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Bottom of Page    Message Board > Writers Guild > Do you have a poem to share? - Undale (ALL POEMS HERE, PLEASE)   << [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] >>
“Ode To Green”
Nature's favorite beauty
Pleases my eyes
My heart.
Coloring the ornaments
Of untouched terrain.
Leaves, grass, streams.
Bushes brooks, lakes, and flowers.

I open my wardrobe
You are all I see
I open my window
You are all I see
Replenishing my soul
With your very appearance
You are peace, relaxation,
Happiness - not frustration
You've been a quiet friend
Basically all my life -
Blankets, toys, shirts galore
What else is there
To ask for?
You don't off much
But you are all I need.

Rolling hils
In my home country.
Celebrated on two days past
The ides of March.
St. Patrick's Day they call it.
From religion,
To a contest over you.
No offense,
But you are also greed
Coloring the papers of
Our President's faces,
It's led to war
Segregation
The rich and the poor
Stress, and hate.

I'm not sure it's your fault though,
It isn't what she meant you to be
Mother Nature had you wrap her up
Grass and flowers and my big oak tree
You sure make us all feel free.

“Ode To Stars”
Bright lanterns
in the dark sky.
The clean sky.
Streams of white dust
flying in an
infinite plane.

Lying on the ground
Eyes glued to these
marvelous
beings in the vast
darkness
warming me while
wrapped in the bitter
cold winds
of the untouchable lands.

I go back to the
mold, you're not showing as much.
I know you're still there,
you're hiding behind our own shield
I guess it's our fault.

So far away
We never have reached you
yet you make us all happy
From right her at home.
If it weren't for the nameless colours of an evening cloud all lit up like a child,
We would be alone,
She and I.
The perfume of a night jasmine,
Like wine goes to our heads.
And we fall into a grassy clearing in the middle of our forest with the first chirp of
crickets,
A Breeze flickers the candle,
And shakes the afternoon rain from the leaves around us.
We study each others faces treasuring our last moments
Before I have to go.
I offer her my everlasting promise to her.
A look of surprise and happiness cross over her face as she tells me yes.
I watch her carefully as i slide the ring on her finger,
a perfect fit as it glints with the light of the setting sun.
My love, She looks like a pale winter morning untamed,
Beautiful and wild.
~*~**~*~*~**~**~*~~**~~**~*~*~*

"What's on your mind" She asks.
And he must tell her,
Though he fears she wont understand
- Fears his heart may lead him astray.
But has it ever done so before?
Has there been a part of him more deserving of such faith?
And in the end what does he really have to lose?
"Nothing" he replies.
"Just understand, you've done no wrong.
But by this time tomorrow, there will be one day between us"

Tiger_Eyes Wolf Smilie
Magic

Magic is flying,
Even if you have no wings

Magic is singing,
Even if you have no voice

Magic is walking,
Even if you have no legs

Magic is living,
And what magic it is!
"Mother"

I heard you crying, just last night,
a victim of some monster's bite
I froze, capsized by my fear,
your crying now eternally clear.

I should have tended you,
you are fragile and small,
even if I had shouted,
you would not heed the call.

I stand now, a phantom,
a pyre to your tragedy,
but I care for you still
after all you demanded of me.

I am not able now
but I will let go soon
I only wonder when
it will be your high noon.




I am slacking Big Time on my poetry, Vee, even though you wrote that ages ago, but I always find my way back somehow. Sorry for the heavy material, I have major issues with my mother that have not been resolved that still bother me a bit, if you couldn't tell! And I love the Rohirrim poem!
Ai Laurelindhe lured me out... here is Drop, written August this year. I do not have much poetry in English though.

Drop

A cloud
will burst
releasing the rain
all are the same
will come falling down
on me

A raindrop
falls
follows his own course
comes falling down
on me

A tear
escapes
and is soon followed by others
comes falling down
from me

The cloud releases the drop and mixes with my tears
it is too much, too much to hold back
I flow
with the course of nature
I look up to the sky
and I know that you are there
Suilad! My first poem for the forums - hastily written, but with a slight quip.

A Battle in Lothlorien

The sound of shouts and maidens' screams
Awoke me from my pleasant dreams
Over bridge, and into wood
There came a host of Ulfang's brood!

The call went out, the allies came
To help and serve our lady's reign.
Out from the horde there came a man
"This is ours, we will, we can!"

Tooths were ground, bows were strung
Swords drawn and spells were sung
"Be gone, come back from where you came!"
The dark horde charged, we did the same.

Among the people first engaged
Was I, sword drawn and mind enraged
Like Gwindor in the days of old
I was too fast, and far too bold
Surrounded, hurt and friends far back
I turned and ran, escaped attack.
By time I found my friends again
The scum were running, many slain

But soon we heard their shouts anew
They came, and we were far too few!
With starry banner firm in ground
We took our stand on Amroth's mound

With forest burning, hill dark red
The line was broken, down we fled
Our escape fast, no need for maps
The dark horde lost, delayed by traps
Our only hope for peace and heal
The Valacircian doors of steel
Nervous waiting for the horde
We heard them wading our ford

But when we heard them taunt and shout
We opened gates and charged right out
Wavering for blows and hacks
They once again showed us their backs

Victory near, new spirits found
We took the clearing, bridge and mound
But as their last men turned and ran
Our archers killed a straggling man
Regretting arrows, our hearts turned hard
We built a pyre and burnt their bard.
Wow, if I could rhyme even half as good as Celebedhel...

