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I don't write songs
I write entire life times
Because I've lived enough times
To know the right lines
And every girls got code
For me to know
And to type out in bold
In fold is the lyrics of her heart
Explaining her every part
and why she cries
to why her heart dies
and it's my job
to dycipher the words
of her heart...
Heheh, sorry Roog, I fell asleep and couldn't help ya. Wouldn't matter much though really, she hypnotized me long ago.
Ugh, a shot of hypnotic?My parents bought that once. It looks delicious, but it was -terrible- hehe.
Azerane and roog, please do not spam this thread by chatting, that is what msn/yahoo/aim are for
Originally posted by Kintaru
Heheh, sorry Roog, I fell asleep and couldn't help ya. Wouldn't matter much though really, she hypnotized me long ago.
hehe
^Sorry '04, yeah that kinda got outta hand.
Now it's time for some of my real poems... These two I don't really like a great deal but they're ok, the poems I really like are more personal, hehe, but these ones don't really have any meaning to me at the moment so they're not so personal, but yes... anyway, poems.
2nd August. 05 Reflection
To look in a mirror
I see life
I see me.
The mirror is crashin
My life is falling
Thousands of pieces,
Over the earth they spread.
Shards of glass
And shards of me.
Jigsaw of mirror,
Jigsaw of me.
My life is broken
Pick it up
Piece together the mirror
It is cracked
But there is still reflection,
I can still see life
And I can still see me.
11th Oct. 05 Untitled
Fingerprints on my heart
I've been abandoned
and used.
I was so clean before you came
What have I done
and how.
Meeting you felt like fate
Knowing you like life
then, death.
You tortured my soul with unloving
Discarded my trust of you
for pain.
Anguish, pain, broken inside
I love you, that's what I knew
or thought.
I though you loved me back
But then you left
not quite.
There is still your imprint on my heart
Where you clutched it, holding me
loving me.
And then there was pain
As your heart withdrew from mine
i cried.
I thought it was real
And though you did too
you did-
But lost interest in love
Was it just a game for you
i lost-
You and love all at once
Was it my fault you left
why me.
I still love you can we fix it
Please tell me it's ok
can you.
These words are all I need
But I know I won't hear them
not now.
So now my heart is lost and lonely
I suffer on my own in silence
in love.
That which you manifest is before you.
Untitled is cool...
Thanks, it does however need a title though(obviously, it's not called Untitled like that song by Simple Plan)
That which you manifest is before you.
A poem from me. I did this a while ago. I think it's retarded, but whatever.
Save Me From Myself
It?s getting harder
For me to think
To breathe
To find the reason that I?m still here
My purpose is pushing me to live
And my life is pushing me to find my purpose
But how can I find it, when I?m looking through a glass
That masks my yells and turns them into cries of happiness
There are things that will stain me for life
Which I am trying to run away from
They call me morbid
And crazy
Even funny
But I?m just scared
Scared of the world
Of people
Of me
My power is beyond what I can imagine
The looks on their faces will be just the opposite
What will they say when it takes effect
What will I do when it does?
Self-control is my weakness
Maybe that?s why it?s getting harder
To think
To breathe
And to find the reason that I?m still here?
-varietyinamillion
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
-T.S. Eliot.
S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero,
Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question...
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening.
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains.
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys.
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me.
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?'' and, "Do I dare?''
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair--
[They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!'']
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin--
[They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!'']
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all--
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all--
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ...
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep. . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet--and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all''--
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: "That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.''
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor--
And this, and so much more?--
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow, or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
"That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.''
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous--
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old... I grow old...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
---
Now that is a real poem.
Ah, wonderful poem Neph hehe, just had to read that recently in World Literature class x)
I have only tried my hand on a few poems, but I think this is the best one I have ever written. I posted it on this forum a long time ago, but I think for old time's sake I'll bring it back here. I entered this poem in a contest, but it didn't place. Oh well, I guess judges could never really understand...
Serengeti Storm
~by 2 Die FR
Listen, as I reminisce
Of cubhood times I sorely miss?
Sun stretched golden fingers bright
O?er the rolling landscape might
Grasses touched by blinding light
Yes, Son, I remember when
It was my home, as I knew it then.
Evening fell, and heavens clear
Overlaid with cloud clumps drear
Shrouded by a murky smear
Source from which the rains begot
It was the storm, though I knew it not.
With no warning we were shunt
From our nightly dinner hunt
All knew why, save one small runt
Na?ve to the danger fraught
It was the wet season, though I knew it not.
Songs of somnolent snoring deep
Stubbornly subsiding sleep
As I felt foreboding creep
Stomach taut in nervous knot
It was instinctive, though I knew it not.
