Share your poetry!

Discussion in 'Community Discussion' started by ZiggyPastorius, Jan 9, 2009.

  1. ZiggyPastorius macrumors 68040


    Sep 16, 2007
    Berklee College of Music
    Basically, I'd love to hear everyone's poetry. All types of poetry are welcome, from Haiku to Epic poems to Avante-Garde if you want. I'll start out:

    Just to give a small piece of the context. This place takes place in older times, but it's about a man and woman who find a connection through a church board where people share poetry. They are also of similar beliefs/interests (art, et cetera), and they spend a lot of time together, however the man frequently has to leave, and whenever he returns he finds to his dismay that she is with another once again, and for this reason, he is never able to be with her, however, things do happen, but marriage is decidedly out of the question.

    I'd love to hear anyone else's poetry they'd like to share :)
  2. leishan macrumors 6502

    Jan 29, 2005
  3. Melrose Suspended


    Dec 12, 2007
    Oh man.. I wrote tons of poetry through my mid to late teen years..

    Mostly prose, lately.. not poetry. I'll see if I can dig one or two up...
  4. ZiggyPastorius thread starter macrumors 68040


    Sep 16, 2007
    Berklee College of Music
    Well, hey, I want there to be some stuff in here, so if you have a short story or something you want to share, feel free to post that as well :)
  5. nickspohn macrumors 68040


    Jun 9, 2007
    I love writing. Took me 10 minutes to write this one which i wrote a few minutes ago.

  6. SkyBell macrumors 604


    Sep 7, 2006
    Texas, unfortunately.
    Two I'd like to share. But be warned, it's very much so your typical "teenage angst" poetry.

  7. dsnort macrumors 68000


    Jan 28, 2006
    In persona non grata
    Me too, was infamous for sending it to girls I was interested in. Found one of them lately, amazing how sappy I was.
  8. mscriv macrumors 601


    Aug 14, 2008
    Dallas, Texas
    Roses are Red
    Violets are Blue
    You asked for Poetry
    So this is for You!

    Short and Sweet. :)
  9. touchher macrumors regular

    Nov 23, 2007
    Had to write this one for school:

    Ode to the Clouds
    No, no, look not to the tumid clouds overhead,
    for they embrace despondency of our demesne,
    vacuous of individuality and intelligence once bled,
    gelid in pristine, invariable disdain;
    emptiness full of falsity instead.

    Greet thy wretched doppelgänger of Zeus,
    for it is he who hath power over glee.
    Implore him to absorb thy inclement actuality he shall seduce
    and from this Stygian bed will form a fanciful marquee,
    ergo, from each heart gaiety will diffuse.
  10. ZiggyPastorius thread starter macrumors 68040


    Sep 16, 2007
    Berklee College of Music
    Wow! Almost five months since I opened the thread :)

    Thanks for the contributions, guys, I enjoyed reading them. As a note, anyone submitting the poetry should clarify why they are submitting (i.e. simply to share, to be critiqued, to be analysed, et cetera). We wouldn't want anyone criticising someone else's work when it's a really personal thing they don't to be torn apart.

    Anyways, keep them coming, guys.

    Wow! I really enjoyed reading that. I had to even look up the word demesne :)

    Edit: Here's a random poem I figure I might as well share. Wrote this on my iPhone, in the car (yes, yes, I know...). Inspiration can come anywhere :)

  11. Full of Win macrumors 68030

    Full of Win

    Nov 22, 2007
    Ask Apple
    I got this little ditty from Alpha Company barracks at US Airborne School...

    Now that is some poetry! Its better then anything else I've read in this thread.
  12. mscriv macrumors 601


    Aug 14, 2008
    Dallas, Texas
    Ode to the El Camino


    El Camino you are so versatile
    Cruising with you makes me smile

    Your front looks like a car
    Your back looks like a truck

    The front is where I drive
    In the back I like to $@&*

    El Camino, Oh El El Camino
  13. BlackSnow macrumors regular


    Nov 15, 2008
    123 Fake st. Hell, MI
    I'm not really sure if it counts as poetry...
    I wrote it years ago.

    Tsuki no Usagi, my name, my title, my role.
    But to be alone?
    I watch
    but can but never be apart of.
    To see fun, to see love,
    How do I know if what I am feeling is real?
    Or the illusions of someone who longed for,

    My life has been spent from afar,
    from people but now,
    I have felt the warmth of love.
    even if fake.

