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A pop-up book of flowers from grade 4 are driving her insane...

Postby evanw60 » 4/5/2005, 11:08 pm

Good point. I try to maintain a certain amount of melody and rhythm, but not necessarily rhyme. I'm fascinated by internal rhyming. But I find that the "rhyme poem" has very some definate limitations and is too constraining for prolific use.
This is my story both humble and true,
Take it to pieces and mend it with glue.
- John Lennon, 1969
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Postby trentm32 » 4/7/2005, 8:52 pm

coming off of our "rhyming vs. non-rhyming" debate, I wanted to put together a wicked awesome rhymer. A friend of mine was talking to me about her break-up, and she said she didn't care (knowing full-well she did care about him; they're back together now) and I got to thinking about caring. this came about in my Anthropology class...

"i care"

and she says "I don't care,"
as the coast fades into sand
standing behind fear, and sadness--
with salt dried on her hands

the breakers burst to foam and air,
as I let go, and know I'm real
as I stand here on this broken beach--
and I'm the only one that cares

just looking for shells, beaten and bruised,
as the ocean fades away
it seems that I'm the only one that cares--
and on my empty beach I'll stay
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.

<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
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Postby trentm32 » 4/7/2005, 10:44 pm

found these in the back of my notebook...

"untitled"

<I>
trying so hard in my youth,
pure passion, lacking sense
chalk it up to vigor--
and with elegance, I'll be spent
</i>

...

"chemistry"

<i>
fitting perfect in paper rows,
is nothing to do with life
chemistry,
inside of me,
missing all the spark

matches all burn out,
as the water hits the ground
can't control,
takes a toll,
as my kindling's lost and drowned
</i>
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.

<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
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Postby cyberjoe444 » 4/7/2005, 11:21 pm

Hey fellas, I'm a Monkey Virgin, so be gentle. Pertaining to the "Rhyming poem vs. Not-So-Rhyming poem" I must say that I have much respect for rhyming poetry. If someone is really good with rhyming poetry, then powerful emotions can be triggered in the reader by a simple "flick of the wrist", that is to say the right word at just the right time. But to me, it just seems a little like a limitation. Enter ensightful analogy...say that you drive like the coolest freakin Grand Jeep Cherokee Humvee Chrysler Go-Anywhere Crush-Anything Testosterone-Driven Sedan in the world. (And...Yeah, it's got a Hemi!) Now let's say that you live in the middle of flippin nowhere, with miles and miles of offroad country to drive, and instead of having the flipping time of your LIFE, you limit yourself to keeping it clean by driving on the only paved road from Casa Podunk to Modern civilisation. I might have overexagerated a little, but my point still stands. One could keep his poetry "clean" by rhyme-schemeing like a champ, or we could boldly go where no family volkswagon has gone before, do exactly what our mama's told us not to do, and roll in the dirt.
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Postby cyberjoe444 » 4/7/2005, 11:24 pm

By the way, Hey Roomie.....BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH
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Postby happening fish » 4/8/2005, 12:50 am

Or experiment with both!
*coughs in the direction of her poetry*
awkward is the new cool
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Postby trentm32 » 4/8/2005, 9:44 am

cyberjoe444 wrote:By the way, Hey Roomie.....BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH


What up, bro!

(he's one of my roomates; I've been bugging him to join the insanity here at the CM for a while now)...

w00t.
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.

<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
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Postby trentm32 » 4/11/2005, 7:22 pm

"the water's still face"

dreaming--
with nowhere left to dream
affections fade into the crowd,
scattered pebbles--
the water's still face

like the rings of hell, echo,
drifting--
no direction, only motion,
my face, torn by the ripples--
and I shut my eyes at the sight
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.

<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
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Postby trentm32 » 4/13/2005, 8:55 am

was reading Tennessee Williams...

"blue roses"
<I>
blue roses fall in august,
not sweet enough for May
all the callers in her mind--
they never seem to stay

holding onto waltzes,
and a past too far gone
as we all fall to pieces,
and time's the only song
</i>
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.

<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
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Postby Hope » 4/15/2005, 11:20 pm

^ :nod: i like.
turn your head
come back again
to here knows when

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Postby nelison » 4/16/2005, 3:25 pm

I haven't written in ages really. It sucks that I suck so much at it lol but I'll blame it on being out of practice.

A Coastal Sight

A cornerstone saint.
A man and his destiny.
A servant to a household.
A life that is best for me.
A heart of gold.
A fight worth fighting.
A signiture squire.
A dart of lightning.
A miraculous comeback.
A throwback to light.
A borderless fog.
A day with no night.