Ominous odors thickly hung
Piling on the stench of dung
Hint of morbid things to come
Wafting, lurking through the den
It was a warning, though I knew not when.
Ears pricked to the pitter patter
From outside, a creepy clatter
Dropping down dense sheets of splatter
I believed not ear nor eye
It was the rain, though I knew not why.
Then a low, resounding rumble
Some behemoth lion?s grumble
Roared to make assurance tumble
Fierce intruder raised a scare
It was the thunder, though I knew not where.
From the darkness came so frightening
Flash intense, ignited, brightening
Struck a thin-streaked bolt of lightning
Gone at once but left a terror
All I knew was panicked horror.
Wailing, whimpering, weeping strong
Freed distress I?d held so long
What, oh what, was going on?
Was the world about to end?
I knew not how to comprehend?
Calming comfort cooed inside
Knowing that I could confide
I was with my caring pride
Their scent a friendly, welcome smell
It was my family, and I knew them well.
Huddled close to one another
Father, uncle, sister, brother
I aroused my resting mother
Knowing she would empathize
And give her soothing solace wise.
?Do not fear, my little child
For though the storm is fierce and wild
Filled with malice, irked and riled
Soon enough, the storm will cease
Earth restored to calm and peace.?
Thus the Serengeti flooding
Buried dormant, soaked and mudding
Grasses, trees, and flowers budding
Flourish, freed by tempest tragic?
Mystified me, Nature?s magic.
Source of sky?s obscure disguise
Dawned on me through early eyes
Though surprised, I realized
Good can come in furtive form
So I thanked the secret storm.
Licks and kisses she caressed
My tender, loving lioness
Sat I amazed how I was blessed
But I lay still without a peep
For it was nighttime, time for sleep.
Awesome poems..
Nath, that one you posted is pretty trippy, I like it...
"The Rose That Grew From Concrete" by Tupac
Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack in the concrete? Proving nature's law is wrong it learned to walk with out having feet. Funny it seems, but by keeping it's dreams, it learned to breathe fresh air. Long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else even cared.
I remember you posting that one 2 Die FR, I simply love it, you have such talentOriginally posted by 2 Die FR
I have only tried my hand on a few poems, but I think this is the best one I have ever written. I posted it on this forum a long time ago, but I think for old time's sake I'll bring it back here. I entered this poem in a contest, but it didn't place. Oh well, I guess judges could never really understand...
Serengeti Storm
~by 2 Die FR
That which you manifest is before you.
Nice poem People, Y'all are talented
here's a short one i made up just now.
For one month my life covered with darkness
But today i just realize,
That i haven't pay pay my electric bills.
:woeisme:
It took you a month to realize you hadn't paid your electric bill?Hilarious...
Midday of darkness - Zack
I see a picture on the wall,
I see a dark cloud outside,
I see my old life in the picture,
That startles me,
I was thinking that i would never see a light shine down on me,
A voice under my bed telling me that i will never escape,
And I pray to god that don't let me losing my anger,
In my dream someone told me that i should take it slow in life,
It's still raining outside,
It's still raining inside me,
I know that there's no shine in this world,
I know that there's no light in my heart,
I try to follow people's footsteps,
And I heard a voice saying that I should make my own footstep,
I try to ignore the voice that disturbs me,
But now I know that voice was trying to lend a hand to save me,
i have a poem...but its rather dark depresing and sad...dont really know if i shuld share it....its very emotenal...
That's quite a good poem Guntur, I really like it. You've done well to write it considering English is your second language too.
Don't worry if your poem is dark and depressing Shadow, I have a lot of poems like that too, but don't feel pressured to show it either, if it's personal and you don't want to share it, then don't.
That which you manifest is before you.
Well Azzy, a little help from someone for correction.
I just read it...That's a cool poem, Zack dude...Awesome!..Originally posted by Fendi
Well Azzy, a little help from someone for correction.
Did you want me to check for mistakes....? if so....Originally posted by Fendi
Well Azzy, a little help from someone for correction.
Midday of darkness - Zack
I see a picture on the wall,
I see a dark cloud outside,
I see my old life in the picture,
That startles me,
I was thinking that I would never see a light shine down on me,
A voice under my bed telling me that I will never escape,
And I pray to god that I don't let myself lose my temper,
In my dream someone told me that I should take it slow in life,
It's still raining outside,
It's still raining inside me,
I know that there's no shine in this world, (not sure what you mean by 'shine'... maybe 'glow' instead)
I know that there's no light in my heart,
I try to follow people's footsteps,
And I heard a voice saying that I should make my own footsteps,
I try to ignore the voice that disturbs me,
But now I know that voice was trying to lend a hand to save me,
Well overall it was very well done with hardly any things to chance, there was one or two things... but yes... anyone else want to give it a go to sort of check what I changed?
That which you manifest is before you.
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