Author Topic: The Poetry Thread  (Read 48157 times)

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #330 on: September 08, 2018, 07:28:23 PM »
I like that! I had to look up "scumble" though...

Also, I'm curious - do tornados have an "eye of the storm"?
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"In life, unlike chess, the game continues after checkmate."
Isaac Asimov

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #331 on: September 08, 2018, 07:31:23 PM »
I have a book called You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login, from 1909, that has some good stuff in it. Here's one that I like a lot:

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I especially like the first bit:

Quote
One of the Down and Out — that’s me. Stare at me well, ay, stare!
 Stare and shrink — say! you wouldn’t think that I was a millionaire.
 Look at my face, it’s crimped and gouged — one of them death-mask things;
 Don’t seem the sort of man, do I, as might be the pal of kings?
 Slouching along in smelly rags, a bleary-eyed, no-good bum;
 A knight of the hollow needle, pard, spewed from the sodden slum.
 Look me all over from head to foot; how much would you think I was worth?
 A dollar? a dime? a nickel? Why, I’m the wealthiest man on earth.
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"In life, unlike chess, the game continues after checkmate."
Isaac Asimov

Offline Mr.Obvious

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #332 on: September 08, 2018, 07:50:31 PM »
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I like that! I had to look up "scumble" though...

Also, I'm curious - do tornados have an "eye of the storm"?

As I understand it; yes, technically. But I could be mistaken.
If I am, I guess I might have to change it to hurricane. Though tornado sounded better to me :D
"If we have to go down, we go down together!"
- Your mum, requesting 69 last night.


Offline Baruch

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #333 on: September 08, 2018, 11:16:28 PM »
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I like that! I had to look up "scumble" though...

Also, I'm curious - do tornados have an "eye of the storm"?

Technically tornadoes aren't like hurricanes.  Hurricanes can have a calm eye, and they spawn tornadoes and water spouts.  There is no calm in the middle of a tornado.  The final scene in Twister, showed an eye, but that is meteorological license.

Metaphorically, eye of the storm, isn't a good thing, if you are in a sailing ship.  If you survived the hurricane to get to the eye, then you are only half way out ;-(
« Last Edit: September 08, 2018, 11:18:13 PM by Baruch »
𐎍𐎜𐎜𐎟𐎌𐎀𐎍𐎎𐎀𐎀𐎚𐎀𐎟𐎍𐎜𐎜𐎟𐎁𐎀𐎍𐎉𐎀𐎀𐎚𐎀
luu shalmaata luu balt’aata
May you be well, may you be healthy

Offline Cavebear

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #334 on: September 12, 2018, 04:42:22 AM »
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As I understand it; yes, technically. But I could be mistaken.
If I am, I guess I might have to change it to hurricane. Though tornado sounded better to me :D

Tornados have an "eye" like hurricanes, but very small. 
Atheist born, atheist bred.  And when I die, atheist dead!

Offline Baruch

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #335 on: September 12, 2018, 09:44:07 PM »
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Tornados have an "eye" like hurricanes, but very small.

Measure one yourself, and I will believe you ;-)
𐎍𐎜𐎜𐎟𐎌𐎀𐎍𐎎𐎀𐎀𐎚𐎀𐎟𐎍𐎜𐎜𐎟𐎁𐎀𐎍𐎉𐎀𐎀𐎚𐎀
luu shalmaata luu balt’aata
May you be well, may you be healthy

Offline Mr.Obvious

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #336 on: October 10, 2018, 06:06:17 AM »
The church

Come breathe holy air on this graveyard of dreams,
forlorn sanctuary now hidden amongst clouds of mist,
where better people than us prayed for mere gleams
Of a world after Lucifer’s and the King of Kings’ tryst.

When not even winds dare whisper the hyms they sang
the bricks and mortar of this vestige crumble in silence.
I can naught but dream of reaching another with a bang
by ringing the scarred steeple’s bronze bells in defiance.

Is there life left in this fallen flesh and these buried bones?
Is someone marching blindly through these banks, hoping still?
I suppose to know; I must brave and climb these rotten stones.
And yet I’m cold and tired and wet, and I don’t know if I will.
« Last Edit: October 10, 2018, 07:06:15 AM by Mr.Obvious »
"If we have to go down, we go down together!"
- Your mum, requesting 69 last night.


Offline Baruch

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #337 on: October 10, 2018, 01:05:36 PM »
We are the product of the past, free will or not.  The past lives on, thru us.
𐎍𐎜𐎜𐎟𐎌𐎀𐎍𐎎𐎀𐎀𐎚𐎀𐎟𐎍𐎜𐎜𐎟𐎁𐎀𐎍𐎉𐎀𐎀𐎚𐎀
luu shalmaata luu balt’aata
May you be well, may you be healthy

Offline Cavebear

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #338 on: October 14, 2018, 08:41:16 AM »
Not serious poetry, but I've seen worse.  And it is my thoughts right now...

I wanna new car,
Without scratches and dents,
One that looks like it should,
That only cost a few  pence.

I wanna new car.
Electric would be good.
That could haul a small trailer
And a small boat too.

I wanna a new car,
13 years is quite long
Its starting to die,
And it won't be long.

I wanna new car,
Black was never right.
You can't see that car,
In the dead of night.

I wanna new car,
Another SUV.
The height gets me up
Over headlights, you see.

I wanna a new car,
For the pride, ya'll.
But it has to fit the garage
At my beck and call.

And the door's kinna small.

I wanna new car,
Without tech-stuff, ya know.
I don't call when driving,
And I know where I am.

I wanna new car,
One that keeps me alive,
And keeps me protected
In front or behind.