I wake up and there's a road
to a soul I don't know.
to a once landlocked sea
where the air, the land and the sea meet.

I walk this road
to an eroding mental cove
where hurricanes blow
and a man rings his clothes.
His is a core of desire,
a beauty in disbelief.
A man and his destiny
a life so complete


Really cheesy grade 5-esque poem (AKA backseat girl)
Hey there
You're my backseat girl
I'm a front seat guy
and we can't help but fit on this longest trip

When we ran away together
all I could think about was how this is daunting
but how you mean everything
and how this would change us for the best

I often hit the brakes
and make some wrong turns.
I turn around to my backseat girl
because she has no concerns.

"Hey there
I'm a backseat girl
you're a guy driving my car
and I love who you are
Make a right here
take the next exit
if its's the wrong turn
I know we can fix it"

We'll pull into this county store
return with a couple cokes
my backseat girl says "hey there"
And I get a lump in my throat

The trip of a lifetime
though short in duration
strikes me with purpose,
reflection, salvation

and as I look back at my backseat girl
I know what I know, I know she is the world.
I can't wait until the day schools are over-funded and the military is forced to hold bake sales to buy planes.

"It's a great thing when you realize you still have the ability to surprise yourself. Makes you wonder what else you can do that you've forgotten about"
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Postby trentm32 » 4/19/2005, 3:59 pm

"find you there"

a whisper breaks the silence
and all I can do is strain to hear
you're in the water in the ocean that
is water from my tears, from my tears

you're in my cries for dear sweet peace
in the broken walk I walk
in the prayers that I can barely say
you're in the light that breaks the day, breaks the day

and when the worlds a sea, or fallen leaves
and the things I've tried to bury
come back to break my heart, I find you there
and when the questions I can't answer
are the only ones I hear
when no words can I utter
only the language of my tears, I find you there

a thunder breaks the silence
and all I can do is sit and hear
the lies that seem much louder than truth
the lies I can't help but hear, can't help but hear

in the things that make me stumble
the cracks that seem too wide to leap
Lord take my hand and lead the way
I've come too far, I'm in too deep, I just can't see

when the loneliness I carry gets too heavy
it's you I feel, it's you I feel
and when all that's left in me is cold and broken
you help me heal, you help me heal
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.

<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
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Postby nelison » 4/20/2005, 12:13 pm

This is not a dramatization

So many year from now we will look back
on forgotten children,
taken lives,
brothers and sisters,
white and black

Through the halls the fire rages
now future greats
can never show their potential
due to cowardly boys
belonging in cages

And looking back on this blurry day
kids paraded away from terror
forced to grow up much to soon
in a way we can never conceive.
due to a bloody battle years ago today.

"How long, how long must we sing this song?"
when will darkness fall on hate?
This is not a dramatization.
The climax of two crooked boys,
commiting the ultimate wrong.

So we sit amongst this fire of disbelief
look to the future and what can change
Brothers, sisters, men and wives
Someones soulmate died this day
6 years ago...it is our memories we keep.
I can't wait until the day schools are over-funded and the military is forced to hold bake sales to buy planes.

"It's a great thing when you realize you still have the ability to surprise yourself. Makes you wonder what else you can do that you've forgotten about"
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Postby trentm32 » 4/24/2005, 1:19 pm

"coming towards"

fall into
this world
of silver and blue

where I am just
another writer
asking again

take, take,
take, taking in

just hear the
empty things
they say

where I am
just another
voice

looking for
the words
come, come

come, coming
towards


...

"I am/you are"

I am deep, flawed, shallow
horny, crying myself to sleep
dancing in the rain, and
everything in between--
I'm human. I'm alive.

You should try it sometime.

You are petty vendettas,
wound up so tight,
you can't crack a smile
working 'till daybreak
for nothing at all
back-stabbing like middle-school
You're a machine. You're forgotten.

Please leave me and my 'shortcomings' alone.


...


"still here in the morning"

and my broken heart
holds this broken story
fake it to heart, tear me apart
but I'm still here in the morning

and this broken bind
holds this broken poem
see all the signs, tell your lies,
just acting like you know me


...

"a composition notebook"

longing for the endlessness,
turning present into past
look back on the inspiration--
the pain, the loneliness;
self-esteem to fill a thimble

wanting to write something,
something important
a frozen gazebo, water turns to ice--
the darkness, the stars;
cold fingers and a shaking hand

pages drift into the wind,
my angst haunts the heavens
look back to the empty lines--
a composition notebook, a hollow shell;
and a walk alone, through the darkened park
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.