Rhapsodys drop reminded me of my rain poem. Might as well post both my poems here, no-one sees them when they are tucked away in a journal.

Rain

I stood waiting
Impatient steps
Restless
Come on already

For the rain was falling
My back curled
My head bowed down
My shoulders pulled up
Like I was trying to cover my ears

Then it accured to me
How silly this was
Hunched over like this
Because of a few drops of water

When did I decide that rain was bad
That which used to be a source of endless joy
Became something to run away from

I lowered my shoulders
I raised my head
I stretched my back
Looked towards the sky
Felt the drops from heaven

And I smiled
Feeling so much better

And I did a little Fred Astaire
Laughed and sang softly
Almost sad when he finally came
And we could go inside
Because why should I hide from the rain
When enjoying it is so much better?
Amaries song *

I have sung for him once
Where the creek ran swiftly
Over polished rocks
And over naked toes

I have sung for him once
Between tall proud trees
And only one truly knew
And saw the light in our eyes

I have sung for him once
When our souls reached out
Filling in the missing pieces
Of our hearts

I have sung for him once
Before cold winds from the mountains
Brought a winter upon us
And left our beating hearts on ice

I have sung for him often
When he is far away
In lonely shadows by the creek
In my dreams I hear his voice

I sing for him now
About summers lost
About years passed by
About souls still connected under ice

I sing for us now
Because his voice is silenced
But never did I hear him better
The creek will run free once again

(* Amarië from 'the Quest for the Straight Road' in the writers guild. The poem is posted there too.)

I saved a post I was working on for the quest, and 'I have sung for him once' was the first words in it and it became the name on the document. I didn't really like that sentence in the post, but on its own... It was just sitting on my computer desktop, poking me in the eye. 'Use me, use me!' I have heard many songs that reminded me of Arkantos (from the Quest) but none for Amarië.
Something a with a little less rhyme for Amarie :P

Waiting for forever, darkness in suspense.
You'll never leave here, trapped in the endless void.
Step in line, remember the past,
Your future ended moments ago.

Maybe, in eternity, he will send you back to me.
I wouldn't bet my last gold coin
that he e'en heard my prayers.
Even if he did, I'm sure, he'd not do it peacefully.

Oaths'd be broken, challenges met, thunder of the gods.
Not unexpected, hoped or dreamed,
but longing sits in the core of the soul.

Only one of great import has ever left the halls,
I cannot steal a silmaril, tis not in my destiny.
No famous deeds, nor ancient blood have I,
But with you I shall be, I swear, in life, or else, I'll die.

To Valmar we could run away, or Valinor perhaps,
Across the Lost Road, o'er seas,
To gods and elves, and legends too,
We could flee this realm.

And yet, none of this possible,
You still rest inside the halls,
Only a blessing from Mandos
will aid this quest of mine.

To Radagast, Istari I will hie upon tomorrow,
Advice of his, I would seek, his aid I would beg.
On getting favor of the gods,
Anything I'll do, even die, to be with you.

'Great Radagast' I plead to him, 'Help me, will you not?'
'I need your aid, with Mandos must I speak,
my love is lost, and ever sleeps.'
Radagast gives a grimace, as though he knows my needs.

`You, my friend, born of elf, you must seek him out.
You can go across the seas, seek the gods,
You can spin your tale for those who count.'
He says, and with a nod, I rush off to the west.

A week goes bye, I rush to sea, Grey Havens do await.
Dashing through the town to docks, I meet
the Captain, tell him my tale.
He too looks sad, yet warns me this:

'This journey does but go one way, I hope you know this now.
I cannot bring you back to port, once your deed is done.
If your deed doth so require attention of the gods,
Come with me, we'll leave soon, with haste that I can muster.'

I nod to him, we go aboard, I have with me nothing.
The days fade past, as suns rise and set, the clouds blow far away.
I sit on deck, facing out, listening to the gulls.
'Soon, my love, I'll bring you to me...'

Days turn to weeks, the weeks to months, across the sea we go.
I do wait, so patiently, for sign of land to see.
Finally, I hear the cry 'Land Ho!' which stirs me from my sleep,
I'm halfway home, my dearest one, hang on, I'll be there soon!

No reception, no hello, I walk through gardens old.
I ask through town, 'Where are the gods?'
Atop the hill, they point. I climb until I reach the top,
I find an ancient shrine.

Up steps I climbed, I did not stop
til clouds below me, heavens reached.
The mighty passage set before me,
Stone were statues of the gods.

Walking down the hallway endless,
tapestries of great I passed.
Of Melkor, Manwe, Ulmo, Aule,
Crest in gold, and silver raignment.

Windows glazed, floors of marble,
Elegance itself I saw. No greater palace in existance,
Numenor may it have matched,
Endless beauty captured essence, leave I could not; would not go.

To the end of hallway, I reached,
Dark throne whose likeness can't be said.
Lord positioned, high and mighty, 'Lo,' I thought,
'Here is one one to help make you near!'

I kneeled 'fore him, begged for life,
My own as well as yours.
A mighty laugh I heard, deaf'ning roar.
He bade me stand and look on him.

Eyes of power, face of strength,
no mortal man was this!
Nor elf, dwarf, halfling, orc nor troll
was this, nay but a Vala, mighty Manwe!

I told of my pitiable endeavor,
frown he did on odd occassion, nod he did more times than not.
Fin'lly, he rose from seat, drew me through a door,
No jewels or tapestries were here.

Finally he stopped and said 'Your quest is of great import.
Not many would risk their life and soul,
for those departed to Mandos' halls.
The aid of Valar shall you have, a simple task awaits your deed.'