I wanna new car,
Hydrogen's good
But there ain't that stuff
In the neighborhood.

I wanna new car,
But maybe keep what I've got.
Get it detailed and painted,
Let mechanics fix it up.

I wanna a new car,
I could buy one you see.
But this one could last,
Another 10 years and three.
Atheist born, atheist bred.  And when I die, atheist dead!

Offline Mr.Obvious

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #339 on: October 15, 2018, 09:10:11 AM »
Mold

Have you ever had corruption mocking you?
 There’s a patch of it growing inside my bath,
 cloaked as midnight begat from tainted tissue
 infecting and growing with cancerous wrath.

Others dare declare they cannot see it.
 Which above all else is most unfair.
 For no matter how much washing I did
 I still feel it spreading everywhere.

I scrub and scrub and scrub hours on end
 and use my tears to dilute the soap.
 I plunge open wounds into lemon scent
 and use the pain to help me cope.

It still infests my marmer, consuming all.
 The cleaning product bites into my skin
 There’s red smeared across the wall.
 And without flesh; fingers seem so thin.

The spores now root deep in my blood.
 With closed eyes they can’t be unseen.
 Underneath my skin I can feel them bud
 making me tear muscles to keep clean.

And if it weren’t for my frustration,
 I doubt I could still call myself sane.
 Only rage withstood the assimilation
 ever pumping through every vein.
« Last Edit: October 15, 2018, 09:12:10 AM by Mr.Obvious »
"If we have to go down, we go down together!"
- Your mum, requesting 69 last night.


Offline Mr.Obvious

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #340 on: October 22, 2018, 10:18:52 AM »
Perfect Storm

The ocean clashes in rhythm against bedrock of stone
in a game of push and pull underneath the full moon.
The smell of salt water penetrates the winds which moan
into the sails of our vessel set to sink all too soon.

Onward into the darkest depths beneath the dancing tides
where we might lose ourselves to drown in fluid bliss!
Together with you, it matters not whereto the storm rides
so long as we come where waters explode into the abyss.

Hold onto the mast now the heavens above rip asunder
and our ship suffers the wrath of Thor’s heavy blow.
I’ll keep you in my arms when warm waves drag us under;
extinguishing the blazing flames roaring in our bow.

And should we wake tomorrow on white, raw sand;
alive and aglow with the sun rising beyond world’s edge
we shall build another raft to leave that lonely island
en voyage to the perfect storm to sink said fiery ketch.
« Last Edit: October 22, 2018, 10:37:58 AM by Mr.Obvious »
"If we have to go down, we go down together!"
- Your mum, requesting 69 last night.


Offline Mr.Obvious

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #341 on: November 02, 2018, 08:03:32 PM »
A long hard look

Beyond the stalls whereto he ran, the faded mirror told his fate;
he sees only a nine dollar man stuck on his fourteen dollar date.
Entranced by the man reflected, he is unable to leave this place.
For gone is the charm once respected and the grin plastered on that face.
Lines carved into the registrar dealing in truth found late at night.
The jukebox mocks from afar, knowing it's spite can't be denied.
And he feels the needle scratch, for the record playing is his own:
with past mistakes made to match with a song of sinister undertone.
A chanted path that lead him here; face to face with his barren husk
filled with grease and stale beer and drenched in this diner's musk.
There is no real history to be seen, no single rise to have lead to a fall.
It's all been dreary and in between; mirrored mediocrity, the worst of all.
Ain't no rest-room for the wicked, no refuge in numbers on wood,
when you judge yourself convicted of not turning out how you should.
"If we have to go down, we go down together!"
- Your mum, requesting 69 last night.


Offline Cavebear

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #342 on: November 03, 2018, 02:19:58 AM »
I miss him.
Atheist born, atheist bred.  And when I die, atheist dead!

Offline Mr.Obvious

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #343 on: November 03, 2018, 03:41:18 AM »
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I miss him.

We missed you, buddy.

Wb
"If we have to go down, we go down together!"
- Your mum, requesting 69 last night.


Offline Mr.Obvious

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #344 on: November 19, 2018, 06:22:26 AM »
Could use some input on this one!
Making it for a friend who's putting together an indie game centered in WWII.

Entrenched

The soil soaks with the blood of brothers
though the iron is not bound to the ground:
It is flung forth from us to the others
in a monstrous nightmare we try to mount
and ride towards the glow of the rising sun.
Arm the cannons and rip the skies asunder,
the struggle for a horse has only just begun:
Kill the man you were and let it thunder.
Worry only how to live with yourself
after you make sure that you'll live.
Forget the One and his band of twelve
and the forgiveness that He might give.
Nothing is sacred in love nor in war.
Arm the cannons and rip your soul asunder,
the high horse of dawn grazes too far.
Kill the man you'd be and let it thunder.

Someone told me to check a syllable counter.
This one is more in tune with that: ten each.
Which is better?

entrenched

Here the soil soaks with the blood of brothers
though the iron is not bound to the ground:
It is flung forth from us to the others
in a monstrous nightmare we try to mount
and ride to the light of the rising sun.
Arm the cannons; rip the skies asunder,
the struggle for a steed has just begun:
Kill the man you were and let it thunder.
Worry only how to live with yourself
after you are certain that you will live.
Forget now the One and his band of twelve
and so the forgiveness that He might give.
Nothing is sacred in love nor in war.
Arm the cannons; rip your soul asunder,
the high horse of dawn grazes far too far.
Kill the man you'd be and let it thunder.
« Last Edit: November 20, 2018, 06:11:18 PM by Mr.Obvious »
"If we have to go down, we go down together!"
- Your mum, requesting 69 last night.


 

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