Ok, so this post is going to be an introduction post about what this thread is going to entail. I toyed with the idea of creating my own personal forum (is this possible for the average poster?), so this might get moved to that section if/when I create that, but I thought I'd start in the Writer's Forum and stay on topic for now. So this thread is going to be my journey through this discovery of poetry and poetry practice. I'm going to add to this thread over time. I may be slow to start, I may only share mostly old stuff, I may...um...um...well, I may only share anecdotes about my poetry if I can't ever bring myself to share such personal things. (I'm starting to lose my mind, my memory, but I'll try to segue this back on thought...) I'm going to share one such anecdote tonight.... Not poetry, but ABOUT my poetry (or "poetry"). Curious if anyone else has ever had this happen ?? Tonight I found something I wrote not too long ago, but I completely forgot I had written it. It sounds like my writing, but it sounds foreign at the same time. I had to read it closely to be sure it was my writing. It is, because it's my story. This (forgetting what I've written) has happened to me more lately, but generally speaking, it's a pretty new phenomenon. (I tend to remember things I write, especially if it was only a few months ago. This must have been during an emotional time. Anyway,) Um, well, I would put it here, because I think folks would relate, but I'm just still too in shock by it that I want to wait a few days...at least! Although, I am still a little nervous about sharing poetry/my writing, having it public and out there...um...yeah, hard for me to part with these things, especially when they mean so much to me....but I think I'm going to try....or maybe my mouth is just writing another check my a$$ can't cash. Ha! Cya!
Ok, so I WANT to continue my writing adventures, but I've been a bit lacking in ummm...proper thinking?? It's not for lack of motivation or lack of ideas, it's just that as I sit down to write I kinda forget stuff...and the following is what happens. eh hem lol Not quite poetry, or not edited or anything, but I think there's something in here that I can work with...and I just needed to vent! Some Crappy, Um, Poetry (??)-Current thoughts pt1 it feels pointless I know there is a point. i know there is meaning, but it FEELS pointless Empty I'm missing something, or I'm in wait of another and being in limbo being left out of control feels pointless waiting, waiting, follow the rules wait until your mind goes wait until you can't wait any more and then hope for the best but if it doesn't come no, no, let's not think that way let's not think that way aGAIN-80 We've already covered that and there's no need to keep singing those thoughts Think positive think good thoughts it's your safety net +though, your "self preservation" to keep these thoughts, to prepare for the worst but you've done your preparation but if it doesn't come... well, it's for the best closure, the waiting is the hardest part why must we wait? spooling around in the possibilities of this or that waiting, watching, anticipating for that which brings us ever happiness or is the worry worth that?? Is it real?? Is it truth?? or is it dreadful? dead end stop looking why can't you stop? or maybe you can stop and you've exhausted yourself to further oblivion
I read your poem , and then read it backwards . I liked it more the second time if you don't mind . Probably you could record it and play back actual reverse-speech and find something interesting . I think poetry deserves whatever it gets . Sometimes I'll burn a book , but well , I read most of it . Usually I have a poetry book because the writer gave it to me . Hand-made books are the best .
Oh , reverse speech is a tech that may reveal a snippet of sounds heard backwards may be understood as also sensible phrases . It is a hobby , and may incite inspiration or rev- elation .
All the messages and hints are here although most will never pick up on them, we suck em in submiminally with that wicked shit around em, we mentioned more and more of this on every Jokers Card, the bottom line? Always the same you didn't have to look hard..
Omg! I had no idea there were responses here! I've got a new one today (well, from January, but new post), then I'll read the comments! Written sometime in late January 2018 Edited Feb 20, 2018 "Untitled" They dont take me seriously but Ive known for years and years and years machine- head. Its been burried these recent times but always {+surface ready). Just wish they could help me escape {scary} sometimes cold sometimes dark. I feel hard to move, _ but then its hard to stop _ _ Sometimes wishing it could last {bit more time} but I return inevitably to the point of no concern _ _ *where hope leaves, thoughts, or is dimly down (and) leaving this place _ its green and blue {lawn} knowing its fake and nothing here lasts {on} we take {our} turn taunting troubled triumphs (+but) for every trophy won leaves (us) wishing we have not. _ I take refuge in solely one very single thought _ that this craze these dancing days are just a passing phase (Editor's note- Oh no! The lines got messed up there and by the end I forgot how it went. Oops!)
I like the idea of poems being read backwards. Started reading this one and I see what you mean. I have no tangible words to reply with, but I think I get what you mean...or maybe this was a collaborative effort. Perhaps the original writer doesn't always get it right, but with fresh eyes, it could be something even more awesome! Woah! Just pulled that right out of my ass! Haha!
Lisa used to love to dance, ever since she was 10 years old Her bare feet raised the dust on the yard where the grass wouldn't grow Slowly spinning around and round, music playing in her head And late at night it could almost drown out, the whiskey on her old man's breath Wrecking yards and dingy bars and abandoned factories But underneath the Jaggered souls, a ballerina sways unseen Hard edges hide, a tender heart, brighter than a midnight sun Hard edges hide the sweetest parts, till you'd never know they're there. Now Lisa works in a club down town where the neons glow till dawn She calls herself Tina now but she dances to the same old song Slowly spinning around and round, in the smoke and the smell of rye She takes off all her clothes so they don't see down in her eyes The scarrlet rues and and blue tattoos, they're only painted on And underneath that dark drum beat.. The ballerina dances on.. On and on... Hard edges hide, a tender heart, brighter than the midnight sun. Hard edges hide, the sweetest parts, until you'd never know they're there.
While looking on my 'puter, For something I could tutor, I stumbled on a thread, Before I went to bed, That surely's gonna suit 'er!
I haven't written anything in a long time so in lieu of my own writing I'll share one of my favorite poems. Maybe someone will get some inspiration from it When You Are Old BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
Wow Irmi! This is really good! I mean, I should say that I think it is really good. I had to reread it a few times and I'm still in awe and still wanting to read it again! eh hem. Ok, fangirl rant over. Now to set the bar a little lower with another one of mine. Let's see...
haha! ok, here's a short one that really makes the point! lol ; written Jan 27 "fragments of ideas: talentless pro structured chaos notable foe nevermore this name mental ignorance boomerang choo choo train" ----------------------------------------------------------- Now then, let's see if there's something else; Ok, here's one that's clearly unfinished, but I had hopes of making it into an epic poem of sorts. Telling a story in this Shakespearean(??) pentameter (right??) form. also written Jan 27 "the cool crisp night was darkened by the news she left with hope but was met with shock and devestation, as the news was brought it took her from the present, gave mental block It was so unexpected, of all days when she was meant for happpiness not pain and she gulped back the lump that formed inside her throat and fought back tears, welled but came " How could they?!" she cried, two days from Chrstmas No thought *xor selfish be..." *that last line was just written to remind me of the "sound", but I had planned to rewrite it. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Trying to find one more more recent one... Ok, I think this is about the last one (I'm still more comfortable with prose and letter writing). I'll have to get back into this, but I'll probably be working more on the prose over the next few months. We will see. Others continue to feel free to share here though! Peace! Feb 12 "Something a bit different-creative liberty" creative liberty? (sortof. emphasis on the liberty, as my confidence lacks right now) I'm just improvising right here, just getting out some thoughts frustration! irritation! struggle to hone in it I'm flying in this carnival ride and inside the car I hide I cower, I rock I shimmy, I shake I pull the hood up and over my head and close my eyes, but still awake. I'm so tired, but restless, can't sit still and watch fly by the scene there until I catch a figure in the distance staring at me with persistance looking, judging, mouth in a frown please, please, can I just calm down?!