'You must return and save your forest,
Dark One's minions head there hence.
I am not to interfere there,
But ye may go there, in my place.

No magic armour, arrows, swords, can I give you in your aid,
But on your way home stop by Rivendell,
Elrond can help you where I can't.
When deeds accomplished return and collect your reward.'

With that, he gave me scroll of parchment,
to the Captain of the barge.
He must lead me back to Endor,
that which is my destiny.

The return trip: fairly quick,
no Lost Road to follow needed.
Within some weeks, back in the Havens,
Fastest horse, I did request, flew away like a bat out of hell.

Four days journey, got to Bree,
I stopped for rations and a new horse.
Upon the break of day I'd left, new horse
Racing down the road, Rivendell in sights.

Jumped up the steps, knocked on the door,
Servant led me through the house.
Elrond, Elven Lord I met,
Bowed to he whose help I'd get.

Into room of dining went I, following the Lord of Elves,
sat at table of feasting, sipped wine, shared pies.
Out it came, my tale of woe,
Dark became his disposition. Help me, I felt he would.

A case below, he brought above, no ordinary box was this,
Five oaken sides, glass window top,
Inside was shown a glint, metallic,
Elven steel no doubt was this, a rush of courage as it entered my grasp.

'Take heed,' he said, 'Be not too brave,
Self-confidence is a mighty tool.
And yet, so is over-eagerness
To be so brash, would make you a fool.'

Polite nod I gave, no fool was I!
A lord he might be, scholar not!
Of course, these days I look back then,
And realize my erring ways were a mistake.

From wall he tok a shield strong,
No words he said, but gave it freely,
It radiated with an aura of peace,
Battle-strong, I'm sure it was.

No more he spake to me or else, to council did he go.
No doubt my tale sent him fears,
he kept no company til I left,
Pack in hand of rations and wine.

To the north through forest went,
I traveled through the endless trees.
Through past enchantments, furry critters,
Til a gate I reached at least, guarding mountain's stone.

'Halt,' they spoke, 'What business have ye?'
I told them my tale, somberly.
'Go on, my friend, luck join ye yet,
You'll need it til your task is done.'

Through pass I led my horse with stealth,
No sound we made at all.
It rained that night, with Ulmo's fury,
Steps were steady, shadows great.

Past a tree did we creep, from bushes something stirred,
Faster did we run, sans sound, louder were the shrubs.
Lightning crashed on either side, struck a tree o'er to my left,
The shadows rised, a shape took form.

A mighty fist came down on me, made contact with my side,
Flew 'cross the air til mountain meet, and greet with full affair.
I gasped for breath, ran to my horse, sword ringing through the rain,
I swung it strong til bone it met, an arm it hewed, full force.

The creature, I took of late a troll, dashed away with pain,
Not inches from my horse was warm, the smell became a bane.
Sheathed the sword, kicked 'way the arm, with brevity galore,
Marched strongly through the pass, the rain's endless downpour.

Silent were the bushes now, shadows were my own.
No trouble would meet me, try to defeat me,
Walked boldly through lightning strikes not feeling quite alone,
Until the rain subsided, dawn broke, the pass in sight, I stopped to rest.

I slept til noon b'neath an oak, its shade leaves kept me cool.
I dreamt of Mandos' halls and you
Within them waiting for me -- don't leave there yet and wait for me,
I come to rescue you to me, my deeds approach me yet.

Walked for days following Anduin,
Forests yonder did I spy,
Quickly to my home, my forest,
'fore the forces dark take rule.

My horse took ill, my own pack carried
miles on end til forest reached,
Lothlorien these trees were called,
not my home, so on I go.

Days have past, the suns have set,
by mountains, forests plains I've walked,
LIttle wild life I passed,
No signs of war camps, no signs of evil.

Finally I reached my home, I hadn't thought that I'd return,
Familiar leaves, familiar smell,
Upon me trees cast their ancient spell,
A gasp of fresh air welcomed me back home.

Crunching leaves, under my boots,
a "welcome home" cried out.
But task have I to still achieve,
So walked on to village did I.

Through trees and glades I walked for long,
no signs of life did find.
Suddenly, knocked me aback,
a smell so dark, so cruel, invaded my sense: evil t'was!

I crept through forest, following smell,
of rotted meat and smoke.
Until I heard those voices, foul,
I stopped and hid in tree's shadow.

Closer came the hideous sound, the smell did overwhelm,
Rose shield, touched sword and brought from sheath,
Anger surged, confidence great,
t'was all I could do to keep sedate.

Closer they came, their shadows spied,
I crept into the closest tree.
My agile self climbed noiselessly.
Closer they came, hoards of orcs, trolls, and other slaves of Black.

Their leader came close, drew 'neath the tree,
the power of sword did grow.
Couldn't control it any longer,
I flew from the tree with sword extended.

It flew into the leader, its back became red,
I quickly withdrew it, to fend from the others.
They came at me fast, awkward actions,
I slashed outward at them, drew great amounts of blood.

The orcs, they were falling, the others did run,
Back to Morannon to wait for new orders.
I struggled for control, the sword nearly won,
But in the back of my head, I heard voices: my friends.

I turned with a great swing, t'wards voices, them,
though I should say the sword had a great part,
My will wasn't tired, I screeched to a halt,
let go of sword mid-swing, momentum, let fly.

Suddenly ringing, through forest to hear,
the sword took its place as a branch of the oak.
Startled looks on everyone, myself not excluded,
As with heavy heart I followed them.

