Poetry and Thoughts

[goldentone]

It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
Under the blow of thrallèd discontent,
Whereto th' inviting time our fashion calls.

Shakespeare, Sonnet 124

[j_menz]

O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag—   
It’s so elegant   
So intelligent


(TS Eliot, The Wasteland)

[goldentone]

Brelchvaughn.


Guinevere:  I am weary in my long-hour’d journey.  How must I wish for my own sweet whispers whilst atrod, and yet for crumbs there is music in this solace of greenery.  But to stir!  The wind awakes the sleeping cedars, the forest alights, and a bowing from heaven would simmer my swelling abroad!

R’Arthur:  Dearest, whence comest thou?

Guinevere:  I make toward the village of Meddleton.  How dost such chivalry grace itself here?

R’Arthur:  I search for a precious gift, seal’d in word, whereby I meet the answer sweetly unaware.

Guinevere:  Where hail’st thou?

R’Arthur:  The Isle of Avonrah.

Guinevere:  Oh!  I have heard of’t.  It is said the secret king ensconces there who has not been seen for nigh a generation.  Have you discourse with him?

R’Arthur:  To quiet his rumblings that stir him out a’peace hither and yon.  His wounds are almost healed, though to these villages of the vale he but in legend lives.

Guinevere:  Cast away t’would seem.

R’Arthur:  Most so, ‘coepting the eye agreen who sees.


The Fox in the Rogue, Act I, Scene 2

[gvans]

Two poems ending with "Timbuktu". Pick your favorite:

Across the shifting, shimmering sands
A desert caravan came in view
When asked their destination
They answered, "Timbuktu."

(Attributed to Robert Browning)


Whilst Tim and I went a-walking
Three comely maidens came in view
Since they were three and we but two
I buck one and Tim buck two.

(Attributed to W. Shakespeare)

[j_menz]

(Attributed to W. Shakespeare)

But 'tis not I

(WS, As You Like It, Act 4, Scene 3)

[goldentone]

In me thou seest the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,


Shakespeare, Sonnet 73

[j_menz]

Multas per gentes et multa per aequora vectus
advenio has miseras frater ad inferias
ut te postremo donarem munere mortis
et mutam nequiquam alloquerer cinerem
quandoquidem fortuna mihi tete abstulit ipsum.

Gaius Valerius Catullus (CI)

[gvans]

There was a young man from Bangkok
Who tied violin strings to his co#k
With each new erection
He played a selection
By Johann Sebastian Bach

Now this young man who did play so fine
Indulged in an excess of wine
He got himself stuck
On some notes he did pluck
Of a chord he considered devine    

(Anon.)

[j_menz]

A poem presenting with rhyme
and which follows a rhythm in time
need not be what we call
a true Limerick at all
like a lemon, the cousin of lime.

Yet a limerick a lemon can be,
you could use a small slice for your tea.
Do not use it in fudge
and respect that the judge
is the man with no writing degree.

(H Nehrlich)

[gvans]

If you must be talkin'
Please try to make it rhyme
If talk were criminal
You'd lead a life of crime
If silence were golden
You wouldn't be worth a dime
'Cause your mind is on vacation
And your mouth is working overtime.

Mose Allison

[j_menz]

The farmer's daughter hath soft brown hair
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)
And I met with a ballad, I can't say where,
That wholly consisted of lines like these.

Charles Stuart Calverley

[gvans]

Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood...

The Bard

Just...

Ne me quitte pas

The Brel

[j_menz]

Ne me quitte pas

Go away - go away
And the memories won't stay,
You are the forgotten part
In everything that you art.

(Peter S Quinn)

[goldentone]

Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

[j_menz]

We’re drawin’ the line,
So keep your noses hidden!
We’re hangin’ a sign
Says “Visitors forbidden”--
And we ain’t kiddin!
Here come the Jets,
Yeah! And we’re gonna beat
Every last buggin’ gang
On the whole buggin’ street!

One the whole!
Buggin’--!
Ever --!
Lovin’--!
Street!!


