Poetry Arena

Some torture, Beblina! (ahem...) No one could even torture a bug with that! That's beautiful.

OK- so you wanted it to be more rythmical...

1. In a forest full of light
2. telling secrets is the play
3. running across the bushes
4. of new life

5. Becoming the creatures dreamt of
6. in ancient dreams of future visions
7. celebrating the fullness of the moment
8. indulging our souls

9. We are the flowing circles
10. in between times of excess
11. never forgetting who we are
12. always seeking new ways to be
13. explorers of reality

14. We will win this game
15. because there is no way to lose
16. growing fresh essence
17. of exuberant light and
18. losing our minds
19. in equations of mystery

20. This is who we are
21. when we love ;)


Ok, I would combine lines 12 and 13 and then put in 20/21 as the chorus of the song and then go onto your next verse. I would take out the 'and' in line 17-possibly seperating it into two stanzas after that, or just letting it run on into itself. I might also combine 3 and 4. Lines 5-8 are just brilliant-if you're writing a song, those lines should be your model, because they are rythmical, Bebelina, you just have to look into the rythym of the meaning of what you wrote.

;) It's very 'there'. It isn't hiding anything, really. The suggestions I made I think would just bring it out a little bit further into the open. But really, what you wrote is what it is, and any song should work with it. But then again, I've never written a song, or even tried, and I've never really published anything at all. So follow your own instincts, Bebelina. It's not like Bjork can do cartwheels.
 
[Raid of Vikings]
Ship sails out of waters deep
With dragon, red from blood
From the thirst of war
Roaring on its stem

Death is on its deck
Dragged from The North to Spain
Where fame and riches lay
Waiting to be gained

It’s no game for sure
‘Cause murder comes to shore
And there’s our hero
Let’s watch his deeds

He’s tired, but fights with love and ease
His mighty axe as eagle hunts its prey
Cutting his way, to the fame of war
Knowing he might fall this very day

Arrows are shot at him
Weapons of cowards: he laughs,
Come closer that I can see
The bloody face of victory

The gold is taken, the city plundered
But where’s our hero
Lets look for him
For he is needed for this story’s end

And there he is, lying on his back
With a bloody wound in his head
Singing the song of death
Waiting for feasts in Valhalla to begin

(c) by Andris Krastins 2001
 
Thank you very much Congratulations, that was excellent advice, I will follow it. Yes, I was going to take away the "and", but forgot to do so before I posted it. The chorus will be very catchy like that. :p
 
:D Thank you, Bebelina. When you get that song recorded, you should put it up so we can hear it.

Here's one by E.E. Cummings that just struck me when I first heard it. I hope I can get it exact, becuas he doesn't just write words, it's like visual.

Pity This Busy Monster,Manunkind

pity this busy monster,manunkind,

not. Progress is a comfortable disease:
your victim (death and life safely beyond)


plays with the bigness of his littleness
-electrons deify one razorblade
into a mountainrange;lenses extend


unwish through curving wherewhen till unwish
returns on its unself
A world of made
is not a world of born-pity poor flesh


and trees,poor stars and stones,but never this
fine specimen of hypermagical


ultraomnipotence. We doctors know


a hopeless case if-listen : there's a hell
of a good universe next door;let's go



Such Brilliance!
If only E.E. Cummings could know how to come back from the grave to post here at the 'Poetry Arena'. If I could write a poem like that, my ife would be fulfilled; completely. Well, i just thought E.E. Cummings was pretty great, hope you do too.
 
awhile ago I actually submitted a poem to this writing contest-thingy and wound up with an invitation to go to Washington D.C for a conference. I didn't go because, well, I didn't want to and I'm not really a poet (more of a writer). I'll be looking for the poem in the future.

P.S Congrats unlike the previous lil story I wrote I believe that the piece I'm looking for fits your parameters.
 
...................................................

Monkey
see

Monkey

doodo

....................................................


Thank you. Thank you. *takes a bow*

:D
 
Monkey see: monkey do
Muliboy writes crap
I see: his poem in my toliet
(swish,swish,swish,swish,swish)
all gone!
 
