poetry


NrrdGrrl! Discussion Forum: Just Plain Talk: poetry
By Shampoo on Thursday, May 21, 1998 - 09:00 pm:

I like it, I love reading it and I love analysing it. Here's my all time favourite:

Invictus

William Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

I just love that one. Anywayz, I've got an english project due monday where I have to find 10 poems on a certain theme. I picked "courage/never giving up", and I DESPERATELY NEED POEMS!! If anyone knows of a really good intelligent poem on this theme, can you PLEASE PLEASE tell me the name and the author? I'm in trouble here!


By Ickygrrlgerms on Friday, May 22, 1998 - 11:53 pm:

i dunno whether or not this fits this particular theme or not but i suppose it depends on how you analysis things..no ones going to have the same opinion and so on as you..and vice versa. I had to do a ap. assignment on any female american poet at the time i was on a dickinson kick and chose emily dickinson...anyhow...some of her poems maybe like the one to follow can be worked/rearranged or whatnot to fit the theme your looking for.

-A Dying Tiger-Moaned For Drink-

A dying tiger-moaned for Drink-
I hunted all the Sand-
I caught the Dripping of a Rock
And bore it in my Hand-

His Mighty Balls-in death were thick
But searching-I could see
A vision on the Retina
Of Water-and of me-

'Twas not my blame-who sped to slow
Twas not his blame-who died
While I was reaching for him-
But 'twas the fact that He was dead.

:emily dickinson:


I worked that into her realtionship between herself and her father..and how they rarely show much affection...but i suppose you could use the tiger as not fearing death now as much because now there was somebody there..somebody paying attention to him (the attention could be his moaning for a drink) and now that he has someone there he could face death with "courage" or whatever..maybe you can't switch this poem around..maybe you can't...its worth a try i suppose...


By SOiled princess on Saturday, May 23, 1998 - 12:41 am:

courage/never giving up...i've never really looked for in most poems ive read..probably because most of what i read some would consider dreary and dragged out doused suicide notes from unknown well aged faces. but i guess these two by dylan thomas might be of some help..if not i can always say that i tried...hmm..yea..anyway...

--------------------------------------------------
And Death Shall Have No Dominion


And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.


dylan thomas
--------------------------------------------------


Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night


Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

dylan thomas


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

how you read into them is up to yourself so having this fit your choice of topic you may find simple orhard...i gues it depends on much you like and try to understand actually what their trying to say...





By Laurel on Saturday, May 23, 1998 - 08:10 pm:

I think this poem is about courage and strength. It's called Prayers of Steel by Carl Sandburg.

Lay me on an anvil, Oh God.
Beat me and hammer me into a crowbar.
Let me pry loose old walls.
Let me lift and loosen old foundations.

Lay me on an anvil, Oh God.
Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
Drive me into the girders that hold a skyscraper together.
Take red-hot rivets and fasten me into the central girders.
Let me be the great nail holding a skyscraper through blue nights into white stars.

He's my favourite poet.


By Ickygrrlgerms on Sunday, May 24, 1998 - 01:39 am:

hmm..i kept thinking on some other poems/poets that would fit your theme..and i remembered i had a copy of chicken soup for the teenage soul and i knew that their had to be something in it that just might fit the theme.. the ones ive come up with im almost posetive can be worked up into courage or never giving up.

---if---

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look to good, nor talk to wise.

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master;
If you can think--and not make thought your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stopp and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on where there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kinfs--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--You'll be a Man, my son!

by: Rudyard Kipling

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

---The Girl Next Door---

Do you remember
Many years ago
When we were young,
How we used to play together
Every day?

It seems like yesterday--
The childhood world
Of clowns and cotton candy
And summer days
That never seemed to end
When we played hide'n'seek
From four o'clock til dusk
Then sat outside on someone's stoop
And listened to the crikets
And slapped away mosquitoes
And talked about our dreams
And what we'd do when we grew up
Until our mothers called us in.

