Share Your Poetic Skills!

[Pontiuth Pilate]

As per title, share pieces of poetry and/or lyrics you've recently written. Also, critique others' works [constructively, please ] and make suggestions for improvement.

I'll just start this off with a short jazz tune I wrote yesterday in history class called "The Takeout Blues". Saxophone to lips, tongue firmly embedded in cheek:

The Takeout Blues

Weeeell
May I take your order?
Tell me what you’ll have
Ya won’t be disappointed
When your takeout arrives

Takeout [sweetnsour,woh-oh-yeah]
Takeout [sweetnsour, woh-oh-yeah]
I said Baby’s doing takeout
Why don’t you have me tonight?

I said
You tell me the numbers
And I’ll ring up the bill
But don’t you pinch those pennies
Till you’ve eaten your fill

Takeout [sweetnsour,woh-oh-yeah]
Takeout [sweetnsour, woh-oh-yeah]
I said Baby’s doing takeout
Why don’t you have me tonight?

I said
Number Nine’s the sweetest
And all the rest are sour
Thus the wanton crumbles when
You’re paid by the hour

Takeout [sweetnsour,woh-oh-yeah]
Takeout [sweetnsour, woh-oh-yeah]
I said Baby’s doing takeout
Why don’t you have me tonight?

I said
Baby I’m a-slavin’
From ten at night till two
But the money doesn’t matter
I’m a-hung’rin’ for you

Takeout [sweetnsour,woh-oh-yeah]
Takeout [sweetnsour, woh-oh-yeah]
I said Baby’s doing takeout
Why don’t you have me tonight?

[lengthy guitar solo]

Oooh [Waow!]
Baby gave her answer:
“Man you go to hell!
I don’t want no takeout
I was ringing Taco Bell.”

Takeout [sweetnsour, woh-oh yeah]
Takeout [sweetnsour, woh-oh yeah]
I said Baby’s doing takeout
And me I am eatin the blues.

 

[Mrogreturns]

One has to wonder whether the word "thus" belongs in the blues...

But otherwise good. Any detail available on the solo?

 

[cgannon64]

I used to write poetry, but I'm more into fiction and screenplays (anime ) now. (Don't think I'm some serious writer, its something to pass them time and get nagging ideas out of my head.)

I'd post them, but they are like 2 years old and don't represent my current ability.

EDIT: Good lyrics though, pontiuth. Blues doesn't really fit in the title, but then again, it never does in blues songs.

 

[Pontiuth Pilate]

@ Mrog: Sorry, I play rhythm and I write of course.

....I couldn't figure out any other way to get the wonton allusion The alternative is "That's the way", two syllables too many. Besides it's a parody so a little artistic leeway is acceptable.

 

[cgannon64]

Wait, you actually play? Cool. I could almost tell that when I read it, it was clearly written with a beat in mind.

 

[Skullbones]

Jingle Bells, Pontiuth smells
Lefty killed a troll.
Sibling spammed, cgannon got banned and Mojo made a poll.

Just made that up, cuz I'm cool like that. Bleh!

 

[Mrogreturns]

Originally posted by Pontiuth Pilate
@ Mrog: Sorry, I play rhythm and I write of course.

....I couldn't figure out any other way to get the wonton allusion The alternative is "That's the way", two syllables too many. Besides it's a parody so a little artistic leeway is acceptable.

Yeah- I'll give you that. I'm working on something similar called "Cletus's mama's chitlins". It's surprisingly difficult to maintain a consistent style throughout.

 

[Hitro]

A hard night's day

Death.
A little child chokes.
Three little children beat it.
To the Batmobile!

Hitro, at 6:40 am on a Saturday morning.

 

[floppa21]

Roses are red
Violets are purple
Sugar is sweet
So's maple syrple.

 

[Kinniken]

I haven't wrote anything since more than two years ago, and everything of not abysmal quality I ever wrote (in poetry) is in French.
Here are my two last ones, understand who read French. Both are in alexandrines.

