Do we have any poets amongst us? (My own attempts within...)

[Squid0x]

Is anyone here a poet?

I would class myself as a talented, but rank amateur (emphasis on "rank" there)! Could anyone assist me with writing some poetry? You will be repaid with my eternal gratitude, a pint, or any sexual favours you may desire

Here is something I wrote for an ex-lover (my soulmate, the love of my life, who I lost through the demon drink (80 days clean, even in AA now )

It's working title is "Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow", but I'm sure we can do better than that!


I would not think, to cut my hair,
whilst I am here, and you are there.
For in each hair, is part that grew,
whilst I was there, along with you.

In strands, that hang from follicles,
are just a few, stray molecules,
that once before, perhaps, were yours,
and now reside, in hairy cores.

And I would listen, if they tried,
to tell me what they keep inside.
For they have memories held within,
those curling threads of keratin:

Perhaps your fingers, on them brushed,
and left behind, part of your touch?
Somewhere, amongst these tangled strands,
is there an imprint, of your hands?

Or when they laid, upon your skin,
they keep a part of you within?
Perhaps they too, admired your scent,
and stole a drop, before I went?


If they should fall out from their roots,
and leave me old, as bald as coots;
I'll gather up, those wisened locks,
and keep them safe, inside a box.

I'll store it in a special place,
next to the pictures of your face,
and on that box, I'll write a cue:
"These hairs recall, that I loved you".

Or if instead, the hairs turn grey,
their ends all split, their strands all fray,
and pictures too, all fade away...
Still love, forever, will remain,
just like the memories in my brain;
in timeless technicolour. Always.

So though we may be far apart,
I'll keep you close, inside my heart.
And though I'm here, and you are there,
you're always with me... you're in my hair.


------------

Some valentines I'm writing. I'm such a player these days! I'm a one-woman man, and I've done nowt of owt with any of them (except the 1st, who is the aforementioned other half of my soul) but I can't choose betwixt the last 2 so I'd best send them both cards eh?!


Roses are red,
Violets are... violet,
But of my short life,
You're by far the highlight.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
But my prettiest flower;
She calls herself "You".

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Hollies have berries,
But the prettiest flower,
is you, my dear Kerrie.

-----

Suggestions/comments/abuse/telling me I suck, are all welcomed gratefully!

One Love,

Michael

[blueball]

Well done and keep up the good habits

My efforts are at Forces Poetry. You need to pick "Sland" from the list of authors

[Squid0x]

Thanks for your encouragement!

I very much like "And that doesn't matter", would make a good UK HipHop track I reckon!

<3

[blueball]

Thanks for your encouragement!

I very much like "And that doesn't matter", would make a good UK HipHop track I reckon!

<3

I am very glad you like that one. There is a story behind it. An ex soldier wrote a poem which referenced the Muslim veil and asked questions about the person behind it. It was a very good poem. Unfortunately, a Muslim lady took offence to the way it was written and, as the aim of the Forces Poetry website is not to antagonise, the poem was pulled from the site. In response to what had happened I sat down and wrote "And That Doesn't Matter" for the Muslim lady to try to help her understand that there was not anything bad meant by the original poem or by the poet.

So, for that reason, I'm glad you like it.

And That Doesn't Matter

[finlay666]

Roses are red, voilets are red
everything is red, retinal haemmorage

[Squid0x]

Here is a poem entitled: THIS IS NOT AIMED AT ANYONE IT IS A JOKE


Roses are Red,
Violets are Blue,
Your poetry's Sh*t,
So bollox to You!!!




.

[finlay666]

Well there I stood, broken hearted.

Tried to cry, but only farted

[Lucio]

One common issue with novice poets is the instance to stick to the basic "4 line block, rhyming couplets" style as to them, that defines poetry. For something a little more advanced, I offer the work of my friend, who has asked to remain anonymous at this time.



Paulina: Pygmalion

Hermione, dear, come have a cup of tea.
Staring out the window won’t make the time go by.
I should know. At least I can bring you tidbits
of news from the court, all that evidence
they miss you. And we’ve had Mamillus here, too,
so you could watch him run around, or study.
My Latin wasn’t as rusty as all that, was it?
I know, it was hard watching and not being able
to tell him who you were. But it was that
or prison—the boy never could keep a secret,
and your sentence stands. Your’s husband’s a stubborn git.
Don’t see he’s worth the wait. No, no, I know,
there’s just something about having a man in your bed,
and not just a bearskin. What is that something?
If we could answer, we’d solve the need for poetry
and plays. Oh, look here! Such lovely cakes. Snow in summer—
your favourite. I remember how you couldn’t get enough
when we were girls. The times you’d eat yourself sick, then repent
when a pretty boy came along. You always were the pretty one,
and you know what? you still are, wrinkles and all.
Oh, I didn’t mean to set you off. I know it’s hard,
but we’ve been cosy, haven’t we? It’s not so bad, considering
the alternative. Hermione, dear, step off the plinth.
You’ll have your happy ending soon.

[scaryjim]

Poetry? No.

