Sure Eyeore!!! :D

Adam
Had 'em.

. . . . .

Shadows over shadows.
My mind is drifting.
My soul is falling apart.
My heartbeat - hardly noticable.
Deep fear inside.
The drums are calling.
Die.
Die.
Die.
I hear myself screaming
As I feel the pleasure of the pain
That the knife
Cold and bare
Is giving me
As it,
like thousands of poisonous needles,
stalks my heart.

The bad times are over.
I am free.

I'm going to hazard a guess that that one was about suicide. . .Very good.


This poem is about suicide also.


Holy water
And the dancing moon
beams on the sparkling sea

Liberty bells
Broken sea shells
Are calling out to me

Sunset view
Morning dew
A six string on my back

Tennessee
Canadee;
Are coming back to me.

Great one, Eyeore. And yes, you were right as far as my last poem goes.

Hey fellow poets!!!! What happened??? Please don't let this topic die!!! :cry:
Can you think of any "all-time-favourite" poems that you have?? I am gonna think about mine. Is there a poems by a certain poet that you have always loved or that even is a sort of help/guidance/inspiration/ for you? Can also be one of your own!

Ok, I start. My absolute favourite is Shakespeare. No one describes feelings and love in such a fascinating and beautiful way. :D This one is one of my all-time-favs:

Sonnet # 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Hi Wild_Honey! It's so hard... We have got other and other language. But there is my favourite. It's a Paul Verlain poem, but the Hungarian translated by Tóth Árpád is the best on the world. If you can try to read it you will feel it why... The first lines are the bests...

Öszi Chanson

Ösz húrja zsong
jajong busong a tájon
S ont monoton
bút konokon és fájón..

Not one of my own, but it's just so damn good I had to show my appreciation for it.

Suffer Little Children

Over the moor, take me to the moor
Dig a shallow grave
And I'll lay me down

Over the moor, take me to the moor
Dig a shallow grave
And I'll lay me down


Lesley-Anne, with your pretty white beads
Oh John, you'll never be a man
And you'll never see your home again
Oh Manchester, so much to answer for


Edward, see those alluring lights ?
Tonight will be your very last night


A woman said : "I know my son is dead
I'll never rest my hands on his sacred head"


Hindley wakes and Hindley says :
Hindley wakes, Hindley wakes, Hindley wakes, and says :
"Oh, wherever he has gone, I have gone"


But fresh lilaced moorland fields
Cannot hide the stolid stench of death
Fresh lilaced moorland fields
Cannot hide the stolid stench of death


Hindley wakes and says :
Hindley wakes, Hindley wakes, Hindley wakes, and says :
"Oh, whatever he has done, I have done"


But this is no easy ride
For a child cries :


"Oh, find me ... find me, nothing more
We are on a sullen misty moor
We may be dead and we may be gone
But we will be, we will be, we will be, right by your side
Until the day you die
This is no easy ride
We will haunt you when you laugh
Yes, you could say we're a team
You might sleep
You might sleep
You might sleep
BUT YOU WILL NEVER DREAM !
Oh, you might sleep
BUT YOU WILL NEVER DREAM !
You might sleep
BUT YOU WILL NEVER DREAM !"

Oh Manchester, so much to answer for
Oh Manchester, so much to answer for

Oh, find me, find me !
Find me !
I'll haunt you when you laugh
Oh, I'll haunt you when you laugh
You might sleep
BUT YOU WILL NEVER DREAM !
Oh ...
Over the moors, I'm on the moor
Oh, over the moor
Oh, the child is on the moor

Rusholme Ruffians


The last night of the fair
By the big wheel generator
A boy is stabbed
And his money is grabbed
And the air hangs heavy like a dulling wine

She is Famous
She is Funny
An engagement ring
Doesn't mean a thing
To a mind consumed by brass (money)


And though I walk home alone
I might walk home alone ...
...But my faith in love is still devout


The last night of the fair
From a seat on a whirling waltzer
Her skirt ascends for a watching eye
It's a hideous trait (on her mother's side)
From a seat on a whirling waltzer
Her skirt ascends for a watching eye
It's a hideous trait (on her mother's side)


And though I walk home alone
I might walk home alone ...
...But my faith in love is still devout


Then someone falls in love
And someone's beaten up
Someone's beaten up
And the senses being dulled are mine
And someone falls in love
And someone's beaten up
And the senses being dulled are mine


And though I walk home alone
I might walk home alone ...
...But my faith in love is still devout


This is the last night of the fair
And the grease in the hair
Of a speedway operator
Is all a tremulous heart requires
A schoolgirl is denied
She said : "How quickly would I die
If I jumped from the top of the parachutes ?"
La ...


