Poems...come share your work.

[T4Texas]

Never love a stranger
they'll take your heart away
they'll set it loose on the northern wind
and there will be no way
that you can get it back.

Never love a stranger
they'll leave you feeling sad
and wishing that what you wanted
was more than what you had
but you will have nothing.

Never love a stranger
they'll be quiet when they leave
with the lights still out and the curtains drawn
they will try to make you believe
that they'll be back....

2/25/12

[WomenMoveMe]

Not much of a poet, not certain I get it really. However, I suppose most all of us give it a whirl at some point in our lives. This was my one and only attempt:

A Beauty Unsurpassed


With a beauty unsurpassed by any,
that’s how our love should have grown,
but I took advantage with my selfish ways,
oh if only I could have known.

That I would so soon, yearn to touch your hair,
and feel the blessedness of your smile,
to once again enrapture your laughing heart,
and this time keep it laughing all the while.

For childish reason I disowned your love,
for a pain of which you knew naught,
oh if only I could have known back then,
the sheer joy your love could have brought.

So bestow me your sincerest forgiveness,
although your word values more than my worth,
and our lives shall grow together as one,
as our love regains strength in rebirth.

[cinderella]

This is exquisitely beautiful! Don't be a 1-hit-wonder, write some more. You've got talent! Thanks for sharing this - lovely!

Originally Posted by WomenMoveMe

Not much of a poet, not certain I get it really. However, I suppose most all of us give it a whirl at some point in our lives. This was my one and only attempt:

A Beauty Unsurpassed


With a beauty unsurpassed by any,
that’s how our love should have grown,
but I took advantage with my selfish ways,
oh if only I could have known.

That I would so soon, yearn to touch your hair,
and feel the blessedness of your smile,
to once again enrapture your laughing heart,
and this time keep it laughing all the while.

For childish reason I disowned your love,
for a pain of which you knew naught,
oh if only I could have known back then,
the sheer joy your love could have brought.

So bestow me your sincerest forgiveness,
although your word values more than my worth,
and our lives shall grow together as one,
as our love regains strength in rebirth.

[deedarino]

The Light makes Its presence known,
The warmth beckons, tempts.
Intrinsically driven to reach for the moon,
White Light, yellow Light? It matters not now.
Intoxicated, blinded, enchanted; Delusion?
Power undeniable.
In the end a need will be met,
It matters not which or how.
Fluttering forward
In spite of the consequences
It is the moth’s destiny.

[deedarino]

Your illusions delusions are touching
Until they aren’t.

[Morgan]

Silence speaks louder than words…

If you have nothing to say, than say nothing at all.
For silence speaks louder than words….
To pretend is pointless.
To be angry a waste of time.
The scars you leave behind,
Create pain, not for me, but for those who believe.
You see I do not believe,
I cannot, I do not want to hurt anymore.
So I trust no one and I believe no one…
So I appreciate what you have to say, nothing at all.
Morgan

[WomenMoveMe]

Okay, so I gave this poetry thing another whirl after I posted the only one I had ever written. I recently wrote another and vowed if this thread came to light once again, I would post.

Something Stirs Within

Echoing whispers in my soul,
something stirs within.
Yesterday's tortures left me for dead,
resurrected, I begin, again.

Dark and alone, I let no one in,
for fear of where it may lead.
A brutal penance for earthly sin,
life is not judged solely on good deed.

Torment and desire ravaged my soul,
left me shattered and on my knees.
Twisted, writhing, the luster of coal,
No choice but to heed their pleas.

My soul had lost it’s way it seems,
there was nothing there to inspire.
I no longer slept for fear of dreams,
was this my heart’s desire?

It is, as though fate was calling me,
to a world of shadow and night.
It swallowed me whole, my heart enslaved,
To weary to brave the fight.

[Kast]

Forgive me my poet friends, I woke up tired, only 2 sips of coffee yet and I'm not even sure what I want to say. Upon speaking with a poet friend and asking the thread leader to be able to have a place where we could ask questions, comment on, bring in some of the Masters... well, basically talk about any aspect of poetry and writing included, (your input needed here - what would you like to see more of?) This thread already being here and our hostess, being so gracious, well - come join us?

For a little fun and to bring in some of the works of the Masters for discussion - my girlfriend found this site that tells you who you might write like. You just plug in a piece of your poetry or writings and it analyzes it (which I haven't done yet), it is at:

http://iwl.me/

I read through the first 3 pages of this thread and of course, there are very many excellent poems posted there which I will bring some more in, but noticed a poet named "Womenmoveme" who said that they'd only written three poems ever and posted them there. I was very impressed with all three.

Originally Posted by WomenMoveMe

Not much of a poet, not certain I get it really. However, I suppose most all of us give it a whirl at some point in our lives. This was my one and only attempt:

A Beauty Unsurpassed


With a beauty unsurpassed by any,
that’s how our love should have grown,
but I took advantage with my selfish ways,
oh if only I could have known.

