This is one of my poems, just to start things off.
From sunrise, Till sunset.

From sun rise,
Your voice makes the birds sing.
Your eyes make the earth glow,
You laugh makes the wind chime,
The clouds streak across the sky,
They roll after you,
Slowly stretching,
As the clouds above,
Turn to a storm,
From Sunrise,
The storm thunders,
Lightning streaks across the sky,
Natures beauty,
And Natures fury,
At sunset,
The world falls to a slumber,
The quiet of your voice makes the birds go silent,
Your closed eyes make the earth fall dark,
No longer you laugh and the wind feels empty,
The stars shine,
Like our hopes and dreams,
Like your hopes and dreams,
The sky and the world,
Are yours to keep,
From sunrise,
To sunset.

wow man u inspired me. i love u man. great poetry almost seems like its poetry in motion as i imagine it in my mind.

Fantastic! I absolutely loved it as I do all of your work!

Metaphysical. Would work wonderfully as song lyrics.
Good Job.

I've pissed so many people off here at UM, that this probably isn't a good idea, but here goes...
Here are a couple I wrote about 10 years ago, back in high school. They suck.


Rack and pinion
broken metal glass
Pieces of the mirror
lay scattered
over the cold sea.

A girl with
smiling cleft palates
dead and
laughing
in the corner
of the Martian observatory.

The children are all born dead here.

A mother's love.

The children are all born dead here.




Cut the connection,
let the diamonds fall.
Scar my face,
prick my eyes,
slit my wrists.
Oh, the things we do for love.

Dissected memory.
Tang of lemon,
salt of sweat,
thin strip of crimson
down her cheek.
Lips of ivy,
eyes of stone,
so full of passion,
perfect,
bright,
a little angel all alone.
Slid to Sunday
away from the cold.
Stole a tear,
too quick to hold.
The whispers in the sun,
the symbols in the sand,
all the little futures,
wrapped in her hands.

Little wicked dragons,
orange bursts of passion
too easy to forget.
Lost among children
dust between gods.
The breath of a virgin
pennies a pound.
The flesh?
Priceless wings.
Crystal butterflies.

Turn your face from me.
I am man.
I am nothing.
Look to heaven,
light is there.
Perfect peace
between satin sheets
and a kiss from Christ.

“The forest is burning,
there is no God.
Save yourself!,
before someone else does.”
Silver smile.
Crooked teeth.

Two hands lost
in fingertips
and crimes.
A touch for a taste,
a caress to kiss,
purity when there is nothing else.
Passion when love is dead.
The Queen of Hearts slits her wrists,
and calls for his head.
Ironic contributions,
idiotic contradictions,
the path of fools.

A drunken child,
burning with his life,
his lies,
the little promises made
to the angel
he never holds.
Retribution.

The delicate whore
with chameleon eyes.
Pay to play,
no charge to kiss.
Slip her a twenty,
slip her a ten,
slip her some candy.
Oh, **** it!
Just slip her.

Tie ourselves to trees,
Thought; Memory,
pecking out our eyes.
Hearts pumping venom
underneath the milk.
We make ourselves children,
make ourselves chocolate.
We live,
we lie,
we sin.

Oh, the things we do for love.



Comments are welcome, and both are copyrighted.

I love em both!!!!!!!

I liked the second one a bit better, I just liked the way it flowed. You had a very good use of vocabulary I thought!
.....................how do you get things copy writed and or published?

**************

Here is another one.

So many,

Your always with me
No matter how far I go
So many dreams
So many chances
So many stars
Your always with me
Deep within my heart
Imbedded in my soul
So many dreams
So many chances
So many stars
I hear you across time and space
You r voice calls like an undying wind
Like a gentle breeze that sweeps across valleys
So many dreams
So many chances
So many stars
Your always with me
No matter how far I go
You are always in my thoughts
You are always in my head
So many dreams
So many stars
Dreams can only go so far
Before they subside
And we are faced with reality
Reality of life,
But the one thing I know that in reality
You will always be mine.

Caelum, click here, it will give you all you need.

Copyright

Here is the direct link for the FAQ. Your work is under copyright protection the moment it is in tangible form.

Copyright FAQ

You can find your forms that you need here. For poems, you will want the first one, literary works, form TX. These forms are for registering the copyright, not for the copyright itself (see above). As there is a registration fee of $45, you might want to put all your poems together in a collective work, then copyright that.

Forms

By the way, your poems (and I mean yours too, NHN) are wonderful.

Blu

I was feeling kind of bleh when i wrote this..... through pain comes inspiration... i guess...


