Another Artistic Thread - POEMS

[izchan]

: Silly Me

I am but a fool
stumbling through the night
staring at nothing
thinking it is light

Emotions are a tumble
nothing seems to go right
heart is moving backwards
what a sorry sight

If I was smarter
I would have known
that true love is an action
not a word on a tomb

[rm']

Creation of life
Swirling round and round in my
Bowl of Cambell's soup.

[izchan]

Hey RM .. ur poem/statement was very nice ...


Here is a another one. (a somewhat sad note)

: A Tribute

If man could fly
he will have wings
not twin engines on metal things

Yet flew he did
and landed it seems
on concrete walls
and unleashed its screams

'Shoo' I say
just go away
tears are flowing
and so are blood

Why oh why doesn't man have wings

[Huehuetenango]

i dont' write poems
though i once read a really good one
can't remember who it's by
but it was called, i think, stargleam

part of it goes
some day the stars will gleam
upon a cold gray stone
trace a name in silver light
and lo, twill be your own

more to it, very melodic, flows nicely
i wish i could rmember more of it

[Bilbo Baggins]

Entrancing starlight, shafted beam
of mirrored happiness piercing my dream.
The love of you is wrapping my skin, keeping my heart
warm, tender, forever beating.

Enveloping dark trance, melodious sighs
as your arms wrap around me, body and soul
I cry for your kisses, the shower me freely
and i look to the heavans, and the gods smile on me

We walk through the forest, leaves falling like rain
and the faeries are dancing, songs of laughter
and the sun is hanging, last beams touching hair
and our happiness is true, now forever and there.

[izchan]

Bilbo ... your artistic side is really showing ..

Here is another one of mine ...

A Reason
-------------------------------------
Sound of laughter
far and wide
Tears of mothers
Sobs and sighs

Matyrs come and then they die
Of which their meaning in life
Is to be the one that is good
Is to be the one that inspired

Yet forget they do in people's heart
When their love is taken lightly
Their memories like yesterdays rain
Matyrs come and then forgoten

Who am I that a king should die
so that I might go to heaven

Who am I ... so I ask myself
to ask of mothers to loose their child
so that I might be forgiven

Thus that is a matyrs life
the come and die
and then forgoten
--------------------------------------

[rm']

Come whisper in my
Ear all your thoughts on Love and
God and Hate and Hope.

[izchan]

RM your phrases are really nice ... do you write them or those quotes from books ... .. you must read a lot.

---
: As it be

Mountain tops with valleys deep
each holds their identity
of cold winds peaks
or river deeps
each a story untold
each a keeper of truths

Know that there is no final answer
for questions asks are just beliefs
right and wrongs, man's delima
each of whom asked to challenge

As GOD sleeps
and so shall we.

---
Wrote this based on your sig RM. It does make one think .. no?

[rm']

Life can be explained
In three simple verses of
Haiku poetry.

[izchan]

RM: do you know any Haiku Poetry to share?

I think I read something about Haiku Poetry in this forum as well ... I am not sure.

Going to search the net to see what is avaible.

[rm']

Know any? I write all mine.

5 syllables first line, 7 syllables second line, 5 syllables third line.

[izchan]

Originally posted by N e m e s s i s

Foundations dissolved
by an under whelming sense of
importance, walls tearing and
flaking, dust showering
the rust covered floor. Boards
groaning and clawing with unkempt nails,
the icy tips becoming fingers themselves.
Delusions splinted by a private abyss,
but not gone, it was all just a
whispers stolen by the wind.

I particularly like this part ... it feels true.

Share more .. share more ... Nemesis

[izchan]

Originally posted by Radioactive Man
Know any? I write all mine.

5 syllables first line, 7 syllables second line, 5 syllables third line.

So so I will be awaiting for more of your insights ...

Question ...

When you say syllables, you mean every word on that sentence? or just a particular part of it?

I am a novice with this haiku stuff ... still searching.

[rm']

Happily

hap-pi-ly

3 syllables, one word.

[izchan]

let me give this a go ...

here goes nothing ....

---

Lit-tle One Asked Once
What can I Be-lieve?
An-swer is in you

---

Did I do it right? Lit-tle, Be-lieve and An-swer are 2 sylables. Where the rest all can be counted as one?

Or is there a certain format that I am suppose to follow like the way a sentence is made?

[rm']

You don't need to hyphenate the syllables. Second line should have 7 syllables though. Other than that, that's a good haiku poem.

[izchan]

Thanks for your compliment ...

Here is how I chaged it ...

---
Little One Asked Once
Of what can I believe now?
Answer lay in you
---

I title this ... :: Apathy

people ... share ... share ...

