The Anthem of Antarctica. Oh, hail Antarctica, Devoid of Flora! Standing in peace, We shall not cease! Ruling above the seas, Defender of the oceans, A home of many, our glacial land! For a theoretical Republic of Antarctica (actually, from one of my alternate history stories).As a song, it's meant to be sung to the tune of "God Save the Tsar". Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
Just a short spontaneous poem by me. Written Sept. 21, 2006 In memory of someone Late September sky, before the dawn meets the eye, gazing stars remember why, in the late September sky. Changing seasons changing sky, looking for the reasons why, tell us why we have to die late September sky. Like a mem’ry fades the night, dreams awaken to the light, is it wrong or is it right, late September sky? As we live another day, another life has slipped away, we live to tell what others said, to the late September sky.
From Heliotropes: (...) Gravity as evidence, Lady there, “I am”. “Reverted, oh, I elemental witness fusion, function in a space, this amber ever tempered, temperature forged face; now take a ‘center’, from first measure’s meet. “Hess’s Onion, also orbit missed is Orion”, Poet said is product, light in sentence played. Edward never answered, yet was ever entertained by ‘proximity’, his error only approximation in a watching. Years brought wealth to old man, couched on ancient holiday. “I will program Steven’s ship for love entailed in continuum, all Asterisk. This blueprint is meeting room…after all”. To teach and keep poems secret…seems undeniable… “Hatred”, Day read on holiday, called collapse some game when astronomer’s notes could catch, forestall a distance Day could never prepare for. “Steven’s Dream CAN tether priestess, tower bound remind loop infinite for monster, maze enticed… by degree an Edward funds it, through a poet, angle added will project through base attention sought”. If to assuage an intermittent ‘boredom’, Day played program Multi-Variable yearly as engine’s craft came consummate, contiguous to a preface. Karen L. Havens (2006)
I know it's past my time for bed when daylight fades from memory and candles turn the darkness red when pens bleed lines of ebony and thoughts set free take flight when heavy burdens suddenly gain wings to lift up light flying further than the eye can see like warm evenings on the balcony
systems shutting down, each light, each star in the sky, existance is closing its eyes, all eyes of all life
In the winds above and in the death cold waters I walk risen from the fossils and dust, a lifeform shining and shattering time. The mortals can kill and the mortals can weep, that is their privilege - to think they can win or be able to lose - the reality is that they can change not a thing. Mutated DNA's and visions born from altered minds, creatures imagining themselves outside this world, but the gravity keeps them at bay and on their bodies I feed and I feast. I rise from the dust as nuclear attraction, I create an illusion and give it the power to live and to feed, to feel for my needs.
Children of yesterday, heirs of tomorrow. What are you weeping? labour and sorrow? look to your looms again, faster and faster, fly the great shuttles prepared by the master. Lifes in the loom, room for it, room.
wow you guys are amazing at poetry!!! whats ur special deal??? U s moke :m: for inspiration??? Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
Brief Defense ------------------------------------------- Four railway staff underneath identical moustaches smile together agreeably. Steaming terracotta teacups held more cautiously than shoulder slung rifles. and I remember It’s a common hope to be taken away gently by the wrist watch rather than engulfed in the noise of history repeating itself down the same streets a little bit louder each time until the traffic deals such a backhand of sound or at least so she explains, saying it was more like a windstorm in a doll factory than a car bomb that lifted her taxi.
