Finally, the creative trio is complete! Art, prose and poetry. Aren't you all glad? :xp:
That's rhetorical, don't answer...
Anyway, I decided to just do my own poetry thread, and put a few of my favourite poems in. Here are a couple now:
The frost evaporates
Into a heated hate.
The limp hand surrenders,
To a non-deserving fate.
Ice is piercing the hearts
Of those who discovered
The body, stiff and broken.
Of all things to be uncovered.
A front paged story
Causing minds to race with fear.
"What has become of society?"
Followed by one nostalgic tear.
This one's about a news article I read about a dinner lady being found dead in a school freezer. It was just so disgusting and vile, I had to write something about it.
Take Me Away
I can hear her screaming out,
Dancing, jumping, crashing - shouts.
Music blaring, she's in tune to it's lure,
Roars erupting like stormy shores.
And then she falls silent,
With the clouds of night hiding the crest.
The music dies and then nothing,
As her body falls to rest.
I hear the pounds against the wall, hard,
With hazy pleas, her dreams shatter to shards.
The secrets - she tells them all to me,
Knowing her life more than she can see.
Truth is buried beneath these walls,
And the constant request bangs on:
When will they take me away?
This one's about listening to a crazed, anger problemed neighbour through the walls. It's completely invented... or is it? ;)
So yeah, two of many. Hope you enjoyed.
I take it you've read the definition of depressing?
Those were both very good! :D I like the first one better than the second.
I'm actually learning about any kind of mental disorder, being a Psychology student. :xp: It's expected.
Thank you. :) I do have happy ones lol I'll be sure to put some up!
I've not been one for poetry, but your unorthodox (at least as far as I've seen) topic for the first one was... I can't explain what I thought. What possessed you to write about someone who froze to death?
I can relate to what you had for the second topic. I hate neighbors who are disruptive to others. Very nice additions.
^Not to mention neighbours who beat the hell out of their spouses >:3
Nice imagery. Can't really help much though, as I'm not a poet :p
Depressing is a word, but as far as art is concerned, I will say that these poems are definitely creepy in a selkf-referential manner. The topics you have selected to interpret as poetry are a little unconventional.
In a way, it can be said, the poems manage to carry a chill without explicitly announcing so; that is, it must be said, that they do not seem inherently horrific or scary, but carry multiple layers under the context that evoke a sense of dread.
The second poem, it can be seen, took more effort and I liked it better as well. It is more vague, and almost romantic; and I appreciate it. All in all, I liked it as a read.
It must be said, however, that I would not expect poetry of this calibre to be published, and unless you didn't mean to be too serious about it, you will have to step up your game. The composition would require more meat, and more facets to be appealing.
Thank you, and those are two good poems.
Wow, you got that first poem by reading a newspaper article? Once I read what it was about it made total sense.
I find both to be good, though I think the second is slightly better. I am not really a poet either, though I can certainly appreciate these. I can see why you wrote about the lady in the freezer - what a horrible way to die. :( Both do a good job of adressing the subjects while still flowing smoothly. I read them outloud. :)
They were sad true, but I actually enjoy sad poetry. :D You definatly have a knack for this, Burnseyy. I have written poetry just for...shall we say for $h!ts and giggles (meaning just to write it cause I feel like it, not because I'm any good - its just a saying from where I'm from ;))
Good work Burnseyy, I'm interested to see if your happy poems are as good as you sad ones. :)
That's what I don't like about society - anything weird or out of your comfort zone, and it's "wrong" or shouldn't be said.
Either way, thanks for the comments, compliments and time. :] Happier ones will be on their way, but I advise that if you don't wanna read something depressing, then don't read this.
Ohh, well now I understand. :xp: I don't think my poetry's amazing - I like some, but definitely not all.
Place of Ghosts
It pierces through
The cones of salt
Compressing the emerald
To a halt.
Silent whispers are
Haunting the streets.
Voices of the morning birds,
Are long died out and
The diner says everything but words.
A woman's fiery red locks
Dazzle against the lighting in battle,
Whilst her husbands nose
Points selfishly at the bartender
And their eyebrows rose.