Stephen Sondheim (West Side Story)

[senanserat]

As we walk through the valley of the shadow of Bach
I take a look at our score and realize there's nothin' left
Cause we've been playing and arranging so long,
That even j_menz thinks that our mind is gone
But we ain't never played a piece that didn't deserve it
On our knees in the night reciting progressions in the streetlight

Been spending most their lives, living in the piano paradise
Keep spending most our lives, living in the piano paradise

[kakeithewolf]

I'm not sure if we can put original poetry, but this is something I wrote:

Ev'ry hill is struck verdant, every valley to flower, beneath the blossom of love.
Cherish it we, daughters of felicity, beneath the sanctuary of the Lord God above.
Freedom tow'r, ring mighty with blessing, renew our faith in the branch of a dove.

How, for the autumn leaves fall, does molt as well my heart, when I am away from you!
Capture can I not the beauty of thy innocent airs, and shy away shan't I from my due.
For I offer the rose of my love, I invite thee to celebrate fondly in mine love true.

Kiss thee, shall I, for ev'ry star kissed morn I shall bear witness to, for thou doth complete me.
Let lovers' tales and dukes shy away from our lovely craft; thou art joined to me as I am to thee.
Sweet vixen of the fairest way, allow thyself the hour of my gentle embrace, to be within ecstasy.

Love thee, do I, with all my life, inseparable by spear or knife, unbreakable by any amount of strife.
Let thy light shine with all its pow'r, for every day's hour, and let us turn away from the road sour.
Whistling winds and soft rains' dew, may these things fore'er ring true, as doth be the love we renew.

(Original in equal line stanzas, viewable through Courier New)

[senanserat]

I'm not sure if we can put original poetry, but this is something I wrote:

Ev'ry hill is struck verdant, every valley to flower, beneath the blossom of love.
Cherish it we, daughters of felicity, beneath the sanctuary of the Lord God above.
Freedom tow'r, ring mighty with blessing, renew our faith in the branch of a dove.

How, for the autumn leaves fall, does molt as well my heart, when I am away from you!
Capture can I not the beauty of thy innocent airs, and shy away shan't I from my due.
For I offer the rose of my love, I invite thee to celebrate fondly in mine love true.

Kiss thee, shall I, for ev'ry star kissed morn I shall bear witness to, for thou doth complete me.
Let lovers' tales and dukes shy away from our lovely craft; thou art joined to me as I am to thee.
Sweet vixen of the fairest way, allow thyself the hour of my gentle embrace, to be within ecstasy.

Love thee, do I, with all my life, inseparable by spear or knife, unbreakable by any amount of strife.
Let thy light shine with all its pow'r, for every day's hour, and let us turn away from the road sour.
Whistling winds and soft rains' dew, may these things fore'er ring true, as doth be the love we renew.

(Original in equal line stanzas, viewable through Courier New)

+1

[kakeithewolf]

+1

I don't get it.

[goldentone]

I'm not sure if we can put original poetry, but this is something I wrote:

That is one beautiful poem, Kakei.  Its heart rings true. 

[kakeithewolf]

That is one beautiful poem, Kakei.  Its heart rings true. 

Thank you.

[kakeithewolf]

I thought about it, and I came to the conclusion I should put up another poem. This one is fairly long, and is the story of a man's verbal (and at a point physical) fight against the incarnation of his inner demons:

I stood erect, mirrored to a demon of nacre ruin of the flesh, spines lined by the rod, contacting in full.
We stand in the ebon mire, of a Void in the Abyss, lost in the haze of Naufragare.
I turneth not my head, and spake forth unto the shadow beyond these words.
"I disgrace not my eye nor ear, I see nor speak violence. Turn death to the rose, and glass to a torch.".

He spake to me, "Yet thou hast bath'd in a broken world. Roses hold thorns, and torches can burn.".
I turned, and so had he, and to each step, we addressed a second, though I knew not his measure.
Voice and lips unbound by the honour of duel, I spake to him, "Mine hands are open. Speak thy name.".

