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 Posted: Fri Mar 18, 2005 4:10 pm
Hello all. I was wondering if one of you people would like to start a poetry thread with me. I know that you all are probably wondering "why would I do that?" but it's really quite fun once you get it going. The way I was going to set it up was to make a starting post and then people can respond with their own poetry. It would help me fill up my poetry notebook with my work since other people inspire me, and it'll be fun to get feed back. You have my word that your work is yours and shall forever remain so. So...what do you think?
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Posted: Sat Mar 19, 2005 9:32 am
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Posted: Sat Mar 19, 2005 11:20 am
3nodding Thank you soo much for supporting this.
There has to be balance for things to be right,
For without Day, there would be no night.
Such is with dark and light.
Such is with death, and so with life.
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Posted: Sat Mar 19, 2005 9:11 pm
poetry = good
gaia eating cool posts = bad
uhmn.. yeah
talks about self and then watches it get deleted.. *wanders off whistling..*
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Posted: Sun Mar 20, 2005 6:11 pm
Michael Noire poetry = good gaia eating cool posts = bad uhmn.. yeah talks about self and then watches it get deleted.. *wanders off whistling..* What?*is confused*
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Posted: Sun Mar 20, 2005 9:50 pm
Candira Michael Noire poetry = good gaia eating cool posts = bad uhmn.. yeah talks about self and then watches it get deleted.. *wanders off whistling..* What?*is confused* oh nothing, i think i poured out my heart and soul or something like that and then Gaia ate the post... domokun
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2005 1:38 pm
So for you looking at this post
Is like Chasing after a ghost.
A blow to your efforts to rhyme
Was dealt at an awkward time.
But now there is a second chance.
Perhaps you'd like to use your words to throw us into a trance?
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2005 2:35 pm
Carry on my warward son may there be peace when you're done. Don'tcha cry no more wink
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2005 3:30 pm
tell the rivers to run rampant
defiled and desolate raped encampment
echoes the tale of a sad story
of a Captain who lost his glory
tell the sea to yield her Urns
Oh white waters! boil and churn
for on that morn we told a Story
of a Captain who lost his glory
the sky would weep and the Sun would mourn
the cackling of madmen, mockery and scorn
So laugh at this Captain who tells the Story...
of the day I lost my glory.
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2005 8:54 pm
What depth and what bredth
can a single mind cross
in a lifetime - twinkling away
before my eyes. The endless stars
gathering around us. What should
bind us un this chaos does not.
With this single flame I carry
only a name. What value
does it hold to anything else?
This name only questions the truth
and the origins of itself. Is it
so wrong to seek what no one
before us has found? My eyes
grow tired now. No simple answer
for us now in this mortal shell. Maybe
another life beheld by me may offer
that which I seek... but passing
now away from me is that
which I have gathered. What
little truth is attained on this
state of being.
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2005 9:31 pm
coolies koji ^_^
we missed you gonk
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Posted: Tue Mar 22, 2005 7:21 pm
Such wonderful poems I get to see!
I am glad that someone does this other than me. sweatdrop
Look at the sunrise, how it bathes you in gold.
It reminds me of events from days of old.
It reminds me of skies of grey,
And how the sun was rising that fateful day.
The skies were plagued with fire,
And the ground was bathed in blood.
The battlefield was a scorched plane of death,
that I cursed with my final and dying breath.
I look down on you in the morning sun of this deserted place,
And I can no longer see you there, but only myself in the destruction that killed me that day.
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Posted: Fri Mar 25, 2005 11:42 pm
It's been a while... and I feel too much competition so I think I'll just walk away...
*About face, forward march!*
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Posted: Wed Apr 20, 2005 11:17 pm
You know, I've got one really good one but I can't find where I wrote it down... I'll look for it and I'll post it if I find it.
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Posted: Thu Apr 21, 2005 10:40 am
She runs away, away from me, she sees my soul and sets me free of the simple rhymes and synthetic tones of an empty soul and prosthetic mind, but narry she takes away my heart a pulminary work of art she slices and dices with glittering glee this life, of gazing gallantly.
She fosters a rec-Ollection found,
a diZ-aster upon the ground and Harbors not the mental minds of
Brahmins, Atmans, and Gods' Past Times.
She mocks with laughter a respectable sort and piercing them through with vapid retort she consecrates this soul in me of flimsy fawning fantastical dreams...
and Dream again.
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