don't think about what you post, just post
if you think about it too much you start thinking its not good enough, which everyone does...
when you write, write for yourself and no one else, makes it easy and real and truthful and not bashful
the closest thing to a poem that i can write - only its a sing songy kind of a thing.....
Love is blind?
when i asked, he did reply
"one who is just slightly shy,
a heart thats warm, pure and true
full of laughter and sweetness too.
one that is sincerely attentive, that may be foolish
and sometimes pensive.
a mind that shelters thoughts of time and would also
savor my soul of rhyme.
a girl who will try to understand, the somewhat violent torment
of this gentle man.
one who will cherish the laughter and tears and
reassure this small boy's fears."
for this girl he has searched quite a while
and if ever she's found, for ever he'd smile.
i've always been humble, a bit too insecure
but just for this once of this truth i was sure.
my soul cried out "why don't you see?
the ghost you've described, lives within me"
although in such matters, i'll always be meak
overwhelming love, urged me to speak.
but then he said, "just one thing more....."
and he painted the vision that he would adore.
having heard this, he couldn't love me.
somehow it reminds me of something Bob Dylan might write, not sure if its the flow or the paterns or the heartache or what, but damnit there's somethign there, and i don't usually like rhyming poems at all...
Originally posted by Goulet somehow it reminds me of something Bob Dylan might write, not sure if its the flow or the paterns or the heartache or what, but damnit there's somethign there, and i don't usually like rhyming poems at all...
i am aware of your aversion to rhyming poems which is why i was reluctant to post one. they usually come out that way with me and i'm not enamoured with rhyming poems at all. there are only a precious few that can get away with them if you ask me.
no more rhyming from now on...but they won't really be poems either.
Originally posted by coleen i am aware of your aversion to rhyming poems which is why i was reluctant to post one. they usually come out that way with me and i'm not enamoured with rhyming poems at all. there are only a precious few that can get away with them if you ask me.
no more rhyming from now on...but they won't really be poems either.
i'm not sure its an "aversion" but i just call my rhyming poems, songs...and if you have the Bob Dylan Bootleg Series 1-3 the last song on the first disc is a Dylan poem that he read live and it almost made me quit writing because its too good and it rhymes and rhymes and rhymes.
so don't post everything you have, but post everything you want because you'll always find someone who loves you for it and someone who hates you for it,
that's how the story and life go
i don't have the bootleg series - just his regular albums vinyl and all with their snaps and pops and the sound of the needle dragging across the grooves.
i know what you mean about things that are so good that it seems almost pointless to try to write anything at all. but for what its worth, i'm glad you changed your mind about quitting.
I am also still sitting on your first peom, can't move on...such a warm nesty bed to love in and laugh IN and lay our heads on each others pillow and stare into each others eyes, speaking everything we ever wanted to say.
You all are abunch of muses you are...
WHINE WHINE
all i have is my teddy and some stupid book called Rot.
Goulet, Coleen, I know what you mean about reading those words that are so... ELEVATED, so uber-existence...
but I've never read anything or heard anything that made me want to quit. On the contrary, it always made me want to improve so one day perhaps those that influenced me may read my words and think, WOW.
It's a cheering thought, don't you think?
And Gita you are quite inspired. Your teddy will tell you so. Have no fears.
AND RHYME ALL YOU WANT. I have been guilty of posting at least 3 rhyming pieces on this board myself. I say go for it.
seta
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
Gita - all these years my faithful bedfellow has been my teddy bear and my pillow and they have served me well. But I have to admit that these “bed-ins” (thanks to goulet for naming it) here in the poetry forum are so much more lovely and are probably responsible for my desire to stay in bed all day.
Seta – after reading your comments on quitting I thought more about what was said. I have a hard time explaining myself with thrift and so I guess I didn’t say all that I meant. I never really wrote anything that I’ve intended for other eyes to see – up until just now no one else ever has. I started just in order to sort it all out for myself – all the big questions. And I find that I hammer away at the same themes and attack it from different angles and its this constant battle to whittle it all down into one beautiful moment. Only sometimes, I stumble across things written or musical and say to myself THAT was exactly what I’d spent years trying to chisel out of the mess in my head. Its moments like that when I’ve thought, that I couldn’t possibly say it more precisely and that no matter anything I write after that moment will only be a regurgitation. So I moved away to other subjects or perspectives and started all over again. But on the opposite side of that same coin, I’ve been so adversely affected by other music or words that I HAD to write it the right way. The nerve of me, eh?