Tension never grasped
Inactivity in the thickness that it did
With wisps of inexistent sounds,
The novel I wrote of romance
Stands severely out of bounds.
This hour is the place of ghosts.
This one, I did for Creative Writing Enrichment in college - the teacher was completely amazed by it, but it's just like my ordinary kind of poem. I'll leave the judgement up to you. Basically, it's about a diner in 1920s America where everyone thought "god was dead" - might sound depressing, but my poem is meant to signify how people go on, living life as they would have done, before. :)
Thirteenth Day of the Second Month
An emptiness where there was a whole,
Erupting through hearts, ice cold.
A sign for all, to cease.
Rain droplets caress the relished earth,
When clouds part to celebrate her,
And a clock ticks with all but ease.
Emphasis is pronounced upon the date, set---
Youth has been granted an unmistakable concept.
The thirteenth day of the second month;
Dry eyes, silence, unfounded pleas.
And as the day paints itself into reality,
An absence is found amongst the woes.
An aspect of the future, written as her,
The truth of God begins to disperse…
And a new tomorrow is born.
I don't want to explain this one - it's just there for show.
(shivers) Man...that first one was good!
Second one was really good too, but I liked the first one more. :)
I liked Place of Ghosts very much, the environment and atmosphere created is delicious (no pun intended ;) ) and induces a sense of melancholy and nostalgia. I'd almost label it as decent gothic, and considering the setting, I'd say you were very creative in describing it. I enjoyed reading it. :)
Thirteenth Day of the Second Month required some rereading, and I can't help that the track "42 49" by Sigh was playing in my head. :D One similarity with the previous poem would be the very good melding of atmosphere with emotion, keeping feet firmly on ground while giving airs of hope. I liked it, but I'll say that Place of Ghosts was the best so far. :)
Thanks, keep writing, I like your poetry! :D
Very evocative, and I especially liked the first two stanzas of Place of Ghosts! Good work :)
Thanks all you lovely commenters. :D There's nothing I like more than knowing people like what I'm writing.
The frame around the white
Is blocking out my strife...
Or so I wish it had, once I walked.
My hand placed delicately
Upon her head, which is readily
Come now, stop smiling in that
In that half alive state.
Doctor, why won't she wake?
Please, god, please... tell me why won't she speak?
Dreams never spoke to me
As they do to her.
As her fair skin shivers
Her heart is hurt.
Yet the lips... curve upwards.
Won't you jolt up and shout "April fool"?
Why would you...? It's
Maybe that knock to your head confused you.
What ever the excuse, my darling,
Come back soon.
There are open arms, warm and true
Waiting for the returning of you.
But until then, I guess tears will...
Yeah, I know, this one's really 'depressing' :xp: but this one is from my mums point of view. I was out of it for four days once, after I smacked my head. All very dramatic, I know. Just saying what it must've been like from my parents point of view.
Part Time Angel
I guess you could say I had one,
And I was looked after, plenty.
I had self-assurance and was full of aspiration,
But everyone's words, since, have been empty.
So now I'm working part time as a guardian,
Looking out for everyone but myself.
And as their smiles glow, my tears grow,
But nobody knows they're harming my health.
Undeniable guilt presses on weaving strands
Of concocted lies and desperate hands.
Ushering myself on to aid them all,
Will always be my greateast downfall.
I'll always be that saint,
Unnoticed and untouched by selfish souls.
As I carry my ball and chain through the ever expanding corridors
Of misery and shame.
Can any knowledgable person say I'm to blame?
Right, I'll admit something. I have barely any happy poems. But what's the use in writing about emotions when you're too busy having a good time?! That's my excuse. Anywho this ones about guilt, how I feel the need to help people, but don't help myself half the time.
Hope you enjoyed. :]
I think I'll post two poems a day. I've gotten into that pattern now. :)
Two poems a day? Yes!!!!
As usual, those were very good! I liked the second one better, don't ask me why. :)
Keep it up! :D
Impressive. I really liked Place of Ghosts.