    And I do not wish to return home.
    But I must,
    even now I feel it,
    Pulling me back to the abyss.
    I claw, I bite,
    I kick, I scream,
    I cry.
    But it is all futile.

    Tsuki no Usagi, my name, my title, my role, my curse.
    I watch,
    but I do not take part.
    I feel,
    But do not know if it’s fake or real.
    I am a reflection,
    But I am real.
  14. DrStrange macrumors member

    Nov 1, 2008
  15. lapine403 macrumors newbie

    Nov 23, 2010
    Wow, ZiggyPastorius.

    I happened upon this website on a mission to uninstall Opera, and several links later ended up having to register, just to tell you that you make beautiful poetry :)

    I've only ever written haiku, since being forced to write poetry in English class, but here are some.

    the autumn is here
    snow on top of curled up leaves
    crunching under foot

    dust motes dance and swirl
    in the sunbeam way up high
    magic fairy dust

    snow falls undisturbed
    insulating layers grow
    white noise blankets all
  16. ndstrenge macrumors regular

    Aug 29, 2008

    All of Chapter 10 from Rifled Walls of Faith; a journal of confession


    Floating above the valley, steps at my feet.
    Atop Machu Picchu, atop century’s seat.
    Timeless is life, waters here still flowing.
    Forget time today to discover you’re glowing.
    The purpose of your life could be as simple
    as a mere moment in time and as trivial
    as something that any one person
    could have performed. Tiny is your season.
    God is a Platform of Energy Housing Thought.
    The antithesis is believing anything is not.

    This is your history beginning to remember.
    The Mayan once called it the End of December.
    We inherit memories once held by the living.
    Released to the collective at soul’s forgiving.
    Some call it instinct, some might call it fate.
    Your language will vary, as will the date.
    It’s not of destruction of earth or of hell.
    It’s about rebirth, minds escaping the cell.
    Before you get here, you have to decide
    if you’ll be a part of it, or simply aside.

    Can’t think anymore, have too much to say.
    Inheriting the lore is finishing my day.
    It flows, I listen, a beacon of thought.
    Not mine, not yours, just memories sought.
    Not owned, not declared, all upon all.
    Don’t use your gun, don’t exit this call.
    Writing is closure, gates housing the flood.
    These thoughts now ringing are not of my blood.
    I didn’t create them, I’m not the artist.
    Tugging my hem and pounding their fist.

    Many authors throughout time write their truth.
    Forgetting that doing so forces them aloof.
    The Bible is our original text of foundation.
    Everything else comes from its salvation.
    This is an intertextual, ancient, mimetic approach
    to understand why before I ride in that coach.
    In books are what people decide to record
    while they are on earth seeking the Lord.
    Think of Sherlock Holmes as one of my egos
    To help prove life is not a world of mythos.

    “I was the shadow of the waxwing slain.”
    is a thought from Nabokov’s brain.
    We desire knowledge of the “Crystal Land.” (Pale Fire, 12)
    So he called it Zembla to give it a brand.
    Named after what some call God’s Right Hand.
    In the end, under which title will you stand?
    It’s a big cycle, flowing energy, circulating,
    waiting for your drop to come percolating.
    The rules are there for you, in-text bound,
    waiting for the bell of judgement to sound.

    Freud coined the approach Psycho Analysis
    as a way to discover our life’s status.
    Compare his ID to the Human Instinct.
    Compare his Ego to Human’s Emotional Precinct.
    Compare his Super Ego to our ability to Reason.
    Compare our Spirit to him stopping at that season.
    Humans don’t understand it, we can’t explain
    what it is to be in or on God’s plane.
    But that doesn't stop us from reading
    and writing our beliefs as if pleading.

    We are taught that seeing is believing.
    Not being taught that seeing is deceiving.
    “And where light is darkness.” (Job 10:22) truth be known;
    that discovering truth is where faith is sewn.
    This web of sense is ignorance being content.
    “All knowledge is particular” was Blake’s present.
    To tell me how to define my origin,
    Arnold said poetry should substitute my religion.
    Of course Wallace, poetry is the supreme fiction.
    And I will use it to be judge of my jurisdiction.

    Give me Sublime as referred to by Longinus.
    Is death the only way to discover what’s in us?
    On knees I ask; “Dear Jesus, do something.”
    What in the world is the meaning of this wing?
    We read numerous authors again and again,
    which teaches
    solitude is tHe PLay-FiElD oF SATAN.
    We seek truth; that is our temptation.
    Is seeking truth really a tribulation?
    You tell us we can’t know, not to eat
    of the tree of knowledge. That’s our defeat?

