Poetry Corner

[mrhobbs]

Re: Poetry Corner

A beautiful woman that leaves me little doubt,
Of just what love is about,
What happened before she doesn't care,
Now starts the life that we will share,
What ever I've left behind,
Is just a memory in my mind,
Forward is where we go,
That she says is all she needs to know,
We talk and debate,
Each others mind we stimulate,
The passion that we share,
Couldn't be found just any where,
It's a love that was meant to be,
For both of us that is plain to see,
None of this is second rate,
Nor did it happen by just fate,
God has set my world free,
By bringing this woman to me,
I thank You God for this gift,
To give my life a lift,
Nothing at all do we need to prove,
Love will show as in the future we move,
Two lives joined as one,
And the great future has begun!

[mrhobbs]

Re: Poetry Corner

I come home but nothing looks the same,
I couldn't help her so I felt lame,
It started as a feeling when I opened the door,
Then saw her laying on the floor,
Her hair was red I thought it to be a wig,
The puddle of blood wasn't big,
I bent over to hear her breathe,
The rest I just couldn't believe,
The woman I have Loved for so long,
Wasn't alive and strong,
I sat down right next to her,
Praying for God to show me a cure,
To her I still tried to speak,
Then start to cry and got weak,
I loved her so very much,
Now she was cold to the touch,
Never did I think about how,
Instead I screamed at God " Why Now",
I dailed 911,
That is when I saw the gun,
I then felt total doom,
It's the one from my room,
They say it was suicide,
Something that I have still denied,
The house is empty what am I to do,
My whole world was about you,
Now the same gun to my head,
I'll pull the triger and be dead,
There has only been one love on my mind,
No matter what she's the one I must find,
She is the one that filled my heart,
Even in death I refuse to part!

[mrhobbs]

Re: Poetry Corner

So many things to understand,
As we rip up their land,
No real reason that most can see,
The president say it's to set them free,
Hasn't worked like it should,
Has it really done any good,
Is it a losing game,
Should we maybe be ashamed,
Was more about a son protecting Dad,
If so that's really sad,
Can't take care of our people at home,
Why not leave the other countries alone,
Should we tell them how to live,
When money we don't have to give,
I think it's time we move away,
What real reason is there to stay,
Seems there country is now torn apart,
To rebuild has there been a start,
For the price many have had to pay,
Has it been worth it anyway?

[Sweetstarr]

Re: Poetry Corner

I love poetry here is one of mines

True Beauty In Insanity

As thy mind deludes to the present reality
The child of youth is destroyed from inner purity
Lies are painted to furnish the surfaced appearance
Materialism achieved to cover the inner failures
The pure minds faced to live in the world of the insane

As men of power are created from there inner weaknesses
And the pure set to walk the paths of such
As the world continues the chaotic cycle
God sets His eyes upon the abidance of humane emotions
The destruction of the hands He created for such creatures

Tears in rain is what He brings
Unable to comprehend our reach for vice
Unable to understand the destruction we search to achieve
Tears collapse in pure pearls, as human suffering is piloted in parades of sinister
Failures of human souls to achieve purity
As the destined evils sets growth of our next generation

Fears travel the eyes of mothers
As sons take the tools created by man and destroy
Hands of chapped minds set the foundation of thoughts
As the youth are set to achieve the empty reflections
Thoughts left by lost generations before
Whose paths are left un-searched as their lives.

I wash my hands from such sins
And pray to thy Lord to forgive me in this
For human flaws and devastation positions
And deceived minds walk these paths of unending obliteration
To brake the work that God’s hands Has set
“Forgive my Lord for they know not what they do”

[Sweetstarr]

Re: Poetry Corner

[QUOTE=mrhobbs;173050]I come home but nothing looks the same,
I couldn't help her so I felt lame,
It started as a feeling when I opened the door,
Wow that was insane, nice.

[mrhobbs]

Re: Poetry Corner

Today we start from scratch,
Throw out all that was attatched,
The past is now way behind,
The future is what we need to find,
Not to worry about what used to be,
From now on it's you and me,
Two people joined as one,
To share a life thats honest and fun,
To be the best that we can,
And on our own we will stand,
Every time that you feel weak,
I'll give you a hug and kiss your cheek,
No reason to ever dispare,
When you need me I'll always be there,
To most this may be but a dream,
But for us this is what love will mean!

[Lucin]

Re: Poetry Corner

What you've written has got nothing poetic. Just ordinary phrases with a poetic typography.

[Siamanto]

Re: Poetry Corner

What you've written has got nothing poetic. Just ordinary phrases with a poetic typography.

It reminds me of Leo Ferré's "Préface," a song about poetry where he says:
" Ce n'est pas le mot qui fait la poésie, c'est la poésie qui illustre le mot.
Les écrivains qui ont recours à leurs doigts pour savoir s'ils ont leur compte de pieds, ne sont pas des poètes, ce sont des dactylographes" (The integral text is below)

Unfortunately, poetry is often perceived as - or reduced to - an exercise in rhymes; often, I get the same impression even when reading renown "poets." Similarly, Classical Music of the last couple of centuries is (almost) nothing but exercises in Harmony and musical arrangements with, maybe, 5% of music???