Tell me what you think:

Fear

The darkness is there,
It does not need help
It knows you better,
Than you know yourself.

This darkness is fear,
And it takes many forms
It lies inside all
A calm before storm

It waits for a moment,
When guards are let down
Then surrounds your whole being;
A choking black gown.

The fear of death
And this darkness inside,
Are one and the same
And in us, reside.

By: me.

o0o0o0o0o! it rhymes! :p
 
Water fall

It spills into a sea of linoleum
The water dark, but yet filled with life
Rolling eyes, and fear to rife
Darkness consumes
Feelings condemned to their dooms

Life, spirit, soul, and essence
Like water flows from him
Through the spout
Runs through the streams through out
The ground, from its source
The lips quiver of remorse
The life now dies
His position now memorized
With the chalk
no one knows his last thought
but his body will now rot
 
I'm going to write this right now, it's called improvising.


TABTRIC UNDERSTANDINGS

Given to the girl in the white clapboard shingles;
given to her who could never understand
(you)
but she stares to the wall, mutters a respnse to her captor
"Ok here little one"

there's a place where nothing is noted
there's a place where you can kiss him in peace
there's a place of horrible, tantric understanding
when the beat goes (rustle) and the time is weak

A swan takes a lap around a pond
reeds, soaking here in my mouth
salmon upon me, never flinching, never breathing
she tried to break free
but.she.does.not.

sun-in my door-honey-on my head
a vistor upon my step, a jump in my step
I go to the door
I go to your head
so leaves,and reeds
sole leaves and brown rustlers
I bought a six said of trees
small, spreading spiderweb of listening to sound.

Rotary noises and waves
telling my mother to 'take a hike'
you go away! you leave me alone!
Strantium houses and mansions in quiet reproach.

Now on the waves of the lily-like coroners
Jamison gives it a wink, and a hint
so rest upon, rest upon daybed
in the day-room,
in the parlor
from teas to the biscuit crackers

The girl is held
in a room far off left
crimpets, tea mints some grass in an eyelid
the job is our helping hand

in silencing her.

This is about being held down and finding yourself. In this case, the girl beocmes part of an abstract fantasy where eventually, silent nature takes over her troubles. But at the end, after dealing with some issues, she is still being held, yet silenced by us, and resolute in her steadfast commitment to herself.
 
And you have the guts to critisize me?

Haven´t heard of the simple beaty of minimalism. That was minianimalism.
PostPost Modernistic heroism. You just aint avant garde enough.
Your mistake :D
 
I liked it MuliBoy. That´s because I´m avant- avantgarde, but don´t expect that from everybody. :p
 
can any one just jump in...

Night

Darkness in the stillness of the night
Life takes hold.
Creatures of destruction rest,
The night, so calm and silent.
In the shadows I lie and wait,
Creature born of darkness.
Life takes hold and sets me free.
The world is so dark and silent, so still and cold.
Soon the destruction shall begin again soon the beasts shall stir.
This is our time, this is my time, a creature of life a creature of darkness.
A creature that stalks the night.
Soon the beasts shall stir and wonder
What has become of the night before
They shall awaken and life will retreat
Into the shadows, into the night, into the cold.

In the shadows of the night there lies a beast of life,
She the mother eternal, creatress, silent for a time, sleeping.
Her children attend to her (those who have not forgotten…)
Yearning for her to awaken and reclaim the light.
Mistress of night so silent, her children so eager.
She waits in the darkness for no one,
Within the darkness she is whole.

The shadows of night surround me,
The creatures celebrate my return,
my siblings children of life.
She comforts me in her stillness.
Through her my strength is shown.
Her dark beauty reflects nothing,
in her I am alone.

I am still beside her,
Life fades to destruction.
I know she will awaken.