Songs... now that's a different matter

Sadly, (or possibly luckily, from the view of my fellow hexites ) I don't have anything online at the minute, but I have just set up a recording PC (and somewhere I've got my old 4-track tapes that I recorded while I was at uni...) so there is yet a possibility that I'll subject you all to that horror

[Behemoth]

I won't extract the urine out of anyone who write poems, top job on both of them Squid0x

I for one suck at writing poems. However if you were ask me to write you a SciFi story I reckon I could do a pretty good job of it.

[Alex]

I could never write poetry, just not in my skill repertoire. I would, however, recommend Rudyard Kipling's "if" to anyone who hasn't read it, contains some great truisms on life. A bit like Baz Luhrmann's "sunscreen" I suppose. My favourite poem ever anyway.

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

[Squid0x]

I can't be doing with this prosetic poetry, it defeats the point to me!

Anyway, I'm happy to admit I'm too **** for anything more advanced. It's like 4/4 (House/trance/etc) vs breakbeat (d&b, whatever-core) innit? It takes another level of talent to **** abut in 7/8 time signatures and syncopate and all that bizniz...


Here's a joke/limeric/valentine I wrote, it's long:


You're a damned lucky woman, my dearest miss Benet;
For I wrote you this poem - took me ages to pen it!
But the reason you're lucky, my lovely Kay Bee,
Shall soon be revealed, made as clear as can be.

But it's just an aside, all this speaking of luck,
So I'll get to the point, lest this poem you chuck!
The real reason I write, to my gorgeous Miss K
Is I MUST take you out, of a night or a day.

The most succulent dish, is on what we shall dine,
Accompanied only, by the finest of wines.
Perhaps then to yours, for a nightcap, dear Kerrie?
For a sweet glass of sherry, or a sparkling perry?

But forget, for a moment, of these morsels and sips,
for the taste I desire, is that of your lips.

I felt this same way, the first moment I saw you,
From that very first day, I have always adored you.
So give me a chance, my beautiful Kerrie,
Before you eff off to France, on a train or a ferry!

Oh! I almost forgot! To explain why you're lucky!
Too busy trying to be courageous and plucky?

That reason, at last's, not your looks or your brains,
Or even the fact, you'll be programming games!
It is simply that, quite unlike most other birds,
You 've been blessed with a name that rhymes with myriad words!




That one is **** and I know it, I wrote it at 8am whilst somewhat off my coconut. I handwrote it on baby blue paper, slipped it into a giant pink origami heart, and posted it anyway! She's a funny girl, she'll see the humorous side (I F*CKING HOPE)!!



Michael

[santa claus]

Well, I'm not a poet (as I'm about to evidence!) but I'm gonna join in anyway. Here's my effort, written over an excruciating 15 minutes or so, and it's entitled "Hexus":

A cold, blue heart
With words for blood
A twist of the knife
It's her way of life

She speaks, we listen
She cries, we laugh
We learn the lesson
She is our obsession

The beguiling Hex
No form to touch
But crave her and use her
We love her so much

Btw, it may just be me but words like follicles, molecules, keratin and hairy cores seem unromantic although I can see that humour is part of your work. Far be it from me to criticize!

[Gerrard]

OK, a bit off topic as it's not technically a poem, nor is it written by me, but I do find the words very poignant: -

Time

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way

Tired of lying in the sunshine
Staying home to watch the rain
And you are young and life is long
And there is time to kill today
And then one day you find
Ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run
You missed the starting gun

And you run, and you run to catch up with the sun, but it's sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a relative way, but you're older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death

Every year is getting shorter
Never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to nought
Or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desparation is the English way
The time is gone
The song is over
Thought I'd something more to say

Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
When I come home cold and tired
It's good to warm my bones beside the fire
Far away across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells

[Rave]

One common issue with novice poets is the instance to stick to the basic "4 line block, rhyming couplets" style as to them, that defines poetry. For something a little more advanced, I offer the work of my friend, who has asked to remain anonymous at this time.

Well, I enjoyed it, but without any context I'm without any real guidance as to how I should be moved by it? I freely admit that English was my weakest subject at school, albeit that I'm still outraged that I only got a C for English Language at GCSE. A C for English Lit was fair enough.

I can't be doing with this prosetic poetry, it defeats the point to me!

Anyway, I'm happy to admit I'm too **** for anything more advanced. It's like 4/4 (House/trance/etc) vs breakbeat (d&b, whatever-core) innit? It takes another level of talent to **** abut in 7/8 time signatures and syncopate and all that bizniz...

Maybe talent, or maybe a level of intellectual arrogance. TBH, I like my dance music funky, I don't want to be left guessing about when I'm supposed to be moving my feet. I can dance on the off-beat of D&B, I just prefer not to- I prefer it when I'm caning the running man or waving my hands in the air.

Same with poetry really- I have simple tastes. A bit of Betjeman or Larkin does me fine. And humour is practically obligatory if you're not writing a war poem a la Sassoon or Owen.

So I liked your first poem Squid0x. Sorry to hear you lost her through booze; you sound like an interesting chap. I may PM you when I'm sober....

[Squid0x]

^ Please feel free to old chap, you seem like an interesting feller yourself!

Mike