"For Sauron, you die!" I heard behind me,
Turned 'round with shield up, and saw the last orc.
It ran at me, blade high, ready to strike,
Til "twang" of a bow, fell down with all might.

The sword fell into shield, protected me yet.
I pulled blade from shield, and sheathed in dirt.
Hung shield over tree-blade, returned with the others,
For resupplies and long good-byes.

Two days I spent there, closed up my old home,
took horse and my last belongings,
Traveled back west.
Ah my beloved, I come to you at last!

Hurried back to Elrond's, rushing through the pass,
Ran back to Bree for a fresh horse,
Rode back to the Havens, where I took my trip,
and rode 'cross sea to Valinor -- it all happened so fast!

Hurried up hill, to Manwe's corridor,
Until he greeted me merrily, and led me further.
"I'll lead you to Mandos, no more can I do,
But know that you have earned my favour, helped where I could not."

With these words I traveled on, to Mandos' Halls I went,
Past Vaire's tapestries majesty,
Past the lines of eternity,
Until I reached a mighty altar, but no Mandos in sight.

I sighed "Not fair! I've gone so far!"
Until I heard the voice:
"Why are you here, my elven friend,
You don't belong here, you know to be true."

I leaned on wall to save my strength,
With loud breath I took, so great,
Explained to him my story, late,
When words were said, a silent pause was heard.

"I sympathize your love being lost,
your quest fulfilled, great achievement.
Because of this, and Manwe's thoughts,
I'll give in to this request of yours."

With that, you're free, my own dear love!
Free from darkness ever after.
Perhaps to Firn-i-Guinar we'll go,
What better place could possibly exist?

Farewell to lands of men, elves, and dwarves,
away we go forever on.
To skies of blue and fields of green,
depart we now. Good-bye.
OMG, Celebedhel, you are amazing. What a great addition to PT you are!



A Call

Oh, stay with me,
sweet Gypsy man,
call off the search for homeward lands.

I will tend your soul's torn seams
and you can tend my fragile dreams.

Stray not, my man,
with heart nor hand,
nor succumb to time's quicksand.

Revel with me now and evermore
that we shall again meet on distant shore.

I awoke, pallid, gasping,
Traumatized to find that world gone.
My unbridled happiness
Gone with the coming of dawn.

Now I will sit sometimes quietly,
A shadow of my former self,
Regretting and full of such irony,
Lost inside of a rut I didn't delve.

Will he come back to my dreams?
Quote:
Now I will sit sometimes quietly,
A shadow of my former self,
Regretting and full of such irony,
Lost inside of a rut I didn't delve.

Will he come back to my dreams?


I love these last lines, simply divine. I happen to be working on a new poem, but other things have come into my way. Smile Smilie
I didn't write this one, but I love it...very post-structuralist...or maybe it's structuralist? Very Mad Smilie

Permanently
One day the Nouns were clustered in the street.
An adjective walked by, with her dark beauty.
The Nouns were struck, moved, changed.
The next day a Verb drove up, and created the Sentence.

Each Sentence says one thing--for example, "Although it was a
dark rainy day when the Adjective walked by, I shall remember the pure and
sweet expression on her face until the day I perish from the
green, effective earth."
Or, "Will you please close the window, Andrew?"
Or, for example, "Thank you, the pink pot of flowers on the window
sill has changed color recently to a light yellow, due to the
heat from the boiler factory which exists nearby."

In the springtime the Sentences and the Nouns lay silently on the grass.
A lonely Conjunction here and there would call, "And! But!"
But the Adjective did not emerge.

As the adjective is lost in the sentence,
So I am lost in your eyes, ears, nose, and throat--
You have enchanted me with a single kiss
Which can never be undone
Until the destruction of language.

Kenneth Koch (l962)
OOH, Eruwen, I hadn't heard that before. Very unique. Such wonderful new imagery. Thank you for sharing it.
I like it a lot as well! Just recite this one out loud, it sounds so nice! Thanks Eruwen.
Oh, I'm so glad to hear you like it too Smile Smilie. I love the images of building up and breaking down language in it.

Here's another one of my favorites. Do you know Billy Collins?

Forgetfulness
The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never
even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a
bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

--Billy Collins
Eruwen, that is one of my favorite poems of all time. It makes me afraid to grow old Wink Smilie I just love Billy Collins. And while we're at it, here's one of my favorite poems:

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawl;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
-Tennyson


Ummmm... I wrote this one, it's sort'a sad though...

She sat upon the deck that night, the darkest shadow drapped in moonlight
She looked up into the ink stained sky, waiting to be seen by heavens eye
It had been long enough, her sad long life, tonight was the night she surrendered this fight
She longed to cry but had no tears left to shead
She was ready to go and had been for a time
The words were nothing to her, love, life, or kind

Then suddenly a star burnned bright, and she took her last steps into the night
Her body lay there hard and cold,but upon her face a smile shown bold
She had been released of all her pain,ready and willing to begin life again
Love is life and life is love, and now she felt them both, high up above
She looked down at herself from heavens clouds,and for the first time in her life laughed out loud
She was free now, memories no more,up in heaven living happiness galore

(Rue Auburn)
Nice, Samwise. I haven't read that one of Tennyson's before...azure world...I like that word -- azure Smile Smilie.

Rue...so heavy, but good...thanks for sharing. She felt quite a release in death, and if we believe in Freud, then we all feel that release in death. I'm not quite ready though...still following my path...
Thanks,but sorry it was so depressing,it wasn't made to turn out that way...oh well.
Well, it's not entirely depressing...she's happy in the end afterall.
This is a haiku I wrote for a contest by my English professor. Mine was chosen as "Editor's choice" and was placed in the book, the best for last!

