You have a taste of bitterness on your lips
—But where did you travel..
what have you seen??
All day long in the hard reverie of stone and malencholy?
An eagle-repping your memories
Stripped your longing to the bone
And the pupils of your eyes received the message of chemerra
Spotting memory with pain...
Where is the familiar sun of short September
on the red earth where you played, looking down
at your faked smile...
what have you seen?
do you remeber your first name??
But where did you wander
what have you seen
All night long in the hard reverie of misery and sea?
I told you to count in the nakkid water its salty days
nn your back to rejoice in the returning of all things
Or again to wander on yellow plains
with a clover of light on you breast, heroine.
You have a taste of bitterness on your lips
And a dress red as blood
deep in the gold of a summer you have never lived
and the perfume of chysanthems
—But where did you wander
There was cold salty seaweed there
But deeper a human feeling that is now forgotrten
and you opened your arms in despair naming it
Climbing lightly to the darkness of the depths
where your own starfish shone.
Listen.
Speech is the product of the aged
And time is a passionate creator of men
And the sun stands over it, a beast of hope
And you, closer to it, embrace a love
With a salty taste of bitterness on your lips.
It is not for you, blue and sharp, to think of another summer,
for the rivers to change their way
and take you back to their mother
For you to kiss other olive lips
or ride on the western wind.
Propped on the rocks, without future nor a past,
facing the dangers of the rocks with a hurricane hairstyle
you will say farewell to the present that is yours.
~~dont mind yer make up, just make up yer mind~~
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
Lots of appeals to the senses...looking, listening, tasting....
Lots of appeals to memory in the apprehension of the immediate.
I like the precariousness between natural description and symbolism.
I like the interiority of this piece, constructing the vastness of light, form and colour as a landscape of introspection.
I'll read this some more.
And I too had a hurricane hairstyle when I woke up this morning.
as prey I wait as the day turns grey
wings folded, in this human disguise
put your ear to the earth
listen
do you hear the rumbling?
the battle is near
the special forces have convened
within the castle walls
arming themselves,
all in Lotus form
the Bright Army of the Apocolypse.
I roam the corridors
stepping over sleeping cherubs
looking for a battle partner...
I spy her in the crystal chamber,
gazing into herself
dreaming the world into reality.
With a hand on her shoulder
I answer the greeting that awoke me from my sleep...
"boo back...."
With a jolt she is awake again
and for an instant time stands still
as the rips in time are resealed.
~~dont mind yer make up, just make up yer mind~~
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
Alright I'm not gonna bother trying to catch up I missed too much
get rid of the word somewhat in the first stanza, even if it's true, it doesn't help the poem
I feel like you might really have liked walk n' roll, but it's kind of cheap and I think it hurts this particular poem
Also I think the word "slave" is a little loaded, and I'm not sure if something else might sound better there
But that's me, as I'm reading this thread there is a volume of excellent work here, I'll try to stay on the ball from now on
keep pouring it out, it will keep getting better
Originally posted by anOmis THE GAME
I wake up in the morning
early inthe morning i wake up and rise
my love woke me up in the middle of the night
and came to me with the first shades of light
inside my mind the game lives
and fills my eyes with pain
in unspoken words, deep in my heart
where the sadness lie stagnant like rain
Listen.
Speech is the product of the aged
And time is a passionate creator of men
And the sun stands over it, a beast of hope
And you, closer to it, embrace a love
With a salty taste of bitterness on your lips.
It is not for you, blue and sharp, to think of another summer,
for the rivers to change their way
and take you back to their mother
For you to kiss other olive lips
or ride on the western wind.
Propped on the rocks, without future nor a past,
facing the dangers of the rocks with a hurricane hairstyle
you will say farewell to the present that is yours.
I like it... a LOT
I think you're repetition of certain verses is very effective and Ireally like your writing style - particularly these verses I left
This makes me want to know a little more about the lone traveller and dark storyteller, seeing as this character is just introduced: what begins as a poem in the symbolist mode suggests the possibility of the external landscape of the early lines seguing into a deeper investigation of this person's consciousness. Maybe a couple more lines?
I don't know if you remember the conversations we had a while ago but I think the advice that some of my favorite poets have given me is merited here as well, honesty is very powerful, but truth and directness are more powerful.
