A Monster for Every Season: Summer 2
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  1. - Top - End - #1
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    EloquentRune's Avatar

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    Default Poems and Poetry

    So In my spare time I write sonnets I dont know why but I do. I noticed that there really wasn't a thread for poetry and I thought it would be nice to have a place to post poems and the like for feedback and other general comments from other posters so here is the first sonnet that I would like to share

    Spoiler
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    Open the eye that sees more than the truth
    For it is the one that can truly see
    Visions from the future it can bring forth
    Yet dark mysteries are what it shows me

    A past where spirits entertained mortals
    An island that has been forever lost
    Only the eye can open the portals
    But to enter them you must pay the cost

    The spirits now guard what was left behind
    Yet my vision shows me there is much more
    Something that the spirits will never find
    A path that leads all the way to the shore

    The soul can enter but then must remain
    The truth only brings agony and pain

    Avatar by Alarra
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    Other avatars by Vael

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    Retired Mod in the Playground Retired Moderator
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    Default Re: Poems and Poetry

    I'd analyze yours, but I really suck at that, so I'll post one of my own instead.

    --------------

    Dam(n)

    The water washes in,
    The water washes out.
    In, out. In, out.
    A crab from its hole,
    He scurries out.
    In, out. In, out.
    A man at his door,
    Then he comes out,
    In, out. In, out.
    A dam is made,
    Workers come out,
    In, out. In, out.
    A salmon from water,
    He jumps out,
    In, out.
    “Sometimes, immersed in his books, there would come to him
    the awareness of all that he did not know, of all that he had not read;
    and the serenity for which he labored was shattered as he realized the
    little time he had in life to read so much, to learn what he had to know.”
    ~Stoner, John Williams~
    My Homebrew (Most Recent) | Forum Rules
    /veɪnoɚ/

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    danielf's Avatar

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    Default Re: Poems and Poetry

    hehhehe nice one

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    Mattaeu's Avatar

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    Default Re: Poems and Poetry

    Quote Originally Posted by EloquentRune View Post
    Open the eye that sees more than the truth
    For it is the one that can truly see
    Visions from the future it can bring forth
    Yet dark mysteries are what it shows me

    A past where spirits entertained mortals
    An island that has been forever lost
    Only the eye can open the portals
    But to enter them you must pay the cost

    The spirits now guard what was left behind
    Yet my vision shows me there is much more
    Something that the spirits will never find
    A path that leads all the way to the shore

    The soul can enter but then must remain
    The truth only brings agony and pain
    I usually try to keep up with critiquing poems on this board, but this one slipped by when my login was off-auto(factory restore discs :)).

    So, I shall try to be fair .

    Okay:


    I enjoy the mystery you create in the beginning. As the poem progresses, however, I really don't get that much more. I do not understand what 'eye' sees these 'portals' to the past; as such, I really don't think I'm getting/feeling what you are writing about.

    As technical recommendations, my prof. had some good advice for sonnets/end rhyme schemes: Try ending stopping less frequently. Enjambment works well to keep the pace going without reading like a collection of sentences. Poetry tends to work well when it is comprised of simple coherent sentences, with complete grammar and everything(!), but broken up with thoughtful line breaks.

    My suggestions are very light, because anyone that writes and shares without wanting anything in return is beautiful, but I would advise you to work on sentences that convey the entire surface meaning(say what you mean when you mean it) and then find the most interesting facet you can behind the denotations. Find that, and use everything to emphasize the undercurrent.

    Poems that say two things at the same time are exquisite.

    And I think everyone has at least two good poems inside themselves.
    Mercy is the mark of a great man.
    *stab*
    Guess I'm just a good man.
    *stab*
    Well, I'm alright.

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    Default Re: Poems and Poetry

    Here's one of mine--I posted it some time ago on the boards without response.

    Convalescence

    I am glad for the stone walls
    that keep, barely,
    the wind at bay; outside, there is snow
    on the withered apple trees.
    We shall have a white Christmas, which,
    once, you remembered to me,
    and tossed a single long apple peel
    over your shoulder, although
    you never did look at it
    once it landed.
    One branch still bears
    a winter apple, small and bitter like
    the memory of an empty fall,
    all of its golden brethren
    gone, and my youth with them.
    I have seen colder winters than this,
    but, too, have had
    warmer fires; yet,
    the coals still glow, and yes,
    I am cold, but
    I have been colder in the winter.
    I drink tea that cannot be called hot
    anymore, and, for the first time,
    I remember your mouth
    without bitterness;
    sipping a meager warmth,
    I begin the long wait
    for spring.