And do you remember
That one winter when it snowed
For days and days on end
And we tried to build an igloo
Like the Eskimos?
Or when we made a game
Of raking the leaces
All up and down the street
Until we'd made the biggest pile
The world had ever seen
And then we jumped in it?
Or how about the time
We father honeysuckle
From you yard
And sold it to the neighbours?
And the grand day when finally
The training wheels came off our bikes
And we were free
To explore the world
In an afternoon
So long as we stayed
On our own street.

But those days passed by furtively
And we grew up, as children do
Until we reached a day when we
Assumed that we were to grown up
To play amid the trees on summer nights...
And when i see you now
You've changed in ways I acn't explain
You're like a rose that blooms before its time
And falls victim to
The Febuary frost.

Because the waist on your jeans is getting tight
Symbolic of a youth that's not your own
And your face is pale and green--
You don't look well.
I see youscowling at the street
From the window in your room,
It's so rare to see you smiling anymore.
And when a car pulls up outside
You run downstairs and out the door
With a suitcase in each hand
And the car speeds away
And the girl next door is gone.

And I long once more
For the summer days
When I stood on your porch
And banged on your door
And bade you come outside to greet
The afternoon's adventures.

Won't you come out to play, once more?
For we are still so young...

by: amanda dykstra

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

---The Oyster---

There once was an oyster
whose story i tell
who found that some sand
had gotten into his shell
it was only a grain
but it gave him great pain
for oysters have feelings
although they're so plain.

now, did he berate
the harsh workings of fate
that had brought him
to such a deplorable state?
did he curse at the government
cry for election
and claim that the sea should
have given him protection

no--he said to himself
as he lay on a shell
since i cannot remove it
i shall try to improve it.
now the years have rolled around
as the years always do
and he came to his ultimate
destiny--stew.

and the small grain of sand
that bothered him so
was beautiful pearl
all richly aglow
now the tale has a moral
what an oyster can do
with a morsel of sand?

what couldn't we do
if we'd only begin
with some of the things
that get under our skin

unknown author

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

--the leader--

If only they knew how hard it is for me
im turning 16, the world i begin to see.
my friends began to change, right before my eyes
and now they seem to laugh, and tell all sorts of lies.
they hang around together in groups of three or four
the language they use..isn't gentle anymore
the kids that seem most lonely wind up in their pack
and those that stand alone, they talk behind their back.
somehow i feel rejected because i dont conform
those that step to their own beat dont seem to be the norm.
ive watched just a few fade away, with drugs and alcohol
and many more have given up too many to recall
alcohol is an option for everyone in my school
i've lost a friend to booze again, i will not be a fool.
and sex, it seems so open, for everyone to explore.
three girls i know that came to school dont come here anymore.

if only i could make a difference, what could i say or do?
i would go to school and try my best each and everyday.
there is one thing i'd like to do before i graduate
id like to touch them one by one before its too late.

by: tony overman

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

--after awhile--

after awhile you learn that subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn that love doesn't mean leaning and
company doesn't mean security
and you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
and presents are promises
and you begin to accept your defeats with your head
up and your eyes open with the grace of an adult, not the grief of a child
and you learn to build all your roads on today
because tomorrows grounds is to uncertain for plans
after a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much
so plant your garden and decorate your own sould, instead of waiting for someone else to bring you flowers.
and you leanr that you really can endure..
that you really are strong
and you really do have worth.

by: veroncia a. shoffstall

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

well..i dunno if any of these poems/poets are gunna be any help to you or not...but it was worth a try..i suppose..i'd look for more but i've a write up on hamlet's feinging madness and ophelias bizarre love...oh well



ickygrrlgerms


By Ickygrrlgerms on Sunday, May 24, 1998 - 02:53 am:

well..i did find two more that i thought might work...so..umm..yea...