You have a great control of language, but your abstractions are a little distracting from a lot of your poems. If I could show you a chronology of my stuff you would see the exact same tendencies in a lot of my earlier stuff, we try as young or less experienced (not to say I don't fit either of these catagories) to want to capture these huge ideas of love and beauty and try to use these grandiose sentiments like "sorrow's lament" but soon you realize that the smallest details crafted into the piece can say so much more than the abstractions we think encompass the some of all human feeling. I tried to write directly to the future, to penetrate this stagnant present to a time when I'm long gone and people would speak my name with admiration, but it doesn't work. Even if you're not in the same mindset I think that if you sat down and read some of the great contemporary poets right now that your work can transform in a matter of months to something you hadn't even dreamed of.
Originally posted by EvilToasterElf I don't know if you remember the conversations we had a while ago but I think the advice that some of my favorite poets have given me is merited here as well, honesty is very powerful, but truth and directness are more powerful.
You have a great control of language, but your abstractions are a little distracting from a lot of your poems. If I could show you a chronology of my stuff you would see the exact same tendencies in a lot of my earlier stuff, we try as young or less experienced (not to say I don't fit either of these catagories) to want to capture these huge ideas of love and beauty and try to use these grandiose sentiments like "sorrow's lament" but soon you realize that the smallest details crafted into the piece can say so much more than the abstractions we think encompass the some of all human feeling. I tried to write directly to the future, to penetrate this stagnant present to a time when I'm long gone and people would speak my name with admiration, but it doesn't work. Even if you're not in the same mindset I think that if you sat down and read some of the great contemporary poets right now that your work can transform in a matter of months to something you hadn't even dreamed of.
Keep em Comin-
Yes, an image can convey the most abstract of ideas. Yet, and this is to AnOmis here, I love the imagery and symbolism that you use. A poem entirely of such images would be a very diaphanous, shining and infinitely faceted mindjewel indeed.
we stood there for hours
reaching the end
cioz its always near...
BUT we were so happy that morning..
First the leaves and the flowers shone
and then the sun
a huge sun all bright lines but so very high in the heavens.
the abyss was a closed well
And then clouds rain and the damp earth;
you stopped laughing when you reclined in the hut,
and opened your large eyes and gazed
on the archangel wielding a fiery sword
and i remember you smiling like a child ..
and saying whitin yer lips
"i cannot explain it, i find it difficult to understand
people..how ever much they seem to play with colours
they all stay black"
~~dont mind yer make up, just make up yer mind~~
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
L'angelo nero tornato a bussare alla mia porta
entrato senza che me ne accorgessi
Nel silenzio assoluto dei suoi passi inesistenti
avvolgendomi con il suo manto
fatto di fumo e di tenebra.
Muta creatura della notte pi' buia
mi ha presa senza che un lamento
venisse fuori dalle mie labbra gelide
bianche come la cera
Sono anch'io una creatura della notte
una sorta i vampiro
assetato di vita.
Voglio solo fuggire via, nell'oscurita,
spiegare le mie ali di pipistrello
e volare lontano, nella notte che amo
verso il mio oscuro e maligno sposo
e nel suo abbraccio mortale
poter riposare;
per sempre
~~dont mind yer make up, just make up yer mind~~
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
Kansas City 6/12/03 ** Kissimmee 10/9/04 ** Atlantic City 10/1/05 ** Denver 7/2/06 ** Denver 7/3/06 ** Chicago 8/23/09 ** Chicago 8/24/09 ** Kansas City 5/3/10 ** Dallas 11/15/13 ** Oklahoma City 11/16/13 ** St. Louis 10/3/14 ** Tulsa 10/8/14 ** Chicago - Wrigley Field 8/20/16 ** Chicago - Wrigley Field 8/22/16 ** Oklahoma City 9/20/22 ** Ft. Worth 9/15/23
She stands alone now
a face
pale and sullen
turned away from
the sun
she walks below
a stranger gaze
on a shadowed road
leading to oblivion
from out my heart
she vanished
in silent screams
& wrapped herself
in sorrow's lament...
she is...
I love it!!!!!
Throughout the course of our lives,we will meet many great people. Friends, family, strangers who somehow cross your path and enemies; they all have something to teach you. Some will leave deep footprints and others will not. Just be sure to wipe your feet before you step into someone's heart.