Surrealist poem written in the weeks following 9/11, mainly as a catharsis - one of my best IMHO, though deliberately obscure, and thus very hard to understand even for French speakers:

De Profondis

Bonhommes de neige dansant avec le vent
Chérubins dans les airs, pareils au jour d’avant

La rivière perdue a trouvé son chemin
Et l’horizon est loin comme les lendemains

Auguste floraison de nos couleurs primaires
S’envolant en bouquet incendier les nuits claires

Illuminant l’envol des roseaux éperdus
Neige tombant plus tôt qu’on ne la croyait due

Enfant cherchant en vain le début du cerceau
Les vagues ont brisé les restes du berceau

Visages en lambeaux arrachés par le vent
Fantômes errant encore au soleil levant

Cocon déchiré par une main vengeresse
Rejetons difformes d’une horrible grossesse

Soldats de la grêle labourant cette terre
Abreuvant les sillons de leur juste colère

Il a fallu deux flashs et tout s’est arrêté
Le brouillard s’est posé, on a vu fuir l’été
Les oiseaux blancs partis voler entre les mondes
Et la gaieté des fleurs déposées sur les tombes.



One I wrote a few weeks later, on religious intolerance - fueled mainly by 9/11 and the ME conflict. This time, as direct as it gets

Antienne

Oh Abrahams en sang le couteau à la main
Qui sacrifiez vos fils pour assouvir vos dieux
Ces molochs rougeoyant à l’appétit odieux
Vous qui hantiez hier, hanterez-vous demain?

Barbus blasphémateurs réécrivant sans trêve
Les saints livres et l’histoire à votre sombre image
Brandissant vos fusils comme autrefois vos glaives
Verront-nous un matin la fin de votre rage?

Adorateurs impies aveuglés par la haine
Qui de votre monde bannissez la couleur
Repeignant tout de noir et de blanc sans chaleur,
Vous faut-il plus de sang pour vos tristes arènes?

Spectres hallucinés horribles charognards
Revenant chaque fois qu’on vous croit disparus
Brandissant haut et fort un nouvel étendard
La vengeance remplit vos rangs de recrues

Et sur vos têtes tournent, confiants et sans hâte,
Ces oiseaux qu’Isaac voyait derrière son père
Attendant affamés que le couteau s’abatte;
Ces oiseaux monstrueux - vos semblables, vos frères!

 

[FredLC]

Hehehehe. I don't write poetry too much, but I enjoy reading it, and I used to go to chat rooms under the alias "The Fake Poet Guy" before I started joining internet forums (far more satisfying than chat rooms).

Anyway, I used to write some cheesy little poems under people's requests when I was chatting, and I saved some of the less bad of those.

So here they go (feel free to take your shots at me afterwards ):

This was my regular "good bye" line:

"I have to go. Not that I like it, not that I mean it, simply… I have to go. The ruthless reality has made this so. I’m sad because of the wonderful time I had below, of the friends that I met just moments ago, and the ones that I’ll never get to know. But it’s for sure that’ll be a tomorrow, a shining future to erase my sorrow, when a sweet comeback will feed my soul. Be in peace, my fellows."

About solitude:

"Solitude, Solitude, can you really be? For it’s so full and complete in itself? Can someone be alone when side by side with despair? And emptiness, and silence, and the sense of unfair, and all those merciless feelings that belong together? But the real question is bound to be: After solitude, will it all still care to thee?"

This is the answer I always gave when someone asked me "why fake?"

“I fake, I admit, like no real poet would… Oh, but I would be real, if only so much I could. So, please forgive me if I’m not half as good, as to give my words such a magnitude, with what the truly gifted salute the beloved poetry they use.”

About perseverance:

"No, no, no, keep the fight, keep the fight, for the courage of keeping makes you shine, makes you bright. Makes you chivalry of honor in the army of the light, as a carrier of wisdom for the wanderers of the night."

About the futility of evil:

"No strangeness or iniquity or unleashed shadow shall be seen as darkness victory. Evil dances and sings, but to no avail, it fades stolen by its self-thievery. It builds nothing and drawn in quicksand, birthed trapped by its own evil hand. No cry or tear it seeds must be regretted, as they paint and point its sadness – under striking inevitable justice – in manners to a great extent unrelenting."

An old saying, rephrased to be more poetic:

"When a big oak collapses and goes down… ravishing its way to the soured ground… do the crash noise exist at all… if no one's there to witnesses such fall?"

About the pain of loosing a lover:

"Why? What's that that so desperately requires you to go? Can't you stay for the sake of my soul? Leaving is cruel when you get to know - that without you I’ll perish as a ghoul; by sorrow, by hunger – a poison, a sword – and find no joy in the life I still own. Until you get back and your breath I bestow… to grant me rest by the gawk of you."

And about the joy of finding a lost love:

"Meaningless miles can’t stop my care, 'cause even more meaningless is being apart. For distance is concept to those who dare - to love, to relish and cherish so much– 'til the news of the meeting gets to the ears, ruining the sorrow with salutes and cheers; And now you are here to my greatest joy; welcome dear to this gather of us."

