Does anyone have any verse?

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Does anyone have any verse?

Postby thenewaustria » Tue Jun 15, 2004 10:20 pm

I am not sure if this is the right section of the forum to post this

but anyway,

does anyone on this site ever write any verse?


Would you like to share it with the forum?

I propose we start a thread for original verse
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Some verse

Postby Saturn » Tue Jun 15, 2004 10:35 pm

I've been writing poetry for five years. Here's a little something I wrote last week:

Inquiry of belief

Antiquity has no authority;
His slow steps, bent with age
Carry only the luggage of Time:
A trail of wrinkled error
Whose furrows and crevises
Are mere folds of belief, which,
Intravenously injected
Into the blood of children,
Relayed as dusty hierlooms
To be treasured up like bullion -
An holy bequest or inheritance
Of fixed opinions, which ever
Unchallenged will rot inquiry
And thus Delusion will stalk
Ever forward into eternity.

-Terrible I know, but what choice have we but to dictate the Muse's voice?
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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I'll Compose One Here

Postby MonroeDoctrine » Wed Jun 16, 2004 3:15 am

Here's A Poem I Shall Create At This Moment:

Oh how I laugh at these brilliant men;
Those geniuses that write poetry
soley to create pessimism. Ye
poets must learn how to use that damn pen!
And crush these cynics,
i.e. God's bad critics.
Peace
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Pan

Postby Matt » Wed Jun 16, 2004 3:29 pm

This is from my rough workings of a poem following the story of the God Pan. Let me know what you think please. Any comments would be greatly greatly greatly appreciated. Does Stephen Saturn have any suggestions/criticisms etc? Let me know everyone please.



Oh Panic! Oh panic! What is the sound?
That causes sheep to thunder o'er hilly ground?
Here there and everywhere runneth the sheep
Whilst the wild flowrs bow and sigh and weep.

They know now that their lives are over,
No longer will they stand above the clover,
No longer will they give colourful hope
To those souls whose habit it is to mope
On lost loves and far away distant dreams
Who look only upon nature as it seems;

And now nature
Killed by those to whome they gave precious life,
Crushed by a hundred sheep in deadly strife.

And what of the sheep? Still they run so wild
Desperate to return to a life once mild;
Before their ears drank that horrid scream
Which belonged to someone they had not seen
Sneak upon them and then with full intent
Let loose the din that only hell could've sent

A din? Not just that; a murderous cry
Which puts fear and madness into the eyes
Of every sheep from mother Ewe to lamb
But scared most is tired, weak old ram
He has heard before legend of this awful scream
And for him easy death is now but a dream.
He knows not that there will never be peace,
Death will take the flock; life will cease,
And so the old ram watched and waited
While chaos prevailed, Oh Chaos hated!

For days the sheep ran around in panic
As time went by, more they grew manic
Until at last as the old Ram had though
The Sheep went mad and each other they fought,
Desperate to hunt and to kill and to maim
The one whose voice had caused all this pain
Which for four days had rung out loud in their heads
But now after the fifth, all the sheep they lay dead,
Scattered the lay, at long last calm and still
Bleats will ne'er be heard again on that solemn hill.

Now let us go back to the time of death
WHere a strange creature crawled from hidden cleft.
A creature doomed from when his good life began
This happy unfortunate creature? It is Pan!...
Matt
 
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Fragments

Postby Despondence » Wed Jun 16, 2004 3:54 pm

I'm not a poet, but as in so many other things I dabble here too... Here's a couple of short pieces. The first one is actually a true story (she was a dyke). The second is the first part of a longer ode I started on, actually inspired by JustMe's very beautiful Ode To Keats (the thread "Utter, utter foolishness").

To a Lady

To dote upon a pretty thing,
And silently go mad?
The Lady fair my love ensnared,
But ne’er a care she had.

Her her lips so full, her skin so tanned;
Her smile so radiant
Had sparks upon the kindling fanned,
But would no loving grant.

I worshipped in my quietude,
Condemned to solitaire,
Until, one day, I thus construed:
“The Lady be not fair!”

The Lady, thus accosted, spake:
“Believe, I do love thee,
But still no man on Earth I’ll take,
‘Cause men delight not me.”

Ode (a fragment...:wink:)

A dying candle through the Claret haze,
Beyond its time and age forever shines
Into our hearts; relived Achaean grace,
And beauty in the truth of mused rhymes.
To whispers flowing down from Arcady,
Which all the secrets of thy song embower,
Fit with centuries we listen still
In hope, to touch that Muse of poesy;
Perchance, to relish in that faery power,
And seize upon the echoes of thy quill.
Despondence
 

Hey budding poets!