Originally posted by anOmis With hands tied
& bitter voice
I pray for rain
to fall down
& erase the name
stealthily written
in the pale sand
inside of my heart
The rain
falls...
The name
fades...
The pain
remains
and u told me u wouldnt write nemore poems... im glad u still r writing.. yer very very good!
Originally posted by anOmis THE GAME
I wake up in the morning
early inthe morning i wake up and rise
my love woke me up in the middle of the night
and came to me with the first shades of light
inside my mind the game lives
and fills my eyes with pain
in unspoken words, deep in my heart
where the sadness lie stagnant like rain
i fear my life no longer
the silent scent of death
i dream of stars and moons in the haven of my heart
My twin hopes have set my fear sailing in anonymity
Unless it is yer broken promise which chaeses me again
as I walked by the sea of immortality in tears and butterflies
coz i fear my life no longer
feel me changing...
~~dont mind yer make up, just make up yer mind~~
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
Originally posted by anOmis i fear my life no longer
the silent scent of death
i dream of stars and moons in the haven of my heart
My twin hopes have set my fear sailing in anonymity
Unless it is yer broken promise which chaeses me again
as I walked by the sea of immortality in tears and butterflies
coz i fear my life no longer
Comments
thank u , sir carrot
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
F.ZAPPA
dont waste your anger..
You have a taste of bitterness on your lips
—But where did you travel..
what have you seen??
All day long in the hard reverie of stone and malencholy?
An eagle-repping your memories
Stripped your longing to the bone
And the pupils of your eyes received the message of chemerra
Spotting memory with pain...
Where is the familiar sun of short September
on the red earth where you played, looking down
at your faked smile...
what have you seen?
do you remeber your first name??
But where did you wander
what have you seen
All night long in the hard reverie of misery and sea?
I told you to count in the nakkid water its salty days
nn your back to rejoice in the returning of all things
Or again to wander on yellow plains
with a clover of light on you breast, heroine.
You have a taste of bitterness on your lips
And a dress red as blood
deep in the gold of a summer you have never lived
and the perfume of chysanthems
—But where did you wander
There was cold salty seaweed there
But deeper a human feeling that is now forgotrten
and you opened your arms in despair naming it
Climbing lightly to the darkness of the depths
where your own starfish shone.
Listen.
Speech is the product of the aged
And time is a passionate creator of men
And the sun stands over it, a beast of hope
And you, closer to it, embrace a love
With a salty taste of bitterness on your lips.
It is not for you, blue and sharp, to think of another summer,
for the rivers to change their way
and take you back to their mother
For you to kiss other olive lips
or ride on the western wind.
Propped on the rocks, without future nor a past,
facing the dangers of the rocks with a hurricane hairstyle
you will say farewell to the present that is yours.
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
F.ZAPPA
Lots of appeals to memory in the apprehension of the immediate.
I like the precariousness between natural description and symbolism.
I like the interiority of this piece, constructing the vastness of light, form and colour as a landscape of introspection.
I'll read this some more.
And I too had a hurricane hairstyle when I woke up this morning.
wings folded, in this human disguise
put your ear to the earth
listen
do you hear the rumbling?
the battle is near
the special forces have convened
within the castle walls
arming themselves,
all in Lotus form
the Bright Army of the Apocolypse.
I roam the corridors
stepping over sleeping cherubs
looking for a battle partner...
I spy her in the crystal chamber,
gazing into herself
dreaming the world into reality.
With a hand on her shoulder
I answer the greeting that awoke me from my sleep...
"boo back...."
With a jolt she is awake again
and for an instant time stands still
as the rips in time are resealed.
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
F.ZAPPA
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
F.ZAPPA
get rid of the word somewhat in the first stanza, even if it's true, it doesn't help the poem
I feel like you might really have liked walk n' roll, but it's kind of cheap and I think it hurts this particular poem
Also I think the word "slave" is a little loaded, and I'm not sure if something else might sound better there
But that's me, as I'm reading this thread there is a volume of excellent work here, I'll try to stay on the ball from now on
keep pouring it out, it will keep getting better
loved this one, beautiful writing.