Got bored... all my work is copy written!
 
this is part 5 of a poem i've wrote , tell me what you think


FIRES AND DAMNATION

THE CONFLAGRATION, BURSTED INTO ALL AROUND ME, DAMNATION
FILLED THE AIR, WITH THOUSANDS OF SOULS, BITING, TEARING AT EACH OTHER, AND THE SMELL THAT BURNED WITH THE PROCESS OF INHALATION
LOATHING, DESPAIR FILLED THE LAND, THE LEDGES OF ALL THE HELLS FILLED MY MIND, GUSTAVE DORE
IN THE BACK WITH WINGS FLAPPED, THE COLD WINDS OF COCYTUS, FILLED THE AIR, AND TEMPTED TO LORE
THE WAILING THE LETHE, I ALMOST FORGOTTEN LIFE, I HELD ONTO IT WITH ALL I COULD.
BUT THE PAIN OF FIRE, ANGUISH AND SHOCK TOOK ITS FORM, AND BEAT ME TO SOMETHING LESS THEN A MAN SHOULD
IT WAS REAL, THE PAIN I COULD FELL, THIS WAS HELL, AND WHAT IS THIS
HE WALKS ALONE NOT A WORD TO ANY, THAT WAS DIS
HE STOOD AND FROWNED AS THE TORTURING OF SOULS BURNED FOREVER.
I WAITED IN LINES OF MILLIONS OF SINNERS, ACHE AND TWINGE AT EVERY SIGHT TELL MY EYES FACED WITH NO FEAR, I LAUGHED SOMETIMES, TO MY SELF AS I COULD NOT BARE, THIS WOE, AND MY ENDEAVOR
MY BODY WAS TENDER, HEALTH HAD LOST , MY SKIN GONE AND ALL BUT LOST, I STOOD ORGANS EXPOSED, AND ALL TORMENT I KNOW.
I BEGGED TO THE WHAT I THOUGHT WAS THE SKY.. ARE YOU THEIR FATES, CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAM IN THIS TORMENT, AND THE STIGMA SHOW
I AM NOT A MAN, AS IT MELTS AWAY A SHADOW OF NOTHING, ECHO’S OF THINGS NO ONE SHOULD HEAR
ALL THIS WAS A RENEWED AND EVER PRESENT FEAR
PIERCING METALS THROUGH WHAT WAS LEFT OF ME, THE PAIN DISTRESS DID HELL NEED THIS
I FINALLY MOVED UPON THE LEDGES, ONE BY ONE, TIME TICKED ALONG, BUT NEVER SEEMED TO MOVE IN THIS

ADVANCING PAINS CRAWLED ON TO ME , MAGGOTS AND BLOOD RIVERS FLOWED, GORE AND BONE
SHOWED THE LACK OF , ALL BUT IF YOU LOOKED TO THE SKY, A HEAVENS GATE OPENED EVERY TIME TO TAKE SOME ONE HOME.
I CRIED A DRY TEAR EVERY TIME SOMETHING FLOATED ABOVE, AND THEN REMEMBERED IT WAS NOT ME
IT WAS SOMEONE ELSE I SEE
THROBBING PAIN ENTERED MY WOUNDS AS BUGS AND WASP’S PICKED AT ME, IN FAMINE AND DISEASE
I STOOD IN A SEA OF MISERY, WITH OTHERS AS FAR AS THE EYES COULD SEE, THE DAMNED AND ME
EXPLOSIONS TO VOLCANOES AND MAGMA ERUPT TO THE SKY, BLOCKED BY ASH, WAS THE STARS
ALL WHO DARED TO LOOK WERE IN THE PAINS OF ALL THAT CHARS
I AWAITED THE END SURELY THEIR WAS ONE FOR ALL. THE TORTURE MUST BE DONE, AND EVEN SCREAMS FILLED HORRID TONE
I WAS NOTHING LEFT BUT SOUL AND BONE

HE WALKED THROUGH WITH NO HARM
THE FIRES WERE NOTHING TO HIS CHARM
SYBIL I SAID, HOW MUCH MORE
AND HE STOPPED, AND GARBED MY ARM, AND TOOK ME TO A DOOR



this is copy written, thanx you very much , but what do you peoiple think
 
It's got some things going for it: Its depth, its variety of terms, etc. It is very 'bulky'. It seems like you put a lot on it so it gets more meaning. Which is OK.