Postby Saturn » Wed Jun 16, 2004 11:15 pm

It's good to see the members of this forum submitting some poesy.
It's injected a new pulse of life into the place.

I'm no critic, so please don't ask me for any opinions - what do I know? I'd like someone to criticise my own work - come on, I can take it - do your worst!
Nothing anyone can write would be anything I hadn't reproached myself for a thousand times.

Anyway, sorry to start off on a downer. Here's something a bit lighter:


Revolution in the sky


We've so 'perfected' our species
That Nature hangs by slender fingers,
Grasping to the precipice of existence.

As if, in despite of our arrogance,
Birds still sing in noisy suburbia -
Chirping defiance at our ruthless homes.

Nests are sculpted in our very midst,
Reassuring acts of animal reconaissance
Which spy out our vunerable weaknesses.

They infiltrate our 'civilisation'
As winged spies, or covert surveyors
Of our sinister operations.

Some see their revolution
As irritating distractions
But I rejoice to finally see

Nature take arms against
Our calculated strike-force
Of bulldozers and concrete.

So they, in a small way,
Preach tumult in the skies,
Whistling resistance to scattered kin.
Last edited by Saturn on Sat Aug 07, 2004 9:29 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Re: Hey budding poets!

Postby Despondence » Thu Jun 17, 2004 1:18 pm

Stephen Saturn wrote:I'm no critic, so please don't ask me for any opinions - what do I know? I'd like someone to criticise my own work - come on, I can take it - do your worst!

I get the impression we all think roughly along those lines...we need criticisms but do not feel fit to criticise. Catch-22. Well, for what it's worth.

I was intrigued by your "Inquiry", perhaps because I didn't fully understand what you were driving at, and the verse was a bit complicated. It felt like something Jose Luis Borges might have written in a poetic moment. A bit dark too, isn't it? Doesn't exactly end on a high note ("..delusion stalk ever forward to eternity").

Your "Revolution" is quite nice, and a bit lighter as you say. But I feel that the use of citation on 'perfected' and 'civilization' gives it an underlying tone of bitterness. It could even be contrued as a political message (though I'm sure that's not your intention).

I also liked Matt's story, although this first part sort of leaves you wondering how he came up with the topic. I bet Pan will add another dimension to the story eventually. Personally, I like verse with a meter and a rhyming scheme, and was happy to see Matt's rhyming, gave me a few ideas for how to work on my ode.
Despondence
 

Mother Goose

Postby MonroeDoctrine » Thu Jun 17, 2004 4:38 pm

Here's a mother goose poem that surpasses most of your poems because of its irony:

Three wise men travelled the sea in a ship.
And if the ship had been stronger;
my story would be longer.
Peace
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Postby Matt » Thu Jun 17, 2004 8:37 pm

Hello Despondence.

I'm glad you liked my poem. I'm only 18 and still in the midst of studying all my 'set texts' from college. What this means is that i am not able to immerse myself totally in poetry and the like. I feel this means that my work is under developed. I think that Lord Byron had read well over 1000 novels when he was my age. Mind you we have certain distractions nowadays i guess.

In relation to your wondering as to how i came up with the idea i read that the word 'panic' comes from the God Pan's tendency to cause mischeif, his chief means of doing so to let out a high pitched wail scaring sheperds and their flocks.

That is why I spent all those hours of my time writing about sheep!

I have started work on the next section of the poem where Pan, is plucked from his life in the realms of Arcady and placed into the 21st century. Let me know if you'd like to know what happens next!!!
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Something a bit different!!!

Postby Matt » Thu Jun 17, 2004 8:47 pm

Its so hard to find ones own voice but on the advice of Stephen I have now decided to post something a bit different which does not rely so heavily on archaics. In fact it swings in the opposite direction.

Its an extract from a poem I wrote called 'Owed to You' for a very special person i know

....He doesn't deserve you
He'll just desert you
When the timings right for him
I need you like I need a limb
'Cos you're my support
Want to fall in love? No?
Oh-Just a thought
About what we could do
Just me and You
Hold hands, smile, walk down the street
Stop say hello nod to the people we meet
Then we could eat
In a fancy restaurant or would McDonalds do?
I don't care as long as I'm with you...

(copywright has been dealt with)

What do you think of that Steven?! Bit different from the rest of it!!!
Matt
 
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Criticism reply

Postby Saturn » Thu Jun 17, 2004 10:27 pm

Thanks everyone for the replies.

