TheDwarfyOne

Poetry Thread

58 posts in this topic

Ooh! Poetry! Here's a sonnet style piece of mine about... Poetry.

 

To cite what I have penned, I shall decline;

From claim upon my work, I must refrain;

Lest, knowing well that character of mine,

You with it might my quotant verse disdain.

My worthy verse you yet may well respect,

That grudging, still the fool you shan't appear;

And truly, that my rhymes reflect

Upon my name I cannot doubt nor fear.

Implicit value seek I to ensure

Of what is writ not hi high, nor low, but middle

By making my true moniker obscure,

And leaving my identity a riddle.

I thus prevent my reputation's curse

From sullying the mettle of my verse.

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I thought I'd try an epic-length Persephone and Hades poem. Here's so far:

Prologue

Beneath the rolling stone of time

Sleeps Hades in a wreath of memory,

While in her orchard-dream Persephone

Shakes stars from hair of blackbird wings.

Together, they could clap the skies

And bring its cradle close enough to kiss.

But on Olympus bitter gods

Would strum away awakenings

With words like whips.

And so reclined in shells like bombs

Persephone and Hades sleep

Their plans strawberry dreams held deep

Beneath the waves. They have not met.

But in the indigo a storm is strained

And lightning loves to hit the rod.

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Really nice @TheDwarfyOne!

Totally unsolicited advice spoilered below

Spoiler
On 7/8/2020 at 9:56 AM, TheDwarfyOne said:

Sleeps Hades in a wreath of memory,

I kept wanting to read this as:

Sleeps Hades in memory wreathed

(Something about the flow of the original line felt discontinuous with the rest of the poem)

There's only one other line that stuck out to me as not quite fitting in with the rest of your very beautiful prologue:

On 7/8/2020 at 9:56 AM, TheDwarfyOne said:

But in the indigo a storm is strained

It's that "the", I kept wanting to read the line as

But in indigo a storm is strained.

The previous line mentions the ocean, the continuity of the idea is established, the definite article only seems to break the cadence of the line.

On 7/8/2020 at 9:56 AM, TheDwarfyOne said:

And lightning loves to hit the rod.

I love this line!! That could totally be the name of your first collection of poems!

 

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I’ve recently been dabbling in limericks. 
 

untitled (by me)

Here’s a look in my head.
As I sit here bored eating bread.
There are things I could do 
And few things I should do.
But I wrote a few limericks instead.


My Pen (by me)
I put my pen to a page.
And write what I wish I could wish.
A thousand thoughts 
Run through my head.
As I see what I drew was a fish.


A girl from Cancún (by me)

There once was a girl from Cancún
Who ate all her food with a spoon.
She ate straight from the pot
And spilled quite a lot.
And looked just a tad like a loon.


also, I post my poetry over on my writing Instagram in case anyone’s interested. @start_with_words

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I wanted to share this piece that I literally finished writing moments ago. 

Chains Unbroken

In a valley most silent a lone figure stands if just barely amidst the unmitigated destruction that gods may wreak. Up above thunderheads roar with a rage beyond nature’s might. Jove’s voice shakes the mountains that hide from sight this sanctuary and prison. His hands burn the skies with legions of blinding lances of light whose aim is always true. Winds sing violent and dangerous songs as they weave around one whose soul is cursed to see the carnage which comes. 

Divine power shields the traveler from the cacophony that drives even gods into a sort of insatiable frenzy. Mars clutches his head in agony and trembles while tears scar his battle worn flesh. Splintered weapons leech the earth as their fragments descend from on high. Their touch gives life to stone only to take it away again. They crumble plant life returning all to the semblance of corpses that predated the birthing of Flora. The cosmos seem to be waiting for something  as the stranger absorbs this chaos and is unmoved.

Garments once able to protect from all that exists in the world lack the lustrous beauty and unyielding strength that they once held. Pleading Minerva, Venus, and Juno call for mercy to keep the realms of mortal and primordials intact. Flames mightier than Vulcan could ever hope to control set alight the dying land. Protective heights melt away to form a sea that is choking the skies and all consuming. Leadened feet hold back flight as all cries fall on uncaring ears. 

Shackles that none could hope to break glow beneath the heat which spreads itself wide and yet does not warm their prisoner. Prayers of all kinds are ignored as a kind of numbness sets in. A sort of finality takes hold of Mars and all that he is and once was is vanquished.  Those who call for clemency bow their heads in submission as strange glints appear in their eyes. Destruction consumes itself and Jupiter falls into a dreamless slumber. Vitality returns to the one who was once trapped as all is remade and in silence all is restored forever more.

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Son of Honor
Speak and rise
Stormlight streaming from your eyes
Protect those who cannot protect themselves

Nature’s Daughter
Dance and glide
Seek out those who flee and hide
Remember those who have been forgotten 

Cryptic Lady
Lies on lies
Deadly secrets in disguise
Speak your hidden truths 

Bondsmith Regal
Seal and bind
Leave your tortured past behind 
Unite them
Unite them
Unite them

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Memory of Storms

Sometimes 
there are storms,

waterfalls thundering
from the iron-grey
sky, endless

Sometimes
there are storms.

I do not
remember the
blue, or birdsong

I do not know
if there will
be tomorrow.

Sometimes
there are storms.

Sometimes
I dare dream

of blue yonder.

Sometimes
I hear the nightingale
singing.

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When dying seasons churn the restless sea
Into a foam-flecked frenzy, freed at last
Sane men are known to flee.

Some homeward to the hearths of family
Bring word that hope is necessary
When dying seasons churn the restless sea.

Others, feeling fear of sinning, to Holy See
Bring warning and a plea, for
Even sane men are known to flee.

Jaws taut, the brave leave quay,
Seeking untethered souls
When dying seasons churn the restless sea.

Yet more, while locking doors with silver key
Sigh to feel the wind which
Sane men are known to flee.

But I, feet edging sand, fling open arms
And laugh a challenge, though I know
When dying seasons churn the restless sea
Sane men are known to flee.

Edited by TheDwarfyOne
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