He spake unto my direction, froward in the cast of his vile tongue, the exposition of the confrontation.
"I am Anathema. I am he who stands by the river, and retches in malice to thy kin, so thou art to perish by the current.".
"I whisper in the wind, and I murder in the dark. Behind the lips of my cold asylum of stone lies a needle of lead.".
"I cast lots as I dance to the Liar's Gavotte, I sing a merry tune at the gallows of my victims. With my twine, I choke thee.".
"Present thy case, bitter wyrm, for I am not clandestine as a foe, and I shall not reveal gyrons.".

Held firm to thought and logic did I, by which mine Anima is bound to the mortal plane, shaded from the dust and the raze of the wind.
As unto him I prepared the retort, "To my name bears no merit, I am simple and finite. Cast in the shadow of God's Kingdom, I am small.".
"Hold to voice of peace, do I, hold tightly do I with my claws to the white curtain, whose lofty dressing lies in the Æther, beyond any mortal spire.".
"To the breath of the Lord I hold, that I walk without being struck dumb, and so I may see the light of the stars above Terra.".
"E'er doth mine augur drive beyond the ward of Hell, for by blood, I am bound to the Man. But by the blood of an innocent, I am bound to God.".

Anathema chortled, casting out his miasmic foam from his unloving gape, and he bent his limbs and perched on his fours, saying forth:
"Foolish and frail, be thine heart and skin. Act not like thou art of a perfect shadow, thee, who is as a wicked and iniquitous beast! Feral animal of the fields!".
"Thou speakst of love when thou doth imbibe from the river. Stand upon in its bank, doth thee, after thy gullet is sate. Thou art as wicked as me, thy soul as black.".
"Manipulated creature, Mephistophilean manuscript of parroted lies and confusion, a damsel gaily traipsing in a garden of blackthorn! All vice be as another!".
"Do not dare to speak from high towers, claim no throne of marble. Thou art but flotsam, esssse in the zephyrs of the West, thy blood is as venomous as mine.".

I refrained from the coarse winds of my throat, I bore forth no hoarfrost upon the flesh, but merely stated as just the truth:
"I hath not an ounce of thine way. The wind has torn me and the world has razed me wholly, but ne'er do I start the spark of corruption in the beating heart I hold.".
Anathema stated, "Yet thou dost hold a tome, chronicled in the wind of strife; Thine art was once mine, exercised viciously upon thy flesh.".
I retorted, "Yet even the Nephilim are not their father. The beasts of hell shall slough through fire, but ne'er shalt they drench my legs.".
"And hear, driven in earthen hell to a binding fugue, I am shattered, but the cruel irony for thee is that I remain steadfast by the hold of the ferrum joug aboust.".

Anathema bellowed, "Scream of a phantom life of piety and miserecordia, but let not be begat into an aeroran blade upon my temple thy sick words of denial.".
He crawl'd upon his waltzing limbs, bound in chains of poisonous and vile metals uponst his ankles, approaching me as a flailing and foaming wolf of blood, saying:
"Cruel and insane monstrosity, ghastly beast of lunacy! Thy flesh is held close to the crux of my pestilent chain. Thou doth feel venom in thy veins, hold it dear!".

Anathema rattled the chain of his left wrist beside my face, and pulled acrost mine bottom lip with his razor finger of emaciated and wizened bone, saying:
"How can thee speak of God, pariah? How can thee spew vile muds to the heavens in good faith? Thou dost feel the ruination and damnation of the flesh, unfought!".

Anathema whispered coldly to my ear, his breath the vein of tundra, his tongue crost upon me in the voice of taiga, and so he spake still further:
"Thy face is thrus't in the river, animal! Come to terms with thine hatred, thine malice, thine rot of bark and onyx flesh, for thou are a wisp in the wind!".
"Thine bones shriek in terror in lacriment robes uponst their form. Icy necrotic form take thee in thine solemn passacaille upon the Shore of Lethe.".