That I would so soon, yearn to touch your hair,
and feel the blessedness of your smile,
to once again enrapture your laughing heart,
and this time keep it laughing all the while.

For childish reason I disowned your love,
for a pain of which you knew naught,
oh if only I could have known back then,
the sheer joy your love could have brought.

So bestow me your sincerest forgiveness,
although your word values more than my worth,
and our lives shall grow together as one,
as our love regains strength in rebirth.

Out of curiosity's sake, I cut and pasted their piece into the analyzer, it says this person writes like H. P. Lovecraft. I will go look at H. P. Lovecraft's work now. I don't know if "Womenmoveme" is still around, but you have a natural talent for poetry and I want to encourage you to keep writing. You're very good IMO, especially for a beginner!

[Kast]

"H.P Lovecraft is best known for his stories of the macabre. He was born in Providence Rhode Island, where he lived with his two elderly aunts for a good part of his life. He died in 1937 at the age of forty-seven."

"Where Once Poe Walked
by H. P. Lovecraft

Eternal brood the shadows on this ground,
Dreaming of centuries that have gone before;
Great elms rise solemnly by slab and mound,
Arched high above a hidden world of yore.
Round all the scene a light of memory plays,
And dead leaves whisper of departed days,
Longing for sights and sounds that are no more.

Lonely and sad, a specter glides along
Aisles where of old his living footsteps fell;
No common glance discerns him, though his song
Peals down through time with a mysterious spell.
Only the few who sorcery's secret know,
Espy amidst these tombs the shade of Poe."

[Estella]

Okay, I do not pretend to be a poet. But at the hotel where I work, I sometimes find myself faced with the need to creatively attract clients who might otherwise choose another hotel. So I do what I can. Following is something I wrote for a potential client in an effort to land a big incentive trip. Don't laugh - this works. And if you work at Insulate America, I hope you had a good time.



Greetings to you from Boston, the land of the Cutthroat Cod
Where even a seasoned fisherman might find it somewhat odd
That an unassuming flounder can be more than it really seems -
For Bostonians think they’re heaven, with coleslaw and baked beans.

But here at Boston’s (insert hotel name here), we treat every fish with respect
And even a seasoned fisherman can be confident that he can expect
To see the doorman smiling, and to sense the housekeeper’s pride,
And to know when the waiter brings flounder, it will have lemon on the side.

The Cutthroat Cod, he beckons – that King of the East Coast Fish -
To welcome Insulate America, and to see to their every wish,
For even a seasoned fisherman, wise and wily as he can be,
Knows quality when he sees it, and perfect service – guaranteed.

[Kast]

Hi Estella, thank you so much for sharing. I liked it! I hope you got the trip? I liked the rhythm of it and think it's a near perfect horse ride (I read somewhere where the reader is on a horse riding and the rhythm makes the rider go up and down and that you don't want to toss the rider off the horse...). I'd have to read it out loud - but I think, it's perfect or near perfect with the syllables.

You write like James Joyce! wtg !!

(Got me craving a fish dinner... lol)

[Kast]

"James Augustine Aloysius Joyce was an Irish novelist and poet, considered to be one of the most influential writers in the modernist avant-garde of the early 20th century. Joyce is best known for Ulysses (1922), a landmark work in which the episodes of Homer's Odyssey are paralleled in an array of contrasting literary styles, perhaps most prominently the stream of consciousness technique he perfected."


"All Day I Hear the Noise of Waters
by James Joyce

All day I hear the noise of waters
Making moan,
Sad as the sea-bird is when, going
Forth alone,
He hears the winds cry to the water's
Monotone.

The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
To and fro."

[SingularNYCFemme]

Kast, you've started things up really well! Estrella, I love your poem, it's brilliant!

I'm going to keep trying with that iwl thing, I didn't like the result I got the last time I tried it. H. P. Lovecraft is far more interesting!

[Hollylane]

I tried out the website, and entered an entire poem I had written and got one author, then different stanzas of the same poem, which resulted in different authors each time. I entered the entire poem again, and got a different author than the first time I entered the entire poem. In my opinion, I didn't find it to be very accurate.

[Kast]

Hi Holly, I've never done any

Gogyohka:

• 5 lines of free verse
• No set syllable pattern
• Short & succinct lines, governed by the duration of a single breath
• Captures an idea, memory, observation or feeling in a few compelling words

I think you did a great job at capturing the format with an excellent poem! Kudos.

As far as the iwl website goes I'm not sure about it yet, I haven't entered anything into it yet to see. I studied and wrote one in the style of Poe, Frost, Dickens, etc... if I plug those in and it says some other Master - then... (of course, my emulations were 'spot on' (rolling eye emoticon here... uh huh)).

Right now, we're just having fun with it and looking at some of the Masters that it tags. There might be a better analyzer out there somewhere, I'd have to look?