"Sorrow is Stronger"

A bird sings its song
Of sorrow and happiness -
Above all, sorrow.

-Sean Andres (2004)
Interesting poetry you're posting here. Makes me ponder the exposed certainties of existence.
Anyway, I just wanted to share smth of my own hand with you all. Nothing great ... merely because I'm most of the time writing in Dutch and therefore had to confine myself to ordinary rhyme endings and an innocent rhythm. This poem is, like all my poetry (and that is not much), dealing with the breakdown of the metaphor and the questioning of the myth of perfection and regeneration.


Tearing off those pieces,
O’ shining blackish brown,
Headin’ outwards a flower raises,
Longin’ for selfishness’ crown

Some light which flickers in tiny drops,
Rays are running side to side,
Rolling from those shivering tops,
They take grey grin a minor bride

Clouds black of despair and dismay
Will those petals ever give birth,
Then painfully collapse they may
And they’ll fade away in thought and gird

Welcome fellow Dutchman! Most of my poems are in Dutch as well and somehow they do not translate that nicely. The ones that are in English I'll share.
Hi I posted this in the Jurnals, but this looks like a more appropriat place fot it.

I look out my window,
and what do I see?
The blanket of Winter
covering me.
The blanket of Winter
with little white stars.
Little white starrs
that fall from above.
Above in the Heavens
The Heavens unown.
Where God paints a picture
Of the place we call HOME!!
Quote:
Welcome fellow Dutchman! Most of my poems are in Dutch as well and somehow they do not translate that nicely. The ones that are in English I'll share.


I'm sorry to disappoint you, Rhapsody, but I'm Belgian Wary Smilie. However, we're both speaking Dutch (or I'm speaking Flemish, it's how you like to call it - what's in a name?). So, let me read some of your poetry!
Friends

Put your trust in me;
For whenever you are sad,
My shoulder is there to cry on.

Put your faith in me;
For whenever you're in trouble,
i will satnd by you.

Put your patience in me;
For whenever you're angry.
I will hold you until you are calm.

Put your joy in me;
For whenever You're troubled,
I will be available for advice.

Put your truth in me;
For whenever yoü're tested,
I will be loyal to the end.

Put your goodness in me;
For whenever you need it,
I can give it back.

Put your strength in me;
For whenever you feel weak,
I will watch over you wherever you go.

Put your love in me;
For whenever life throws you down,
I will be there to pick you up.

I have put my friendship in you;
For whenever I need you,
You will be there to guide me.

When I'm lost, afraid and in need of a friend,
I will put my friendship in you,
And hope you are there to return it.

This poem is for all the friends in the world. You can never have enough friends helping you.
Please give me any feedback you can give
I am not very good but here goes

I walk along this path of ferar
and try and not to hear
they snear and snear
and i don't want to hear
but they push at me with flame and spear
i have found a hiden place
to hide away
and free myself
i've found my element of truth
and fire prevales
through pouring rain
and i feal safe in my hide place
all warm and secure
and free of myself
there snears and gears
have long past gone
i hear them not and heed them none
for i am safe with fire and ice
for my power of fire has come to me
and kept me safe from harm
so thus i say to you today
the fire freak has come
and with my power and fury
i will free you of your fears
just place your trust in the firefreakoffury
and i will lead you to a safe and comforting place


well hope you like
WHY is almost everyone's poems depressing? OR sad. Come on, guys, write something happy that Tolkien would be proud of!!! I'm sorry, I have no poems. I once tried to write one about a bunch of travellers and a dragon but it was BAD. And ANYWAY... I want to write poems in Latin one day. I've just finished a BEginners latin course. We had eight lessons. But the teacher said we had managed to get through a year's work. Man, it felt like it. Latin is HARD. But he says we're halfway there. And if we all want to, he'll give an Intermediate course, if the University says they can fund such a little class. This is Evening CLasses, if you're wondering what I'm doing at University. Not real courses. And we listened to the Creed in LAtin done to Music, and it was COOL. I want to compose music with LAtin words. That would be SOOO cool. And once I've learnt LAtin, I"ll go back to my Quenya lessons and do some of that too. All you guys learning QUenya and DYING, I have three words to say - Latin is WORSE.
Did you know there are FIFTY noun endings in total? Well, actually more, but we didn't learn the vocative case, cause it's almost always just the same as the nominative. THat would make fiftyfive.
Quote:
Gil-galad was an elven king in mordor where the shadows are

he rode with Isildur to his doom
not knowing that he would go boom
his hair was shining so he felt good
and he did not wear his hood

that would prove to lose his life
though he was more scared of the barbers knife
'cause he was so snoby and vain
he did not want to use a cane

why he did not slice the ring
and have it as his bling-bling
no one knows to this day,
and this does not count as a lay


and there you have it, my first poem for a long time. i will send it to the New Yorker.



that is a journal, thought it would look nice here among its kin Jumping Flame Smilie
kidding u guyses ROCK
LOL, Elrose! Big Smile Smilie
The following is from Bert Christensen’s Truth and Humour Collection:

If you can pronounce correctly every word in this poem, you will be speaking English better than 90% of the native English speakers in the world. After trying the verses, a Frenchman said he'd prefer six months of hard labour to reading six lines aloud. Try them yourself.