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    Brickwall's Avatar

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    Default Re: Poems and Poetry

    Truth does not rhyme with Forth, no matter how much you try.

    Anyway, I am personally a big fan of the Sonnet form, so power to you. Although I wish I knew proper iambic pentameter so I could write and critique them the right way.

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    Nevrmore's Avatar

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    Default Re: Poems and Poetry

    I wrote these all awhile ago, so have at the.

    Spoiler
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    Who Am I?
    I fill your lands with smoke so black
    From my firey, skyward attack
    Kill your children and mar your sod
    But I am not your spiteful God
    So who am I?

    I eat away your fearful soul
    While mine remains black as charcoal
    In firey lair, my lion's den
    Yet I am not the feared Satan
    So who am I?

    I strike down all whom I oppose
    With great contempt and thunderbolt
    When angered so, escape's no use
    And I am not Chrono's son, Zeus
    So who am I?

    With mighty hammer, I rain down
    Legend's warrior of thund'rous sound
    I will face you without remorse
    Only I'm not Thor, god of Norse
    So who am I?

    So who am I?
    Who fills your lands with fire and smoke?
    Blackens your soul from wishes smote?
    Crush with contempt and thunderbolt?
    He with which a weapon he totes?

    Who am I?
    Crushes the church, burns the steeple
    Laughs at opponents attempts so feeble
    Throws away those of a weak will?
    The answer's simple, I am people.

    I am people.


    Spoiler
    Show
    Perfection
    The voice echoes in my ear,
    "For your country you must fight!"
    I take up arms with no fear
    Ready to shed blood tonight.
    Through the streets I charge with grace
    Chasing down this battle's foe
    He can't hope to win this race
    So why make his death slow?

    Breaking down the wooden door,
    Seeking out the hostile threat.
    With two shots he hits the floor,
    Like all those before him, yet
    I hear cries of shock above
    His wife, child, mortified
    Their screaming, I've had enough
    Two more shots and both have died.

    Pondering, wondering why
    They looked so very aghast?
    One day we all have to die
    It should be like peace at last.
    I've noticed that this queer race,
    They've been showing something strange.
    Circumstances change their face,
    They look sad, angered, and pained

    And just then, a thought occurs,
    A small, biting memory
    Of these feelings start to stir
    This is how I used to be.
    I realize what I've become
    And repentence, I must seek.
    This life might be right for some,
    Who kill child with tongue-in-cheek.

    I feel peace, the sun has shown
    As my binds have been undone
    Suddenly, I feel the blow
    From the end of a strong gun.
    And as I lay, slow to death
    In a bloody and heaped pile,
    I use my last and final breath
    To twist my face into a smile.


    Spoiler
    Show
    My Perfect creation

    Tirelessly, I work day in and day out,
    On experiments unfitting
    To be seen by any, man, woman, or lout
    My horrid devices, unwitting.

    I'm like a modern day Doctor Frankenstein,
    Or maybe even Doc Munroe,
    Oh, how the people say that I've lost my mind!
    A story from Kofka, or Poe.

    But in my endeavor my will is unbent
    I'll make the creation I need.
    Then I'll make all the nonbelievers repent,
    Flabbergasted to see my deed.

    The night is quite stormy, an omen from God,
    I will soon be finished tonight.
    Some finishing touches, I open the pod
    Staring in to see the sight.

    Finally, finished! The perfect creation!
    Perfectly molded to shape.
    It's small, perfect form is quite a sensation
    It's perfect little mouth agape.

    In a three-button suit of white and light grey,
    He sits quietly in the pan.
    Inside my small shop, quietly on display
    Sits the perfect Gingerbread Man.


    Spoiler
    Show
    Two of Spades
    I look inside the eyes of a killer looking back,
    An eery silence round him, his form concealed in black.
    Blood stains his white shirt, his jeans are ripped and torn,
    His forehead wrinkled thusly, his body old and worn.

    I look inside the eyes of a coward looking back,
    A frightened whimper round him, his form concealed in black.
    Blood stains his white shirt, his jeans are ripped and torn,
    His eyes show scared lucidity, his body old and worn.

    I look inside the eyes of a killer looking back,
    A grimace on his face at the scene of an attack.
    The weapon in his grip is menacing indeed,
    The malice of his eyes show no mercy, only greed.

    I look inside the eyes of a coward looking back,
    A gaped mouth on his face at the scene of the attack.
    The weapon in his grip showed no fatal harm,
    The emotion in his eyes show his long forgotten charm.