How could,

How could the wind blow
How could the waves move
When your not with me
The world falls apart
Your under my skin
Your in my thoughts
How could the wind blow
How could the waves move
I think about her
When I dont mean to
When I dont want to
She’s in my thoughts
How could I forget
how could I forget
Don’t forget me
Don’t forget me
The world calls apart
When your not with me
time no longer exists
You never come
Your always gone
How could the wind blow
How could the waves move
The setting sun
Sets to give way to the dark sky
The time of night when dreams run free
When limitations of man don’t apply
Don’t forget me
Don’t forget me...

great poems Caelum the first one is very beautiful

This is called

So many,

Your always with me
No matter how far I go
So many dreams
So many chances
So many stars
Your always with me
Deep within my heart
Imbedded in my soul
So many dreams
So many chances
So many stars
I hear you across time and space
You r voice calls like an undying wind
Like a gentle breeze that sweeps across valleys
So many dreams
So many chances
So many stars
Your always with me
No matter how far I go
You are always in my thoughts
You are always in my head
So many dreams
So many stars
Dreams can only go so far
Before they subside
And we are faced with reality
Reality of life,
But the one thing I know that in reality
You will always be mine.


I really enjoyed writing this one a couple days ago... it was very fun to write.... dunno why.... lol

Shadows

How the shadows move
How they envelope everything
Moving silently for the kill

Lurking
And lurking

Never seeing the light
Oh how they move
Silently through the grass

Lurking
And lurking

The Shadows are coming
Coming to feed
On the death

Lurking
And Lurking
Truths are a lie

Feed on the dead
Feed on hollow dreams
On hollow hopes
No matter what you do,
You cant get out
Your trapped for ever
In a long undying abyss
Falling for eternity
Amidst the pain

Lurking
And lurking

You cant get out
Amidst the shadows
How the Shadows move

Lurking
and Lurking,
Now close your eyes.



Just wrote that one five seconds ago lolol.

Good work, Caelum. You've got talent. Work at it.
Don't be like my lazy a$$. I haven't written a poem in years. Been working on prose sporadically, but no verse.
A question: what do you consider your influences on your writing? I like to think mine are William Blake, Dante, and Nine Inch Nails, among others.
And another sucky oldie:

Regina Caeli


The lotus of blood
wet with golden tongue
greedily drinks the wine
from a wounded heart.
Purple satin roses
dance around the pyre
full of grief and smoke.
The goodness of earth
bubbled in picture glass
held by the eye of beauty.
Brimstone angels
crash from heaven
crush the daughters of men.
Shining with gentle fury
the lion lifts a proud head
and roars his perfect love.

These are great C . I'm a little worried about Never Hit , but, your stuff is cool

Well I dont really have any influences in writing actually, I just kind of let my mind wander and pick ideas from everything. But My major influence isnt a poet shes a singer, the lead singer to the band Evanescence: Amy Lee, her voice is so strong it just sort of sparks the creative center of my brain. But for the most part I'll hear a word from a song or on TV and I'll start coming up with ideas and laying everything out in my head then I will get it down on paper....er... computer.... lol.

Nirvana, I love the use of the vocabulary like Lotus and all of that stuff, it just kinda needs to be smoothed out a bit, it fits together it just needs to flow better. I think its great though. I really have enjoyed reaading your stuff.

Caelum your stuff is really good. Nirvana your stuff is really good too. Like C said, you use good Vocab.

Anyway, I saw this forum, read through it, and decided I'd post a poem I wrote about two or three days ago, it's the first poem I've ever written (not counting a few times in english when I was required to write 1 or 2). Anyway, I don't think it's very good, I basicly just took Edgar Allen Poe's sound from the Raven and made my own little short poem to sound like that.

In the night, my mind taking flight:

I sat in the night
My mind taking flight

When I heard a howling
A scowling
Outside my bedroom door.

What could it be a howling
A scowling
Outside my bedroom door?

I sat in the night
My mind taking flight
As I listened outside my bedroom door.

It was then that I got to my feet
Only now to hear a scratching, a scratching
Outside my bedroom door.

I stood in the night
My mind taking flight
As I listened outside my bedroom door.

At that moment,
the moment I began to walk,
Was the moment I heard something talk!
Outside my bedroom door....

I laughed in the night
My mind sparking bright
A horrow fan's delight
A werewolf marathon all night
The tv flashing bright
Outside my bedroom door......

What the heck, I feel like a little poem tonight....


