saman wrote:that's very good. good use of imagery. i'm not usually a fan of rhyming poetry, but i like this poem.
apologies, i know this thread was originally trent's, but i was inspired to write by some of his poems (which is a big feat considering i've had writer's block for two years), and also, i don't really want to make another thread.
I used to not be very fond of rhyming poetry, too; it all seemed too cliche, too much like everything else. But then I realized that you can use the flow to the advantage of the theme and language of the poem.
I'm super-flattered that you dig my stuff You have no idea how much you made my day today when I read that!
"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.
saman wrote:that's very good. good use of imagery. i'm not usually a fan of rhyming poetry, but i like this poem.
apologies, i know this thread was originally trent's, but i was inspired to write by some of his poems (which is a big feat considering i've had writer's block for two years), and also, i don't really want to make another thread.
I used to not be very fond of rhyming poetry, too; it all seemed too cliche, too much like everything else. But then I realized that you can use the flow to the advantage of the theme and language of the poem.
I'm super-flattered that you dig my stuff You have no idea how much you made my day today when I read that!
aww well, i'm glad that you're glad your poetry is very inspirational
i don't mind cliche's in poetry, if you can make them work. my beef with rhyming poetry is that it hardly ever works. you risk the integrity of the poem by trying to make it rhyme, so that instead of sounding good, it sounds cheesy and odd.
I agree that rhyming poetry can sound very tired but if done right it can be amazing. Take The Eve of St Agnes by Keats for example. Granted he's a famous Romantic Poet, but it shows that it can be done.
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christa lynn wrote:I agree that rhyming poetry can sound very tired but if done right it can be amazing. Take The Eve of St Agnes by Keats for example. Granted he's a famous Romantic Poet, but it shows that it can be done.
"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.
"pencil lead"
strung-up like the lights in Chinatown, strung-out like a junkie; with her face on the ground when all I want to do is burn out-- and burn out bright
all I can find is pencil lead, when all I want to do is leave my mark-- and the watercolor paints always wash my thoughts away
"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.
I wake up and boom the utter doom
I realize I'm not who I was
And who I am is someone who see things alot clearly
20 the year of change
It's not in my head, things will never stay the same
but what I miss is no longer attainable
and the future is not avoidable
thoughts and feelings running rampant like mice in a field
vast like the distance of the kind of life I used to have.
"I'm upset, happiness is not a fish that you can catch."
too dark to see the clouds, as the lightning rips the sky a Greek view of the psyche, where the lines and colors lie
tear away the lost in me, as I watch you drift away broken dreams, no place to be, with such a tiny part to play
so I'll see the midnight, bright as day, as you fear what you don't know but I'l walk on through the darkess, and find the lantern's glow
"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.
Men only run from that which they cannot name,
And your name is a mystery to every man.
But there was one who could not run from you,
For when he came to run, his legs fell limp
As if sewn to the ground by many strands of your hair.
This is my story both humble and true,
Take it to pieces and mend it with glue.
- John Lennon, 1969
this is called...feed my mind..plz give me some feedback..positive or negative.
I've got the hunger in my mind
inside i am what's real, filled with a burning that's deep.
Inside im losing, im failing, i sleep.
A costant straining, in denial of the weak
Watched and I've waited
now's the time for me.
A time for truth
what do you see?
who is it youre hoping for
who do you want me to be.
Cut the ties,
break the pressure
and I've got the hunger
to feed my mind.
I've got it down
and I want to believe
the truth inside your lies.
..And so it goes
the constant straining
makes me feel alive.
"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.
You've got the nerve and the questions, the answers
the strength, the lies, the mind and the money
the optimism and the cup is half full
but do you know why you're so empty?
but do you know why you're so vain?
The darkness and lies cover us all
the breaking rope before the fall.
It's in the black that we find
the light to burn a hole in the dark.
Your money hungry eyes
burn a hole in the sun
you sell your soul
not for love, but control.
And bow to those
who can bend your will
But when you break
I'll be there to watch you
and lend a hand
to a man in need
when he's losing his soul.
No more pretty pictures, The lovely girls can go to hell, Their vanity and striking poses, Withered liars in a shell, We'll burn them in the garden of Eden, Their ashes can release the spell, Of fake and ugly little girls, Spreading like a cancer cell.
You have no idea how much you made my day today when I read that!
your poetry is very inspirational 