Without a Compass ------------------------------------- According to Darwin, I should be extinct. According to Malthus, never even born. According to Lombroso, in any case, I will end badly. And not to mention Marx, I, petit bourgeois, to escape, then, need to escape from the front, to the back, or from the side. (It was that way for everyone in the forties.) Still, personal uncertainties remain. Am I to the east of my wound or to the south of my death? Luciano Erba
It always fascinates me, how good some things can be said in one language, and then sound just not right in another. Here's a song I wrote in Latvian, it's very rhytmic and good sounding. But in English (as you'll see below) the words don't really fit together, even more, the same can not be said in English, a direct translation loses the meaning, indirect sounds bad and some can't be translated, because there are no words describing that in English. Of course many times it is vice versa. On the English translation in [ ] brackets I'll give the meaning that is there in the Latvian words, but is not found in English closest counterparts. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Kas redzēja, kas tevi, kas redzēja staigājot, kas pēdas atstājot, kas tevi jūras malā dejojot? Kas dzirdēja, kas tevi, kas dzirdēja dziedājot, kas vārsmas skandinot, kas jūras malā dainojot? Kas juta, kas tevi, kas juta elpojot, kas starp vējiem lidojot, kas tevi jūrā savu dvēsli ieliekot? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ==================== English translation below Who saw, who [saw] you, who saw [you] walking, who [saw you] leaving footsteps, who saw you dancing at the shore of a sea? Who heard, who [heard] you, who heard [you] singing, who [heard you] chanting verses, who [heard you] folksongsinging at the shore of a sea? Who felt, who [felt] you, who felt [you] breathing, who [felt you] flying among the winds, who [felt you] putting your soul in to a sea? =========== That's why I think visual arts and melody are superior to poetry and words, they are able not to lose their impact no matter the time or culture.
It always fascinates me, how good some things can be said in one language, and then sound just not right in another. Here's a song I wrote in Latvian, it's very rhytmic and good sounding. But in English (as you'll see below) the words don't really fit together, even more, the same can not be said in English, a direct translation loses the meaning, indirect sounds bad and some can't be translated, because there are no words describing that in English. Of course many times it is vice versa. On the English translation in [ ] brackets I'll give the meaning that is there in the Latvian words, but is not found in English closest counterparts. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Kas redzēja, kas tevi, kas redzēja staigājot, kas pēdas atstājot, kas tevi jūras malā dejojot? Kas dzirdēja, kas tevi, kas dzirdēja dziedājot, kas vārsmas skandinot, kas jūras malā dainojot? Kas juta, kas tevi, kas juta elpojot, kas starp vējiem lidojot, kas tevi jūrā savu dvēsli ieliekot? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ==================== English translation below Who saw, who [saw] you, who saw [you] walking, who [saw you] leaving footsteps, who saw you dancing at the shore of the sea? Who heard, who [heard] you, who heard [you] singing, who [heard you] chanting verses, who [heard you] folksongsinging at the shore of the sea? Who felt, who [felt] you, who felt [you] breathing, who [felt you] flying among the winds, who [felt you] putting your soul in to the sea? =========== That's why I think visual arts and melody are superior to poetry and words, they are able to not lose their impact no matter the time or culture.
Just found this poem today. Desiderata Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952.
[A song] Everyone cries when everyone dies, everyone saves a life of another when everyone is about to die. Everybody flies inside a dream, a world full of lies, realities created, realities forgotten, a snap of fingers, life. What you see is what you see, for no-one else, just for you, for no-one else, but you, what you see is you. Sensory organs, impulses, shadows, what do you think the shapes represent, what do you believe in? you believe in you! you believe in existence existing you believe in existence transmitting little flowers, rain and sex, happiness, insects and snakes. Signals from me to you, signals from you to you, energy field just like it was in the big bang, manifestations of it all of our kin and the meteor in the sky, the meteor in the eye coming from the sky.
Your all very brave putting ur personal thoughts end experiences on to something like this. I write poetry to help deal with things that happen, things in the long run have truned out to be meaningless, but they were good threapy at the time
i have one. its not really good but i like it Girl in the mirror Look at the girl in the mirror Ugly. Fat. Your nose is too big Your eyes are too small You’re pale with acne How could anyone like a girl like you Fake. Your hair isn’t really that color, Sure you can keep piling on that make-up But I know what you really look like … Look at the girl in the mirror Thick luscious ‘lashes Pure even complexion Gorgeous Plump ruby lips Pin straight golden hair Why can’t I look like her?
An exercise in aesthetic A beautiful calisthentic With words sewn upon a page So that all might rage Against a life which is droll.
It was August and I was at the best of myself when I met her It wasn't as though I thought about it, It wasn't as though anything at all I was just being myself the first time you fall for someone is usually the first time again fall came with its ever clever decaying beauty and enchanting season all the leaves seem to follow her I should have followed her she was beautiful in all the word maybe it was in my head that the leaves followed her maybe I wanted them to In my heart you will remain, guiding and encouraging I have to go now, to the ever amazing free flowing cosmic abyss of the pool of life *Dedicated to girl on subway*