To Despondence - my 'Inquiry' was a bit dark, intentionally so. Put simply, it's a warning against the indoctrination of children, whether it is is religious (something very close to someone from my country), or political.

I wanted to express my frustration at the way some people bring up their children to be merely cyphers for their own personality and beliefs. This handing down of dogmas perpetually stunts the growth of inquiry in young people who are brought up to be all their parents want them to be - i.e. the old dictum that "children should be seen and not heard", and never express their own individual opinions by the process of original thought.

About my 'Revolutionin the sky' - this is a poem really about my own admiration of the way nature still has survived over the millennia, despite mankind's total dominance of the land and all natural resources. The singing of birds in the morning always reassures me that, even in the midst of the grimy city, we still share our environment with the creatures of the earth, who seem to stubbornly reisist our constant inroads into the natural world.

My highlighting of the words 'perfected' and 'civilisation' was meant to be ironic - reflecting the idea that we believe ourselves to be so superior in our evolution, that we fail to acknowledge just how close to barbarism we come every day - violence is omnipresent in huamn nature.

I look forward to reading some more poems from other correspondents.

Matt - you see how much easier and more meaningful a personal poem can be?
It may not mean much to everyone else, but it captures an emotion that can never be recalled fully if lodged in the frail bank of memory ( that defective medium!)
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Another terrible poem - you asked for it buddy!

Postby Saturn » Thu Jun 17, 2004 10:55 pm

Here's an oldie of mine from a few years ago:

Shifts of Opinion

Present truth was yesterday’s surmise,
Tomorrow’s knowledge is today's surprise.
Wisdom has sometimes Proteus’ traits-
Flattering, deceiving, laying false baits.
It constantly shifts, never lying still,
Must be pinned down with cunning skill.

Science, that great rationale of today,
Future ages may regard with dismay.
Civilization (so advanced and humane)
May eventually be seen cruel or profane.
Only by questioning, sifting for truth,
We’ll find enlightenment (yet int’s youth).

P.S. unlike other members, I have no problem with people using my poems for any reason - I don't believe in the idea of 'intellectual property' (for myself at least) and would be greatly flattered to bright red blushes if anyone used even one line of my poems for any purpose whatsoever (except advertising of course).

Anyway. I'll never be printed professionally, so if my ideas are dispersed in any way, I may not have lived in vain.

Free poesy from the tyranny of publishers!
"Oh what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints".
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Postby Despondence » Fri Jun 18, 2004 3:20 pm

Matt wrote:I'm glad you liked my poem. I'm only 18 and still in the midst of studying all my 'set texts' from college.
Wow. You've got some good potential then. Me - I was lost to science too long ago..

I have started work on the next section of the poem where Pan, is plucked from his life in the realms of Arcady and placed into the 21st century.
I see you're already adopting archaic poeticisms! Somebody correct me if I'm wrong, but Arcady does refer to Arcadia, does it not? I've only ever seen poets (albeit lots of them!) use the "Arcady" form.

Well ok, here's two more instalments of the ode I started above. In my mind they're numbered three and four (number two didn't quite come together yet). I'm not very happy with the outcome of these two, and would gladly listen to suggestions for improvements.

Vive la open source poesy!

Ode (more fragments...)

How sadly thence: A soul divinely filled,
Came instantly divorced from hope when spied
That single, fateful, crimson droplet spilled;
For now, but death was fit to be his bride.
“Let Charon sound his horn and bring us now!”
Yet long unheard, our stricken scribe atoned
For lines unwrit the future shan’t beget;
And thus he went, to send an awkward bow
From Lethe’s shore: of fears at last disowned,
And drift among the stars that never set.

But ever will thy spirit highly roam
Where ne’er a woe did cloud the orbed sun
Nor dim the moon; for thou hast made thine home
Among the fields of fair Elysium.
And when upon thy testament we dwell,
Across the ages past a darkling sings
A ditty from beyond those high domains;
Perchance, a warbled ode to une dame belle.
Enmeter'd love of beauty in these things,
Thy greatest gift to souls on earth remains.
Despondence
 

Postby Matt » Fri Jun 18, 2004 3:48 pm

Bloomin hard work this poetry business
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Postby Matt » Fri Jun 18, 2004 3:52 pm

Despondence!!!

Your point about 'Arcady' and 'Arcadia' highlights my self professed inexperience.

I never made the connection between the two. In fact I had only ever heard of Arcady! But now I know that Arcady refers to Arcadia I thank you!

From (an embarrassed) Matt
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