Crushed by shadows, she is
Fumbling through darkness
Imagination's lonely widow

For she's bled far more than thee
Bitter tears now a glacier
Hands wrung in silent shame

Let loose the waters
Frozen though they are
A widow's frigid hate

Shadows wrapping 'round
Strangle her in the dark
Her blood, icewater

Snow in darkness oft gleams
Crushed diamonds, a-glitter
For there is no Spring

Comfort, the breeze offers not
Her torpid mind forever locked
Caressed by the touch of ennui

Let it melt, let it thaw, let it live
Imagination's widow weeps
For even in ice, beauty awaits

- Jillian

Sad, yet beautiful. I loved it. Very good Jillian.

good stuff guys

Thanks, Artymoon & DistortedPandy

(Would you be surprised if I told you it's just a poem about Writer's Block?)

I get upset when I read good poetry like this... I just can't help it. I'm jealous. I don't do poetry.

Keep 'em coming!

Jillian I love it post more!!! lol. I love all of the work I have seen posted by others on here. The pieces are amazing.

I know ....that's so sad ...having to go through that.

There is extremely beautiful poetry here...poems are the most magnificent form of art, because it`s holds the reflection of the author, his feelings...so i thought i could ad one of mine wich hold a deep feeling in itself one that we all i am convinced feel sometime, it`s not really a poem but more of a letter sent to all who wanders in this crowded but lonely virtual universe, it`s titled....Message in a bottle....


I create a universe from the tip of my fingers
A universe of words, from deep inside my soul
As I write these words, a world comes alive for a moment
A world where all my pains, my sorrow leave my heart
And are projected on a screen.

I am no Angel, and I will never be
Angels don`t walk around in Hell carrying an M16
Neither am I a beast, for I still hold love in my heart
Even though my heart is broken, love still hangs on
Still it makes me bleed, still it`s holds hope
A hope that I shall never be alone
Because you are reading these words

You have entered my secret universe for a moment
This universe I have created, from the tip of my fingers
Never I will be alone, never shall you be alone
Because somewhere in this world,
I am standing close to you.

Somewhere on a lonely shore far away
You are reading this message in a bottle
Even though the bottle is a screen and the ocean is the internet
It`s still the same magic from one soul to another...

Damian Bâthory

05/01/2005

The Angel


Deep cold autumn winds
Haunting sounds in the night
Fill me with dead dispair
Foggy shapes in the shadows
Leads me to my shelter

Deep dark and cold crypt
Fill with the dust of years
The scent of death fills the air
There i stand, in solitude
Where have they all went
Those who filled my past

This old burial place
Filled with the memories
Of those who once lived
But forgoten by the living
I am the only one
Who still remembers

My cold marble hands
Join in prayer
I`m the angel
The cold Marble Angel
Wich stands guard on her crypt

I stand guard on her
The lady i have loved
even though, my heart is made of stone
I will forever love her
And bleed for her

Last one.....untitled

My soul is trapped inside your eyes
Forever keep it in a casket lined with satin.
It is so fragile

If I had known, the night wind would carry you away
I would have lighted a fire to light your way
To my heart

As I stand here alone, falls the rain full of sorrow
Tears from heaven, for you and me
Angel’s cries

Where ever you are, I can still feel you
Memories can be a blessing and a curse
I`m cursed

The lies of the night, exposed in the morning light
Dreams of the night are Nightmares of the day
Dreams are lies

Please come back and rest your beauty on my wounds

You reach for my hand
But i pull away

You try to help
But i move away

You try to love me
But I scorn in return

You tried to change me
But I deliver hate instead

You cried for me
And I was cruel again

You left me now
And i have no where to turn

Geoffrey

yeah, yeah, I know....

Writer's block should be classified as a disease, I tell you.

Very nice, DamianBathory - I really enjoyed this poem mainly because it reflects my own sentiments exactly about posting my words online as well as reading the words of others. The only incongruous line (one that doesn't quite fit in) is the one about walking around in Hell with an M-16 (it sort of comes out of nowhere), but I liked it all the same. Your others are nicely done as well.

