Author Topic: Poetry Time  (Read 476 times)

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Offline Nam

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Poetry Time
« on: October 31, 2013, 06:33:26 PM »
Carroll's Field

in Carroll's Field where pecans sleep
and the days become cool as the night
there are dreams vibrant in hours we keep
rippling in ponds filled within the light

echoes of a past turned to a present
and life becomes the knot untied
the stars appear in a spiral descent
graciously upon those who have died

and in Carroll's Field where tree limbs felt
like the rain from emptying clouds
we gather in prayer where worn tongues knelt
upon breaths deepened beneath the shrouds

we cannot falter in this life of greater solitude
just happen upon that light in air
having not wrenched in sunpour attitude
it's only the love that whispers fair. . .


David Garrett Arnold
April 09 2013

---

I don't rhyme very often, and this being inconsistent in meter sort of shows why. The title is an allegory. The one phrase that people tell me they love, whether they like the poem, or not, is "sunpour attitude". I explained it once that was enough.

-Nam
This thread is about lab-grown dicks, not some mincy, old, British poof of an actor. 

Let's get back on topic, please.


Offline magicmiles

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Re: Poetry Time
« Reply #1 on: October 31, 2013, 06:38:08 PM »
I like to rhyme silly verse.

Give me three unrelated topics and I'll see what I can do.
Go on up you baldhead.

Offline Nam

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Re: Poetry Time
« Reply #2 on: October 31, 2013, 06:44:03 PM »
I like to rhyme silly verse.

Give me three unrelated topics and I'll see what I can do.

Politics, the dwarf planet Pluto, and socks.

;)

-Nam
This thread is about lab-grown dicks, not some mincy, old, British poof of an actor. 

Let's get back on topic, please.


Offline magicmiles

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Re: Poetry Time
« Reply #3 on: October 31, 2013, 07:41:27 PM »
The little men of Pluto looked upon the earth one day
They'd always been so secretive, they'd always stayed away
Nothing to attract them to a world so full of pain
A journey full of risk and likely nothing they would gain

That all changed when on that day they spotted something new
A pair of socks that bore the colours yellow, green and blue
The socks themselves they knew had been in use since way back when
The excitement slowly building was more to do with who displayed them

You see, in Plutian folklore there existed quite a tale
Of a small but fearless warrior who ...?




I have to do some work. Feel free to finish this off Nam. or I might get back to it later.
Go on up you baldhead.

Offline Nam

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Re: Poetry Time
« Reply #4 on: October 31, 2013, 08:02:21 PM »
Who was locked up in jail...

;)

-Nam
This thread is about lab-grown dicks, not some mincy, old, British poof of an actor. 

Let's get back on topic, please.


Offline kindred

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Re: Poetry Time
« Reply #5 on: October 31, 2013, 09:51:28 PM »
Another day ends

Prison, cage, crippling loneliness
This same place yet again
Family, friends, all but distant thought
Words, thoughts, feelings, emotion

Simmering, bubbling, boiling
To look at this window, gaze upon the sky
Too see the same tired old familiar sight
This room is locked and so am I
Yet it remains empty and so do I

Breathing, it hurts...
Labored and harsh
Painful
When the very act of existing gives you no satisfaction
The sound of crickets, whispers of the wind, the whirling of a fan
They talk to me
They say that I am truly alone
This day ends and another is set in motion



Speaking of peoms, just found this on my facebook feed. One of my friends writes them, apparently.
"Keep calm and carry on"

"I trust you are not in too much distress"

Offline Nam

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Re: Poetry Time
« Reply #6 on: November 01, 2013, 12:17:02 AM »
Another day ends

Prison, cage, crippling loneliness
This same place yet again
Family, friends, all but distant thought
Words, thoughts, feelings, emotion

Simmering, bubbling, boiling
To look at this window, gaze upon the sky
Too see the same tired old familiar sight
This room is locked and so am I
Yet it remains empty and so do I

Breathing, it hurts...
Labored and harsh
Painful
When the very act of existing gives you no satisfaction
The sound of crickets, whispers of the wind, the whirling of a fan
They talk to me
They say that I am truly alone
This day ends and another is set in motion



Speaking of peoms, just found this on my facebook feed. One of my friends writes them, apparently.

If this isn't yours you have to credit who wrote it, even if just his/her first name or last name, or user name. Otherwise it's considered plagiarism, and you don't want to be a "Rand Paul", do you. ;)

-Nam
This thread is about lab-grown dicks, not some mincy, old, British poof of an actor. 

Let's get back on topic, please.


Offline kindred

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Re: Poetry Time
« Reply #7 on: November 01, 2013, 09:14:59 PM »
Its actually mine, its just that its crap so I don't want to put my name there.
"Keep calm and carry on"

"I trust you are not in too much distress"

Offline Graybeard

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Re: Poetry Time
« Reply #8 on: November 02, 2013, 05:24:26 PM »
THE STATUE

Not far from here
Past the river, by the wood,
Among green grasses tally stood
A statue.

A man immortalised in stone,
His name now lost or little known.
His deeds forgotten
For his time is passed
And briar bushes fight to the last
For light beneath his statue.

His shadow passes from river to wood
And will for all eternity,
Whilst he himself will form the earth
Of the very estate which gave him birth.

His face is set in pensive frown,
His mind is noting changes down.
Pupilless eyes gaze on forever
Recording rain and wind and sun.
Three hundred years of wakefulness
To watch the world helplessly:
Would it pleased him
Had he wist
That he would stand in autumn mist
And winter’s cold -
A statue?
Untended... ivied... Green-moss grown,
Immortalised, and now unknown.

