Members Poetry and Writing

The current political climate has me especially brooding and dark....

Borne of the carefully cultivated fields of divisiveness
windswept seeds of contempt find purchase and root
waiting
patiently
for next season's inevitable harvest.

 

Very good and apt. We need to see Larset's poetry again too - he was the first poet on this forum.

 

Yes, one here.

Sen sei, hope you can return to share more of your nice haiku with us.

In response to your haiku, here is my amateurish work:


Time to ride on the wind;

Catch it in your last breath,

And lo, gone with the wind!

 

Here is a little "poem" of mine about the Snowden affair. Valuable opinion and constructive criticism are welcome from any netizen:


No cage bound,
No turning back
For a bird out of the cage.

No pardon,
No second chance
For a runaway national Thanksgiving turkey.

No patting a kitten on the lap,
No petting a phoenix in a palace
For anyone stepping out of line.


Edward Snowden flatly denies Chinese spy claims
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2013/jun/17/edward-snowden-rubbishes-chinese-spy

Obama Pardons Cobbler the Turkey for Thanksgiving
http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/OTUS...s-turkey-named/story?id=17767432#.Ub_4rOczPOU

President Obama Pardons Cobbler, the National Thanksgiving Turkey
http://www.whitehouse.gov/blog/2012...-pardons-cobbler-national-thanksgiving-turkey

 

My poetry is so bad.
It makes me ever so sad.


.....Yeah that's as good as it gets. I can't write poetry to save my life. =(

 

Your poetry is so good.
It makes me feel like a hungry man asking for more food.

 

lol =P

 

llc = JJ

 

Here is my improved version of a previous "poem" of mine on this thread:

A bird out of the cage
Flocks together with birds of a feather
On the path of no return.

A runaway national Thanksgiving turkey
Keeps its toes crossed
Without hope of pardon and second chance.

A cat out of the bag
Defecates all over the place,
Leaving such a mess behind.

A lad with a whistle
Lands in very hot water
After blowing the pants off his master.

 

Here is something I wrote a while back (actually a song my band plays):

"Start a Revolution"

Stop your fckin b!tching, start a revolution
Free people are unbowed
Stop your fckin b!tching, start a revolution
Our Forefathers would be proud

Evil laws, freedom rots
Endless wars, all for what?

No! We won't obey like slaves
While heroes turn in their graves
No more, we will fight
To restore our stolen rights

Organize the Chaos, Mastermind the Mayhem
This ain't no halfassed plan
Stop your fckin b!tching, start a revolution
Stand up and be a man

Stop your fckin b!tching, start a revolution
In every single town
Start a revolution, stop your fckin b!tching
We're taking these mother fckers down

Use your eyes, you will see
You must fight to be free

 

It’s definitely better than my amateurish poems.

Hope to see more songs and poems from you and other professional song-writers and poets. Keep up with your good work!

P.S. How about posting a video of your band playing the song?

 

Written for my wife while we were still dating:

FLOWER

You put flowers in your hair
Soft petals made brittle by your cheeks
Bleeding fragrance to the air
Dull sweetness lost in your scent
You put flowers in your hair
Wiled beauty in red by those lips
As if something to compare
No taste of nectar from its leaf
You put flowers in your hair
But they only pale in my minds light
It just seems so unfair
Fading colors with your smile

You put flowers in your hair
But I can't see them anymore

 

So what would have happened if Blue Oyster Cult had lived under the Nazi regime? Maybe something like this...

Burn all the gays,
Burn all the *****.
I can't see no reason to put up with dykes.
And I'm livin for givin the fuhror his view.
And I'm burnin, I'm burnin, I'm burnin a Jew...


Or what if The Youngbloods were waiting for thier food in a drive-thru for 30 minutes?


Come one, people now.
Get moving faster
Gotta get your sh!t together
Get to work, motherfckers
Right now.

 

Dayum....that not only sucks as poetry, it delves into the disgusting mind behind it.

seek therapy.

 

Lol. Thanks.

 

With sounding o' the drums
came a roaring o' the guns
and the brave died to a man
while the cowards turned and ran.

An' the ground it was all gory
with those who died for futile glory.

Ah where lies the glory in a death
died by many in one breath
in a cacophony of sound
and for reward not e'en a fun'ral mound.

 

He rode. He knew where the battle would take place he only had to get there while it yet went on without killing his horse, the queen was rescued and now to see to her husband, his leige lord.

Ere long he heard the sounds of battle in the distance but to his all to experienced ear it was a sound of a battle ebbing not of one at crescendo or commencing. And so he spurred his horse in order to pick up his pace. Then the noise ceased and he slowed his horse no point in killing the animal or riding headlong into an ambush himself for the battle was now decided for good or for ill. If the King were alive then he could tell him where his queen had been hidden, if dead then he had work to do.

If the king was alive then once the Queen was restored to her husband he would retire to his father's castle lest the love that lay between he and the queen prove to great a temptation to them both and they dishonor the King whom they both loved and who loved them both as well.

If the king was dead then it would be up to him to visit justice upon the king's murderers. In neither case would he ever see the queen again, for the king he would not dishonor while he yet lived, he would not dishonor in death either. And he knew the queen would feel just as he himself did.

It was sad and strange he thought. But how could he not love her? She was everything a knight's lady ought to be and more for she had the temperment and wisdom to be queen as well, and how could she not love him for he was according to everyone else, but never himself at least aloud everything a knight of the table round should be. And he was acknowledged by all the best of them not because he was the biggest and strongest but because he was the most creative. He had been named the kings Justicier not because the king wished always to win but because the king wanted to end the barbarity of trial by combat for none dared face him in the arena of justice.

(Perhaps to be continued...)

 

There once was a man named Aaron Alexis
Who was born and raised in Fort Worth, Texas
He took his gun for a walk one day,
Went to his old wokplace and fired away.
In a few hours 13 were dead.
Others got shot and bled.
Was he a terrorist or just really bad?
Was he insane or just really mad?
What bother me most (God forgive me for this)
Is that his name was Aaron Alexis.
Will Bartholomew Baton feel the need to kill more?
Will Christopher Coffin seek a higher score?
The Alphabet Assassins I don't want to see
Even if it were only an r-rated movie.
Please don't let it happen. It would be a shame
If we got 25 more killers because of his name.

 

The encounter is now just a blur
What are you going to do?
Deny what you know?
It's starting to grow.
The choice to abort or endure.

The harder the times are ahead
The easier it's better off dead
That's how her reasoning goes
When faced with this fear
Do loved ones draw near?
Or does she see them as foes?

Random thoughts.

Rough outline.

 

Its very good. Thought provoking and honest. Thank you.

 

There once was a lady called bright.
Who could travel much faster than light.
She took off one day on her relative way.
And was arrested the previous night!

 

One evening she ever will treasure
a night of passionate joy
feelings no moment can measure
a blur of life in action

One morning of loving delight
dreaming a girl, or a boy
following afternoon fright
sleepless the night lived in traction

Decisions of tortured pain
of what she wished to destroy
regret and expected disdain
yet comparative merely a fraction

A future of hating herself
self preservation employed
placing self loathing on shelf
A monster she sees in her caption

Yet knowing the results of inaction.

 

When I actually campaigned for public office I had hoped that my primary writing could be translated into Spanish and be of some use to my former English as a second language students at Universidad Technologica de Israel de Quito!

www.bankingsystemsflaws.blogspot.ca/

 

Tecoyah.... do you mind if I ask if this is about a girl who used a car to attempt suicide perhaps during the pressures and depression that can come with being pregnant?

 

It is a poem....you are left to interpret it as you choose.

The impetus however, was derived in contemplation of this: