Author Topic: The Poetry Thread  (Read 38399 times)

Offline Baruch

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #315 on: November 20, 2017, 06:44:48 AM »
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The Undertow
Your tranquil waters offer no more solace,
 as I can’t help but ponder and wonder
 at this river of blood beneath the callus
 of where your heart was ripped asunder.
 I can’t fathom the leagues it must stretch
 and clad in darkness the fathoms below.
 Here I stand on the silver shore’s edge;
 captivated by the pull of your undertow.

You and I were carved from selfsame flesh
 so I feel  your muscles and know your bones.
 My body calls out to yours begging to thresh
 for I’m sure you can swim coated in stones.
 That kicking and thrashing I know you can.
 Struggle, I no longer wish to see you tranquil.
 Swim, you wonderful bastard, you fine man.
 Don’t you dare let those waters turn still.


My brother, a calm and quiet man, is getting a divorce. Told me last night. I feel powerless to do anything worthwhile. I'm going to try and be there for him as much as I can. But I don't know where to start.

You are still engaged, setting up a house as prenup?  Never been married before?

Yeah, the quiet ones ... the dangerous ones (I hope not).
שלום

Offline Mr.Obvious

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #316 on: November 20, 2017, 06:58:26 AM »
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You are still engaged, setting up a house as prenup?  Never been married before?

Yeah, the quiet ones ... the dangerous ones (I hope not).

Not engaged, but yes, we're renovating a house. Almost ready to move in. Two more months, I think, tops. Never married.

I don't think my brother is dangerous in any way... I just know he's suffering, though he doesn't want or know how to talk about it.
"Intention is no matter. Only consequence has true form."
- Spencer Porkensenson

Offline Baruch

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #317 on: November 20, 2017, 06:45:16 PM »
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Not engaged, but yes, we're renovating a house. Almost ready to move in. Two more months, I think, tops. Never married.

I don't think my brother is dangerous in any way... I just know he's suffering, though he doesn't want or know how to talk about it.

This is why women are necessary.  They can do the talking for both sides of the couple ;-)
שלום

Offline Mr.Obvious

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #318 on: March 23, 2018, 12:25:59 PM »
Feed
Bare bone torn from the hands that beseech;
their skin ripped by the bloody mouth of the leech.
They are but pounds of flesh, red and raw meat,
a feast offered to the obese beast to feed it’s greed.

It’s flesh is weak and temptation runs within;
pumping through its veins like the original sin
whispering in its ears its self-centred narration
so it might save itself from its own salvation.

Continue to dine on the body of fellow man:
a meagre carcass provides like no god can.
For out there lie no heavens, except in the lies
of how humanity is born, lives and never dies.

Yet when the last one sits on a throne o’ bones,
hungering for more than everything that it owns;
shall it finally learn it can never grow whole?
For feasts of flesh and blood empty the soul.
« Last Edit: March 23, 2018, 12:49:22 PM by Mr.Obvious »
"Intention is no matter. Only consequence has true form."
- Spencer Porkensenson

Offline Cavebear

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #319 on: March 23, 2018, 03:54:48 PM »
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Feed
Bare bone torn from the hands that beseech;
their skin ripped by the bloody mouth of the leech.
They are but pounds of flesh, red and raw meat,
a feast offered to the obese beast to feed it’s greed.

It’s flesh is weak and temptation runs within;
pumping through its veins like the original sin
whispering in its ears its self-centred narration
so it might save itself from its own salvation.

Continue to dine on the body of fellow man:
a meagre carcass provides like no god can.
For out there lie no heavens, except in the lies
of how humanity is born, lives and never dies.

Yet when the last one sits on a throne o’ bones,
hungering for more than everything that it owns;
shall it finally learn it can never grow whole?
For feasts of flesh and blood empty the soul.

I'm impressed!  I initially thought "but never dies" wasn't quite right, but realized it referred to "humanity" not individuals and our end as an intelligent adaptable species is not certain.

Very nice, and thank you.
Atheist born, atheist bred.  And when I die, atheist dead!

Offline Mr.Obvious

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #320 on: June 11, 2018, 06:32:12 PM »
We are Goliath
 
I know it's a tale told to boys by their mothers
yet find myself lost in the legend of Druon Antigoon
who paid the selfsame toll he exacted onto others
when the brave hero Brabo faced him all alone.
A clash worthy of the biblical David and Goliath
over the waters of the Scheldt; calm but treacherous,
where karma unleashed it's unrivaled and ironic wrath
when the roman held his prize overhead, victorious.
Like Atlas it was a world that he carried and showed;
there he held the hand that had taken so many of it's kin
and had thrown them in the cold river to be swallowed
all for greed, 't was the giant's determinately deadly sin.

A lie that showed Belgians to be the bravest of any Gaul
and that large foes can be overcome without exception
as long as one fights hard and carries a pure, noble soul.
At the saga's core; any dwarf can conquer the leviathan
and the wicked shall never escape their just deserts.
When I was but a small child this story brought me awe.
But as an adult pondering it over; it only disconcerts.
For our history lies before me like a never-ending jigsaw
leading up to a well-deserved yet worrisome threat
when we cast aside Brabo's intention in favor of evil.
I sit at home, waiting for karma to come collect a debt
for all the helpless hands that we took in Leopoldville.
"Intention is no matter. Only consequence has true form."
- Spencer Porkensenson

Offline Deidre32

O Wounded Bird
« Reply #321 on: June 17, 2018, 09:03:21 PM »
O Wounded Bird by Deidre


O wounded bird, why did you take your eyes off the sky?

You were flying along, minding your own business, and one day...another bird saw you.

He flew alongside you, in a comical rhythm. He didn't disrupt your flight, he led you to the morning worms.

You skimmed the dewy leaves together, at dawn. His incessant chirping never bothered you, and eventually, a friendship blossomed.

You'd swoop down and then in a flash, soar high above the leafy trees, looking at the world, below. Together, you made the other birds jealous, and they'd fly in a pattern, to be just like you.

He wanted to be with you always, wounded bird. You thought he was the finest gentleman in the area, always fending off the ravenous vultures.

And then one day, bam! You hit a tree while you had your eyes on him. It came out of nowhere. The sharp, jaggedy bark clipped your left wing, and you spiraled to the ground. You tried to call out for your friend, but he never came.

He was there just a minute ago.

Writhing in the dirt, you found your way to your feet, and hobbled along, with one broken wing dangling...lifeless. That tree, where did it come from? How did you not see it? You were blindsided by its strength, its beauty, its stoic nature.

Trees are quite stoic, aren't they?

If you hadn't had your eyes on your love, you would have seen it. He didn't help you that day. Such is a bird's life, I reckon. You fly, and sometimes, you rise above all the smoke and chatter. Other days, you don't, because your eyes were pressed on another bird who you thought cared for you like no other.

O wounded bird, why did you take your eyes off the sky?
The only lasting beauty, is the beauty of the heart. - Rumi

Offline Deidre32

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #322 on: June 17, 2018, 09:04:01 PM »
(Not quite a poem ^^ , but more of a literary piece) ^_^
The only lasting beauty, is the beauty of the heart. - Rumi

Online Shiranu

Re: The Poetry Thread
« Reply #323 on: June 17, 2018, 09:22:35 PM »
I would consider it a poem... very Shahnameh (Persian "Book of Kings", or prose of Iranian history and myth) vibes.
"I can’t move on, I can’t relax. ’Cause when you're gone... panic attacks." - Elohim

"Letting go means to come to the realization that some people are a part of your history, but not a part of your destiny" - Steve Maraboli

 

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