Tenacious A – thank you. I am the luckiest girl in the world these days to have the kindness and encouragement from the most talented group of people that I’ve ever had the good fortune to be around.
I have always heard it said that writers write on many levels for many reasons but the one common thread is that they all write for themselves, above all and before anything else.
You keep attacking all those angles looking for that one beautiful moment and you will look up and suddenly realize that it was YOU that had been discovered.
A beautiful moment.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
Somehow there exists a constant dull and hollow thud which ever pounds beneath my breast. An aching reminder of the time which passes in seemingly hopeless expectation of your eventual arrival. My heart remains a mere timekeeper, formed of humble muscle and blood, which has fashioned itself into four rooms pleading to be inhabited by all that you are. One room is occupied by fear, one with hope, one with faith and the final room waiting patiently as it is all my love – waiting for the lightning that is you.
I am ashamed to admit that fear often grips and strangles my soul. Fear urges me to forget that time is an invention of the physical world in man’s attempt to impose order in the universe. Fear moves me to forget that our love is timeless, boundryless and immeasurable by any standards created by man. And yet I worry somehow that I have missed you or lost you somewhere in the haze of my life long past. I am frightened that I foolishly failed to recognize you in my thoughtlessness or that in my self-absorbed manner, I was focused too intently on the world in my head where I have existed primarily for all of my life. I wonder if while my eyes were closed tight and dreaming, that you stood squarely before me until I dismissed the reality of the miracle that is you, for my waking dreams. I am concerned that I may well continue to muddle through what remains of my days on earth in search of my angel, in search of your ghost only to find on my final day that I was too easily distracted by men that were merely shadows of you. I fear that I am racing toward my death only to come to face to face with the regret that your eyes will not be the last thing of this earth into which I will gaze and that my last breath will fail to breathe the name I was never blessed to learn.
I am trapped within this chamber filled with fear as I have recently discovered that in my desperate desire to connect with you, I have once again confused a kindred spirit for the soul I am bound to love. In all of my life I had never been so convinced that one man possessed so many pieces of you. I did also recognize, perhaps a bit too late, that there were far too many obstacles which most assuredly were designed to force me to conclude that he and I were intended to be only friends. But my stubbornness, my willfulness, and lonliness once again lead me to this cell of fear.
I have heard it said that with age comes wisdom. I am not convinced that the exchange of our “youth” for “wisdom” is an accurate assessment of our passage through life or that this is an even and worthwhile exchange. I haven’t decided if my hope and faith in all that is you – stems from the wisdom of my age or if it is the few shredded remnants of my foolhardy youth. I am convinced, however, that it is only this hope and ravaged faith of mine that will carry me through whatever remains of my lonely life which I still believe is leading me toward you.
It is with this unfathomable hope that I am fumbling as gracefully as I am able along paths my life is leading me toward you. I am hoping that each path has brought with it a wisdom that will ultimately prove to prepare me for our life together. It is my most sincere hope that I will one day feel the full weight of your hand in mine. My heart dreams of the hours and days that the tips of my fingers will spend exploring every square inch of your warm soft skin. Touching your lips, tangling my fingers in yours, running those very same fingers through your hair, and holding the most delicate part of you in my hands.
I dream of giving my whole self over to you. I want one day to know what it is to tremble with our base attempt to unite our bodies and mirror the connection of our souls. I hope that eventually this union will inspire the truest and most tangible miracle that love can create. I want to know what it is to feel your immortality growing inside of me. I want to one day deliver to you living, breathing, pulsing proof of the magic and wonder you will bring to my life.