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

--Growing--

I'm leaving now to slay the foe-
Fight the battles, high and low
I'm leaving, Mother, hear me go!
Please wish me luck today.

I've grown my wings, I want to fly,
Seize my victories where they lie.
I'm going, Mother, but please don't cry--
Just let me find my way.

I want to see and touch and hear,
Though there are dangers, there are fears
I'll smile my smiles and dry my tears-
Please let me speak my say.

I'm off to find my world, my dreams,
Crave my niche, sew my seams,
Remember, as i sail my streams-
I'll love you, all the way.

by:brooke mueller

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

--any day now--

any day now
its going to start
my real life
and any day now
everythings going to be all right
any day now
lifes going to get real good
and somehow life will be like i said it would

any day now
mark my word
any day now
i will be heard
any day now
my ship will finally come in

any day now
i'm going to jump right in
and any day now
my destiny will begin
and until then
i'll just be here
wasting my time
but don't you worry
i'll be just fine

any day now
mark my word
any day now
i will be heard
any day now
my ship will finally come in
any day now

by: bif


By Helly on Thursday, May 28, 1998 - 04:30 pm:

doh! Poetry is the part of my english course that really makes me want to start on the head of dep. with a knife. I don't get any of it at all, and most the deep meaning part goes 'woosh' over the top of my head. I like a poem that makes you laugh thoug, so here's my addition to this great collection of literiture:
Macintosh apple has rosey red cheeks,
Romaine lettuce turns green when she speaks
Cherry tomatoe has goregous red hair,
And i'm mashed potatoe and i fall down the stairs......


By Shampoo on Thursday, May 28, 1998 - 08:09 pm:

Helly - interpreting poetry isn't all that hard. just look for the hidden meaning or lesson or statement in it. there's no such thing as a wrong answer. you can find meaning in anything. for example, the poem you told us, it kind of reminds me of like, the person who wrote it felt inadequete around a whole bunch of people who he felt were special for their own reasons, but that he (or she) didn't feel like anything better then mush. of course, you don't have to think of it that way, you can just enjoy the words and how they make you laugh. that's what poetry is all about, and when you find a great poem you can relate to, it makes it even better. The poem "Invictus", (the very first one in this collection of great ones) is my favourite because it represents me and how I view the world and what society and my culture wants me to do. around three years ago when i found that poem, i was getting into these HUGE fights with my dad, so I took the poem as kind of a symbolic meaning.

the person in the poem underwent a lot of persecution, but he never gave in. they took so much away from him, but there was one thing they couldn't - he controls who he is. "i am the master of my fate, i am the captain of my soul". he's not gonna let anyone push him around! and that's what i'm gonna do, too. "my head is bloody, but unbowed". I control my own life, and i'm not going to let anyone else tell me what's right or wrong.

ANYWAYS, sorry about being so um... passionate about stuff. I just really love that poem. another favourite of mine is "the raven", by edgar allen poe, but it's too long to put up here. go and find it, though, it'll make you feel all tingly, the rhyme scheme and rhythm are just so awesome.

-shampoo


By Ickygrrlgerms or m a n d y on Friday, May 29, 1998 - 01:44 am:

edgar allen poe's writting is superb..and whatnot...since i saw an episode of the simpsons a long ways back possiably 4-5 years when they chose "the raven" to be in their halloween speacial i kinda of got hooked on him..which is pretty easy because my boyfriend's only got two faavourite authors that he'll talk to me about one being Poe and the other wrote Lord Valentine's Castle whose name i can not for the life of me remember. the rhyme scheme is what kept me reading..i could read it six times in a row and still want to read it again.