    We look inside the eyes of what we see inside,
    We both have none to gain, we both have none to hide,
    The killer and the coward stare at themselves in shame,
    Realizing now that they are both one and the same.


    Spoiler
    Show
    Final Thoughts
    Hiss, scream, fall, battle
    Break, snap, die, rattle
    Carrying us up in arms like their nameless, mindless cattle
    Locked and loaded
    Set for fire
    Strength eroded
    So very tired
    As the day goes on I feel my heart growing ever colder

    Aim, check, sight, ready
    Move, wrap, check, steady
    Why should I go down for their squabbles of which are so petty?
    Confirmed and fired,
    Through the air,
    Quite a rush
    Quite a scare
    Makes me feel as if I were growing decades older

    Crash, crack, break, shatter
    Bend, fall, die, tatter
    Feeling as though I fell from atop St. Jacob's Ladder
    My heart smothers
    As I spy
    One of my brother's
    Split through the sky
    Another of my kin left as a soulless molder

    Another of my kin left as a soulless molder
    Another of my kin left there to die a tragic soldier
    Another of my kin whose remains they'll smolder
    Another of my kin, fated a catapult holder
    Another of my kin, fated to be a boulder.


    I don't particularly like any of them over another, but you know, whatever.

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    Default Re: Poems and Poetry

    Here's one I wrote recently for a bardic circle.

    Hedeby's Quarter

    Down from Bjarkoy we ride on the slow turning tide
    With our skins and our beasts all for trading.
    In Skaringashil port, we will trade as we ought.
    No more need now for reaving and raiding.
    And she's not one to wait by the harborside
    As we sail for the cold open sea.
    But I hope while I'm gone that her smile will shine on.
    and I hope that she'll shed some tears for me.

    We are Uthara's men on the oceans again
    Selling deer to the southlands for treasure.
    All their brightest and best we will win south and west,
    All their jewels and their wines in full measure.
    And she's not one to vow she'll be ever true,
    Though I always will be so to she.
    And I hope wil I'm gone that her smile will shine on,
    But I hope that she'll shed some tears for me.

    In a month and a week we will win what we seek
    When our ship comes to Hedeby's Quarter.
    All our fortunes are made from the treasure we'll trade
    From the life of the winds and the water.
    And my shipmates may dream of adventuring,
    But the only dream I know will be
    That I hope while I'm gone that her smile will shine on,
    But I hope that she'll shed some tears for me.

  9. - Top - End - #9
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    Mattaeu's Avatar

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    eek Gods! Pity me! I am but a man!

    Quote Originally Posted by Bears With Lasers View Post

    Convalescence

    I am glad for the stone walls
    that keep, barely,
    the wind at bay; outside, there is snow
    on the withered apple trees.
    We shall have a white Christmas, which,
    once, you remembered to me,
    and tossed a single long apple peel
    over your shoulder, although
    you never did look at it
    once it landed. *
    One branch still bears
    a winter apple, small and bitter like
    the memory of an empty fall,
    all of its golden brethren
    gone, and my youth with them.
    I have seen colder winters than this,
    but, too, have had
    warmer fires; yet,
    the coals still glow, and yes,
    I am cold, but
    I have been colder in the winter.
    I drink tea that cannot be called hot
    anymore, and, for the first time,
    I remember your mouth
    without bitterness;
    sipping a meager warmth,
    I begin the long wait
    for spring.

    Well, to be blunt, there's not much I don't enjoy about this. :)

    But, to fulfill my duty as a dude that writes:
    There are a whole lot of contradictions in this piece. The winter and spring contrast giving a nice sense of completion with plenty of optimism at the end. Before then, it almost slows me enough to worry about flow for readers(I only discourage taking this comment because I have slight dyslexia).
    The red asterisk shows my biggest concern: Right here(there), you have just introduced 'you'. The following line, while not required to develop the personage/object, could very lightly keep them in 'frame', so to speak. When you end with finally not remembering the bitterness associated, I want to know more. This adds stuff that this poem doesn't necessarily need, but I feel would benefit it greatly.

    In summary, I'm a stickler for knowing what you are seeing when you read this over. I just want to know! :P

    Still, a very good poem.


    Next!
    (And I vote for no more hiding!)

    Quote Originally Posted by Nevrmore View Post


    Who Am I?
    I fill your lands with smoke so black
    From my firey, skyward attack
    Kill your children and mar your sod
    But I am not your spiteful God
    So who am I?

    I eat away your fearful soul
    While mine remains black as charcoal
    In firey lair, my lion's den
    Yet I am not the feared Satan
    So who am I?