Dearest creature in creation,
Study English pronunciation.
I will teach you in my verse
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse.
I will keep you, Suzy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy.
Tear in eye, your dress will tear.
So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.
Just compare heart, beard, and heard,
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, retain and Britain.
(Mind the latter, how it's written.)
Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as plaque and ague.
But be careful how you speak:
Say break and steak, but bleak and streak;
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.
Hear me say, devoid of trickery,
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore,
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,
Exiles, similes, and reviles;
Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
Solar, mica, war and far;
One, anemone, Balmoral,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel;
Gertrude, German, wind and mind,
Scene, Melpomene, mankind.
Billet does not rhyme with ballet,
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet.
Blood and flood are not like food,
Nor is mould like should and would.
Viscous, viscount, load and broad,
Toward, to forward, to reward.
And your pronunciation's OK
When you correctly say croquet,
Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.
Ivy, privy, famous; clamour
And enamour rhyme with hammer.
River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb,
Doll and roll and some and home.
Stranger does not rhyme with anger,
Neither does devour with clangour.
Souls but foul, haunt but aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant,
Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger,
And then singer, ginger, linger,
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.
Query does not rhyme with very,
Nor does fury sound like bury.
Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth.
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.
Though the differences seem little,
We say actual but victual.
Refer does not rhyme with deafer.
Foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer.
Mint, pint, senate and sedate;
Dull, bull, and George ate late.
Scenic, Arabic, Pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific.
Liberty, library, heave and heaven,
Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven.
We say hallowed, but allowed,
People, leopard, towed, but vowed.
Mark the differences, moreover,
Between mover, cover, clover;
Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
Chalice, but police and lice;
Camel, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label.
Petal, panel, and canal,
Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal.
Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,
Senator, spectator, mayor.
Tour, but our and succour, four.
Gas, alas, and Arkansas.
Sea, idea, Korea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria.
Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean.
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.
Compare alien with Italian,
Dandelion and battalion.
Sally with ally, yea, ye,
Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key.
Say aver, but ever, fever,
Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver.
Heron, granary, canary.
Crevice and device and aerie.
Face, but preface, not efface.
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass.
Large, but target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging.
Ear, but earn and wear and tear
Do not rhyme with here but ere.
Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen,
Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk,
Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.
Pronunciation (think of Psyche!)
Is a paling stout and spikey?
Won't it make you lose your wits,
Writing groats and saying grits?
It's a dark abyss or tunnel:
Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale,
Islington and Isle of Wight,
Housewife, verdict and indict.
Finally, which rhymes with enough,
Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough?
Hiccough has the sound of cup.
My advice is to give up!!!
d r e a m

for Bugy

the horizon
so beautiful on fire
and a twisted strand
of metal blue red
reaches upwards
to heaven

and the skies drenched
in a sickly orange
of toxic waste

the rain is falling black
and it cant wash away
this bloodshed

this hundred-thousand
lonely suicides
littering the streets

homes tumbled
in on themselves
with families
still inside

and you never did
let my hand go
to save yourself
as we fell further
down
If they want peace, nations should avoid the pin-pricks that precede cannon shots. ~Napoleon Bonaparte

In the name of peace
They waged the wars
Ain't they got no shame
~Nikki Giovanni

those arent poems but thier poetic.
well
here it is
a poem
by me
what do you guys think?
dont be afraid of being mean :P

Dont Look Back
in this crazy age of paper masks
its hard to get by, its hard to last
cuz you dont want to play that game
its not for you, and i feel the same
but it sometimes seems that you have to lie
you gotta make something up or you wont get by
cuz you dont know who your real friends are
you dont no who likes you just for your money, your looks or your car
those people aint real, thier not true
they dont care what you do
to them your just another face
but you new that before or you wouldnt be in this race
you new it long ago when she emptied your pockets
she had you by her lunch, diamonds and lockets
then she left you in the lurch, cold in the street
she left you worn down she left you beat
you loved her. she loved your money
so she lead you on, she thought it was funny
you may ask for advice from a freind
you may ask me for a helping hand to lend
but the bes advice i can ever give
is dont look back, just (continue to) live

many people worry about thier looks
they worry that thier to pale or read to many books
and deep inside you dont really care
you dont want to spend 2 hours with your hair
but you know if you dont theyll point and laugh
theyll call u a geek, good for just math
but deep inside theyll admire your stylie
admire your guts and your confident smile
but then theyll worry that others will to
and that theyllleave them to hang with you
so they slander and gossip and laugh at your face
its enough to make nyone feel in last place
but no mater what happens ill be here
a shoulder to cry on, ill draw you in near
cuz in this crazy world of paper faces
of sex and drugs and empty beer cases
you need someone that you can trust
someone who wont leave you for drugs money or lust
someone wholl b there for the good and the bad
to calm you when your angry, hold you if your sad
and if this someone doesnt appear,
dont look back, im always near.

yep
Grondy suggested that i post this song/story/poem so i can have some suggestions or qualify for the fan fiction section, so here goes;

'On Eastern Paths and Western Hills
A cruel North Wind blew South,
It came at last to Center Land
And found a humble house.

And on a chair, an old man slept
And heard adventure call,
He rubbed his eyes and sat up straight
Pink feet were on the floor.

So he grabbed his hat, his boots and stick
His heart was full of zest,
"So where indeed shall I go?
Indeed I shall go West".

So West he went among the Hills
And came across a stone,
And nothing could be heard except
This tiny little groan.

So he looked around, behind the stone
And to his disbelief,
Lay a little fluffy bunny
Who had broken both it's feet.

"Oh my, my friend, you are distraught"
With a tear right down his cheek,
"Take you to my home, I will,
If better health you seek?"