The raven is one of my favoruites by him too..but his writtings about dreams are pretty strange too...which makes them better. On my ap.lit exam the other day we asked for the final question whether or not the most important part in literature is "did you enjoy the selction"? even with the "unfortunate dissection of genius and artwork." i answered it as being indifferent. I agreed with both sides without the help of dissection on some things i'm left blank without having a clue as to what the person was trying to say, yet there's somethings i'd rather leave be and read on my own and let my imagination come up with some fantastical interpretation..wuh...anyhow thats a long ways off track...edgar allen poe is klimatic! the short stories and whatnot by him are also quite good...the tell-tale heart being not only one of the most heard of but another of my personal favourites.

hmm..rarely do i ever talk about literature or plain ol'reading...no one around here has much time for anything else but sleep ,eat, go out, play in some going no where band, etc. quite a change...dog what a ramble...


By Anonymous on Friday, May 29, 1998 - 11:31 am:

so laurel you have read the chicken soup for the teenage soul ?its good!


By Laurel on Friday, May 29, 1998 - 03:23 pm:

I read the Original Chicken Soup for the Soul because I gave it to someone for a Christmas present. But I haven't read the teenage one. Why?


By Ickygrrlgerms on Sunday, May 31, 1998 - 12:21 am:

anon.
i was the one who had mentioned the chicken soup for the teenage soul..a friend of mine lent it to me after she had read some poem about someone comparing their protective side to a paintbrush..which struct me as peculiar..but it was amazing so i wanted to read more. but when i read the book it wasn't as good as i had anticipated it to be...some parts were..but others were just nothing. maybe i didn't read enough into them or maybe i didn't take enough out of it or related to them in the right way. to me it seemd perfect for someone around the ages 12-14..but nothing for me. honestly.

Perfume by Patrick Suskind is quite the book. if you've ever been infactuated with Nirvana and the infamous Kurt Cobain then you'd know what book I'm speaking about because Scentless Aprentice is supposedly based on it, or so he said. But i don't get it though because grenouille wasn't a apprentice for long...but the book is great. i've read uncountable times...but its something that i can keep going back to. its like a tv movie thats really great and your afraid that if you put it down something will happen..because you can't put it on pause...this book gets your imagination working like that..or it did with mine....

anyhow..hmm..being a bother im going to see what folks round here think about this
http://www.geocities.com/SunsetStrip/Underground/5844/dollymetamorphosis.html

its a play/script that i've to write to make into an independant film in july and i just wanted to know what other folks thought about it because people i know give your typical answers "oh, thats wonderful! you have great talent!" duh! i know i have talent but did you understand it...whats shitty about it...thats the kind of stuff i seem to get from people who don't know me..they tell me the truth...which is weird when you think about it...you'd think that the people who knew you the best would tell you the truth and those who knew you less would lie because they wanted to make the ever lasting good impression..i dunno..well..thats all i wanted...such a pest


By Shampoo on Sunday, May 31, 1998 - 03:40 am:

Ickygrrlgerms, you're talented. I haven't read the thingy yet, and i will tomorrow, but you're talented. You are. That's all I hafta say.


By BlueEyes on Saturday, June 20, 1998 - 05:29 pm:

I really enjoy reading and writing poems...its a great way to give other people a glimpse into the writer's very Soul. Therefore, I'd like to share a poem I wrote, and I think it sums up what this Discussion Forum is all about..."WORDS." (Without them how can we truly share our thoughts, ideas, Dreams?)

"The Gift"

From the dark shadowy vacuum GOD did speak,

which caused the non-moving void to stir,

a universe of living lights with endless boundaries made -

for Man's (means Mankind) home the Earth,

and within every man's mind, heart, and soul did implant -

the power of Life and Death,

that man should live by what he/she speaks,

bestow upon him/her WORDS.

by David L. Davis - Autumn '91



By Olivia on Tuesday, June 23, 1998 - 08:48 pm:

Calling all nrrdgrrls! Check out the poetry of Marge Piercy--I don't think she's considered classic or anything (she's too new!), but there are so few women in poetry and Ms. Piercy has some wonderful things to say. My favorite:

"This girlchild was born as usual
and presented dolls that did pee-pee
and miniature GE stoves and irons
and wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy.
Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said:
You have a great big nose and fat legs.