Written c.1968
Nobody says “There are many things that we thought were natural processes, but now know that a god did them.”

Offline Nam

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Re: Poetry Time
« Reply #9 on: November 23, 2013, 02:16:34 AM »
Wrote this the other day, people seem to like it maybe you will, too...or not:

cold

a punch to the gut before
the ice falls in hardened dismay
and I can see the clouds develop
into grey streams where lights
flash like rivers entwined in fences

and what's left of disguises worn by souls
trodding to the sound of scampering lullabies
girls chasing after little boys and
remembrances of first kisses that breathe no more
just forgotten embraces and dried faces
where clouds consume like fiery trees

the flowers laugh and laugh no more
until the melting of snow turns to dust
like little boys forgotten in a first kiss

it isn't the jovial innocence that beckons them forward
it is the glass broken in shattering dreams
the solemn guise of each breath in front of them
like the rain that fell and woke them to reality



David Garrett Arnold
November 18 2013


-Nam
This thread is about lab-grown dicks, not some mincy, old, British poof of an actor. 

Let's get back on topic, please.


Offline wright

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Re: Poetry Time
« Reply #10 on: November 23, 2013, 04:22:20 AM »
^^^Some nice images, but not very strong connections between them.

Here's one of mine that appeared in the local paper years ago:

Voice of the Bee.

North by Hive-west of the sun,
our memory sings of blossom.
Of citrus: lemon, orange, lime;
white, waxy plates of nectar.

Of towers of small sweetness:
lavender, buckeye, rosemary.
We return, singing weary fulfillment,
and the Hive dances us into memory.

C. Cooper
Live a good life... If there are no gods, then you will be gone, but will have lived a noble life that will live on in the memories of your loved ones. I am not afraid.
--Marcus Aurelius

Offline kindred

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Re: Poetry Time
« Reply #11 on: November 23, 2013, 07:07:38 PM »
How bout a short story, mates?







It was 11 in the morning, on the dot. 15 minutes ago the professor dismissed class. Now the two of us were alone in the corridor. Even the professor left. Now this.

Mumbling something incoherent. Shying away from her eyes. The conversation suddenly got personal. Shhh... She put the tip of her finger to my lips and hushed me. Her fingers lightly glided and ever so faintly drew a line to my chin. She deftly held my chin between her finger, looked me in the eye and slowly inched my face closer to hers...

I pulled back. Unsure. This was unfamiliar waters for me. No. No. No. I said weakly. She grasped my arm tightly and with such force that it surprised me. She dragged me off somewhere. I was out of it. My head was still reeling from the surprise of what she did.

*click*

Huh? We were in the men's room. She just locked it. I wish I could say, I reacted smoothly then but I didn't. Panic. Pressure. Everything just threw me off.

Then suddenly, I got reeled in back to the present. The grip on my arm tightening. I couldn't feel my hand anymore. She dragged me to the sink. She sat down. Crossed her legs on to my hips and bit her lip. She buried her face in my neck whilst she held me closer and closer to her.

She nibbled on my ear and sparks flew all over my body. It was only then that I realized that I was mirroring what she was doing. My hands were on her body. I never thought I could do this. I just held her and then everything went into place.

This time it was her that pulled back. Gripping onto my belt and smiling, she didn't say a word. She gazed at me with this pure look of lust. She jerked me forward and I stumbled.
"Keep calm and carry on"

"I trust you are not in too much distress"

Offline Nam

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Re: Poetry Time
« Reply #12 on: December 07, 2013, 04:16:23 PM »
I'm bored, here's a poem:

she spread her legs and said, "I love you."

(based on a dream[1])

her eyes were yellow like her hair
and she spread her legs like Mary before her--
it was with a hardened heart and beaten soul
battered in regrets that pulled me close
to every softness of her lips when she pressed
them gently against my own--
and I fell in love all over again with this girl--
this woman who surely would break me
into the fragile glass that shatters like wind

the moon rose in blue disguise
right out of a picturesque dream
the sky felt bitter in soft repose
where lights glistened the night before
and tired eyes became bantered in simple gestures
where hands held hands upon a starry sky
and I saw her across the way where stars became
every serene feeling echoing throughout my body--
in cliché repetition she said, "I love you."
and I believed her like it was our first time--
legs spread and my mouth in between

yet there she was behind another gutter
where the lights were flickering and
she was screaming in ecstasy--
there fondling over another man
yet still she said, "I love you."
and all I could reply, "I love you, too."

her eyes are yellow like her hair
and she spreads her legs like Mary before her--
it is with a hardened heart and beaten soul
battered in regret that pulls me close
to every softness of her lips when she presses
them gently against my own--




David Garrett Arnold
September 22 2013


-Nam
 1. the girl named "Mary" is my ex-fiance who cheated on me
This thread is about lab-grown dicks, not some mincy, old, British poof of an actor. 

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Offline Mrjason

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Re: Poetry Time
« Reply #13 on: December 10, 2013, 07:45:16 AM »
A true story about a backpacker I met rendered in rhyming couplets

Der Wanderer

He came from germanina with riffs and rhymes
Left the fatherland for milder climes
Journeyed to Africa, lived by the sea
Swam and surfed in the land of the free

Drank and danced and had to pee
Tripped the light fantastic did he
This german man, the schalker fan
The morning jogger who ran and ran...

Whilst out on some adventurous tour
He noticed all was not as before
The witch doctor suggested intestines infested
Parasites the young Herr had ingested!

So he left the land sun seekers seek
For a germanic winter yet to peak
Yet he is warm in his heart of hearts
For now he has friends in temperate parts