[rm']

Perfect.

[izchan]

aligato gozaimasu RM-san.

[papadoc]

I really must thank
Radioactive Man for
Showing me Haiku

[izchan]

Marvaulously done Papadoc .. you are a natural ...

[izchan]

Originally posted by N e m e s s i s


To Not Feel
by John Loreth


I never thought it was circuitous,
onstage with a pen in place of a
tongue, contorting verse to veil its
significance. Suffering, faking, singing all
that’s erroneous until my lungs hold no air,
chocking on my own momentum.
Draped around me, an emotional impediment
clings to my shoulders like an old robe,
deflecting intermittent attempts at rescue,
empathy dangling like a rope thrown to the one
writhing at a well’s foundation.
There I undulate, flailing until the cold
penetrates, merges with what’s already erratic.
And on that stage I saunter from side to side,
front to back, ranting, piercing air with every
momentous message, finger slicing like a guillotine,
head estranged and with it all intelligence.
And I recite, lost in meaning

. . . How unfair that the truth was hidden,
faded, but never quite completely.
Then I press and it’s all laid upon me,
rupturing my single hope and dream. A
scavenger leech sucking, draining,
but the hemophiliac doesn’t die, the
parasite a monument to ineffectiveness . . .

The crowd cheers and claps upon the
curtain close, fabric isolating me, but
I can still hear them mumbling. Later they’ll
bow and rest their lips upon my feet
and remind me of just how disconnected
I’ve become;
talent not a gift but a plague.

This is so sad ... and it is so nicely done. An artist life in frustration. Hmm .. I hope I will not end up thinking like that someday.

Originally posted by N e m e s s i s


Only Us
By John Loreth


I could spend years
tracing your footsteps and never lose
sight of their uniqueness.
Time is gathered like verse,
veiled and bound as is the rest, but somehow
more alive,
heart and soul forever reminded of the
implications. This stanza will join the
rest, singing sweetly in your testament as
memories recompile until they shine again.
It’s dreams of which I speak.
Truth is but a silhouette there;
I can have you like I’ve always wanted to:
lying forehead to forehead with my finger
crossing the majestic valleys of your lips,
grass prickling our sides, poking
like youth and pleading for attention.
But I have none to spare, it has
all be stolen by eyes and hair.
Lost in brown, tranced by a single wish
when finally lips unite, gently, slowly caressing
like my hand which has wondered to your neck.
Inhaling, exhaling; breathing
you in to show you how I feel inside.
And above a fugitive leaf breaks
free and flutters
from an oak, landing just beside us,
but we’ll never notice.
The world has moved on
leaving only us behind.

Time is gathered like verse,
veiled and bound as is the rest,
but somehow more alive,
heart and soul forever reminded of the implications.


This verse just hit a chord in my hear ... I can't help but shed a tear to its truth.

Thanks Nemesis .. for sharing ...

[izchan]

once I read a novel from the author Orson Scott Card.
The title was "Song Bird"

It was a very sad story but one that inspires.
About a man that creates musics in a unique way.
But one day was containminated and wrote songs differently.
He was forbiden to write again.
But wrote he did because he was who he was.
They punished bim by taking away his sights, voice, and hands
but it never stoped him from making music.
Ultimately they just killed him.

---
Do not let others make you feel less than what you are.
If you believe in something strong enough, just do it.
---

Here is something for your soul

: Broken

Like so many things a mirror
Reflecting what we say and do
Like so many things a mirror
easily broken and never renew

A person is so much like a mirror
you do what you see others do
some say it was original
to me it is just people without a clue

But so like a mirror it seems
that people are broken too
shattering their lifes beliefs
when bitter truths are rocks
that hurls itself unto you

What is then a broken mirror to do?
Do you lie there in pieces?
Do you just fade away silently?
Or pick up the broken parts and go on
using what little is left
to reflect on others what you now see differently
because of a broken mirror's truth.

[izchan]

Originally posted by N e m e s s i s
one more:
Time looks upon old men with
contempt and an epoch spent
in futility . . . effort misspent scribing
what will never be uncovered.

Do not despair ... often we all do things that will never be known, greatness is not measured by what others says it is, it is by the heart in which we perform the action.

It is hard, because we are but mere mortals.
But it is because of these mortality that makes us challenge those that threathend it most.

No action is ever futile, it is only misinterprated.

[izchan]

Originally posted by N e m e s s i s
the meaning is very veild. its about my memory if that helps you understand what im saying.

I saw the old man as the poet (you) and the things he did being his work.

But now that you mention memory ... I see your point.

But based on that new understanding ... your poem just went up another grade ... that is wonderfully written.