So he grabbed his hat, his boots and his stick
And carried this little beast,
"So where indeed shall I go?
Indeed I shall go East".

So East he went to Center Land
And nursed that bunny right,
It's feet had healed, and fat he grew
Until the dead of night.

The man had grabbed the bunnies neck
And threw it in the pot,
Closed and tight the heavy lid
Until the screams had stopped.

His stomach full, he was content
And went back to his chair,
He got his pipe and took a puff
He did not have a care.

So he took off his hat, his boots and stick
Adventure's end it seems
"So where indeed shall I go?
Indeed I shall go dream".

-Loss
Nice one LossWaving Hello Smilie
Wow, I didn't even know this thread was here, though I did kinda feel that there should be something like it...There is some really good stuff here, and i'm kind of hesitant to post anything of my own...but i'll do it anyway. Please, it is a first draft, and it needs some help. Feel free to give any comments you want!

Wings

To fly
to soar
to try my wings
to cry no more.
Are these the same,
these wand'ring dreams?
Will wings unsew
my dark world's seams?
I do not know,
I cannot say,
I am left below,
the birds have flown away
Very good Laurelome, Thumbs Up Smilie but this ignorant critic found the last line faiing to flow, (or to fly as it were). Elf Winking Smilie

Wouldn't the simpler, they've flown away. make it better?

(I can be ignored with no penalty, for I know nuthink!) Happy Elf Smilie
I didn't know this thread was here, either... So many here on PT are capable of great penmanship!

But I do have some poems too.

The Future
Many times have I , tiring of the present
Took up a pen and planned the years ahead.
Houses I sketched, workplaces I drew,
When I tired of drawing I wrote instead.
Descriptions of every place I’d reside,
Every person I’d meet and more besides.
I had it all planned out, with one skinny pen,
In one blurry day.

*second stanza abandoned*

On the Panhandler Going Home
And by the city's neon lights
Snazzy, flashy lines to sight
I spied, with piercing leaden heart
the sightless singer gather up his parts
the rusted stick tap left and right.

Tatters hung from his dull grey coat
His head stooped itself; his eyes remote.
Time is indifferent, so is Fate
For rich and poor so to separate.
There falters the Music's holy note.

Seduction

The coming Darkness from Dul-Guldur made many Silvan Elves to leave their homeland and sail to the shores of Aman. But there were some of them who dared to stay, though a lure was attractive and a fear of eerie forces was strong. This poem tells of the inner struggle in the heart of an Elf.

At moonless and starless, morose and shadowy nights
The spies of the Evil are stealing to doors of your heart.
But never you can strike a spirit - it's hidden from sight.
You battle inwardly - this fighting is harder than hard.

"I promise a failure to any of your silly hopes,
And all of your songs will die on stiffening lips,
Your body will thaw like a mist above the bogs,
And soul of yours will be crying amidst the reeds."

- Don't lie, you ghost! My heart's full of hope still more,
I hear the wind is playing the music of pines,
My friends beat the Darkness just as they did it before,
And flowing water in springs is sweeter than wines.

"Eh, can not you see the swamps, overgrown with moss?
All boughs are leafless, enmeshed with a lace of the net,
And poisoned sleep is the gift of the water in flosses.
All what you say is the Past, which now is dead."

- It isn't for ever and soon it will end, I believe.
The Dark of the East will disperse and the Sun is warm,
By life-carrying beams it arouses every leaf
And my summer woods will bloom, like in days of yore!

"The Dark will disperse…I doubt. It reigned so far!
Be ready to pay, you fool, if you hope to win.
So know - the people of Men will replace Eldar,
Nothing but pain and sorrow will you have seen.

D' you want to destroy the house you've built by your hands?
D' you wish to revenge me while paying the highest of prices?
Do think once again and use your personal chance -
Then leave for the Havens and prove the name "Elven-wise"."

My marvelous Mirkwood, where glades are breathing with cold,
And careless maidens are dancing in shade of the firs,
In skies there shine the stars like sparkles of gold ,
A song of a girl in love is suddenly heard.

To leave…To leave - and desert my Endore enslaved,
My friends resigned, without a glance at a star?
Forget all the killed who had neither knelt nor craved?
The ghost has lost. I say : "I' m remaining so far".
Well well....I forgot about this thread...I have some more POEMS!!! YAY!!!! Big Smile Smilie

Shadow
I feel as though, I would very much
very very much
enjoy it, sir,
if you would stop letting me down.

If you would just act like
act…act like
like I mean something to you
and not only when I frown.

I can’t help but think
can’t…can’t help it
that the only reason you talk to me
is because there IS no one else.

Because I get the feeling
I get…get the feeling
that the only way you’d be my true friend
is if the world itself melts.

And yet somehow I still
somehow…somehow I
hang around you, talk to you
when I know that to you, I’m invisible.

But here I am again
again…here I am
I find myself by your side
because we’re somehow indivisible.

Though sad as it is
sad…truly sad
that you’ll lie to me, ME
when I’m one of the true friends you’ve got.

So therefore you, SIR, are sad
sad…very sad
and not baby crying sad,
but PITIFUL, melancholy you are NOT.

I’m losing my mind
losing…lost
the way I’m treated is starting to hit home
I realize now that I’m nothing but a shadow.

I just can’t take it
can’t...can’t take it
to be left alone in this world,
as…as...nothing…but a shadow.

I wonder do you see
do you…can you
can you see what your treatment
has done to me?

I doubt it, of course not.
no…no of course not
because remember that to you
I do not even BE.