I am reading you now, and really enjoying your stuff
this one I very much like how it's written, it flows quite nicely
I like it... a LOT
I think you're repetition of certain verses is very effective and Ireally like your writing style - particularly these verses I left
Halfway.
As the sun lays itself down to sleep
A silver bird wanders in the sky
Above the ocean
Inside a dream
Affection of the lone traveler & dark storyteller.
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
F.ZAPPA
Otherwise, I really liked it!
a face
pale and sullen
turned away from
the sun
she walks below
a stranger gaze
on a shadowed road
leading to oblivion
from out my heart
she vanished
in silent screams
& wrapped herself
in sorrow's lament...
she is...
i.
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
F.ZAPPA
You have a great control of language, but your abstractions are a little distracting from a lot of your poems. If I could show you a chronology of my stuff you would see the exact same tendencies in a lot of my earlier stuff, we try as young or less experienced (not to say I don't fit either of these catagories) to want to capture these huge ideas of love and beauty and try to use these grandiose sentiments like "sorrow's lament" but soon you realize that the smallest details crafted into the piece can say so much more than the abstractions we think encompass the some of all human feeling. I tried to write directly to the future, to penetrate this stagnant present to a time when I'm long gone and people would speak my name with admiration, but it doesn't work. Even if you're not in the same mindset I think that if you sat down and read some of the great contemporary poets right now that your work can transform in a matter of months to something you hadn't even dreamed of.
Keep em Comin-
Yes, an image can convey the most abstract of ideas. Yet, and this is to AnOmis here, I love the imagery and symbolism that you use. A poem entirely of such images would be a very diaphanous, shining and infinitely faceted mindjewel indeed.
sunken into my memories
bulding my own glassy wall
coz this world is just too small
to understand my needs
flowers get wilted
under the black old sun
no dreams to build
and no hope to come
with the scream of an inscect
and the soul of a climbin plant
im just spendin my days
waitin for the turn of time
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
F.ZAPPA
Gosh, I love this one! You write beautifully anOmis!
Sorry I hadn't made the time to say so sooner!
reaching the end
cioz its always near...
BUT we were so happy that morning..
First the leaves and the flowers shone
and then the sun
a huge sun all bright lines but so very high in the heavens.
the abyss was a closed well
And then clouds rain and the damp earth;
you stopped laughing when you reclined in the hut,
and opened your large eyes and gazed
on the archangel wielding a fiery sword
and i remember you smiling like a child ..
and saying whitin yer lips
"i cannot explain it, i find it difficult to understand
people..how ever much they seem to play with colours
they all stay black"
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
F.ZAPPA
entrato senza che me ne accorgessi
Nel silenzio assoluto dei suoi passi inesistenti
avvolgendomi con il suo manto
fatto di fumo e di tenebra.
Muta creatura della notte pi' buia
mi ha presa senza che un lamento
venisse fuori dalle mie labbra gelide
bianche come la cera
Sono anch'io una creatura della notte
una sorta i vampiro
assetato di vita.
Voglio solo fuggire via, nell'oscurita,
spiegare le mie ali di pipistrello
e volare lontano, nella notte che amo
verso il mio oscuro e maligno sposo
e nel suo abbraccio mortale
poter riposare;
per sempre
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
F.ZAPPA
EV - St. Louis 7/1/11 ** Tulsa 11/19/12
& bitter voice
I pray for rain
to fall down
& erase the name
stealthily written
in the pale sand
inside of my heart
The rain
falls...
The name
fades...
The pain
remains
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
F.ZAPPA
I love it!!!!!
very tempting beginning
as Finsbury, I want to know more about this traveller....
and u told me u wouldnt write nemore poems... im glad u still r writing.. yer very very good!
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
F.ZAPPA
a landless
caravan
that passes
the desert
at night
You
by moonlight
so silently
enter
my sight
& washed
my soul
in the Dirt
of your Love
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
F.ZAPPA
oh wow... thanks anOmis... thanks for sharing
the silent scent of death
i dream of stars and moons in the haven of my heart
My twin hopes have set my fear sailing in anonymity
Unless it is yer broken promise which chaeses me again
as I walked by the sea of immortality in tears and butterflies
coz i fear my life no longer
feel me changing...
~~its better to be hated for who you are than be loved for who you are not~~
F.ZAPPA
... changing beautifully.