I spoke, "Uponst the talon, borne not is flesh. Uponst the tail, borne not is flesh. But borne of us is that we grasp: The gate of Elysium or the loam of Acheron.".
"If a single bone shatters upon the world, let it be but flesh and faith that were too ill, for one cannot blame the guardians of the world.".

Anathema ground my face upon the caked ashen earth below, and dug his fangs into my scalp, as he bled mine breast with his horrid claws, and said forth:
"Weakling, thou art a roaring siren, as the funereal bells howl in fury for thy blood. The vile pestilence spreads in sanguine glory, and thou doth not raise a hand.".
"I hold my death to thine throat, what merit doth thine hand hold? Thy life shall be forfeit, as thy ebon vine that coils't about thee is the chain of the Dragon!".

I responded, "And yet, thou dost not see. The flesh is not bound to the hatred of a violence upon oneself. I reject thy vile poison, thy manipulation is in vain!".
And lo, the duel with those words bore witness its end, and I passed from Anathema's sight, beyond the reaches of the corruption of Maelbolgae.

[goldentone]

I thought about it, and I came to the conclusion I should put up another poem. This one is fairly long, and is the story of a man's verbal (and at a point physical) fight against the incarnation of his inner demons:

This is quite a piece.  Very dark in thick prose, reminiscent of Elizabethan poetry.  Its tone perhaps "Framed in the front of forlorn hope?"  I did notice that your previous poem populated in the six-line rare "De Vere" stanzas that Shakespeare happened also to use in his first published work, Venus and Adonis.  For its dank character, I continue to dabble in perusement. 

[kakeithewolf]

This is quite a piece.  Very dark in thick prose, reminiscent of Elizabethan poetry.  Its tone perhaps "Framed in the front of forlorn hope?"  I did notice that your previous poem populated in the six-line rare "De Vere" stanzas that Shakespeare happened also to use in his first published work, Venus and Adonis.  For its dank character, I continue to dabble in perusement. 

Thank you. I know that, for sure, I am a better writer of literature than I am of music. I've written well over 150 poems, I've written song lyrics, I've written a novella (which I have up for sale at about 5 bucks), I've written a play, and I occasionally write metafiction.

What's interesting is that I've never taken any classes on writing or done studying on how to write. I think of words, and I write everything as it comes to my mind. If I could do for music what I do for writing, I'd be a much better composer. The few times I have worked stream-of-consciousness with music were among my best pieces.

[coda_colossale]

I find no peace, but for war am not inclined; 
I fear, yet hope; I burn, yet am turned to ice;
I soar in the heavens, but lie upon the ground;
I hold nothing, though I embrace the whole world.

Love has me in a prison which he neither opens nor shuts fast;
he neither claims me for his own nor loosens my halter;
he neither slays nor unshackles me;
he would not have me live, yet leaves me with my torment.

Eyeless I gaze, and tongueless I cry out;
I long to perish, yet plead for succour;
I hate myself, but love another.
I feed on grief, yet weeping, laugh;
death and life alike repel me;
and to this state I am come, my lady, because of you.

[kakeithewolf]

Another of my poems, the third in the series the previous one was in.

In the ruins of blackness stand I, a battered and weathered man forsook by his kin for cuprum and ilex. Before mine eyes lay the form of the enemy within, a feral creature, poised on the tips of his fours, balanced on a bed of knives.

The daemon had borne upon him the form of both drake and man, with tattered wings and a jaw like a wolf. He bore ebon scales and fangs of nacre, eyes like ivory and a tongue like a forked whip, barbed tail waving in the wind. Fromst his body was heavenward sprung the putrescent burn of miasma, which burned like the coldness of the grave.

He looked to me, and I to him, and he spake forth upon me, "Thy cowardice runs as clean as thy skin. If thou art not to start this discourse, I shall.". The monster clambered up the ruins aboust us and said to me, "As the guest, tell I thee the name Levi be mine, and now courtesy returns thou giveth me thine.".

To the grinning creature, I spake my retort, "A demon within one's own self need not give thine enemy his name. Speak, creature, thine piece, and I shall speak mine.". Levi smiled and responded, "I am not so much thy enemy as thy sin, for perhaps thou art to know as I that meaningless was, against Anathema, thine win.".