Time looks upon old men with contempt
and an epoch spent in futility . . .
effort misspent scribing
what will never be uncovered.


written for memories that foever lay hidden ...

A work of art ... superb.

[bjgellar]

"The Road Less Travelled"
By Robert Frost

[Bilbo Baggins]

Power of nature, frightening
death of flowers, moving
leaves a falling, dying
Autumns waning, winter flying.

Bare bark tree, standing
in shadow of self, calling
scurrying conies, frightened
Tree stand ever, wizened

Winter's singing, melancholy tune
shrouding landscape, death comes soon
and cloud cracks sky, failing
and snow downs to ground, flying.


That was just written. I am trying to pull together my thoughts on the weather at this time of year.

[rm']

Originally posted by bjgellar
"The Road Less Travelled"
By Robert Frost

Ah, yes... one of my favorites.

[rm']

You can't make bold statements like that without explaining them

[Xerxes]

OK its not poetry but its written so well it might as well be.
It you've ever seen this just this piece performed in person...
it is fantastic.

O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention,
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act,
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,
Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels,
Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire,
Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all,
The flat unraised spirits that hath dar'd
On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
So great an object. Can this cockpit hold
The vasty fields of France? Or may we cram
Within this wooden O the very casques
That did affright the air at Agincourt?
O, pardon! since a crooked figure may
Attest in little place a million;
And let us, ciphers to this great accompt,
On your imaginary forces work.
Suppose within the girdle of these walls
Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies,
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder.
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts:
Into a thousand parts divide one man,
And make imaginary puissance;
Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them
Printing their proud hoofs i' th' receiving earth;
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
Carry them here and there, jumping o'er times,
Turning th' accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass; for the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history;
Who prologue-like, your humble patience pray
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.

Prologue
Henry V

[Naamloos]

Some really nice ones posted here..

Living in a life full of fears
No God that hears
His crying will never end
Maybe there is an other way to vent

Hoping for a better life
He grabs the knife
He plunges it in his head
A swift painful death

Made by me

[rm']

Originally posted by N e m e s s i s
then i will explain. 1st (and proabably the worst reason) is that it has been forced down my throat from years of schooling. 2ndly i hear all this talk about his poems being deceptively simple and i think this is a load of crap, much of the metaphor and symbolism taken from a poem is put there by the reader. granted the writer does use these but the ways i have heard frost's poems explained it was just reaching for something, anything to give it meaning. finally as one poet to another, frost and I are at totaly other ends of the court. I prefer lost of metaphor and syombolism and drama and he goes for simple little stanzas.

i guess its just a preference.

dylan thomas . . . now there's a poet.

Those are all good points, but personally, I enjoy simple word structure. To each his own, I suppose.

[izchan]

Sorry for the silence in the last two days, was back in my home town and I made it a point not to be on the net during those times.

I see that we have some new people among us in the thread and contributing, thank you and welcomed.

Xerxes, your poem is a bit out of my league but it was a nice reading. Would you care to explain it for me a little? It is part of a play is it?

Namloos, wow ... is that the first thing that comes to mind when you wrote the poem? if it is, then you portray your struggles very vividly. I do hope that you keep on writting, because I found that writing poems releases the tension in our lives, and gives us hope and meaning to follow on. Sometimes, death is not the only way out.

As for the poetic discussion of frost's 'Road less Traveled', well, I find that it is a bit of a challenge to decide whether his poem is as good as they say. I have read the poem a long time ago, and during that time, it did not hold much meaning to me, but today while reading it again, it seems different but profoundly familiar, because I can see the link to the words in my heart.

Personally, I feel any poem that can ignite a fire of passion and thoughts are poems that are good. Because in my humble opinion, that is what litterature is about. Art is about making people feel and dream and link with it, it is almost like a relationship between two people.

I understand where Nemesis is going with his thoughts, and I agree with him on some terms, we are all different and have different preference. He like decisive poetry where the meaning of a poem is not so open to interpretation, the poems must mean exactly what the poet wants us to see and hear. Poems like these are clear and to the point, it gives a sense of ONE-ness when it is being read.

Where 'The Road Less Traveled' lets the readers put their experience or meaning into the words, in whatever way that feel it to be. It has its merits, but is totally based on the readers experience in life. Like me, when I first read it, it had no visible link to my life, but now after some ups and down, where tears are found, his words does bring out those memories, because those are what I feel and he successfully pull those strings.

The richness of a poems words are sometimes dilutted because of the experience of the poets wisdom and experience, thus for whatever reason that might be, a poem will live and die by the poets hands.