    I strike down all whom I oppose
    With great contempt and thunderbolt
    When angered so, escape's no use
    And I am not Chrono's son, Zeus
    So who am I?

    With mighty hammer, I rain down
    Legend's warrior of thund'rous sound
    I will face you without remorse
    Only I'm not Thor, god of Norse
    So who am I?

    So who am I?
    Who fills your lands with fire and smoke?
    Blackens your soul from wishes smote?
    Crush with contempt and thunderbolt?
    He with which a weapon he totes?

    Who am I?
    Crushes the church, burns the steeple
    Laughs at opponents attempts so feeble
    Throws away those of a weak will?
    The answer's simple, I am people.

    I am people.

    Hmph. It has a very resonate message, but really, I tend to stray from doing question and answer: it always feels too preachy. But, I will give it due, the author has a very direct route to grab the reader's ears and box them. In this poem, I feel like you might be overusing 'Who am I?', only because I feel that innovating and changing the repeated phrase gives it more impact. I would suggest toying with those repetitions, and revising the title.



    Perfection

    The voice echoes in my ear,
    "For your country you must fight!"
    I take up arms with no fear
    Ready to shed blood tonight.
    Through the streets I charge with grace
    Chasing down this battle's foe
    He can't hope to win this race
    So why make his death slow?

    Breaking down the wooden door,
    Seeking out the hostile threat.
    With two shots he hits the floor,
    Like all those before him, yet
    I hear cries of shock above
    His wife, child, mortified
    Their screaming, I've had enough
    Two more shots and both have died.

    Pondering, wondering why
    They looked so very aghast?
    One day we all have to die
    It should be like peace at last.
    I've noticed that this queer race,
    They've been showing something strange.
    Circumstances change their face,
    They look sad, angered, and pained

    And just then, a thought occurs,
    A small, biting memory
    Of these feelings start to stir
    This is how I used to be.
    I realize what I've become
    And repentence, I must seek.
    This life might be right for some,
    Who kill child with tongue-in-cheek.

    I feel peace, the sun has shown
    As my binds have been undone
    Suddenly, I feel the blow
    From the end of a strong gun.
    And as I lay, slow to death
    In a bloody and heaped pile,
    I use my last and final breath
    To twist my face into a smile.

    This poem has an excellent rhythm in the final stanzas. I love the turn, but really, all he says is he used to be in this condition. That may be enough for you, but I desire more, and you could write a whole lot more! You don't even have to put it after he informs the reader, placing it before would give more feeling into the moments when he kills. Plus, poetry favors the attentive and I would love to reread a poem to realize that he recognizes things from his upbringing/earlier age. It makes the poem feel that much more meaningful, and generally richer.


    My Perfect Creation
    Tirelessly, I work day in and day out,
    On experiments unfitting
    To be seen by any, man, woman, or lout
    My horrid devices, unwitting.

    I'm like a modern day Doctor Frankenstein,
    Or maybe even Doctor Moreau,
    Oh, how the people say that I've lost my mind!
    A story from Kafka, or Poe.

    But in my endeavor my will is unbent
    I'll make the creation I need.
    Then I'll make all the nonbelievers repent,
    Flabbergasted to see my deed.

    The night is quite stormy, an omen from God,
    I will soon be finished tonight.
    Some finishing touches, I open the pod
    Staring in to see the sight.

    Finally, finished! The perfect creation!
    Perfectly molded to shape.
    It's small, perfect form is quite a sensation
    It's perfect little mouth agape.

    In a three-button suit of white and light grey,
    He sits quietly in the pan.
    Inside my small shop, quietly on display
    Sits the perfect Gingerbread Man.

    This one is playful enough that I do not mind the exaggeration. I fixed a few spelling errors for posterity's sake, but beyond that, I think you have here an excellent poem for a quick surprise, or an honest narration. Call it an 'ode' of sorts. In my regards, though, there's really not much for me to delve into. This is not a downfall, unless you have some deeply hidden commentary that I am not picking up on.


    Two of Spades
    I look inside the eyes of a killer looking back,
    An eery silence round him, his form concealed in black.
    Blood stains his white shirt, his jeans are ripped and torn,
    His forehead wrinkled thusly, his body old and worn.

    I look inside the eyes of a coward looking back,
    A frightened whimper round him, his form concealed in black.
    Blood stains his white shirt, his jeans are ripped and torn,
    His eyes show scared lucidity, his body old and worn.

    I look inside the eyes of a killer looking back,
    A grimace on his face at the scene of an attack.
    The weapon in his grip is menacing indeed,
    The malice of his eyes show no mercy, only greed.

