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  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    I need a poem...
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • tremors
    tremors Posts: 8,051
    She speaks in mysteries
    Hides meaning between her lines
    Shares her mind like an iceberg
    For us careless sailors
    To break upon

    Lurking beneath the surface
    Much more than can be seen
    Experiences hinted at
    The meaning's in between
    Cancel my subscription to the Ressurection
    Send my credentials to the house of detention

    lettherecordsplay1x.gif?t=1377796878
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    so grateful,

    thank you...
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Can a poet be too sad to write,
    can a poem let him down,
    can people close their hearts to listen
    causing heartsick, you can´t see?

    My spirit is tonight on moving,
    yarning speeches to disclose
    my face to you now, seeking comfort,
    propose to dance but no response.

    Memories, they will rejoin now,
    to fight the fight when feelings reign now,
    can, please someone approach to me now,
    and hold the pen, I am too weak now.
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • tremors
    tremors Posts: 8,051
    To make the night my companion
    As it tumbles out of the day
    To set the sun on this yearning
    For dawn like it was
    Then

    For if night was my ally
    I think I may be able
    To face the morning
    With that same childhood smile
    I once knew

    Recognise myself playing in the sand
    Watch the beach smile back
    At footprints dissolving
    Into the past
    Future
    Stretching out across the sands

    Too many tides have been and gone
    Since then to return
    To that open horizon
    Stay with me a while
    Play with me a while
    We'll take shelter in the dunes
    And watch that same sun set
    Over our youth
    Cancel my subscription to the Ressurection
    Send my credentials to the house of detention

    lettherecordsplay1x.gif?t=1377796878
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    an old one:


    A wake up call
    some other afternoon…
    The blue warmth of that day
    fills in the lines in my diary.
    Words so short and soft,
    nobody knows why.
    I hear stones falling.
    Is it just me?
    I read words to his mistress
    how ruthless and how real!
    I whish…
    He could give those words to me;
    Standing between nothing,
    on the way to nothing, bottomless…
    Dusting the signs after miles of walk,
    Drawing a life, someday a fairy tale.
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    The night,
    I met all my ghosts and fears,
    ghastly faces and bodies,
    feasting the shades they leave behind
    with death all around.
    I need to merge with you all
    out there,
    no power, no will, no courage to go
    to touch the sunshine
    so honest and mild,
    to sober up
    I need me by my side.
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • suede
    suede Posts: 247
    by your side?
    when inside, we're all the same.
    we're all the same, in the rain.
    we all fall down the same.
    like water down the drain,
    only a puddle remains.
    we all fall down the same...

    it wasn't me,
    wondering who you were with.
    it wasn't me,
    writing down my wit next to a candle wick.
    it wasn't me,
    watching my life go down the drain.
    but i'm okay...okay.

    i've mastered the Heart of,
    the Art of falling down & getting up again.
    but i want none of it, none of it.
    i want none of these things,
    none of these reasons...
    to have to get up from again, ya know?

    it's a long way down...
    down to the bottom of a bottle, down to the bottom of you.
    i'd have another drink if it was coming from you.
    from you...
    and it's a long way down...
    down to the bottom of my Heart,
    where i'm writing this to you.

    we all fall down the same,
    it's how we get up...that brings change.

    and, when i fall down,
    i flinch no more.
    i've been to every possible scenerio before.
    and, when i fall down,
    part of me wants to fall a little more.
    there's something exciting...
    about knowing you haven't hit the bottom yet.
    there are three words to be said...
    and there are three words you could say,
    and i'd never fall down the same...
    again.