SNYCF - tell us more about who you came out with and why you don't like or agree with that opinion? Yes, Lovecraft is pretty interesting, I'd like to read some more of his 'stuff'.

[SingularNYCFemme]

A child stands
rouged with a bouffant
that could only come from hell

She is static as a deer
caught in the headlights
on a deserted country road

As one parent works away the years
in a foundry hot as the hell
from which this child's hair was created

The other parent takes latitude
and with lassitude appalling
believes cheap glamour a blessing

The small girl
trapped within someone else's dream
learns how to blow the audience
a wise and ancient
kiss

And who I write like, according to www.iwl.me? Vladimir Nabokov...

[Kast]

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/22/bo...fire.html?_r=1

"Nabokov’s English poems share some of the qualities of his prose, notably its confident lucidity (Nabokov is complex, but never garbled) and elegantly unfolding inventiveness. While the poems are slightly simpler in diction than the typical Nabokovian sentence, his fondness for half-­dollar words is still much in evidence: over the course of 10 pages, we get “prototypic,” “anchoret,” “scholiastic” and “dendrologists.” And as you might expect, Nabokov fixates on — and is sometimes fixated by — formal prestidigitation. Notice the way he not only juggles the potentially heavy rhymes in the tercets that conclude “Lines Written in Oregon,” but throws in a little French and German as well:

And I rest where I awoke

In the sea shade — l’ombre glauque —

Of a legendary oak;

Where the woods get ever dimmer,

Where the Phantom Orchids

glimmer —

Esmeralda, immer immer.

The poem, which recalls Nabokov’s own visit to Oregon, is about the interaction of Old World and New (thus the French and German, which would otherwise be little more than showing off). But there’s an additional, subtle formal touch. The ­poem’s unusual trochaic meter is also used in Longfellow’s “Song of Hiawatha,” one of the definitive early poems of America — and that meter in turn was inspired by the Finnish “Kalevala,” one of the great mythic poems of Europe. It’s an ingenious fusion of structure and theme."

[Kast]

Originally Posted by SingularNYCFemme

A child stands
rouged with a bouffant
that could only come from hell

She is static as a deer
caught in the headlights
on a deserted country road

As one parent works away the years
in a foundry hot as the hell
from which this child's hair was created

The other parent takes latitude
and with lassitude appalling
believes cheap glamour a blessing

The small girl
trapped within someone else's dream
learns how to blow the audience
a wise and ancient
kiss

I like this poem SNYCF, I have a wide range of likes for various reasons. It grabs me in a slightly disturbing way and holds my attention to it. I didn't look at its structure, format - none of that - I like it for many reasons.

The 9 Words, and thank you Arwen for all the years of hostessing for us, what can we say about the 9 Word format?

What does this poem mean to you and I'm wondering what the 9 Words were and how much they influenced this poem?

[cinderella]

I agree with your analysis, Kast. Actually, I loved it - you know how I love rhyming.

p.s. I am totally craving fish now!

Originally Posted by Kast

Hi Estella, thank you so much for sharing. I liked it! I hope you got the trip? I liked the rhythm of it and think it's a near perfect horse ride (I read somewhere where the reader is on a horse riding and the rhythm makes the rider go up and down and that you don't want to toss the rider off the horse...). I'd have to read it out loud - but I think, it's perfect or near perfect with the syllables.

You write like James Joyce! wtg !!

(Got me craving a fish dinner... lol)

[KayCee]

Originally Posted by Estella

Okay, I do not pretend to be a poet. But at the hotel where I work, I sometimes find myself faced with the need to creatively attract clients who might otherwise choose another hotel. So I do what I can. Following is something I wrote for a potential client in an effort to land a big incentive trip. Don't laugh - this works. And if you work at Insulate America, I hope you had a good time.



Greetings to you from Boston, the land of the Cutthroat Cod
Where even a seasoned fisherman might find it somewhat odd
That an unassuming flounder can be more than it really seems -
For Bostonians think they’re heaven, with coleslaw and baked beans.

But here at Boston’s (insert hotel name here), we treat every fish with respect
And even a seasoned fisherman can be confident that he can expect
To see the doorman smiling, and to sense the housekeeper’s pride,
And to know when the waiter brings flounder, it will have lemon on the side.

The Cutthroat Cod, he beckons – that King of the East Coast Fish -
To welcome Insulate America, and to see to their every wish,
For even a seasoned fisherman, wise and wily as he can be,
Knows quality when he sees it, and perfect service – guaranteed.

Originally Posted by Kast

(Got me craving a fish dinner... lol)

Originally Posted by cinderella

p.s. I am totally craving fish now!

A few years back I worked in the public relations/marketing sector. And seen from that perspective, but not only, is the reason why I find your poem absolutely brilliant, Estella.

It totally 'directs' the reader exactly where you want them to be, in this case, staying at your hotel....and eating fish..lol..yep!..GREAT!