    I look inside the eyes of a coward looking back,
    A gaped mouth on his face at the scene of the attack.
    The weapon in his grip showed no fatal harm,
    The emotion in his eyes show his long forgotten charm.

    We look inside the eyes of what we see inside,
    We both have none to gain, we both have none to hide,
    The killer and the coward stare at themselves in shame,
    Realizing now that they are both one and the same.

    A second Hmph. You title it Two of Spades. Okay. So we are looking at the spades on the card itself? Most likely. You paint them very well as opposites, but then say they are the same. Hmph. They are the same, but the phrase 'one and the same' usually makes both objects the exact same. Maybe this is a failing on my part, in interpretation of a idiom, but it makes for an awkward "...but, you're wrong." moment in my mind. Reading it over, and saying that they are both themselves and the other makes it flow perfectly, and maybe it's just the fact that one brings them too close together to make them in opposition.

    Final Thoughts
    Hiss, scream, fall, battle
    Break, snap, die, rattle
    Carrying us up in arms like their nameless, mindless cattle
    Locked and loaded
    Set for fire
    Strength eroded
    So very tired
    As the day goes on I feel my heart growing ever colder

    Aim, check, sight, ready
    Move, wrap, check, steady
    Why should I go down for their squabbles of which are so petty?
    Confirmed and fired,
    Through the air,
    Quite a rush
    Quite a scare
    Makes me feel as if I were growing decades older

    Crash, crack, break, shatter
    Bend, fall, die, tatter
    Feeling as though I fell from atop St. Jacob's Ladder
    My heart smothers
    As I spy
    One of my brother's
    Split through the sky
    Another of my kin left as a soulless molder

    Another of my kin left as a soulless molder
    Another of my kin left there to die a tragic soldier
    Another of my kin whose remains they'll smolder
    Another of my kin, fated a catapult holder
    Another of my kin, fated to be a boulder.

    Not one of my favs of yours. Honestly, I do not think it quite lives up to anything better than your first end-turn poem. It's neat, and surprising, but only at the end. However, I think you should incorporate more of the onomatopoeia from this one into your others. I love saying the words that are sounds.

    Next!

    Quote Originally Posted by Ashildr_the_Bard View Post

    Hedeby's Quarter

    Down from Bjarkoy we ride on the slow turning tide
    With our skins and our beasts all for trading.
    In Skaringashil port, we will trade as we ought.
    No more need now for reaving and raiding.
    And she's not one to wait by the harborside
    As we sail for the cold open sea.
    But I hope while I'm gone that her smile will shine on.
    and I hope that she'll shed some tears for me.

    We are Uthara's men on the oceans again
    Selling deer to the southlands for treasure.
    All their brightest and best we will win south and west,
    All their jewels and their wines in full measure.
    And she's not one to vow she'll be ever true,
    Though I always will be so to she.
    And I hope while I'm gone that her smile will shine on,
    But I hope that she'll shed some tears for me.

    In a month and a week we will win what we seek
    When our ship comes to Hedeby's Quarter.
    All our fortunes are made from the treasure we'll trade
    From the life of the winds and the water.
    And my shipmates may dream of adventuring,
    But the only dream I know will be
    That I hope while I'm gone that her smile will shine on,
    But I hope that she'll shed some tears for me.
    I enjoy the story, but I would really rather be less distracted by your rhymes. The internal rhymes are sweet to hear and read, but the end rhymes are somewhat flat. It's hard to find a good balance, and while it feels like you try, I would rather see a complete product of one or the other. If you can sit and revise and accomplish both areas of possibility, excellent. But, for a song and narrative poem, I think you should work out some more internal rhymes, and heck, even rhyme them further down the insides of other lines. Nothing keeps me interested in a poem than the noises. Imagery helps, but audio is key. It's almost like trying to write a somersault well enough to be felt. :P


    Dear heavens, this looks to be incredilong. Hope my comments were helpful! And don't be shy about helping me out. (and heck, we might as well just more this thread along: post any comments for me here. {or quote})

    Write more!


    edit: Take in mind that these are all relatively shallow readings. Most readers don't reread poems if they aren't able to connect with anything. If you feel this is less than fair, I will gladly ask for any specific innovations you have incorporated, and then reread accordingly.
    Last edited by Mattaeu; 2006-12-29 at 02:32 PM. Reason: Exposition
    Mercy is the mark of a great man.
    *stab*
    Guess I'm just a good man.
    *stab*
    Well, I'm alright.

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