    Biblical tradition sees seize the day.
    Follow the path of righteousness this way-
    Follow the Ten Commandments, having faith the goal,
    truth in God, but refrain from the symbol.
    The symbol represents the failure of motive.
    God isn’t actually that creative.
    He is not an entity of simple enclosure,
    it is an energy onto which we find posture.
    The Law of Attraction is a Secret math
    that will help you discover your faith’s path.

    “Religion is the opiate of the masses.”
    All man needs it, I’ve attended Marx’s classes.
    What is the truth about survival after death?
    I’ve thought it conspiracy, others taking my breath.
    “My breath is corrupt, my days are extinct.” (Job 17:1)
    What book do I believe in? Where is truth distinct?
    Of all the books, I seek meaning in words.
    Are we all people simply moving in herds?
    Was Jung onto something with the human mind?
    A collective unconscious housing ALL MANKIND?

    That is just his language, his way of explaining
    that we are all of God, the Christian’s way of saving.
    “And no man knoweth the Son, but the Father.” (St. Matthew 11:27)
    As both the Son and the Father are One. Don’t bother
    with trying to separate them, you can’t. Find
    that you are one with them. We are all one mind. (Tool)
    Because he is all of us, you cannot find him singularly.
    Doing that places a symbol unto him regularly.
    “Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.” (Exodus 20:4)
    You will not discover truth if you try to manage.

    “What ye know, the same do I know also.” (Job 13:2)
    As I am not inferior to you. Now I know.
    The truth is in me if I just believe my faith.
    There is nothing I can learn that you can sayeth.
    But that won’t stop the writing, too many
    questions that need studying. Flip a penny,
    because though I can’t, I wish I knew
    the things that link both me and you.
    Authors conflict in the conclusive destination.
    Yet most believe in a divine intervention.

    Consider life commentary to discover peace.
    Suddenly, it’s an unfinished masterpiece.
    “He restoreth my soul, and I will dwell
    in the house of the lord forever.” (Psalm 23) Well,
    with those words, I am already home.
    as with these: “Thy kingdom come...
    in earth, as it is in heaven.” (St. Matthew 6:10) As both are
    the same in existence. It is a circular
    realm of life. You’re a drop in the barrel.
    The purpose of your life is simple, not peril.

    I am human and need to find reason.
    Forgetting, “To everything there is a season.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1)
    I call upon all; “Help me, Will! Pale Fire.” (Pale Fire 962)
    Stop this light bouncing off my walls of desire.
    It is this trivia that seems so odd
    because with answers, “No Free Man needs a God!” (Pale Fire 101)
    Nabokov was “one foot-print upon a mountain.” (Pale Fire 149)
    He viewed this catharsis youth through a fountain.
    Hence the paradox, “two methods of composing.” (Pale Fire 841)
    He said he prayed in two churches... were they opposing?

    “For unto us a child is born.” (Isaiah 9:6) The One
    that will free us from our sins. He’s begun
    as God, as man, as you, as I.
    The judgment will come from the eye.
    We are born again, again, and again
    as we are the symbol of time to begin.
    Eternity’s symbol simply means we’re round.
    To be straight requires a flame and a pound.
    Can’t change. You are a drop in the barrel. “Eat,
    drink and be merry.” (Ecclesiastes 8:15) Repeat. Repeat.

    “I AM THAT I AM” (Exodus 3:14) read the words of God.
    But who is to know if Moses were but a fraud?
    Coleridge made me wonder if the I am is only imagination.
    That transcendental signifier may be a mental publication!
    Now, I’ve lied to myself on my own terms.
    So I then became poet, one who never affirms.
    Sydney taught me how I killed myself, and when.
    So I make myself immortal with my own pen.
    These words now written are but a mere reflection
    of the truth that I create through my own deception.

    The beginning is coming, the media even prepares
    us for the fall of mankind. Stars looking like flares
    signify the fall of Laodicia- church numbered seven.
    We see it everywhere, “The stars of Heaven
    fell unto the earth.” (Revelation 6:13) In books it happens as well.
    But it’s not the destruction of earth, or of hell.
    Now’s the time, and it’s grand to be around
    for the end of being lost on unstable ground.
    Yes, I can think of better days to be alive.
    Call them the Golden Days. But first- Iron will dive.