He leapt down, and bound me in chains, continuing, "Ecstasy flows thy way, upon thee is borne the gay and sprightly dream. But perhaps the poison sank too deep, and acrid rain stains thy sleep, for thou art drowning in another stream.". He turned and sprung skyward his tail, saying, "Know well doth thee of what I speak.", as he flicked his tail toward me.

I replied to him, "God and man are bound in image and not in mind, and only one knows the way that is kind.". Levi sprinted up to me, and clasped his talons around my arms, responding, "Surely thou art to wish to be unchained, and surely thou shalt have his soul stained. Lash against me, and thou shalt see, that treading water leads thee to me.".

I replied to him, "Back away, ghastly beast, for you know not that the robe is dead and lifeless, that it is impotent and noiseless in the howling wind!". Levi then stood me up, spread apart himself, and dug into mine chest his claws, saying to me, "One thing leads to another on a icy road. Take but a breath in the voiceless spring, and hear thyself as the vessel into which our poisons flowed.". And with those words, Levi dug in harder his claws.

Pained but conscious, I stated, "The loom begat not the violence of men, and Gaia knew the craft she made. The fickle minds of the wicked see light in lust, and darkness in discipline. They do what they do in search of the red drink.". Enraged, Levi dove his fang into mine lip, and filled it with painful poisons that caused me to thrash and flail.

As he withdrew the nacre dagger fromst mine lip, I looked to the blood it dripped upon mine chains, and upon mine boot. Levi snarled, "The red drink is offered before thine hands, drawn once from another fount. If thou art so convicted in control, what prevents this one from adding to thine count?".

Raspy and hoarse from ague and hurt, I voiced, "Knew I the what I do now, no fount would have come to be. For I would die a thousand deaths than be renewed in ebon flesh.". Levi said, "Thou art without defense, a waif in the silent night. When the wolf comes to devour, none shall care for thy plight. Walk on fire, doth thee, to a path without joy. And e'ermore, thou art man's toy.".

With that statement, Levi slashed his razor hand acrost mine face. Bloodied and limp, I remarked, "Do what thou art in want of. Thine eyes will witness murder before they witness the sickness that shalt never come.". With this, Levi took the chains from mine body, blooded and bruised, and he walked away with them in hand.

As he left, he turned to me, and spake forth unto me, "Tested and tried, tested and tried. That is the fate of thee, little boy, for ruin is thine bride. Damned is the fool who falls to us, but greater fools as thee still in the condemned midnight hour fight and fuss. Why do thee, men, e'ermore try, to resignation toward easy nature deny?". And as he spoke his last, he descended into the shadow of night.

[goldentone]

For watch thou as he hues in his own face,
With aspect prime to thee, ancient to him
In season of the womb he slept;
The crescent offers he thine olde,
O harvest him thy listless long!
When our breath doth breathe the eyes.

[goldentone]

They call us drunkards and with swinish phrase
Soil our reputation; and indeed it takes
From our achievements, though perform'd at height,
The pith and marrow of our attribute.

Hamlet I, 4

[goldentone]

Will I with wine and wassail so convince
That memory, the warder of the brain,
Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason
A limbeck only: when in swinish sleep
Their drenched natures lie as in a death,

Macbeth I, 7

[goldentone]

Look what thy memory cannot contain
Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find
Those children nursed, delivered from thy brain.

Sonnet 77

[goldentone]

O, that sleeping heart lies not, save on thy breast;
Thy placid sea knows not the sable night
Hath masqueraded out the sparkle of the sun.
And this earthen act can long as sully such love
As journey's dream be thought the light,
And the light be thought a dream.

[goldentone]

"I say the truth in Christ, I lie not, my conscience also bearing me witness in the Holy Ghost."

Romans 9:1

[timothy42b]

XXX
What, without asking, hither hurried Whence?
And, without asking, Whither hurried hence!
Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine
Must drown the memory of that insolence!