Keep writing,


- Jillian

Ok i have to agree with you, when i wrote it, it`s just came out with the word angel, and there`s a story behind it. it`s the answer i gave to a kid a long time ago in Sarajevo When i was a peacekeeper, i had just retreive this kid from a snipper`s line of fire and while we where hidding behind an armored vehicle he asked me if i was his guardian angel, i replied that i was a guardian of peace but not an Angel, because angels don`t walk in Hell carrying an M16 Riffle.
So everytime i hear, read or write the word Angel, this thing comes back to my mind.
Lot`s of the thing i write reflect this dark part of my life, we were no Angels but we were`nt evil, we were just young men`s sent to Hell to watch peoples die and to try to help if we could....the orders still echoes in my mind ( Do not take actions, do not fire unless fired uppon) .....mainly (watch them die and pick up the bodies after)

Here`s one i wrote in 2000 wich reflect this dark part of myself...
If i make errors in my writing it`s because english is not my usual language, in fact i have a long way to go before being able to write as you guy`s do in English

Hell

From the seventh circle of Hell,
I have come, to answer your call.
You are lost, lost in this world of greed and hate.
You!, crawling on the streets of the modern Soddom and Gomora,
Your soul is ill, but you cannot find a cure.
You think I am the one, the one who can fill your emptiness.
Think twice, like the song say`s, there are two paths you can go by.
They say your world was made by someone above, but you wonder?
Why is it full of pain and suffering?
Maybe are you allready living in Hell.

Misguided mortals, are you sure you want to burn with me?
The flames that`s burning me are cold,
Colder than the hands of Death.
They are burning my soul, as they shall burn yours.
The Gods you worships are made of plastic, glass, wires, and silicon chips.
As you wander in this world of make beleive, in this virtual universe,
Dont you miss the warm hand of a human beings?
Does your Hard Disk tells you, that he loves you?
This is your new Heaven, it might also be your new Hell.

Do you think there is a face behind this text?
Or is it a miracle from your new Gods?
Loneliness is filling you, as it is filling me,
Together we are allready crossing the line.
The seventh circle of Hell, is opening up for us.

Don`t you hear the cry of the unborn child, aborted from life?
Don`t you hear the sound of the machine guns, cutting down the Colorado students?
Don`t you hear me weep, because you have lost your soul along with your pride?
I wish I could touch you, but there`s a screen between us,
This screen is sending me back my reflection, like a sad mirror,
Where ever I wander, I feel the same loneliness,
The same sorrow, the same sadness.

As the bombs falls on a Country far away,
Confortably numb, you look at your screen,
And you are proud of it.
What can I say, I am no judge,
You are old enough to judge yourself.

One day, not long ago, I met a dead Princess,
She told me "live and let die", I did not understand,
But now, I do.
You are feeling bad ?
Dont worry, as soon as you will close this screen,
You wont remember, and you will feel confortably numb again.
As for me, I shall return to my own Hell, to burn alone.

May the Hounds of Hell have mercy on our souls.



Damian Bâthory
Febuary 2000

Don’t cry any more

The cloudy sky
Cast out by sunny skies
Give way to the darkness of rain
The life giving water
Falling from the sky
Hitting your skin
The cloudy sky
Cast out by sunny skies
When the rain falls
Sadness fill your eyes
As you make rain of your own
Falling from your eyes every night
Falling from your cheek to the cold hard ground
The Cloudy Sky
Cast out by sunny skies
I don't understand
The tears you cry
The tears that scream agony
The cloudy sky
Cast out by sunny skies
I don’t want to see you cry
Not any more
Not any longer
Weight of a thousand worries
On top of your own
Keeps you down so you cry
To drown them out
You make rain of your own
Falling from your eyes
Falling from the skies
The black of yours eyes falls down
Leaving black lines down your soft face
Dont cry any longer
Please don’t cry
Look forward
Do not look back
Cry your tears another day
Pick up your pieces
The Tears you cry
The tears that scream suffering
Please..
Don’t cry anymore.


Is it wrong that I teared while I wrote this....? cuz I did... IT was about a friend... I dont wanna see her in pain any more.

I don't see anything wrong with shedding a tear for a friend in pain. Particularly liked the stanza above. Interesting point of view, usually it's the poem writer themselves writing the above about themselves, but in this case it's from a friend's perspective. This could probably be a song. Nicely done!



Jillian

A Tale of Five First Daughters


In 1938, in Depression's grip
A first-born daughter brought forth
A first-born daughter of her own
This child, wild of eye
and dark of heart and mind
On the day she opened her eyes
her rage began

In a time when girls didn't speak
The second first daughter spoke
In a time when girls didn't learn
Oh, how she learned...
Tall, darkly beautiful, blue-eyed
A starlet she should have been
But like as not, she was cursed
Like the rest of us

In 1967, tanks rolled down the road
Detroit, gripped in racial war
She gave birth to her first-born daughter
One she wouldn't bother to know
She raised the child, as such
But the third first daughter knew sorrow
Such as like none ever had before
The day she opened her eyes
her sadness began