She was healthy, tested intelligent,
possessed strong arms and back,
abundant sexual drive and manual dexterity.
She went to and fro apologizing.
Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs.

She was advised to play coy,
exhorted to come on hearty,
exercise, diet, smile and wheedle.
Her good nature wore out
like a fan belt.

So she cut off her nose and her legs
and offered them up.
In the casket displayed on satin she lay
with the undertaker's cosmetics painted on,
a turned-up putty nose,
dressed in a pink and white nightie.
Doesn't she look pretty? everyone said.
Consummation at last.
To every woman a happy ending."

Pretty powerful, huh? More great poetry by a woman--Adrienne Rich--try the collection "An Atlas of the Difficult World" Some of it is tough, but rewarding when you get the meaning. Bye all!


By Anonymous on Sunday, June 28, 1998 - 12:42 pm:

erm......no


By OiRio on Wednesday, July 1, 1998 - 05:22 pm:

Gotta ask "do any of you lot write poetry ?? I do, it got put into our school magazine !!Oh when i found out my friend had put it in, oh did i hit her such a box. Yes i did!!!! It was really horrid all these people coming up to me and saying "oh its great , there great"I am only 15 so they could'nt possibly be great. Its weird as my ma had a book of poems published.She loved Emily dickenson so most of her stuff was about death.later people
~oiRio


By Marsha on Saturday, July 4, 1998 - 02:42 pm:

and we ran and we ran away in the rain
from walls that imprison yet protect from pain
I wish I had realized, I wish I had known
but now it's too late I can never go home


By Anonymous on Saturday, July 4, 1998 - 10:53 pm:

Shampoo,

I was actually surprised to find you in this forum. Sometimes you say some thing that's really intelligent and other times you sound really...and still other times you have this "Oh my I love everyone and everything and complimenting people and making them feel good is so fun" thing going on. Sometimes you seem genuine, sometimes you don't.

Anyway, has anyone heard of Rilke? His poetry is great and when I find a favorite I'm going to post it.


By Shampoo on Sunday, July 5, 1998 - 04:19 am:

Anonymous - what do you mean "..." you mean ditzy, don't you? because that's what a lot of people say, and it actually pisses me off. why do I have to say ingenious things all the time to be thought of as an intelligent person? And why do I have to say depressing or angry things to be thought of as "real"? Ever think that maybe complimenting people *is* fun because it makes others feel good about themselves? why is it so "unreal" or "..." to love things and enjoy making other people happy? What would you like me to do to be real, anonymous? Yell at the world for all it's injustices and insult others? I don't understand what you're trying to say.

And no I haven't heard of Rilke but I haven't heard of a lot of other poets and really like their work, so go ahead.

Is that all I am? A superficial unreal ungenuine cheerful smiley face? Well you know what? If that's who you want to think I am, then go right on ahead, because I like myself the way I am, and I know that I'm more then that, even if you can't see it, anonymous.


By Anonymous on Sunday, July 5, 1998 - 04:33 pm:

Shampoo,
Calm down. If you are geniune that's great but if your not then your just annoying. I'd have to know you better to decide but I'm leaning toward the latter. Anyway this isn't the "Shampoo" forum (one would have to go to Religion for that saga) haha.

I'm reading a great anthology of american poets. Whitman, Dickenson, Stevens, Williams, Frost and Hughes. I recommend it, it's called Six American Poets and it's editied by Joel Conarroe.

Oirio, what's your mom's book called?

Ickygrrlgerms, I'm going to read your script right now, some thought later...


By Shampoo on Sunday, July 5, 1998 - 08:46 pm:

No no no... you insulted me, I retaliate and you tell me to calm down? I don't think so, anonymous. I didn't ask you for your oppinion of me, thank you very much. So how about from now on you keep your cute little comments to yourself? I really don't like your attitude. If you wanna go through life being a bitter depressed person who calls nice people "annoying", then go ahead, but don't do it here.

