Poetry Arena

Bicycle Seats and Almonds...

Please don't think I'm sick, folks. I'm not really...It's all just a guise:



Bicycle Seats & Almonds


I happily prance through the radish patch
And gratefully gallop through greens,
Predaciously prowl through persimmons
And notice the new nectarines.

I willfully waltz through the willows
I kneel in the reeds and the breeze,
I laugh on the lake with the lilies
And wake with an awful disease.

A pink pirouette through the pea-patch
A turn through the trim tangerines,
A dainty descent through the daisies
I perch while the peacock preens.

We shuffle through fresh-fallen autumn
And rest with the gold winter-wheats,
We call to the walnut and almond
And sniff babys' bicycle seats.
 
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;) Hey Yoga- exactly what were you sniffing on those baby bicycle seats? That's great though- your style is very traditional yet also very eccentric, I think. Lots of reference to knowledge (the plants and such) is very cool in a poem.
 
welp im new to the forum i thought this would be a good place to make my mark.

lost in darkness,
a never ending void,
you reach for me,
pulling me out of my loveless void,
to imbrace in eternal light,
 
AND ANOTHER



I languish near a sunlit pool and smell the fresh cut grass.
The sun is strong and filtered thru the biggest, whitest clouds.
Shadows are cast over patchwork fields that run for miles screaming rape.
It's the end of the summer, the end of the week.
The end of you and me and that should never be.
I watch you swim, bounce fractal stars of sunlight off your back.
You say, "There's just no magic anymore"
And in a flash, you disappear.
Like the sun. LIke the summer.
Like the smell of fresh cut grass.
A brief and brilliant high of life... Faded.
 
(the laughs of a teenager [not me] on drugs) huh huhhahuh

Scifikiller join us under scifi! Welcome to sciforums (the sci is for science fiction)!

There's a comma at the end of your poem sfkiller, is there more that you didn't paste or type? (BTW I was kidding about that sci thing)

bbcboy-heavy...

Maybe I'll write something later, I'm at school now, and its 12:05, so if by chance you want to figure out the time differential to your location then by all means PROCEED!
 
hunter

i was ready for this
i've done this thousand times in my mind
i noticed the bird watching me
not trying to fly away
and before i pulled the trigger
the bird sang, "shoot me first".
 
one i wrote today hope u like it

Laying in waiting,
Watching and Growing,
Delaying till the time is right,
it's coming,
the stars will cry,
she will cry,
and i will sit in my glass house
 
Here follows an exerpt from my story:

Across this bridge you find relief!
Hurry; hurry, for it must be brief!
For if not then glance at the sun once more,
It will be the last time you see its lore!
In the tunnel of Evermore.

In this realm only one other lurks!
In darkness, as he watches, he will smirk!
Take your goods as well as care
If you do not flee you will despair
In Evermore, where your hackles tear

So turn back now unless stomachs and mouths are parched
If the latter then take great risk as you march!
Descend into the depths, into the catacombs
As you do it will be time to say goodbye
To loving wives and sand smoothed homes.

You can also view parts of the story under the 'writers' thread if you're interested. An exerpt is at the bottom of the last page.
 
to immortals

balance your life with death
but do not die.
let others take care of dying,
and yourself only cry.
 
native

this island of mine,
was not made for me,
but i was here first,
and that they just cannot see.
 
snowflakes

here comes the snowflakes
and wonderful, calming show
first flake has a message:
"we're going to bury you in snow."
 


KEPT OR BROKEN.

So called because the last word will be 'kept' or 'broken' depending on how ya feel. :)


Crying strangers crawl on hands and knees to greet me.
They crawl, encumbered.
Weighed down by a life which no longer owns them.
They are welcome here. I expose them.
Dillying and dallying in the depths of dark, desparaging promises

Broken.

They call on me in the name of a love that's lost or has the chance to be.
Secular, insular, draculas' who cannot thrive in daylight.
They hold out their Achilles heel and grit their teeth in fear.
Fear of unknown quantities.
Fear of exposed fantasies and
Fear of all those histories which are best left alone.

Come to me Achilles
Let me stroke you for a while, I'll not harm you.
Promise.
Promise.
Broken.

Will you share your soul with me?
Or simply spread your hole for me?
Will you share your life, your dreams, your bastardised soliloquy?

