Poems

[Angel_de_Combate]

Originally Posted by Immune

This is a haiku
Which criticizes itself
That was terrible

I will try again
Now criticizing the first
Still sounds terrible

This is the last one
No criticisms this time
But I'm out of room

Ok, just one more
Except now I'm realizing
There's nothing to say

I'm done for real now
Because if I'm right, by now,
You're sick of haikus

The criticising haiku, very immune.

[Angel_de_Combate]

Daretobconj I prefer your first poem over the last two you posted, that isn't to say there not good(they are), it's just your first poem caught my imagination more.

Your last poem did make me think of this poem



Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.*

Maya Angelou

P.s hope you don't think I'm rude by not referring to your poems by name but I'm on a iPhone and scrolling is a pain in the arse.

[Daretobeconju]

Originally Posted by Angel_de_Combate

Your last poem did make me think of this poem ...
P.s hope you don't think I'm rude by not referring to your poems by name but I'm on a iPhone and scrolling is a pain in the arse.

Not rude at all, plus, I made you think of Maya!!! If that doesn't warm the heart, I don't know what does! :-)

How about this one...

There is a peace within. A subtle murmur, as if the world itself took in a breath and held it. Warm and comforting - life that will spend eternity flowing back to the ocean. The Elysium winds, the ever-fixed stars, and even the meekest dormouse, all genuflect before the incongruous beauty. I was held by a rose in my hand when I saw a gull swimming through the sky, and the rocky coastline flew up to meet her love. My heart soared, the rose sank, and my feet stood firmly in the heavens. A maelstrom of emotion tore through my soul only to leave the possibility of living life and passion together. The harmony found when two irreconcilable waves fade to the black noise of infinity, still rising and falling, yet no longer obtrusive. It was as if infinity itself beat with the rhythms of both.
And I exhaled...

[Daretobeconju]

I just love writing :-D

A word, then two
You feel them trickle down upon you
Clouds move in and cover conversation
Then the downpour arrives
Intensity increases
Change from drip, drip, drip
To rush, flow, fall
Covered now in phrases
Soaked through with verbs
Winds force unwanted ideas
Lightening crashes as new concepts arrive
Deafening thunder brings emotion and feeling
The drone of incessant sentences
The rhythmic waver of paragraph and period
The trees hit hard
Bending, breaking
Branches like tangents fly off into oblivion
The clouds thicken as opinions arise
Darkness settles and new rain washes away salutations
The fog, the conjunction, the transitive
Past, present, future run together as soil swirls in puddles
Murky discourse
Exclamation flies by and kicks up a wave
Now covered in the remnants of dialogue
Closing statements reprise
Good bye
Good bye
The clouds part
The sun shines through
Dries the land,
The paper,
And records the history
Of the passing storm

[Angel_de_Combate]

Originally Posted by Daretobeconju

Not rude at all, plus, I made you think of Maya!!! If that doesn't warm the heart, I don't know what does! :-)

How about this one...

There is a peace within. A subtle murmur, as if the world itself took in a breath and held it. Warm and comforting - life that will spend eternity flowing back to the ocean. The Elysium winds, the ever-fixed stars, and even the meekest dormouse, all genuflect before the incongruous beauty. I was held by a rose in my hand when I saw a gull swimming through the sky, and the rocky coastline flew up to meet her love. My heart soared, the rose sank, and my feet stood firmly in the heavens. A maelstrom of emotion tore through my soul only to leave the possibility of living life and passion together. The harmony found when two irreconcilable waves fade to the black noise of infinity, still rising and falling, yet no longer obtrusive. It was as if infinity itself beat with the rhythms of both.
And I exhaled...

I love words, the more descriptive the better I mean you used the word maelstrom. \o/
I really like these two pieces, by all means if you have more please post and again thank you.

[Daretobeconju]

The Good Mother

I press my hand to the breast of the good earth mother and feel the heartbeat of life. Chest expands, air retracts, then warm breath rushes past. Great oaken arms reach upward toward the sky, fingers stretch outward to catch falling sun and rain. I fall into your arms, body into earth, soul released and I fly. The grandest of aeons fail in your eyes. You hold the beauty of life cradled dear to your heart. You, who are of all. Life is life, but only beauty in death. Sorrow and happiness one in the great wheel. I shed all that I've been, all that I am. All that has been, since the beginning of time, drips away. Imagery surrounding loses cohesion and a cloudy remnant of what's real lingers on. I walk through the forest, the trees, the earth now no longer bound to my feet. What once was my hand pushing towards what once was my chest, I feel my heart beating, where once was my heart. And time, now of water, runs cool through my being. Ebbing with contentment, you draw me into your soul. I am engulfed in your presence, for all that is left of us is presence. No body, no mind, no words carry weight in this place. Then you speak. Your words make wholeness of nothingness. Your words create. You take the aether and form sky, the sky and form earth. You take the earth and form life, life and form me. My tears flow at the shear awe of it all. My tears flow and fall. They fall from the sky, falling down, down, down. You reach up from the earth, arms outstretched, fingers spread wide, to catch where I fall. I run down your arms, down your shoulders and back. I run through your hair, over your lips and you drink of me. You take me in completely, leaving nothing except the possiblilty of my being. Then you give birth to me once again in action, thought, and deed. The eternal cycle reveals itself in the words of the good mother, spoken so slowly as to take shape and be. Once we stood together, one being, one soul. One voice eminated from one heart. We loved when love was as light. We then spoke into being all that has been. We speak into being all that will be. Ever reflecting the beauty of being toward one another, we circle the universe in our unconditional love. We once spoke unto each other a name, your words were mine, mine were yours. When I called out to you, you were within me. When you called my name, I was your voice. Our children now look to us, they look up to the sky. I look up to the sky and there you are. I reach out my hands. My fingers spread out awaiting you. I tilt my head back and open my mouth. No words will I speak, only waiting for you to fill me with the words. You come to me, I take in a breath, I take you in. Silence. Silence. Silence. I reach my hand to my side, take yours in mine, and...
LOVE.
***************************************
All in life is well. Light begotten of Truth, Water of Beauty. We reach and fall and fly and give chase to dreams. We love and live and have children. I once knew a man and the most amazing thing happened to him. He had a child. A man, once a man, now a Father. The Good Mother cries. Her loss is her own flesh, passed onto the Earth. Sky amplifies tears, Earth refreshed, Child has grown, Earth Mother dies.
***************************************

[Angel_de_Combate]

Very good, eventually got to read it now(on a bus hurtling to college today). Can I ask how you write these? Do you just write what comes into your head, does it have any editing of sorts?

[Angel_de_Combate]

Touched by an Angel

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

Maya Angelou

[makarios68]

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost:

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep

[Angel_de_Combate]

@daretobeconj Thank you for posting your work here, you've inspired me to get creative again. I've pretty much finished my college course so I'll have some free time to write. My poetry usually comes from a dream I've had or a thought I had.

@wudy I was going to post a Robert Frost poem this morning!

A Late Walk

When I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words

A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.

Robert Frost