Oh and before I forget: Marsha, I like your poem thing. Did you right it yourself? (Just realizing now that I complimented you... poor little anonymous doesn't like that, you know! Maybe I should insult your work instead? That would make her happy.)


By Que_ on Sunday, July 5, 1998 - 09:07 pm:

Okay.

Peace sisters, peace.

Sometimes personalities can butt. Oh well, just talk about poems then. I don't see why anonymous felt it was necessary to comment on Shampoo in the first place if she doesn't want this to be the "Shampoo Forum"...seems a bit contradictory to me. SO let's all just calm down and talk about poetry, eh?

*moving on*
Okay, so what do you people think about music as poetry? I find some songs so poetic. REM has a lot of good stuff. Everybody hurts. Ummm I really htink Fiona Apple's stuff is poetic. And Ani Defranco's too. Sarah McLaughlin(i can't spell that!) !! What do you people think? Some people would argue that songs aren't truly poetic because often writing songs is about making money, not about the literary merit of the thing. But to me, it's just poetry which has crossed over into mainstream culture. Whatdya think?

ps- I really like all the poems that everyone pasted in here- they're really meaningful.

I'm going to have to try to find a 'why can't we all just get along' poem!!!


By Anonymous on Sunday, July 5, 1998 - 10:46 pm:

First, I believe that there are so many places where people (especially young women) are put down that support from anyone (especially other women) is important. I think it's great to compliment people but it's also great to be *objective* Offering suggestions or constructive critisim is cool. Let's not make NrrdGrrrl a place where someone can't disagree or offer an opion without feeling like the bad girl.

Second, Que and you Shampoo are right about me not needing to comment on personality but it was an observation not an attack. You didn't ask to be called ungenuine, I didn't ask to be called bitter and depressed (which I can assure you i am not) So we're even. Case closed.

McLachlan is an artist in every sense of the word.

I love the time and inbetween the calm inside me
In this space where I can breathe I believe there is a distance
I have wondered to touch upon the years of reaching out
And reaching in, holding out, holding in.

-Elsewhere, Fumbling Towards Ecstacy

The thing I love about all artists; poets, musicions, artists, authors is that they all have the same goal: to touch something in the listner or reader. Poetry is like a secret passed from the soul of the artist to the soul of the reader. Actually it's not so much a secret as a truth, a timeless human truth.


By Marsha on Sunday, July 5, 1998 - 11:14 pm:

shampoo-
Thanx, I did write it myself and it was the shortest thing I could think of that I wrote.

Que- I think good songs are just poetry with music added.

If any of you grrls write songs I have a site about starting a band on just plain talk 4 that desperatly needs letters.


By Shampoo on Monday, July 6, 1998 - 01:39 am:

I can't write poetry very well. Sometimes tho, I surprise myself and come up with something really good, but that's rare. I just don't have a way with words, I can't use them to say what I'm feeling and what I wanna say, I dunno (like now, for instance). I like writing, but I wish I was better. I just can't think of idea's, that's my problem.


By BlueEyes on Monday, July 6, 1998 - 04:17 pm:

Well Grrls, I sure hope you're all open minded enough to let a Guy share poems? I'd like to share a poem I wrote (based on Genesis)...with a main Theme to which we all can relate to..."Love."


=======================
Angels have no Armor **
=======================

~ Remembrance of True Love ~
Lo, in the Ancient times of Old -
when the Men & Women of Earth meant the Heavenly Angels -
where all that existed within the Universe lived in "Harmony" -
seeking fellowship & sharing their knowledge -
where the building of Armor & Walls were unnecessary!

~ a Void Filled with True Light ~
A Glorious Age of "LIGHT" reigned -
when he the Omnipotent being called "LOVE" -
created from the endless void, a Universe filled with "LIFE" -
all that existed, even the Stars danced to his Glory with Light "ETERNAL!!"