However, it's too much like a story; a descriptive. It isn't so much a work in itself than a work with its own meaning. It goes into depth to get to the meaning (which it is quite meaningful), but it has to go very far down to get to the meaning, and it's almost as if the whole poem is the framework for gently holding up your connection to the deep. I'd say let that connection fall, and write what you feel.

:D Don't take that as a criticism- I love your poetry for what it is. However, it could just have more meaning to me, the reader, if it was a little more immeadiate. In most harsh terms, it gets a little to bulky for itslef, and in effect clumsy.
 
And to Muliboy, I most humbly apologize. I really want to learn how to do that 'minianimalism' thing...maybe it's like this.

A

B

C

D

Really, No, Really, Truly
(never,never, Oh! never really for mother)
(animals, in the land, mini ones, too)
(lets' go to Disney's animal Kingdom)
(and get some monkey doo)

Is it? I feel embarrassed because I was so mean to you with the toilet comment. So, I was wondering if you would want to go to Disney's Animal Kingdom with me so we can brush up on our minianimalism. Actually, we should call it 'Mulish" after you. But, alas, a sad name for a glorious movement of poetry. Iced_Earth, why don't you give it a try?
 
well see thats prt 5 like i said , of a poem , its a epic poem, it's the must "buckly" for the topic of its self because that's the middle of the persons torment. here is part one.



Anathema

INTRO


AS HIS TIME COMES TO AN END , THE GRAINS FALL AND DRIFT
HIS BLOOD AND SOUL NOW FLOWS OUT OF HIM, HIS GIFT
ITS WATCHED, WITH HORROR OF HIS END
BUT MAN AND KNIFE ARE NOW FRIEND
HE SEES HIS LIFE ONLY HOW HE COULD PERCEIVE
WORSE THEN ANYTHING HE COULD IMAGINE OR BELIEVE
HIS TORTURED LIFE, NOW WILL FADE, DUST AND PLAGUED
HE SEES NOTHING AS HIS EYES LOSE ALL LIFE, AND RENEGED (RENOUNCE)
EVERY THING HE ONCE KNEW, FADE OUT , A EMPTY MIND
HIS THOUGHT AND THINGS, WHAT’S TO BE, WHERE TO HIDE
HERE, IN THE PLANE, WHERE THE STORY’S OF HIS HELL TAKES PLACE
IN THIS, FOREVER ETERNAL, SPACE


SYBIL (DARKNESS)

NOW MY FRIEND I’LL BE YOUR GUIDE YOUR ESCORT , THE LEAD ,
THROUGH YOUR HELLS AND TORMENT FOR YOUR DEED
YOU WILL WALK THROUGH ALL OFF THESE , NOW CAST TO DARKNESS
YOU ENTER YOUR NEW “LIFE” ETERNAL, AND WAITING FOR THIS
HELL IS MANS BROADEST OF ALL HIS TERMS
YOU WILL SEE WHY, AS YOU LEARN
THE DARK WILL TAKE AHOLD
AND LET HELL UNFOLD