In my dreams sometimes I can almost see your face but then I get all tangled up in the feeling that surrounds us as we embrace. You feel like home to me, warm and safe. Inevitably I always wake up from you alone. I get so scared sometimes that I’ll never find you – that I’ve waited faithfully but that I’ve managed to miss you somehow. Tonight is one of those nights. Tonight I am aching to be near you, to feel your warmth next to me. I am desperate to wind my arms around your waist and rest my head against your beating heart. Tonight I need you to whisper dreams into my ears. Tonight I need you more than ever to be real. Forgive me for my weakness. Forgive me for my doubts and my hopelessness tonight. But tonight I am beginning to feel as though I am waiting for a miracle that was never meant for me.
in spite of the ocean and countless other obstacles between us, i never stop being amazed that you and i found each other. i'm the luckiest girl in the world to count you as a friend abbie and don't think there is a minute that goes by that i'm not aware of it.
coleen if you don't post more then there's spanking in order,
and it was a grand weekend
and write some more
--by the way i've never written anything as good as you did up there..
Originally posted by coleen in spite of the ocean and countless other obstacles between us, i never stop being amazed that you and i found each other. i'm the luckiest girl in the world to count you as a friend abbie and don't think there is a minute that goes by that i'm not aware of it.
let the revolution begin.
The ocean and my inability to get off my fat ass and go over there to SCREAM hello
Only another 4mths girl AND THE REVOLUTION SHALL BEGIN
Abikins70
xxx
"I have not failed, I've just found 10,000 ways that don't work"
Originally posted by Goulet coleen if you don't post more then there's spanking in order,
and it was a grand weekend
and write some more
--by the way i've never written anything as good as you did up there..
are we back to spankings again?
i'll make a deal with you - you write more and i will too.
Originally posted by coleen One room is occupied by fear, one with hope, one with faith and the final room waiting patiently as it is all my love – waiting for the lightning that is you.
... in search of your ghost only to find on my final day that I was too easily distracted by men that were merely shadows of you. I fear that I am racing toward my death only to come to face to face with the regret that your eyes will not be the last thing of this earth into which I will gaze and that my last breath will fail to breathe the name I was never blessed to learn.
I want to know what it is to feel your immortality growing inside of me. I want to one day deliver to you living, breathing, pulsing proof of the magic and wonder you will bring to my life.
In my dreams sometimes I can almost see your face but then I get all tangled up in the feeling that surrounds us as we embrace. You feel like home to me, warm and safe. Inevitably I always wake up from you alone. I get so scared sometimes that I’ll never find you – that I’ve waited faithfully but that I’ve managed to miss you somehow. Tonight is one of those nights. Tonight I am aching to be near you, to feel your warmth next to me. I am desperate to wind my arms around your waist and rest my head against your beating heart. Tonight I need you to whisper dreams into my ears. Tonight I need you more than ever to be real. Forgive me for my weakness. Forgive me for my doubts and my hopelessness tonight. But tonight I am beginning to feel as though I am waiting for a miracle that was never meant for me.
How do you do that my dear. REad my heart.
another thing? are you in love with eddie too?
fear is death
what weve seen happen to others who have went through shocking pain
no need to look at you
or at me
we can refer to jesus if you like
and if you dont
than simply i will say
that im not afraid
i can do anything'
i can go anywhere
cause i imagine it all before
and that blinding light
knocked me on the floor
and when i woke up
i checked myself in
and i still sin
i still hurt
but i cant lose this faith
cause your a miracle to me
Comments
if you think about it too much you start thinking its not good enough, which everyone does...
when you write, write for yourself and no one else, makes it easy and real and truthful and not bashful
I don't think so.
yeah, you keep looking and we'll be waiting for you when you get back.
and who is the lucky inviso-man?
i think its the inviso-man that's been hiding away with my inviso-girl
guess I should've seen that.
therefore they reside in my inviso-world....
sigh. jealousy. not good.