~ Children of Love filled with it’s Light ~
Upon Earth he did implant his Light into a Man & a Woman -
entrusting into their hands his power Supreme -
that when the Two worked as One -
they would Reflect his Image.. the Image of Love!

~ a Fall from Oneness (Perfection) ~
But an Age of Darkness has now emerged -
as the Man & Woman he formed from himself, sought the Image of Themselves -
no longer in Harmony with their Maker -
the Armor of War were forged, walls were build -
as Wars raged against the Heavens itself.

~ Love Seekers follow the Light ~
Lo, return the Ancient times of Old -
let the Great Light guide the footsteps of Men & Women -
with open "Hearts" let "Harmony" live once more -
destroy the Armor of War, tear down the needless Walls -
for only as Angels may Mankind rediscover the Light of... "True Love!"


** the Title was inspired from a song, called “Looking for it (Finding Heaven) by JANN ARDEN

== by David L. Davis - Autumn ‘96 ==


P.S. "Love is the Force which Conquers All!!"


By Anonymous on Monday, July 6, 1998 - 04:32 pm:

Love is the force which kills me, brings me to my knees.


By BlueEyes on Monday, July 6, 1998 - 06:06 pm:

Anonymous, I hope that you don't mind...but your words inspired me to write a new poem just for you!! (I hope you like it!)

"Love is Greater than Me"
by David L. Davis - Summer '98 (and Anonymous)

Love is the Force, which kills me -
bring me to my very knees -
and when I beg it to release me -
it consumes all of me!

For without its substance where would I be? -
like the planet Earth overran by the deep blue Seas -
where would I stand and who would stand near me? -
it would be far better, if I surrender to thee!

Forbid the thoughts that I wrest locked within my Brain -
for if "Love" were a two-edged sword, tightly grasped in my hands -
that I may use it to conquer all the Dragons in my land -
but nay, "Love is the Master," tis far Greater than me!


By Anonymous on Monday, July 6, 1998 - 06:20 pm:

Thanx blue eyes. It was really sweet to write a poem and try to see things my way when I was being a bitch. I was going to turn that into a poem anyway but I had writers block.


By BlueEyes on Monday, July 6, 1998 - 06:32 pm:

Anonymous you're so very welcomed!! :)) Its was a Great Joy to see your comment so quickly!! hehe!! Plus I know that your "Heart" was in the right place. Who hasn't felt deep pain from a lost Love?, or wondered what Love is all about? I would really like to see a poem written by you in the near Future...I think it would be Great Poem!! Till next time..."May Love be with you Always!"


By Anonymous on Monday, July 6, 1998 - 06:56 pm:

Blue eyes-

My eyes dont see a thing.
Pain thuds inside my head.
The world is cold and black,
and everything is dead.
I see inside myself
and everythings asleep.
My heart has frozen up
forgotten how to beat.

(sorry ALL my stuffs deppressing) Do you also write songs?
XOXO
Marsha


By BlueEyes on Tuesday, July 7, 1998 - 05:20 am:

Anonymous (Marsha) thanks for sharing your lovily words (a Great Poem)...Life at times can be very depressing, nobody knows that better than I. But hang in there, because tomorrow another day. We all must live with the Sunny Days, and the Rain.

=================================================
"Depression is a Time for Reflection"

With thine Eyes fully refreshed, opened wide -
Step back just alittle to notice the Four Seasons, the Moon, the Sun, and the Sky -
a living World swirling around you with Light and Dark -
What currently seems Dead...is really Full of Life!

Awaken now thy Soul, release its energy...let it go -
to soothe the coldness of your Broken Heart -
for Love has its own Time Table, which on one knows -
in each person's Life it follows the Beat of a different Drum.
===============================================

P.S. Thanks again Marsha, for letting me share some of my thoughts with you. :)) (Sorr-we, but I've never tried to write any songs...but its an idea.)


