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15 October 2006 @ 08:35 pm
Greetings, all! I must admit I've been a bit of a lurker, just sort of reading and never having the courage to post, so I figured now's about the time to swallow those inhibitions and post something I wrote a week or two ago. I'm not much of a poet anymore - I'm still trying to find that 'voice' - but I've reread it about a million times and hence realized I wouldn't be averse to sharing it. So, here goes, I suppose:

The shallows are my ballast, with subtle stellar pulse...Collapse )
Feeling: peacefulpoetic
Music: Laura Veirs, Secret Someones
14 October 2006 @ 10:28 pm
I was reading tipsytoe's and moonlinnet's and jaig's poetry and even though I hate all mine I figure I love you all enough anyway it doesn't matter if you hate it too. Backstory, yay? I've been questioning my faith a lot lately, and so I wrote this after a long diary entry trying to make sense of everything I've learned. And now I'm off to hide in Siberia. I hear the tigers are quite lovely there.

BlueCollapse )

I'll post this on my own LJ later but I wanted to see what you all thought first. ♥
04 October 2006 @ 10:44 pm
I wrote this poem for English class and someone, I think it was Lauren, or maybe it was Ella, suggested I post it. It's a bit different from my usual style, a little more nature-y, because I was supposed to imitate the style of this poet we were studying named Mary Oliver, who has written some fairly amazing poems. Anyway, here it is:

FootprintsCollapse )
Feeling: accomplished
Music: The Decemberists - Summersong
12 August 2006 @ 10:30 pm
Wow, we've been dead for a while. =)

I haven't written poetry in a while, but because of the lovely tipsytoe I did yesterday and even though I posted it to my journal, I thought that I might as well post it here.

We are a cursed men.Collapse )
24 April 2006 @ 01:25 am

This is heavily inspired by the song Leslie Anne Levine by The Decemberists: http://www.sing365.com/music/Lyric.nsf/Leslie-Anne-Levine-lyrics-The-Decemberists/D00D06E81F3D987E48256DF100169FAC

Feeling: awake
Music: Dresden Dolls - The Perfect Fit
17 April 2006 @ 11:20 pm
*cheers for Meeka* Yay, posting!

I wrote this last night after sitting on my roof: it's not my best poem or anything, it was mainly me sitting there (it was beautiful) and jotting down what I was thinking on paper and later making it into a poem).

rooftop dreamsCollapse )

By the way, Stephen Crane is one of my favorite poets, and I love this poem of his:

"Tell brave deeds of war."

Then they recounted tales, --
"There were stern stands
And bitter runs for glory."

Ah, I think there were braver deeds.
17 April 2006 @ 10:43 pm
OK, I will not ignore this community! I pretty much have zero time for challenges, but here's a poem I wrote about a month ago. It started out as a love poem, but then it kinda evolved into a society poem with a relationship as a footnote. Sorry, my poetry tends to be kinda abstract.

It's a Terza Rima. Not my favorite form of poetry because I think the beat's kinda off, but it's OK.

The MiddleCollapse )
Feeling: busy
Music: The New Pornographers - The Laws Have Changed
17 April 2006 @ 10:23 pm
It's National Poetry Month and no one's posted anything on here yet!

I'm going to try to get as many challenges up as is reasonable in the half-month we have left. If anyone would like to help, that would be great.

Today's challenge:

Write a poem in the style of Emily Dickinson.
13 February 2006 @ 11:55 pm
One of my all-time favorite poets: I just came across this poem on the 'net and it sort of struck me. If you haven't heard of him-- he also wrote The Cremation of Sam McGee and The Spell of the Yukon, some of his more famous ones.

The Man Who Knew

The Dreamer visioned Life as it might be,
And from his dream forthright a picture grew,
A painting all the people thronged to see,
And joyed therein -- till came the Man Who Knew,
Saying: "'Tis bad! Why do ye gape, ye fools!
He painteth not according to the schools."

The Dreamer probed Life's mystery of woe,
And in a book he sought to give the clue;
The people read, and saw that it was so,
And read again -- then came the Man Who Knew,
Saying: "Ye witless ones! this book is vile:
It hath not got the rudiments of style."

Love smote the Dreamer's lips, and silver clear
He sang a song so sweet, so tender true,
That all the market-place was thrilled to hear,
And listened rapt -- till came the Man Who Knew,
Saying: "His technique's wrong; he singeth ill.
Waste not your time." The singer's voice was still.

And then the people roused as if from sleep,
Crying: "What care we if it be not Art!
Hath he not charmed us, made us laugh and weep?
Come, let us crown him where he sits apart."
Then, with his picture spurned, his book unread,
His song unsung, they found their Dreamer -- dead.

I think this might relate to Service's life a little-his poetry was often criticized as not really having any literary or poetic value, to which he replied once: "Verse, not poetry, is what I was after -- something the man in the street would take notice of and the sweet old lady would paste in her album; something the schoolboy would spout and the fellow in the pub would quote."

And an article added: Yet this sort of popular poetry is all too often (and unfairly) dismissed, on the grounds (I assume) that if it's popular enough for the man in the street to remember, it's not something that's worthy of serious consideration.

I think that this relates to The Man Who Knew very well.

(cross-posting to my journal)
09 February 2006 @ 10:59 pm
V. pretty poem by Victor Hugo:


Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet,
Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid,
Since I have known your soul, and all the bloom of it,
And all the perfume rare, now buried in the shade;

Since it was given to me to hear one happy while,
The words wherein your heart spoke all its mysteries,
Since I have seen you weep, and since I have seen you smile,
Your lips upon my lips, and your eyes upon my eyes;

Since I have known above my forehead glance and gleam,
A ray, a single ray, of your star, veiled always,
Since I have felt the fall, upon my lifetime's stream,
Of one rose petal plucked from the roses of your days;

I now am bold to say to the swift changing hours,
Pass, pass upon your way, for I grow never old,
Fleet to the dark abysm with all your fading flowers,
One rose that none may pluck, within my heart I hold.

Your flying wings may smite, but they can never spill
The cup fulfilled of love, from which my lips are wet;
My heart has far more fire than you have frost to chill,
My soul more love than you can make my soul forget.

I especially like the last stanza. I think it's really neat that they made it rhyme even though I'm pretty certain it's translated over from French.