Nostalgic Tear was good to. Thumbs up!
Sorry I have not posted Burnseyy. The past week or so has been ... tiring ... I guess you could say. Not one of my most favorite weeks of the year but oh well.
Now, back to topic.
I like what you have hear. They are, quite impressive in the way where you can express something so tragic and deep, and convey that through words and still let it loose none of its potency.
Thirteenth Day of the Second Month: This one reminded me of a funeral where the weather was nice enough to shine the sun down instead of rain. To me, it was - as said - at a funeral, but through the eyes of a very stoic person. Someone who realize just how sad the day is, but knowing the tomorrow will bring it something better, and that's something worth remembering.
... Now ... I may be completely off with that, and that piece may well represent something completely different, but that's what I think.
Part Time Angel is something that really hit home for me - as you might have already guessed it would. It was really well written and something that I re-red twice over after the first time I read it.
It seems we both have the same - head space - when it comes to poetry. I don't have that many "happy" poems, most of mine are as well more on the dark side of writing. I'm not really sure why.
Nice work Burnseyy, and I'm glad you've decided to post them.
I want moooooooooooooooooore! :D :D :D :xp:
Keeping a poem routine is an idea I can agree with. :)
The Untitled Poem was the one I liked the best of all of your works, right now. It's sad and while to be truly honest, it did not break a lot of ground in sadness, reached a good depth of depression. Still, it was creative enough to suit its purposes, and so I liked it very much.
Part Time Angel however, I did not like as much. The language is better here, but the poem itself took some rereading and didn't have as much of an impact. So while it's a good effort, some extra cowbell could have helped the execution. :)
You bumped your head? :O Are you okay? When? How? Avoid any future potentially head-bumping activities! :3 That having been said, I like the untitled poem as well. Have you shown it to your mum? :P
Part Time Angel, I really liked the theme, but I didn't think the poem was my best, really. The theme said a lot, and I got a lot of information in it, so it was good in that way :) but as a poem... it could've been better. Thank you! It does seem we're on the same wavelength when it comes to poetry. :^: booyah.
Thank you everyone, for the critisism & compliments. they mean so much to me. :] And to all you frequent commenters (you know who you are ;) ) thanks so much! I owe you all one. :)
Double posting *le gasp*
I smile, tears glistening,
I smirk, knowing.
I can't help but laugh,
A moment of self doubt before I crash.
No one knows, and
This open isolation feels
Hiding behind doors,
Under the floor,
Looking around and knowing
No one understands.
Past, present, future,
Hurt, hurting, to be.
My own dirty little secret
And it's mine to think;
Mine to keep;
Mine, and not theirs.
A whole life,
The complexity blinding all around.
Misunderstanding, too slow and
They simply will not allow.
I'm a simple human being,
I'm uninteresting, I'm annoying.
Words, they said,
Words I repeat.
Those lies are incomplete.
This one is about... feeling insane. :) How lovely.
He excelled in introspection,
An elite in the unsolvable arts,
Perfect, with one exception---
The ambition tore out his heart...
Or rather, mine.
A monstrosity at his right hand,
Woven by insanity and craft.
A distance, a break, these demands,
Brought forth an inhumane laugh.
This absence I was commanded,
I broke without fear,
Yet I soon comprehended,
Why he'd said to steer clear.
Blood, sweat and tears
Were the last words he wrote,
As his 'beautiful' creation adhered
To his misunderstood intetions,
And became a threat to hope.
Now, they say men are superior,
And I seldom doubted mine---
But what imbalancement must he have suffered,
To commit such a ludicrous crime?
I wrote this in Creative Writing enrichment. We had to pretend to be the wife of someone from fiction/myth/life (celebrities)... and I chose Frankenstein's wife. And for all you who don't know anything about Frankenstein... Frankenstein is the MAN, who created the monster. Thank you. Anyway, unless you've read the book/seen the film based on Mary Shelly's Frankenstein, you won't get the humour (yeah right) in the first stanza.