    -kNb/06.02.2004
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Another poem would sing
    I am blessed with the word;
    Another writer could write
    I posses the greatest gift of the sword.
    Too many victims my tongue has counted,
    Too less have enjoyed the spirit it can create.
    I curse the day he made me a witch
    But no curse at all could call it THE day.
    Spending the long days melting my thoughts,
    Creating the poison that will waist them all,
    Boiling my tears will spice the drink,
    Adding the leaves of his made up bouquet.
    So much anger on surface in the pot
    Stressing the taste of my stale, evil blood,
    Raging storms of devils´ prayers uncontrolled,
    With eyes on your portrait, please run away!
    The past years of silencing through me will speak,
    Hurt you so much, trample to dust.
    Punish the punished as always the law,
    Saving the saints it won´t be my choice.
    More drug, more drug to the poisonous drink,
    “Call for them all and let´s make a feast!”
    Eat worms and roast rats, all with the bones,
    If out of the drink, I´ll magic some more;
    “I can´t let you down, I´m too noble a host,”
    I won´t help you up, I´m corrupted by worse.
    Pray now, you pity, I spit on your hopes,
    There´s no promised land – how stupid the thought!
    For the dreams you will dream perhaps good enough,
    It´s attractive sides given – I´ve figured them out.
    The feast has now started,
    “Please(d), do come in,”
    All you believers, dreamers of Him.
    So grateful they show, all fall on my chest,
    “Feel free to anything, I´ll do my best.”
    The simple my language will win your smile
    Not aware of the fact – I´m not of that style.
    To check on the main course I excuse for a while,
    “It won´t take long, please, help you with wine!”
    Upstairs in my lounge I will find my rest,
    I will find my pen:
    Guilt is to rise, the weight needs to pass.
    Alone now with Vedder (the rest after will come),
    He paints my black heart black by remembering the cause…
    Read as it goes…
    Don´t call me daughter, not fit to be
    The picture kept will remind me…
    I can´t hear any music
    The slaughter must have come to an end,
    So pale all the faces, so pleased is my soul.
    Is it now final, the battle is won?
    Will calm me for a while…more victims to come.
    The wars of all wars are raging inside,
    All cannot be won,
    All cannot collide.
    More poison, more poison, quick
    More fools will come by:
    Too greedy for my wine,
    For the true sense too blind…
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    Moral: bring your own bottle to the party.

    Good poem, exhale.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Originally posted by suede
    by your side?
    when inside, we're all the same.
    we're all the same, in the rain.
    we all fall down the same.
    like water down the drain,
    only a puddle remains.
    we all fall down the same...
    -kNb/06.02.2004

    Still think we´re the same I couldn´t duplicate this statement cause it´s words I´ve heard again and again doesn´t make any sense to my reaction of the past present or future but mostly past anyway I´ve laid on the bottom and it wasn´t just once I stopped counting cause it wouldn´t make any difference the problem is I got used to the rhythm and it´s too deep rooted cannot deal with all the nightmares any other way but filling the blank lines it´s how I get things out of my head and my ghost but I´m perfectly ok and I´m not worried just get tired sometimes but hey, thanks for the poem a good poem made me think much appreciated! any time again
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • anOmis
    anOmis Posts: 223
    Originally posted by exhale
    It happened
    only...
    in that moment,
    And he
    read
    their meaning.
    I disgust
    Leaving
    one day...
    !

    this poem of yers spoken to my heart!

    thanx sharing
    ~~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~~

    F.ZAPPA
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    it´s a poem in a poem,
    can also be the answer to some questions,
    could be a poem for another poem,
    might be a basis question for another contemplation...

    whatever you prefer,
    I´m glad you´ve listened to it.

    anytime again
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    It's metapoetical.

    :)
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    He made me cry,
    I never cry in the morning…
    For the impression of light
    I wouldn´t be worried.
    I´d walk pass the colours
    Regardless the clarity,
    When boasting with character
    I´d close my eyes knowingly.
    I can hardly be touched
    By any spring that may come
    with the green that she´s painting me
    I can only stay numb.
    I´m not fighting the envy
    I couldn´t have won
    Just waiting so patiently
    For the moment to come.
    I´ll stand by rivulet again,
    Counting the drops of rain,
    I´ll let the wind stroke my face
    Calm down, and not chase.

    a wee simple poem,
    feels ok sometimes :)
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • Being Enlightened
    Being Enlightened Posts: 5,746
    Originally posted by exhale
    He made me cry,
    I never cry in the morning…
    For the impression of light
    I wouldn´t be worried.
    I´d walk pass the colours
    Regardless the clarity,
    When boasting with character
    I´d close my eyes knowingly.
    I can hardly be touched
    By any spring that may come
    with the green that she´s painting me
    I can only stay numb.
    I´m not fighting the envy
    I couldn´t have won
    Just waiting so patiently
    For the moment to come.
    I´ll stand by rivulet again,
    Counting the drops of rain,
    I´ll let the wind stroke my face
    Calm down, and not chase.

    a wee simple poem,
    feels ok sometimes :)

    And simply lovely! :)

    Please, keep exhaling!
    Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    I'm a sucker for simple, lovely poetry.

    :)
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    "There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so".

    W.S.
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    Originally posted by exhale
    "There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so".

    W.S.

    Shakey Baby aside, have you ever read any Wolfgang Iser?

    :)
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    From what I´ve read, I can understand pretty much the same, really.

    Hmmmm...

    It could just be my way of thinking. ;)
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.

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