Stay with me and let me warm the limpets of your heart.
Let me smother you with charm and grace, ne'er look upon anothers face.
And let me make you promises we'll never be apart.
We'll never stray to smell the scent of others fair predicament.
You'll never cry or hate again.
You'll never scream to have explained your life and all its facets plain
You'll never walk alone.
Promise
Promise
Promise
.....:rolleyes:
 
Forefinger (he’s asleep, good slip under his door crack and put the presents on his head.)
me
in between grinding stone
of you
talk (he seemed…well...normal to I
so
come (oh, oh!...he was pressured.
toy- (well, sorry. I didn't know how painful …..dreaming (could be


Fleming Angustis tore open his package
Gerlad unflew his evacuation down to a point, grittled into his head. Now he rests.

My appearance next to you is uncustomary
My flying abhorrence at you is not right; I must stop it.
We have a method of empathy that works down to any point; that it succeeds
In loving two humans together-ether.

Your comfort in spirit is torn between you and your existence, and your location-
As if Gerald could be ‘just a little mouse’- in inspiring and awe
Your crags and shores and caves and thrush-downs are in a slow swirl of dramatis
Inside illusion is the key to your eyes.

Drowning in non-pain yet flowing towards numbness,
You feel a soft lad calling, calling, calling, (so quietly)
How is it, right now, in dangerous days-
The Walt Whitmans have gone and the Michael Jacksons have stayed?

We re-ask together, in non-lotus we sit folded under
Talking down a gale-heather,
Talking of no things and all things we must carry.
“Pont” I speak the words. “Pont” the nonsense is a
fountainnous well of true sinners
Mountainous in an angle that reaches and unpins her so
Delicate for you and never

No for me to speak
No for the watercress, yearning for Vanguard, so no no no! for lettuce and water flown under my belt to my core of stomach no food for the wicked no fire for the cold and please just unzip us from life’s so bold! You are ok for me, we go good together. A feather, a faerie a belt in fine weather. A rabbit was trouncing in a bit of Clean Air Act of 1990, so re-elect her to post her opinions dear Merriweather. A sigh! A sigh! And have you even yet unlocked my eye?

(well, poor Gerald, confusion is over)
(the grip on the confused is falling fast over.)
To my right is a sunshine of enormous depth- miraculously, I am not swallowed.
 
WHAT?

Hey Congrats,
If you're not a fan of Tori Amos already I think you should be.

Here's an example of her lyrics.


Tuna, rubber, a little blubber in my igloo.
and I knew you, pigtails and all
Girls when they call
And they said Marriane killed herself, and I said
Not a chance.
Not a chance.

or


Hello Mr Zebra,
Can I have your sweater
cos it's cold, cold, cold
in my hole, hole hole.
Ratatouille strichnine
sometimes she's a friend of mine
with a gigantic whirlpool
that will blow your mind

Maybe it's just me but I see a basic similarity here. And for the life of me I can't find a meaning in what you just wrote.

No bad thing. That's the beauty of poetry. It's personal and it doesn't need to make sense to anyone but you.


Create on:cool:
Respec'
 
I believe now we should all take a brief brake and critique one another's poetry.

varkas-The first two are great, especially the second, however I think that the last line of the third had too many syllables to fit in with your meter (I may be a hypocrite).

bbcboy-Excellent organization, use of language though is extremely good in some areas and normal in others. Repeated sentences are great.

congrats-
faerie
Click to expand...
(laughs again like a teenager on drugs)

Just kidding. Great stuff, juxtopositions are everywhere (a good thing!!).
 
Great stuff, people. Shoot! I haven't written anything lately. Maybe I can pull out some old stuff.
 
All you need is...

...love
I gaze into your eyes
glassy water wriggling
Will not forget, not even after I die
Your mouth grins-giggling

...art
The world intensifies
thine eyes stinging, watering
its beauty could never fall, lie
never cease gathering

...literature
The library is gone, I am here
wandering with you and your friends
Fleeing the Nazgul, their hooves and shrieks
The book closes, and I am back in my pen
of reality.

...conclusions
What would life be without fantasy?
Harsh realities dampen our futures and hopes
Jumbles of letters give birth to new ones
For better or for worse,
all that matters
is that they are different, and you need not worry.
You are only a watcher.