There's two for today. Hope you enjoyed.
ps. Sorry to all who I haven't read their recent chapters. Poems are easier to write, than stories are to read, and time is difficult to come by. :(
How long does it take to write these? I think that I have a somewhat poetic sense that I put in my stories, but often don't have them to such scale as a real poem.
I didn't agree with insanity because it doesn't seem like it fits the kind of conditions that make people go insane. I think it'd be like a person not fitting in a world, so instead he tries to make the world fit to him. There are things that brush this, but it doesn't seem like what I got from poem #1.
Well, really, it was about feeling insane, not about being insane.
And there's a lot more to the poem, than what first meets the eye. I'm vague with poems, I let the reader try to guess, but never give away ALL of the information. :)
The person in the poem seems normal... Maybe I just couldn't express it properly.
Two more wonderful poems, as usual!
This time...I don't think I have a favorite. :D
Secret is beautiful. *wink*
Oh, I'm sorry I have taken so long to respond to these Burnseyy.
You, know these are really good. I have to say all of the poetry in my English Lit class is blegh. I can honestly say your poetry is better than anything those people came up with, and they are in books and have movies made about them.
I like how you are vague with your poems. As you said it makes the reader think and reflect...they made me think. I like Secret the best. We want mooore Burnseyy! :D :shades2: You have a way with words that makes both your poems and your fics so enjoyable.
Loved Frankensteins Wife. The poem that is, :lol: I've seen the movie, and yeah ... Not really my type. :xp:
OK, my curiousity is literally peaked. What dirty little secret, eh???? :lol:
Anyways, great work, Burnseyy! Wonderful writing indeed. Structure is very nice. Use of language ideal. And yeah, by the by, great poetry.
Oh yeah, one more thing...
:D :xp: :lol:
PS: I like emoticons....
I like Secret better--it doesn't really seem to be about insanity, but more like self doubt and social isolation. Very easy to relate to, and hence very good! :)
P.S. Sorry to spoil your fun, but I think you should not run around throwing cartwheels :xp:
I liked this batch of poems the best, although I cannot really pick between Secret and Frankenstein's Wife. Both have vast contrasts to each other in terms of lyrical style and themes, and so they are both strong in their own ways.
Secret, I found to be very deep, almost self-referential and bitingly relevant. Frankenstein's Wife was written richly and was firm on its track, making it a work of integrity and composition.
It was a pretty good topic for Creative Writing, I'll say. :xp: Count Dracula would have come to my mind first. No, it wouldn't work. :p
I see I've made people question "Secret" :xp: it IS a very vague poem, and could mean all manner of things, but the intention is what I described under it. The 'isolation' isn't literal, by the way, and the line "dirty little secret" holds pleeenty of information, hence the title "Secret." o0o0o. :)
@HOP: I hated the anthology poems, too! Well, the ones we got. I liked like one of them, and that was by a pretty weiiird poet. Maybe I'm just into weird poetry lol.
@Bee Hoon: :lol: don't you worry - I haven't done a handstand since!
@BFA: I typed BRA then instead of BFA lol. Anyway, the 'dirty little secret' is for me to know, and you to wonder. :)
Thank you all so much!
Another double post. Gawd, I'm terrible. :xp:
I saw the clouds passing over,
covering yet another chapter of my life.
Hiding my past from my memory,
Letting me forget all that strife.
Time has passed, never to return,
Running away with every rain drop.
That 'convex surface' we studied, so,
Was it really worth it, writing about crops?
Those times we 'suffered',
We never really knew -
Those times were blissfully perfect,
Just with restrictions in what to do.
That embrace that occured,
The last of the last.
A tear breaks my defences;
My childhood has gone too fast.
This one's about being forced to grow up, and feeling like the immaturity and silliness that you held onto so dearly has just evaporated. I feel like I've been forced to grow up... which is probably why older people get along better with me than younger.
Bracelets and Prose
Classic times were those,
We spent, reciting prose
With laughter and phrases;
Rushing through life’s crazes.
That band you gave me -
With a smile to see -
It was black, white, intricate.
Was a godsend; a favourite.