Do you think that, soon, we will be offered poetry about a car wash or "Mac-cheese" with or without extra ketchup????


Préface
La poésie contemporaine ne chante plus….Elle rampe
Elle a cependant le privilège de la distinction….elle ne fréquente pas les mots mal famés….elle les ignore
On ne prend les mots qu'avec des gants: à "menstruel" on préfère "périodique", et l'on va répétant qu'il est des termes médicaux qui ne doivent pas sortir des laboratoires ou du Codex.
Le snobisme scolaire qui consiste, en poésie, à n'employer que certains mots déterminés, à la priver de certains autres, qu'ils soient techniques, médicaux, populaires ou argotiques, me fait penser au prestige du rince-doigts et du baisemain

Ce n'est pas le rince-doigts qui fait les mains propres ni le baisemain qui fait la tendresse
Ce n'est pas le mot qui fait la poésie, c'est la poésie qui illustre le mot.
Les écrivains qui ont recours à leurs doigts pour savoir s'ils ont leur compte de pieds, ne sont pas des poètes, ce sont des dactylographes
Le poète d'aujourd'hui doit appartenir à une caste
à un parti ou au Tout-Paris
Le poète qui ne se soumet pas est un homme mutilé
La poésie est une clameur. Elle doit être entendue comme la musique. Toute poésie destinée à n'être que lue et enfermée dans sa typographie n'est pas finie. Elle ne prend son sexe qu'avec la corde vocale tout comme le violon prend le sien avec l'archet qui le touche
L'embrigadement est un signe des temps. De notre temps
Les hommes qui pensent en rond ont les idées courbes
Les sociétés littéraires sont encore la Société
La pensée mise en commun est une pensée commune
Mozart est mort seul, accompagné à la fosse commune par un chien et des fantômes
Renoir avait les doigts crochus de rhumatismes
Ravel avait une tumeur qui lui suça d'un coup toute sa musique
Beethoven était sourd
Il fallut quêter pour enterrer Bela Bartok
Rutebeuf avait faim
Villon volait pour manger
Tout le monde s'en fout
L'Art n'est pas un bureau d'anthropométrie
La Lumière ne se fait que sur les tombes

Nous vivons une époque épique et nous n'avons plus rien d'épique
La musique se vend comme le savon à barbe
Pour que le désespoir même se vende il ne reste qu'à en trouver la formule.
Tout est prêt: les capitaux
La publicité
La clientèle.
Qui donc inventera le désespoir?

Avec nos avions qui dament le pion au soleil. Avec nos magnétophones qui se souviennent de " ces voix qui se sont tues ", avec nos âmes en rade au milieu des rues, nous sommes au bord du vide, ficelés dans nos paquets de viande, à regarder passer les révolutions
N'oubliez jamais que ce qu'il y a d'encombrant dans la Morale, c'est que c'est toujours la Morale des autres.
Les plus beaux chants sont les chants de revendications
Le vers doit faire l'amour dans la tête des populations.
A L'ECOLE DE LA POESIE ET DE LA MUSIQUE ON N'APPREND PAS
ON SE BAT!

http://perso.orange.fr/scl/preface.htm

[Lucin]

Re: Poetry Corner

It reminds me of Leo Ferré's "Préface," a song about poetry where he says:
" Ce n'est pas le mot qui fait la poésie, c'est la poésie qui illustre le mot.
Les écrivains qui ont recours à leurs doigts pour savoir s'ils ont leur compte de pieds, ne sont pas des poètes, ce sont des dactylographes" (The integral text is below)

Unfortunately, poetry is often perceived as - or reduced to - an exercise in rhymes; often, I get the same impression even when reading renown "poets."

My thoughts too… but what pisses me off is the public (I'd rather call them 'masses' who are usually ignorant) going crazy, being fascinated and mesmerized by these kind of 'poems' and pseudo-poets (we have got some too). And thanks to some thick-skulled buffoons who are incapable of independent thought, this kind of 'poetry' is gaining popularity and will be applauded long time in the name of neologism, distinction, 'class' and…

Do you think that, soon, we will be offered poetry about a car wash or "Mac-cheese" with or without extra ketchup????

I wouldn't be surprised. And I'm sure it will have a public.

[mrhobbs]

Re: Poetry Corner

Poetry you say they're not,
That's why I call them a thought,
Something to work the mind,
Yet meaning from them some will find,
It's about every day,
What people may do or say,
Or about a time of the year,
Maybe even what some just fear,
To write this I need not think,
They come to me in a blink,
On the page my pen will flow,
What's on my mind then will show,
It could be of something great,
Or maybe something that I hate,
It's an opinion none the less,
How I feel you need not guess,
It's all here in black and white,
Clear as the words I write,
If there is something that you don't get,
I really don't give a xxxx,
No sleep will I loose,
If you I can't amuse,
Pass them by is all I can say,
I didn't ask you to read them anyway!