Love is blind?
when i asked, he did reply
"one who is just slightly shy,
a heart thats warm, pure and true
full of laughter and sweetness too.
one that is sincerely attentive, that may be foolish
and sometimes pensive.
a mind that shelters thoughts of time and would also
savor my soul of rhyme.
a girl who will try to understand, the somewhat violent torment
of this gentle man.
one who will cherish the laughter and tears and
reassure this small boy's fears."
for this girl he has searched quite a while
and if ever she's found, for ever he'd smile.
i've always been humble, a bit too insecure
but just for this once of this truth i was sure.
my soul cried out "why don't you see?
the ghost you've described, lives within me"
although in such matters, i'll always be meak
overwhelming love, urged me to speak.
but then he said, "just one thing more....."
and he painted the vision that he would adore.
having heard this, he couldn't love me.
he's searching for the embodiment of beauty.
but i'm waiting nonetheless and one day i'll know him and he'll cease to be the invisible man.
well he obviously has NO idea of what he is missing in a human being. HIS LOSS.
also and YAY! we squeezed TWO out of her in one day! YES.
and this one is powerful. bring more please.
i am aware of your aversion to rhyming poems which is why i was reluctant to post one. they usually come out that way with me and i'm not enamoured with rhyming poems at all. there are only a precious few that can get away with them if you ask me.
no more rhyming from now on...but they won't really be poems either.
i'm not sure its an "aversion" but i just call my rhyming poems, songs...and if you have the Bob Dylan Bootleg Series 1-3 the last song on the first disc is a Dylan poem that he read live and it almost made me quit writing because its too good and it rhymes and rhymes and rhymes.
so don't post everything you have, but post everything you want because you'll always find someone who loves you for it and someone who hates you for it,
that's how the story and life go
i know what you mean about things that are so good that it seems almost pointless to try to write anything at all. but for what its worth, i'm glad you changed your mind about quitting.
I am also still sitting on your first peom, can't move on...such a warm nesty bed to love in and laugh IN and lay our heads on each others pillow and stare into each others eyes, speaking everything we ever wanted to say.
You all are abunch of muses you are...
WHINE WHINE
all i have is my teddy and some stupid book called Rot.
wine whine, bitch and moan
but I've never read anything or heard anything that made me want to quit. On the contrary, it always made me want to improve so one day perhaps those that influenced me may read my words and think, WOW.
It's a cheering thought, don't you think?
And Gita you are quite inspired. Your teddy will tell you so. Have no fears.
AND RHYME ALL YOU WANT. I have been guilty of posting at least 3 rhyming pieces on this board myself. I say go for it.
seta
and bhaga....
i emote crying thusly ............):
i emote drooling like ............(:
zee sin line between love and hate, no?
Seta – after reading your comments on quitting I thought more about what was said. I have a hard time explaining myself with thrift and so I guess I didn’t say all that I meant. I never really wrote anything that I’ve intended for other eyes to see – up until just now no one else ever has. I started just in order to sort it all out for myself – all the big questions. And I find that I hammer away at the same themes and attack it from different angles and its this constant battle to whittle it all down into one beautiful moment. Only sometimes, I stumble across things written or musical and say to myself THAT was exactly what I’d spent years trying to chisel out of the mess in my head. Its moments like that when I’ve thought, that I couldn’t possibly say it more precisely and that no matter anything I write after that moment will only be a regurgitation. So I moved away to other subjects or perspectives and started all over again. But on the opposite side of that same coin, I’ve been so adversely affected by other music or words that I HAD to write it the right way. The nerve of me, eh?
Tenacious A – thank you. I am the luckiest girl in the world these days to have the kindness and encouragement from the most talented group of people that I’ve ever had the good fortune to be around.
I have always heard it said that writers write on many levels for many reasons but the one common thread is that they all write for themselves, above all and before anything else.
You keep attacking all those angles looking for that one beautiful moment and you will look up and suddenly realize that it was YOU that had been discovered.
A beautiful moment.
i'm hardly worthy of such encouragements but nonetheless i'll do my best to live up to them.
I am ashamed to admit that fear often grips and strangles my soul. Fear urges me to forget that time is an invention of the physical world in man’s attempt to impose order in the universe. Fear moves me to forget that our love is timeless, boundryless and immeasurable by any standards created by man. And yet I worry somehow that I have missed you or lost you somewhere in the haze of my life long past. I am frightened that I foolishly failed to recognize you in my thoughtlessness or that in my self-absorbed manner, I was focused too intently on the world in my head where I have existed primarily for all of my life. I wonder if while my eyes were closed tight and dreaming, that you stood squarely before me until I dismissed the reality of the miracle that is you, for my waking dreams. I am concerned that I may well continue to muddle through what remains of my days on earth in search of my angel, in search of your ghost only to find on my final day that I was too easily distracted by men that were merely shadows of you. I fear that I am racing toward my death only to come to face to face with the regret that your eyes will not be the last thing of this earth into which I will gaze and that my last breath will fail to breathe the name I was never blessed to learn.