Now I’d like to say that I don’t need you
don’t…don’t need
but when we’re together, I can’t help but feel happy
even with the knowledge that I am nothing.

Yes, I am nothing
I…I am
I’ve lost my patience with you SIR
Because I am SOMETHING!

I am not just a mirror
just…just a mirror
for you to look at and see only your self
Only your apathetic reflection.

Because remember I am here
remember…remember
I don’t plan on leaving
and now is the end of my introspection.

I’m sick and tired
tired…tired
of your clueless views of me as nothing
nothing but a shadow.

I can truly see now
truly…truly see
no matter how you may treat me,
I am more, far more…
than just a shadow.
Here is a bit of a poem I'm writing about Turin. This bit describes Hurins curse. Its not very good, I haven't written any good poetry for a while, but if anybody could help me better it, it would be much appreciated.

And there in the hills,
“Aurë enteluva”
Rang out with each of his kills.
But at last he was buried in orcs,
he mightiest of the edain.
He was captured there
and dragged by his hair,
and brought before Bauglir.

And Morgorth was proud,
For there on his brow,
Lay all that remained of The Trees.
And before his throne, there on his knees,
Was a captain of the men of the west.
And long he asked for the lay of the land,
Where Ondolindë the fair could be found.
But nothing he received from the man on his knees,
For he never let his guard rest.

And he was set atop Thangorodrim,
Where the day grows dark and the night is grim,
And there on the peak Melkor said unto him:
“You will see and hear through my eyes and my ears,
What will become of those you hold dear.
You and your kin are curséd indeed,
And a doom lays over your seed.
And though you may wish it, you may not rest,
Until all of your kin has gone into the west.”
Uhm, thought I might bring back this thread...I wanted to try this out on someone other than Amy. I wrote it a few months back. It's one of those "two-thirthy-a.m.-in-the-morning" type things that kind of srings at you from nowhere, so ...yeah. It came out kind of nice, though, and I really want to know how other people react to it.

realTime

Time lurches by like a drunken man
My senses reeling
Am I still feeling
What is or what was or simply what
I want to be real?
I want to be real.

Time struggles by like a wing-clipped bird
My heart is feeling…
Am I yet healing
The marks of the past or the future
I hope I can heal?
I hope I can heal.

Time sails by like ships in a gale
My will is keeling
Seeing you kneeling
Can this be true, can I help you still
Like I wanted to?
Like I wanted you.

Time flies by like old leaves on the wind
I watch you healing
I see you feeling
Past wounds heal now, the future is real now
I can feel it now.
I can be real now.
The Dwimmerlaik

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

'Beware the Dwimmerlaik, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Carrion bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his Andúril sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Amroth tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Dwimmerlaik, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The Elven blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

'And hast thou slain the Dwimmerlaik?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Nice one Virumor! Thumbs Up Smilie I think even Lewis Carroll and Professor Tolkien would have approved your playing with 'The Jabberwocky' from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There. Happy Elf Smilie
The art of losing

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

I do not know who wrote this, but I like it. So applicable.
I like it too ..makes me think of what's important or not to grieve over
Quote:
I do not know who wrote this, but I like it. So applicable.

Viromor's above poem 'The Art of Losing' seems to be Elizabeth Bishop’s poem One Art, as near as I can find out.
Him upon meeting her

When I first saw you
I thought i had strayed into a dream
You flowed as a dizzying current
waters entwinted in purling skeins
of shadows and sky beams
curves ,perfumed and dusk

I longed for nothing but
to cast myself in your stellar
Pray and feel it kiss each inch
of my skin
Even if I were to be
wrecked upon reefs of
doubt and necessity

T'were enough to feel you
beading my senses
in liquescent gems
Drowning my pores in
forgetfulness and facets

I plunged in ,flinging a side
the garments of all chafing caution
carried ,cleansed and taught
Scalded by snow..
frozen by lightning

I drank of you deeply
You hung from my lashes
in crystal fever
Wept from my hair
and crinkled the tips
of my fingers and toes

The sable ropes of your hair,
keept me lashed to the mast
the unqenchable stars of
your eyes..
steered my course

Your skin my sail
Your voice the wind
The harsh snags of my soul
You have smoothed
your pearls I do set
in scepter and crown

I know you will wear me away
and you will flow on
Bearing only my dust
in your lonely undertow

So it must be..
until you reach the place
where all streams converge
in a clamorous torrent.
And join forever
in a dark fathomless bounty

I don't know who actually wrote this. but I find it so beautiful and wanted to share it
Ode to a Nightingale

I.
MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Mandos-wards had flown:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thy happiness,--
That thou, light-footed Elf of Doriath,
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

II.
O for a draught of vintage that hath been
Cool'd by Naugrim in the deep-delvèd earth,
Tasting of Dorthonion and its country green,
Dance, and Elven song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of warm South,
Full of the true, the blissful miruvor,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stainèd mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

III.
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

IV.
Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not assailed by Morgoth and other fiends,
But on the viewless wings of Love,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Star Queen is on her throne,
Clustered around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and windless mossy ways.

V.
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmèd darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorne, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves;
And mid-May's eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

VI.
Tinúviel, I listen; and for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a musèd rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain--
To thy high requiem become a sod.

VII.
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Elf!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by Imin and Enel:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Thingol, when, sick for Melian,
He stood in tears amid Nan Elmoth;
The same that oft-times hath
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in Western lands forlorn.

VIII.
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Namarie! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf.
Namarie! namarie! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music: -- Do I wake or sleep?
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