By BlueEyes on Tuesday, July 7, 1998 - 05:30 am:

Opps!! Plz replace "which on one knows" with "which no one knows"...it sure helps to prove read very carefully. hehe!! Oh well, its very early in the morning on the Far East (Coast). 8) *HugZ*


By Lanya on Sunday, July 12, 1998 - 05:25 pm:

I think Tori Amos is just absolutely brilliant. My favourite song of hers is Precious Things.

So I ran faster
But it caught me here
Yes my loyalties turned
Like my ankle
In the seventh grade
Running after BILLY
Running after the rain

These precious things
Let them bleed
Let them wash away
These precious things
Let them break their hold over me

He said you're really an ugly girl
But I like the way you play
And I died
But I thanked him
Can you believe that sick sick
holding on to his picture
Dressing up every day
I wanna smash the faces
Of those beautiful BOYS
Those christian boys
So you can make me cum that doesn't make you JESUS

These precious things
Let them bleed
Let them wash away
These precious things
Let them break their hold over me

I remember
Yes in my peach party dress
No one dared
No one cared
To tell me where the pretty girls are
Those demigods
With their NINE-INCH nails and little fascist panties tucked inside the heart
of every nice girl

These precious things
Let them bleed
Let them wash away
These precious things
Let them break
Let them wash away
These these precious things
Let them bleed now
Let them wash away
These these precious things
Let them break their hold over me

Precious
Precious



Brilliant song....Tori's the greatest....everyone should own Little Earthquakes


By Punkgrrl on Thursday, July 16, 1998 - 01:34 pm:

i met a cat named easter, he said, will you ever learn?
you're just an empty cage, girl, if you kill the bird


i love tori. she's a genius.

Punkgrrl


By OIRIO on Tuesday, August 4, 1998 - 07:04 pm:

ANONYMOUS,FROM jULY 5TH -R-U -THERE???MY mums book is called straight from the heart.

OIRIO.
IM BACK.


By Rhiannon on Sunday, September 6, 1998 - 03:30 pm:

I LOVE EVEYTHING ABOUT POETRY!!!!! But I don't have time to write now bye.


By Anonymous on Friday, October 16, 1998 - 09:06 pm:

Rebecca
by me,Jade

It was never meant to happen
a shot of hatred and disgust
forced in that bullet was anger and glee
hurting he more than she

Don't mention it to him
his eyes are full of happiness
but beyond it,
everlasting sorrow that shall possess him like a shadow beyond his death
the stain of blood upon his heart will never wash clean
she rakes his conscience everyday in the gloom of his mind

He's dead
but his spirit haunts the past
he stalks the house near the sea
moaning his troubles to me
his wife of evil and beauty haunts him in his death

Her smile of malice inhabits all the rooms
flames shall never cease her plague of darkness
he was living with a demon and no one knew
a mask of beauty and politeness never suggested the person behind it


By Sazzy on Sunday, October 18, 1998 - 10:00 am:

All the above is great, allthough I don't know very much about poetry. I'm not very good at writing it either, I can usually come up with one odd line and that's it, and I hate reading any poetry I've written, it really makes me cringe, so I had this idea that we could write a nrrdgrrl poem. I'll write the first line below, then whoever looks at this can read it and then add whatever they think should come next, then the next person adds what they think should come after that etc. In case anyone puts any other messages on here, maybe poetry line suggestions should have 'Poem:' in front of them. When it comes to an end I'll type it up into one message and put up here. OK, first line:

NRRDGRRL POEM (We can think of a better title once it's finished)

I take your hand and we jump off the edge of the world
(I can only just bear to reread that)


By Anonymous on Wednesday, October 21, 1998 - 10:11 pm:

We say our thoughts and make this world.


By 10000000 on Tuesday, November 3, 1998 - 03:47 pm:

NNRDGRRL poem:
A place where to understand - is to be understood


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