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Post by Galadriel on Feb 20, 2006 21:42:37 GMT
I would like to post a little poem of myself, it 's in Dutch though, but I'll translate it. It shows the pain I had to deal with last friday at work, I had a lot of grief this weekend and this is the result of my pain. slangetongen in mijn hoofd slangetongen in mijn ziel laat me met rust het is genoeg ik sluit me af en waan me dood Translation Snaketongues in my head Snaketongues in my soul Leave me alone I've had enough I close myself en imagine I'm dead
pijn is een dolk in mijn hart, met de punt en dan draaien dat gat gaat nooit meer toe het blijft bloeden voor altijd Translation Pain is like a dagger in my heart first the point, then turning that hole never heals it keeps bleeding for ever The first poem is the first that I'm really proud of myself, strange how a person should be suffering before he/she can write a nice poem
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Post by janggut on Feb 21, 2006 6:34:29 GMT
@ Gal -> pretty good. nothing strange really, to suffer & then being able to write it out beautifully. one guess is that because it's personal & one is able to pour out emotionally into the words, hence poetry. @ DL -> u have more than enough poems to house them in your own poem thread.
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Post by Dark Phoenix Rising on Feb 21, 2006 9:54:48 GMT
Lovely poem Gal, and I hope things get better. As for why bad things make poetry easier to write, well as Jang said, poetry is a matter of pouring out your soul into words. However moments of great joy can also inspire the same, it's just that when we're feeling happy the last thing on our minds is a poem . If you listen to your heart you'll probably find that there are poems trying to get out nearly all the time, and all you need to do is write them down. Jang - I had considered doing that, as much to work out how many I have as well as to keep them in the same place.
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Post by LaFille on Feb 21, 2006 17:59:57 GMT
Nice poem, Gal. I seem to achieve things that please me more when I feel bad too. It's probably because it's a state in which we pour ourself more and deeper into our works, as if we wanted to store those feelings we'd prefer to get rid of in it.
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Post by Dark Phoenix Rising on Feb 21, 2006 18:26:25 GMT
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Post by Galadriel on Feb 21, 2006 20:34:04 GMT
Lovely poem Gal, and I hope things get better. Well, to be honest, one of the two women that made my life that miserable last friday is at home now for the rest of the week, sick or something, prolly because of me, because she always blames things on someone else And the other one, her partner in crime, was with the spooksman of one of our ministers today, so she didn't bother me either. You cannot believe how much stress fell of my shoulders not to have to work with them today! (about 5 pounds ;D )
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Post by Dark Phoenix Rising on Feb 21, 2006 20:47:40 GMT
I can, I can
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Post by LaFille on May 24, 2006 17:58:34 GMT
This poem was at the beginning of a book I read recently. Found it great so I decided to post it here. IthacaWhen you set out on your journey to Ithaca, Pray that the road is long, Full of adventure, rich of teachings. Do not fear the Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, nor the angry Poseidon, You will never find such as these on your path, If your thoughts remain lofty, if the emotion Lives in your spirit and your body. The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops, You will never encounter, neither the fierce Poseidon, If you do not carry them within your soul, If your soul does not set them up before you. I wish you that the road is long. That the summer mornings are many, That the pleasure to enter ports seen for the first time Brings you a new joy; Stop at Phoenician markets Where you will find fine merchandise. Visit many Egyptian cities, And learn from those who have so much to teach you. Always keep Ithaca in your mind. To arrive there is your ultimate goal. But do not hurry the voyage at all; It is better to let it last for many years And to anchor at the island only When you are rich with all you have gained on the way. Do not expect that Ithaca will offer you riches, Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage. Without her you would have never set out on the road. She gave you everything, she has nothing more to give you. And even if you find her poor, in the end, Ithaca has not deceived you. Wise as you have become, you lived intensely, And that's what Ithaca means. By Constantine Cavafy (1863-1933); original written in Greek
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Post by janggut on May 25, 2006 6:08:49 GMT
very nice, Fille. Ithaca is more than just a place.
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Post by riverman on May 25, 2006 11:10:24 GMT
On the streets and in the doorways I see them ducking out of veiw Are you really there~ in my dreams of that night under the yellow moonlight reading that paper disguised as the Son
Now I hear the places ~ where silence used to be The engines are talking over~ silence is not pleased Hostile droning culpability.
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Post by Shan on May 25, 2006 17:58:13 GMT
riverman, i like the above one alot. does it have a special meaning to you, anything in special in mind when you wrote it? just curious.
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Post by riverman on Jun 5, 2006 17:12:58 GMT
riverman, i like the above one alot. does it have a special meaning to you, anything in special in mind when you wrote it? just curious. It's about detecting things like the hostile nature that seems to take over the places where quit was. Now people and machine sounds are everywhere. The influence is a bit paranoid........thanks
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Post by riverman on Jun 7, 2006 2:22:40 GMT
Humble King
In some ancient city behind the oft scaled walls a king held court in such an innocent way.
The king did not know his power he went around in circles begging for this or that.
He was loved ~ he felt by many or was it only some. Though he feared only one What was fear to a king who did not know he was one.
No true court lavish with amenities only dreams and the most precious gifts Love and Hope
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Post by ss on Jun 13, 2006 20:05:59 GMT
DPR -- I like it... hows about "and leave the light to seek it's prey" as an ending...(in reference to stanza 6 and the title??)
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Post by Dark Phoenix Rising on Jun 14, 2006 14:35:50 GMT
The light is supposed to be the prey, held by a drunkard who is making his way home in the dark...
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Post by riverman on Jun 17, 2006 5:58:44 GMT
some of these words are mad up {unjadded}
When we danced as children ~ round and round restless tedium never invaded hope sprang forth with action ~ put us on a joyous path filled with possibilty
Things have changed , for me anyway joyless occupation is driving me inane passion and vision are gifts of the unjadded
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Post by Shan on Jun 18, 2006 20:21:16 GMT
More good work riverman. are you writing these as you post them or are they ones you've written in the past? I'm gonna guess as you post.
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Post by riverman on Jun 18, 2006 23:48:13 GMT
I'm pretty much writing them at the moment, I post them in other places as well , So I might write them there first but whatever I do , I overpost in other forums. I just need to write so I do , I think it's a great way to practice...thanks
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Post by riverman on Jun 20, 2006 1:24:27 GMT
UNIFYI
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All madman dancing poet junkie prophets leave by this roadside all your late fears The time is nigh to enter the masters homeland
The place that gave birth to our King without country his majesty's reign has led men to answers without question His life of perfection and the deeds in him we should keep .
Blood by the vestal lady lambs' child hearts can weep ~ all sorrows for her plight Young girls sad martyrs pushing out the light
Tiny miracle vessel ~ so much potential All of our sins are given for the blood of a natural life .
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Post by riverman on Jun 20, 2006 1:29:47 GMT
I hope it's okay to post a couple here as well as in the "I too, poem " thread
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