In a time when girls were supposed to be boys
They had names like Pat and Chris
In a time when she wanted her dolls
In the name of social consciousness
They handed her trucks and cars instead
The confusion and pain she felt inside
After a while, she felt quite dead
Small and quiet she was, but a beauty
Nonetheless
Harm came her way, as it always does
The curse touched her in 1987
Twenty years to the day

In 1987, her first daughter was born
A happy child she seemed
The fourth first daughter carried inside
her grandmother's rage, and her mother's apathy
It was there when her eyes fluttered open
But the rage lacked force, confusion ensued
In a time when girls had voices and power
This first daughter lacked the will
In a time when girls ruled the earth
This first daughter wanted no part of it
She opened her eyes at the age of nineteen
From then on, she knew
Her beauty would be a weapon

She wanted what none had before her
To release the rage and sadness
To start over once more
She would right the wrongs, begin anew
End the curse for good
But alas, 'twas not to be
For the curse has come a-calling
For even now, the fifth first daughter
In the womb she grows
Due twenty years to the day.

- Jillian

It's old. It's not as good as yours. It's from the heart during a very difficult time for me, so don't scold me about it. It brings back terrible memories.

PEACE
This thing I search for
Eludes me, mocks me
It laughs in my face
Just out of my reach
The Death inside grips my heart
I cry silently, shedding no tears
Only residual anger
Coating the inside of my Emptiness
Two sides to my life:
The one I hate
The one I long for
No understanding to the cause
Just the feeling
How am I to heal it?
I find my prayer silenced
By my own hopelessness.
So many worries
With no relief

No scolding from me - as far as I'm concerned, there isn't any real 'wrong' way to write a poem. Your poem, above, is very good - simple, emotional and to-the-point, as poems should be.

Nicely done!

- Jillian

Thank you Jillian, may I call you that?

Yours too, are very nicely done.

Blu

ORANGE and the art of the third Kiss

Poems that rhyme intrigue me;
they are happy never-after,
and you know that the future is not bright,
that their future will never have Orange
as a final destination;

There is no investigation
of words that drag the eye
through the steamy tropics
of rain soaked foliage,
to the treehut where you now sit eating;

so easy to forget the flash of Mango fruit
that smears her twice-kissed lips
Or the way her eyes sparkle
as she leans forward,
sweeping the table,
pulling you in

and you are
falling

breath and skin

into shining
Orange
sparkle
abyss

Excellent poem! Crazy and kind of weird, but very, very cool. You hit on one of the reasons I've always liked the word 'Orange' - there's no rhyming words for it. For some reason when I first glanced over the stanza above, I saw the following:

'Of words that drag the eye
Through steamy topics
of rain soaked verbiage'

But it was better the 2nd time I read it.

Keep writing -

Jillian

This is one I made for a particular person who lost their relative. I don't really know if I
remember it but I'm giving it a shot:

"dark rose"

The dark rose is the rose of sorrow,
the rose of sadness, but don't worry
;we don't know when; but it always
rots, but the thing that caused it to exist remains;
It's seed.


It 's symbolic; you figure out what it means.

damn, Caelum, honestly...i say you write a poetry book, just get like all of your poems you ever wrote that you think are good, (i guess for a good length book youd need... about 100, 1 per page? i dont know) and copyright it, and send to some publishing companies, im dead serious, those are really good

I bet you did not even know that most blonde models actually wear a shade of orange in natural light and not pinks or reds because the color goes off wrong on them.
That and the photographers favorite background of tropical beaches for pictures of supermodels made me think about them while reading this.

A gull
silently counts sands
Wind whipped feathers
blur the untrained eye
Sand remembers
footprints, times not shattered
living, breathing
swimming
lost in embers

Flood those cavities
of sunken feet
filling gashes
The lines of faded letters
carved with fingers
in solid fluid, long forgotten
oozing, restless
shifting
names still linger

Wash over me
and flatten
hardened ridges to a softer line
The scars are for the clifftop now
the caves reflection
And at their feet I feel
ocean lapping
kissing
old affection

Cool poem Sthenno reminds me of cold English beaches in winter don’t know why winter but I seem to get a feel of desolation or abandonment from it

Really like this bit stiggs

There is no investigation
Of words that drag the eye
Through the steamy tropics
Of rain soaked foliage,
to the treehut where you now sit eating

Edit forgot this bit

so easy to forget the flash of Mango fruit
that smears her twice-kissed lips

quirky and cool

Great writing all

I like the poems in this forum. I have also a poem about a friendschip between two persons who live in different continents : pretty love. You can read it here :
http://www.wiseorb.com/articles.asp?review...p;T=PRETTY_LOVE