    I’ve considered, briefly, life a gradual decay.
    How long would I actually have to pay?
    “Let the day parish wherein I was born.” (Job 3:3)
    Finish it, stab me with the Ram’s horn.
    The “Morning Star” (Revelation 22:16) is the song we sing to clean off sin,
    while humming as we pack people into their last coffin.
    Is the dust after death the final destination?
    Or, do we have even farther to go in our progression?
    Our noting the hour of death can easily be said
    as the signifier of where we were when human became dead.

    Once upon a time, I created my own truth
    by constructing my imagination all through youth.
    Then I read more: “All are of the dust, and all turn
    to dust again.” (Ecclesiastes 3:20) Now I am here looking to learn.
    The Ego vs. the Super Ego battle the outcome of repressed.
    This way, through writing, I can be self-possessed.
    Waiting as I follow the cycle, growing stronger.
    Soon “There should be time no longer.” (Revelation 10:6)
    That is when I discover the truth, according
    to King James’ version from which I currently sing.

    Reading more pages, “The time is at hand.” (Revelation 1:3)
    I can see the hourglass emptying its sand.
    I want truth before it leaves to identify my WYE (Pale Fire, 250)
    Windows (of life’s opportunities) Yesterday Eclipsed passing by.
    “We actively reset Lit to create our identity.”
    As I read Holland, I watched Blake create Pity.
    Because “Life imitates art”, my Wilde decided
    I would live the life I myself provided.
    To create my own fate of beasts
    I’ve torn apart Poe, and made my own feasts.

    “For, behold, I create new heavens and new earth.” (Isaiah 65:17)
    This is the circle. I can’t wait for the rebirth.
    This is why I find the end of the world exciting,
    to prove what I know to be true, but lack sighting.
    “The wolf and the lamb shall feed together.” (Isaiah 65:25)
    A metaphor of peace to complete the tether.
    “I will make an everlasting covenant with you.” (Isaiah 55:3)
    Live a circle, have faith, believe in the true.
    This is the theme of many a religion:
    Your life is you creating your fiction.

    Summarize Biblical Tradition as Carpe Diem.
    Take your time, hurry up, party with them.
    Follow these simple rules; believe Christ
    to be your savior, and refrain from the heist
    of the world trying to get away with sin.
    Freedom will then be rewarded from within.
    He is in you, in all of us, waiting to amend.
    You are the Alpha and the Omega, there’s no end.
    This is the theme throughout King James’ version.
    As well as the others riding the excursion.

    Was it all just a misprint of life everlasting?
    Should teleology exist, or should minds be fasting?
    “The bush burned with fire and the bush was not consumed.” (Exodus 3:2)
    Not believing in hallucinations creates us doomed.
    There are often lies at the end of the rope.
    Would Khubla Khan had existed without the dope?
    Foucault makes me question perceived reality,
    he said LSD use rid him from obscurity.
    So with so many perceptions in the ring,
    Wilde teaches us to create ourselves King.

    It is the Independent’s Personal Hour of strife
    to learn “If is the middle word in life.” (Apocalypse Now)
    at Coppola’s “Institute of Preparation for the Hereafter.” (Pale Fire 502)
    All the while, “A watchman, Father Time” (Pale Fire 475) sits in laughter
    as the human tries to note its time of transformation
    to believe they are actually part of the conglomeration.
    It is quite frightening that in the end I would learn
    I may be nothing more after death than ashes in an urn.
    “And many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth
    shall awake, some to everlasting life.” (Daniel 12:2) Rebirth.

    The end of the world is not a physical end.
    End of language. Beginning memories mend.
    It’s the end of closed minds sheltering your way.
    You’ll see the importance, the reality of this day.
    Humans wake up, an increased understanding,
    discovering their own language to millennia's preaching.
    That’s where we got lost, searching translation.
    It’s not the words from back then, verbatim cessation.
    Your thoughts, you didn’t create. You only hear them.
    Timeless souls, energy, transmitting through your stem.

    I’ve invented personalities to challenge my mind,
    to no longer exist as our society defined.
    I am Freudian and Jungian and well acquainted
    with what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, tainted.
    I’ll tell you what Nietzsche said truth is,
    A mobile army of metaphors, truth not really his.
    I present words Wallace Stevens spoke quite brilliantly:
    “The Exquisite Truth is to know that it is a fiction and that you believe in it willingly.”
    Shadows of Alpha and Omega hunted by the wraith.
    My fiction is written, Rifled Walls of Faith.

    Sincerely Yours,
    Mr. Ian Stark
    Thief of Ideas,
    Capsule in The Ark.

Share This Page