Time wore it’s beauty,
As the strings hung, limply.
And the beads cried for attention,
Throughout the death-awaited tension.
The wrist is now, bare,
Hidden away from life’s impair.
With no hope to sweeten.
The classic times, alone,
We spent reciting prose.
But the laughter’s now faded
And we have ran out of pages.
Now this one is very close to my heart. It's about a friend I had, a while back, and we got along so well, it was like we were twins. Anyway, I think that it was the best friendship I'd ever had, because the person actually knew when I was upset, and knew my reactions, and the same with me for them. Anyway, they drifted away, and it was probably the most horribly long lasting loss I've ever had. Usually, people just go and thats that, but with this person, they didn't.
Ahh, happy days.
*Good Poems* end response.
I really never thought of childhood memories being lost in the manner you described. Although I don't know if I can relate, I got the gist of how value of the past had suddenly been lost. And with it all that you put into it. I can not really remember my childhood as any more than a composite of all the experiences in one thought.
I can remember I grew distant from a friend who I have known for a LONG time. All those hours, days, years, and events we shared with the company of others... lost with when the friendships dissolved. It may seem like a friend you lost, but all that time and sacrifice for maintaining the friendship were lost as well.
I take it back, you really touched me with both.
"Bracelets and Prose" is my favorite yet. Thumbs up, and good job!:thmbup1:
Thanks a bunch for the comments. :]
I agree with Fish, with one little addition.
It's sad when you drift away from a person whom you considered to be a best friend. You will always share a connection but it just wouldn't be the same if you were still hanging around with each other.
I remember reading Bracelets and Prose in the CEC before now, but I didn't really know the back story to it. Now it's taken on a whole new meaning.
Sad poem, Burnseyy. Sad poem indeed.
Building Blocks of Life
I could build a man from timber,
And he would be precise,
But the romance would surely set alight,
When we figured that we weren't alike.
I could build a man from concrete,
And I would build him strong and tall,
As if I'd make him small!
Yet the romance would tumble,
When he never answered my calls.
I could build a man from heart and soul,
And I would love him for all to see,
Yet that man could never exist,
Because the idea came from me.
This is about how people (like me) have suuuch high standards in guys, they won't stand for someone unless they're absolutely ideally perfect... but that person will never exist, because as long as there's something wrong with me, it's impossible. :) It's kind of a good poem... telling people to stoppp being so high standardish.
I uttered words in confidence,
And hoped for you to comprehend:
"Can't cope right now, I'm breaking down,"
What delusion do you think I intend?
Did nodding and uttering poetry
Get you what you had craved all along?
Did kissing my lips and holding me still,
Make the man inside you feel strong?
Tears are exploding, tearing down my cheeks,
Whilst thoughts race wildly, wondering what everyone seeks;
I cannot control the fire spreading within my mind;
Brace yourself, stand far away, unless you know what to find.
This one is about not being able to cope with simple things in life, suspecting everyone, and needing everyone to stay away because it only causes harm... even if the things they do/say are harmless. :) Whey!
Excellent Poems! You are quite the poet, Burnseyy. Keep up the good work!:D
Damn that second poem seemed familiar.
Nothing I - or anyone else - wrote, mind you, but it seemed oddly close as to just how I can get sometimes.
Nice poetry once again, Burnseyy. :)
Looking forward to more.
Strange, it seems like I missed two poems. :p
I loved Childhood, it was a wonderful read and very relevant. I liked how you just skimmed over and around the hackneyed poetry topic of the loss of one's childlike innocence. It was well-written and a delightful little poem!
Bracelets and Prose had a great impact and came through very strongly, but it could have used some extra work. The writing wasn't upto the mark and I found a couple of errors. Still, it wasn't an awful poem and I enjoyed it. :D
Building Blocks of Life sounds like something I'd have in my 3rd-5th Grade textbooks, which is probably why I found it so charming. It was light and simple, easy to digest and worth a smile. I wouldn't say it was a terribly great poem.
Drat, I've got to run right now. I'll be back as soon as I can to check out Untitled.
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