About ethics (influenced by a saying of the movie "8 millimeters"):

"You dance with the devil and goodness you seek, to ravish his will and demise his wish, to fool the beast and frustrate his deeds. But seeking is futile as its ravenous style demises your wish. You dance with the devil and you compromise, and give up your goals as the dancing goes by, steadily and surely in a helpless cry. You dance with the devil and you be sure – no matter your strength or desire or urge – that you can’t ever make it something pure. The devil won’t change… but just changes you."


That's it. Very lame, I know, but hey, I'm a illustrator, not a writer.

Regards .

 

[trader/warrior]

in the land of mordor where shadows lie
lord sauron looks out with his eye
he looks at gondor he gives the order
great armies of orcs crosses the border

Aragorn ellessar king of gondor
has to fight the mighty mordor
the return of the king has come at last
will he win or will he go into the past

in the land of mordor where shadows lie
lord sauron looks out with his eye
he looks at gondor he gives the order
but the real threat is within his border

out in the wastelands the ringbearer walks
but he does not know that gollum stalks
to mount orodroin the path is set
but the quest is not finished yet

the paths of the dead are haunted they say
but aragorn has to go that way
to get an army of long dead ghosts
and attack the men on the southern coasts

there may come a day when the western lands fail
but they must once again prevail
all hope now lies with two little hobbits
in the land of mordor where shadows lie



i made it myself!!!

 

[Eastern Knight]

good for you.

©

Madness in Hell

Looking at this dark world,
Through my own eyes,
Overflowing with sins,
And anguish cries.

I’m tired of agony,
I’m exhausted of pain,
Of this tragic world,
That is filled with complaints.

Anywhere is unfairness,
Everywhere is injustice,
Filled with discrimination,
And cruel prejudice.

Everyday dreaming and wishing,
To end the suffering,
Of this world,
That is decaying.

This life is meaningless,
This time is worthless,
Fearing and rioting,
Out of this wretchedness.

I’m living with depression,
And sleeping with despair,
Dreaming of a nightmare,
Reality is unfair.

Chaos of riots,
Screams of madness,
I’m living in a cell,
Of a prison in hell!

Crammed with craziness,
Aches and pains,
This world is driving me,
Insane!

Dreaming of a fantasy,
Full of ecstasy,
But waking up to see,
Again, this hatred reality.

6/23/03

 

[willemvanoranje]

I just do some Dutch stuff occassionally.....had a pretty productive night with a friend of mine last thursday. Here's one translated...see how many of you can explain it.

"if you see the Grand Canyon dance in front of you,
and when you look up you see the Alps,
then let your tongue speak for you."

Try to explain that.

 

[Kan' Sharuminar]

Believe it or not, this poem helped me pass my Advanced English course two years back.

The Tale of the Chair (Which involves a Bear)

A chair, unaware.
It stands over there,
Looking at a bear,

The bear, it does stare,
At the unaware chair,
From its dark lair.

The chair does glare,
Back at the bear,
What a strange pair.

The bear sniffs the air,
The scent is not fair,
It moves to the chair.

A chair vs the bear,
The bear, well does it fare,
But the chair does tear.

The bear and the chair,
The bear's in it's lair.
But the chair is not there.

So there you go.

 

[Aphex_Twin]

Aphex_Pan

Night in the apex
Moon in the zenith
Rithms of fire
Known to the few
But practiced my many

Mars on the nadire
Rithms desire
Engaging the few
Unknown to many

Iupiter sole, revolving
Divine rithms, underneath
Rithms just born, forever new
Driving the drums of the few
Heard by the many

Here now
I lie in my spire
Collecting my thoughts
Gathering in my focus
Playing the instruments

Theese neither the many, nor will the few
Ever be able to listen to



A little example in self-indulgence

 

[Smaasnekje]

Bad poetry of my current situation:


Hello, I'm Smaasnekje who are you?
I live in a happy place,
I hope you do too.
Far away from death and decay,
where the sky is not gray.
My life is good, I got plenty of food,
but still I feel blue today.


I see the world through shaded glass,
not fearing any soldiers or hamaas.
not wondering where my family are,
where to eat, or if i'll survive.
I am lucky I know thats right.
My future looks pretty bright.
But i still feel blue tonight.


I know I'm shallow, I know I'm Lucky.
Not eating anything that's "yucky"
But There is a hole in my soul.
I have still not achieved my goal.
Hello, I'm Smaasnekje who are you?
live in a happy place,
but still feel blue.