DARKNESS

ALONG THE PATH OF COBBLE STONE, RED AS THE BLOOD , THAT I BLED
I SWIM IN THIS, THE DREAMS OF DEATH, NEVER AGAIN LIVE, I DWELL WITH THE DEAD
THE SKY, SET TO DARK WITH NOTHING UPON IT , NO STARS TO SHINE , JUST LONELINESS
THE STARLESS SKY REFLECTED BY THE POOLS OF BLOOD, ON THE PATH
THE NEVER ENDING REMORSE OF MY THOUGHT, NOW FACED WITH ITS AFTERMATH
THE FOREST OF DEAD STAGNANT THINGS, OVER LAPSE THE WILLOWS
AND THIS INTENSE NOTHING, IN THE PRESENCE OF ME, IN THE SHADOWS
CREEP BENEATH, NO GROUND JUST VASTNESS OF DEPTH, AND FEAR
THE SILENCE IS KILLING, DEAF TO THOUGHTS AROUND ME, NOTHING ALIVE IS NEAR
ONCE AGAIN TAKE A TURN TO WHAT’S ABOVE, NOTHING IS THE SKY
YET DARK, BUT NO STARS, NO LIGHT, NO BEAUTY TO VIE
THE GROUND WARM OF WHAT I FEEL, THE PASSING OF THE BLOOD OVER MY TOES
THE NEVER ENDING, SILENCE TAKES ME, MY MIND IS LOST IT SHOWS
WITH NO SOUND ALL I CAN HEAR IS MY SELF THINK OF THIS
THE DARK , THE ALMOST COLD FEAR ERUPTS, FROM THIS NOTHINGNESS
I’M ALONE WITH MY THOUGHTS, IN THE DARK, AS I WALK WITH THE BLOOD
IN MY MIND THE THOUGHTS THAT SCATTER, AND I CAN’T SEPARATE FROM THIS FLOOD
THOUGHTS, RABBLES, PRATTLES, I CAN’T HEAR THE STREAM
WHERE IS THE NOISE I’M CONTEMPT TO SCREAM
BUT , I CAN’T HERE MY VOICE, THE SOUND, THE ACOUSTICS, FROM THE WOODS
WHERE IS IT, YOU TAKE IT SO I’M ALONE, WITH MY SELF, TO THINK OF FALSEHOODS
AND I WALKED DOWN THIS STREAM OF BLOOD VIVID TO MY LOVE
THE ONLY THING THAT TIES ME TO LIFE
IS THAT , MY LOVE, BUT WHAT HAVE I DONE , THE HATE WILL RIFE (RISE)

THE DARKNESS IS FADING ITS FAILING, THE SKY STILL DARK BUT TURNING TO LIGHT
WHAT IS THIS AFTER A MILLION MILES IN THE RIVER OF BLOOD A NEW SIGHT?
I CAN SEE SOMETHING DIFFERENT A COLOR A HUE
AND THEN IT AGAIN, YOU!


 
Sorry about interrupting the discussion between you two;) :)
Iced_Earth, I think tht a long poem loses its meaning and power to impress. But as I myself consider on writing an epos about some ancien civilization, I better shut up:)

Here's my poem, also copyrighted
(my last poem in English writen in 2001)

[Conquest of Paradise] v2.5

Create your world in seven days,
Change your fate in seven ways.
Garden of Eden, forget about your past,
Here I come with an army in my path.

See the future the way you want,
Let nobody steal away your sun,
The temples fall and empires crush,
The gates of heaven tremble by your touch

Beat the system where all is said,
Nothing can be changed or modified,
Be a God and change the world,
Let yourself in paradise!
 
;) You sure are trying to create an epic, I just noticed the mythological references, the astronomy references. Ananthema, isn't that a Jovian sattelite? I think it might be either the little one closest to Jupiter that Gallileo missed, or one of the tiny ones scattered about behind the Gallilean ones. If it isn't I'm pathetically stupid, but either way there is a strong sense of history or meaning simply in mentioning those words.

But honestly, it's tiring. I know you said you get this a lot, that your poetry is too long, but really, you seem to be repeating things in different forms so often that it seems naive. I have to skim your poem to get the meaning because if I just read it, I'd get lost. However, maybe that's the point, and there's nothing wrong with an involved poem.

I just know from my own poetry that when I write something like a 7 page poem, it ends up sounding ridiculous; like I had something to hide so I tried to make up for it in length. Or maybe I was unsure about my own ability when I did those.

Now, however, I limit poems to one page, and it becomes routine for my brain to move on now after one page. I'm conditioned. It's better because you can more easily and effectively explore the self in a short, brief poem. You really don't get that from an epic. Glory is not derivative of length. The Vietnam War was the longest war in US history, if you catch my drift...
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top