This is the last night of the fair
And the grease in the hair
Of a speedway operator
Is all a tremulous heart requires
A schoolgirl is denied
She said : "How quickly would I die
If I jumped from the top of the parachutes ?"
La ...


So ... scratch my name on your arm with a fountain pen
(This means you really love me)
Scratch my name on your arm with a fountain pen
(This means you really love me)
Oh ...


And though I walk home alone
I just might walk home alone
But my faith in love is still devout
I might walk home alone
But my faith in love is still devout
I might walk home alone
But my faith in love is still devout
La ...

A change of subject matter

Summer Shower

The rain falls,drenching the new leaves of summer
Light ,soft , continous,dripping to the ground.
Running in rivulets down,
the leaves
falling steadily.
Running in rivulets down sun dried lanes
Sweeping the dust of summer
Away.
To be lost in it's ever continuous path,
Like a memory
Lost in the rivers of your mind,
Washed away by Life's rain,which falls
Soft and continuous.
Washed away
to be forgotten like this summer shower,
for the sun will take it's place.
So will the light that shines
Your Life
Even then replace the rain that falls.



Bren

Lovely poem Bren.
Just popped in to say that the poem's in my last post were written by Morrissey. Just thought I'd let you know.

But now that I'm here I might as well write something. Right?

So now it's time for Rob's ad lib poem corner typey thing.

Turnaround
Summer rain
Turnaround
Summer pain
Turnaround
Healing kiss
Turnaround
Summer bliss

Maize and wheat
Scorching heat
A field burning gently
By the city

Turnaround
Music plays
Turnaround
Summer days
Turnaround
One more kiss(?)
Turnaround
Oh how I miss. . .
Those summer days.

I think I'll call this one Summer Days. Oh how terribly cliché. . .

Thankyou Eyeore :D

By the way, i liked the "ad lib poem corner typey thing"






Bren

Thanks. And I've just noticed I'v revealed my true identity. D'oh! Hopefully no one will notice. . . :?

These are very goods. Why don't use more rhyme?

Depends on style of poem and subject matter, white
here,s one that uses rhyme.

Life
I am silence, made of morning,sunlight and the song of bird
Mist of evening slowly rising, winds soft whisper scarcely heard
I am tree and grass and flower, mountain ,hill and desert plain
Freedom, windswept shoreline sounding,earth and rock and sun and rain
Iam laughter smiled by children, wonder held in innocent eyes
Tears of pain at loss and sorrow, hurt and grief and lonely sighs.
Iam city streets of greyness, building factory,car and train
Park and motorway, shop and houses, woodland field and winding lane.

I am ambition ,goal and fortune, maker of all man's misdeeds
I am all he has of value and yet he pays me little heed.
Man is often my giver and my taker, yet by him i am not owned
Iam his for short duration, for his life-span i am loaned.
I am the song man will not sing, i am the sound that no man hears
He finds me at birth, he leaves me at death, to find me again in a world without tears.

Bren

Yet another good Bren poem.
As for rhyming, I generally don't like it.
I feel it restricts expression. E.g, the line could be:
"And I love her". For the poem to have an AABBCC rhyme scheme, the following word would have to rhyme with "her" right? But what if the feeling you want to express can't be expressed with a word that rhymes wiuth "her"?
If you use words that you don't mean just to make it rhyme I think it's less artistic.
Of course, if you can pull it off without it seeming tacked on it's perfectly acceptable.

Iagree Eyore, i rarely write poems,like the one above with a set rhyme.The feeling being conveyed is far more important. My normal style is like the one i wrote called "Rainfall"which is back a bit.Often i simply write my feelings down on the page,and that's my poem,that's how it stays.Some times i play around with the words. i like using words that have a nice sound to them, i tend to do that rather than rely on a rhyme.

Keep writing them Eyeore


Bren

White, could you maybe translate this...? :oops:

Eyeore and Bren, I really love your poems!

Thanks Wild Honey




Bren

Thanx. 8)

A going away poem.

Me you and I,
We are my favorite people.

:)
Are you schizophren? :lol:

"I may be shizophrenic, but at least I've got each other!" 8) :D

I like your little poem, Eyeore!!! :D

Thanks. ^_^. Schitzo maybe. . .but beautiful. . .