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,

With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,

For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.

And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy,

Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,

While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal --

But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of The Overflow.

[j6p]

Man O Man Kismit they were great. "The Man from Snowy River" read just like "The Charge of the Light Brigade", at least to me it did. Only much richer and more detailed. I cheered (mentally of coarse) when "he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam. He followed like a bloodhound on their track.

Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home. And alone and unassisted brought them back." YES....

Sorry about the slight editing but that's the way I saw it. Do ya think Banjo would mind

What an amazing offspring it would be if Seabiscut and that little horse bred. Good golly miss molly, one can only dream

[Starlyte]

A poem my boyfriend wrote for me:

still-life

i could paint a picture,

could capture beauty with a brush

i can paint devotion for only you-

prick a finger, color blush

i can cloak the world in shadow

use jealousy to paint it black

then use the golden rays of sunlight

from your smile to beat it back

and for moments left uncertain

i'd catch you tears and paint it blue

then overlay with violet, passion

from nights alone with you

from high above where angels gaze,

steal their envy, shade it green

then cup my hands in moonlight

adding silver to my dream

our love is never still-life

never bridled, never caged;

only a feeling known eternal,

a masterpiece each passing age