If you look at it, even the method that frost wrote his poems can be explained with this particular poems of his, he took the road less traveled and made people think about it. Does that mean the poem has only one meaning to it? No, it is open to interpretation, it is up to us to feel what we feel using these 'simple' words, where millions have read and felt differently everytime they read it.


ROAD LESS TRAVELED

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth

Then took the other as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet, knowing how way leads onto way
I doubted if I should ever come back

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood
And I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference

Robert Frost

[izchan]

For those who have not visited http://www.pathetic.org , please do so as soon as you can, for I have found some of the most beautiful poems in that site.

If not you can visit http://www.poetry.com which is also a poet listing site. I post in that site often and have quite a number of works in poetry.com. I post under the Name Isaac lc Chan.

Here is something for today...

---
: It is not to be

Can you see the difference
when we say the same thing
yet mean it differently?

It has been some time now
since we last agreed on one thing
and not end up fighting over it

Should it always be this way?
Maybe someday we will know
but now it is not to be
for you are just so different from me

The cup half full or half empty
---

[izchan]

I have applied, but they have not approved me yet. So I will just have to be patient.

: Waiting

Sitting under the old aok tree
listening to the autumn wind
looking at the fallen leaves
waiting for the coming of spring

When was the last time I heard mom sing
I can't remember it was so long ago
What did I do when she sang so sweet
I can't think because it pains me so

I miss you mom, don't you worry
You wait for me mom,
I will come some day
Just wait for me mom,
I will be there real soon.

[izchan]

My First Name is Isaac .. my last name Chan ... just like my nick ... ...
I - Z - CHAN ...

: The real me

Some say that man wear their masks
because they are too shy to be
Some say the reason really is
because no one wants to know
what's beneath

What's real ... what's not
who knows ... who cares
Why asks ... why answer
to be ... not to be?

At the end
words on the stone
a name, long forgotten and untold
since nineteen seventy six
that is the only thing that is real
My name, the real me

[bjgellar]

Hey N e m e s s i s , I like your poem about the "Wise Man Dressed In Rags" ...quite sad yet cleverly written.

[izchan]

I will be not posting as much today and tommorow as I have a dateline to meet on thursday.

Of course the occasional witty remarks will be introduce, here and there.

So keep the thread going ... share ... share ...

: Life in a shoe

If I could say it differently
I would always do
but sometimes words are just not enough
to say what I think and do

If only things were simpler and finer
and I really have a clue
then I will be able to say that
life today will not be living in a shoe

[bjgellar]

Ok.. here's a song not a poem but hey who would of known
This is not my work but I will post one of my own as soon as I finish it. I'm also typing this from memory so there may be errors...hehe
I really like the lyrics in this song..

Sunburn By Fuel

The sky was dark this morning
Not a bird in the trees
And silence hung suspicious and anxious
Like a blanket covered scream
And you were gone
You were not there for me
And I cursed the sky and begged the sun to
Fall all over me
This life's not living, baby
Living ain't free
If I can't find my way back to me
Let the sun fall down over me
Let the sun fall down
All my friends are searching
Quiet, desperately
Look into their eyes you'll see the faithless crying
Save me, save me, save me
And what are they to feel
And who are they to be
And what am I to do with, do with me, but let the sun
Fall all over me
This life's not living, baby
Living ain't free
If I can't find my way back to me
Let the sun fall down over me
Let the sun fall down
Until my eyes cry out
'Til my head is free from doubt
'Til my lungs sigh right out
'Til I'm wiser
Let the sun
Fall all over me
This life's not living, baby
Living ain't free
If I can't find my way back to me
Let the sun fall down over me
Let the sun fall down

[Curi0us_George]

Originally posted by N e m e s s i s
then i will explain. 1st (and proabably the worst reason) is that it has been forced down my throat from years of schooling. 2ndly i hear all this talk about his poems being deceptively simple and i think this is a load of crap, much of the metaphor and symbolism taken from a poem is put there by the reader. granted the writer does use these but the ways i have heard frost's poems explained it was just reaching for something, anything to give it meaning. finally as one poet to another, frost and I are at totaly other ends of the court. I prefer lost of metaphor and syombolism and drama and he goes for simple little stanzas.

i guess its just a preference.

dylan thomas . . . now there's a poet.

People always over-analyze writings. Isaac Asimov once sat through a modern writing class. In this class, the professor was explaining the metaphors and meanings found in one of Asimov's books. After the class, Asimov introduced himself to the professor and said that he wasn't thinking any of those things when he wrote the book, nor was he trying to embed any of them as hidden meanings. The professor replied with something along the lines of "Maybe you don't know what you were thinking when you wrote the book."

Anyway . . .

Longest English word
is antidisestablish-
mentarianism