[kakeithewolf]

This isn't all that great, but I'm putting it up anyway:

To autumn skies are cast our finer gazes, wishing to the aether
That pass may we from horrid crazes, the cells where our hearts stir
Forgotten was by man such gentleness, for with manacles he devours
Full grown love tended within our kiss, the kiss denied to e'er be ours

We are not twofold a perfect being, but we rove not in treacherous valleys
Wanting to see more than what we are seeing, to break the glass wall and its tallies
Could we not be more than simple friends, a pair to mold their heartbeat together?
Can we leave the beginning and see where this ends, regardless of surrounding weather?

Oh, but a moment to tear down my prison, to climb from the ashes and out of my iron cage
Only if just to be cast down when I am risen, at least the touch of thy face could be my wage
Horror would be dissuaded from its icy throne, peace could envelop my lonely starstruck soul
Heavenly would it be if in thine arm could I wone, enchanting to hath thy breath bless my whole

A sweetheart that I so bitterly in blindness am denied, wherefore this must be I know not
And to lose the hope of thee striketh my spirit terrified, for I am a man in rain without candles hot
Eternity shalt whisk away my breath if thou shalt evanesce, my tomb ensured if blood runs dry
E'ery soul must in love belong to one that they may too confess, for without love men shalt die

Brisk walk through flame daily I endure, as the unkind laugh and shriek in ruthless joy
Because of what I hold for thee, enraptured by the spell of your eyes that still themselves coy
Dreary is life apart from the one I love, shackled and bruised and torched with fire
Damnation rots my soul till the day I ascend above, denied the very thing my heart desires

Ghathtly trenchants drum up my flesh, but the true would lies within the wall they build
God above, beseech I thee as my cuts are fresh, draw them to be compassion filled
Jaws of thorns rip away at my skin, so long as I feel not that supple one
Jeering cruelly are my vile kin, who loathe all beauty below thy sun

In my feeble moments of agony, I lie awake in a nightmare that ne'er ends
Impious cowards on towers of ivory, they see not what they truly break and what also bends
Mercy is not a friend of mine nor am I serf to ecstacy, ask hath I not for my heart to petrify
Malice is the yoke of dawn and dusk to me, and how I seek to their decree deny

Kill the weak doth the raven's scream, and throw to Hell doth wicked way
Knaves and demons tear apart e'ery dream, and drink shalt they tears that stray
Look unto my broken body and my chained neck, and tell me what be my wrong
Loam and agony my legs doth wreck, but wherefore doth the different not belong

Unholy doth thee call our love for each other, but we are no more blemished than thee
Ursurpers of happy ways blissfully on another, wherefore doth thine eyes death in us see?
Voiceless are these meek you pummel and shatter, who do no wrong but live by their heart
Viciously are thee when the innocent doth thee batter, as evil shows when we thy soul part

Xylem stems thou doth see in such tails of gaiety, strides of romance to abound with arsenic tone
Xenophobes even of those who serve thy deity, for thine crime of hatred thou must atone
Yearn for fire as thou doth for life to turn to dust, those who toss good men to pyre
Yet thou shalt not crush my will with fetters of rust, thou hath heard all of my ire

Ne'ermore a thought should drift, from thy magnificent wonder to rival the angels
Not cursed with blemish or flaw or even rift, glorious and radiant from all angles
Sweet as God's pristine light, designed with thought of but the divine
Such fortune would I consider it to be tonight, if I could be thine and thee be mine!

Quiet as the tranquil skies, thy voice to bless me would raise the heartbeat of me
Quick to take to lover signs, with voice renounced and with eyes of glee
Perfect would be the painful nights, if could know an escape
Pretending to be a mask ne'er in these lights, taken in with pride to beauty's gape

Zealous for this forbidden life, I shall overcome all strife, as I bear the wounding knife
Zephyr blow my pain aside, in thy embrace shalt I confide, and finally in joy reside
Ripping down this hell of ague, from fantasy to life I turn to, if thou would profess thy love true
Rinsing away misery I tire of, perchance I could ask God above, if I could e'er obtain thy love