I am trapped within this chamber filled with fear as I have recently discovered that in my desperate desire to connect with you, I have once again confused a kindred spirit for the soul I am bound to love. In all of my life I had never been so convinced that one man possessed so many pieces of you. I did also recognize, perhaps a bit too late, that there were far too many obstacles which most assuredly were designed to force me to conclude that he and I were intended to be only friends. But my stubbornness, my willfulness, and lonliness once again lead me to this cell of fear.
I have heard it said that with age comes wisdom. I am not convinced that the exchange of our “youth” for “wisdom” is an accurate assessment of our passage through life or that this is an even and worthwhile exchange. I haven’t decided if my hope and faith in all that is you – stems from the wisdom of my age or if it is the few shredded remnants of my foolhardy youth. I am convinced, however, that it is only this hope and ravaged faith of mine that will carry me through whatever remains of my lonely life which I still believe is leading me toward you.
It is with this unfathomable hope that I am fumbling as gracefully as I am able along paths my life is leading me toward you. I am hoping that each path has brought with it a wisdom that will ultimately prove to prepare me for our life together. It is my most sincere hope that I will one day feel the full weight of your hand in mine. My heart dreams of the hours and days that the tips of my fingers will spend exploring every square inch of your warm soft skin. Touching your lips, tangling my fingers in yours, running those very same fingers through your hair, and holding the most delicate part of you in my hands.
I dream of giving my whole self over to you. I want one day to know what it is to tremble with our base attempt to unite our bodies and mirror the connection of our souls. I hope that eventually this union will inspire the truest and most tangible miracle that love can create. I want to know what it is to feel your immortality growing inside of me. I want to one day deliver to you living, breathing, pulsing proof of the magic and wonder you will bring to my life.
In my dreams sometimes I can almost see your face but then I get all tangled up in the feeling that surrounds us as we embrace. You feel like home to me, warm and safe. Inevitably I always wake up from you alone. I get so scared sometimes that I’ll never find you – that I’ve waited faithfully but that I’ve managed to miss you somehow. Tonight is one of those nights. Tonight I am aching to be near you, to feel your warmth next to me. I am desperate to wind my arms around your waist and rest my head against your beating heart. Tonight I need you to whisper dreams into my ears. Tonight I need you more than ever to be real. Forgive me for my weakness. Forgive me for my doubts and my hopelessness tonight. But tonight I am beginning to feel as though I am waiting for a miracle that was never meant for me.
You know exactly how that piece affected me........please believe me when I tell you that you have a talent....don't waste it.
You have become my sunshine on these never ending grey days.......luv ya
Abbie
xxx
xxx
"I have not failed, I've just found 10,000 ways that don't work"
let the revolution begin.
and it was a grand weekend
and write some more
--by the way i've never written anything as good as you did up there..
The ocean and my inability to get off my fat ass and go over there to SCREAM hello
Only another 4mths girl AND THE REVOLUTION SHALL BEGIN
xxx
"I have not failed, I've just found 10,000 ways that don't work"
are we back to spankings again?
i'll make a deal with you - you write more and i will too.
How do you do that my dear. REad my heart.
another thing? are you in love with eddie too?
we'll see each other sooner than later - i can't wait.
ummm, so does that mean you are still coming over in Feb
xxx
"I have not failed, I've just found 10,000 ways that don't work"
i hope so - but everything depends on my job situation.
its tough to keep up with five different movies at the smae time
coleen my dear, do i smell the hint of a
filmmaker here?
fess up
what weve seen happen to others who have went through shocking pain
no need to look at you
or at me
we can refer to jesus if you like
and if you dont
than simply i will say
that im not afraid
i can do anything'
i can go anywhere
cause i imagine it all before
and that blinding light
knocked me on the floor
and when i woke up
i checked myself in
and i still sin
i still hurt
but i cant lose this faith
cause your a miracle to me
who needs to puke