<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
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Postby nelison » 4/30/2005, 2:12 pm

This is more lyrical...

Your headache is over
It's over
your head
is a wonder
I wonder
if this is
my business
but on Saturday
We'll break this mold
and we'll feel old
like we're wonders
that we ain't.
Pretending, our lives
your life is nice
I wish a could cry
you wish you were nine
And someday I'll run
and some days you hide
this headache
of yours
has become
mine.
Carry me
Because I care
but what do I do
when you're not living life
but life is living you.
And acres of land
lying in rows
lying smoothly
at their destination
having searched for life
and there it is.
I can't wait until the day schools are over-funded and the military is forced to hold bake sales to buy planes.

"It's a great thing when you realize you still have the ability to surprise yourself. Makes you wonder what else you can do that you've forgotten about"
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Postby Hope » 5/1/2005, 12:30 am

OOOoo. i like. :nod:
turn your head
come back again
to here knows when

last.fm
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Postby nelison » 5/1/2005, 6:10 am

Thanks muchly. I've been trying more stream of consciousness stuff and it seems to be flowing well lately... I woke up with this on my mind this morning.

When I awoke
I planned
and I plotted
my path's been unknotted
I never knew
I could tell
you, what it's like
when I fell
and you caught me
in my dream
and became
from a stream
of consciousness
and activity
and relief
some creativity
my heart
and my mind
both pining
for time
often carrying
different plans
for a
plasticine man
finding lines
to be dotted.
For my heart
when she caught it
my mind
woke up
from this dream
and plotted a path
to destiny
for this quick
tiring stream
of life.
I can't wait until the day schools are over-funded and the military is forced to hold bake sales to buy planes.

"It's a great thing when you realize you still have the ability to surprise yourself. Makes you wonder what else you can do that you've forgotten about"
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Postby cyberjoe444 » 5/1/2005, 3:18 pm

I dig man, i like the sporadic rhyming
And I say to any man or woman, Let your soul stand cool and composed before a million universes.
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Postby trentm32 » 5/3/2005, 8:24 am

"the martyr in my head"

knowing everything,
but burning out--
all the same
ash and snow, cold and grey
burn it all away

and help me to be
the martyr inside
my head

just help me to be
what you want me to be
instead

as this avalanche
inside of me
pours down like the rain

and this avalanche
inside of me
is all because you came

hearing my name,
but deaf to all--
all the same
empty noise, cold and grey
wash it all away

and help me to see
the blue behind
the grey

and help me to see
the white that breaks
the day

as this avalanche
inside of me
pours down like the rain

and this avalanche
inside of me
is all because you came

and where empty mountains
and grey skies hang
just bring the rain,
please bring the rain
"When looking up there, I just felt whole, like I belonged. Like one day I too would shine my most brilliant. Sitting there also made me think about sitting through services at my little country church back home. About that never-changing congregation of the same sixty-seven people and everyone has known you since before you were born. Now, out here in the real world, everything just seemed more vivid than when I used to sit in that little pew. That pew that was now so, so far away from where I was. I feared I had somehow left God behind there, too. I feared he was somehow just sitting there, saving my seat on the fifth pew from the front row, just waiting on me to come back. I left so quickly, I worried that he may not have noticed I was gone. And, now, I’m just too far away to find. So he’s just sitting there, patiently waiting on me to come back. I closed my eyes and prayed a moment. I hoped more than anything that he could still hear me." -an excerpt from my novella, A Sea of Fallen Leaves.

<a href="http://www.soundthesirens.com">SoundTheSirens.com</a>
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Postby don't ask why » 5/3/2005, 10:39 pm

look kids the ants are rushing
peaceful don't know why
they keep on coming one by one

tonight the stars are blazing
it hurts to stare
at the brilliance
at the hate

twitch nervousness
around the curves

life is running
mouths are screaming
life is knocking
arms are flailing
life is ending
minds are failing

look kids the cars are crashing
brittle always feeling good
they keep on smashing one by one

tonight the tiles are stained
the thoughts of your mind
exploring
escaping

twitch nervousness
around the curves

life is running
mouths are screaming
life is knocking
arms are flailing
life is ending
minds are failing
When the consequence of rage comes through the living room floor.
http://seeyoufall.blogspot.com/
don't ask why
 
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