I look upon you all and see imaginations in need of kindling.
 
Thank You, bbcboy, I don't have any cd's by Tori Amos but am always considering buying them when I go to Borders. They tend to be dropped off with Kate Bush at predetermined scattered places, in an attempt to find them and buy them another day.

"Faeries" For you, dear sweet Pollux...
Someone found three boxes of wood.
Someone found three papery faeries in them, made of wood.
Sliced.
Someone, who was me, happened to be inside that box.
Someone’s father was outside.
Someone spoke to the sullen, elderly faeries.
Someone wondered at the brightness of their hair. They were old.

Someone was dancing on the path back to the home.
Three stones, in a quartet,
Stood to the left of my right foot.
Just slightly further back from three feet ahead of his gait,
Someone saw the brightness of the stone. Dull rock old rock stones in his eyes.

To his shoulder, he peeps.
Three cubes are looming on the edge of a great field.
His first encounter with was to be friendly with him,
Someone was blinded by brightness.
;) ;) ;)

This is the last one but edited for comprehension value.

Nakedness of the Confused

“Caves, in mice of humans and Gerald is confused. Modern Day Man is a confusing beast- he breathes in sweet unison, digresses on horrific opinions. If Gerald and his lover were a mouse they would be two as one in a hole and never be exposed to what makes us a monstrosity of confused convection ‘swirling’ up into the eyes of God and Allah.”

My appearance next to you is uncustomary
My flying abhorrence at you is not right; I must stop it.
We have a method of empathy that works down to any point,
That it succeeds with virulence
In loving two humans together (ether, an ether, he grabs a cloth)

Your comfort in spirit is torn between you and your existence, and your -location-
As if Gerald could be ‘just a little mouse’- in inspiring and awe
Your crags and shores and caves and thrush-downs are in a slow swirl of –dramatis-
Inside illusion is the key to your eyes.

Drowning in non-pain yet flowing towards numbness,
You feel a soft lad calling, calling, calling, (so quietly)
How is it, right now, in these dangerous days-
The Walt Whitmans have gone and the Michael Jacksons have stayed?

We re-ask together, in non-lotus we sit folded under
Talking down a gale-heather,
Talking of no things and all things we must carry.
Thinking of those we must keep unassumed


“Not for me to speak
Not for the watercress, yearning for Vanguard, so no no no!
For lettuce and water flown under my belt to my core of stomach.”

“No food for the wicked,
No fire for the cold, and please: just unzip us from life so bold!”
You are ok for me, we go good together.

“A feather, a faerie a belt in fine weather.”
Rabbit was trouncing in a bit of Clean Air Act of 1990,
Re-elect her to post her opinions, dear Merriweather. A sigh! A sigh! And have you even yet unlocked my eye?
(Well, poor Gerald, confusion is over)
(The grip on the confused is falling fast over.)

To my right is a sunshine of enormous depth-
Miraculously, I am not swallowed.
It is us ?
 
This is all old crap I wrote when I was an annoyingly angsty teenager.

--------------------

Forgotten heroes in unmarked graves
Seasons weathered in mismatched grace and destruction
Ambient lies create new truths, new reality
A new apocolypse diverts momentary, travelling, and unwanted attenion
Forgotten heroes in unmarked graves
Seaons weathered in mismatched grace and destruction

--------------------

Momentary, savage bliss
A thousand eyes, a thousand lies
Given freedom thrown down once again
Too many hours wasted
How many times, how many ways
To live life in confusion and haze

--------------------

The sky under freedom's banner rains with pale stale blood
Given by slaves forced to believe in their own freedom
Mutineers on a ship in a bottle

--------------------

The Sleeping Gang
We're going to get you if you leave us alone.
Are you sure we're so passive and indifferent?
One eye open.
My dreams rule the world.

--------------------

Well, those are the least angsty and objectionable bits of fluff I wrote while drinking far too much and being miserable about things.
 
thank you pollux v. english is not my native language (big surprise).
for every post i make, i have to think it in MY language first and then think a way i could translate it to english. it's very frustrating when you just can't find the right words.

your poems are great, i read a lot of yeats and poe, and these(yours) seem just as official to me as those. :)

ps. same goes to everyone here. so much talent in here.
(does this make any sense to you?) :)


edit: don't ask....:D
 
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