Author |
Message |
Gidget
Member
07-28-2002
| Sunday, October 17, 2004 - 11:52 am
Wow Nino and Weinermr... some real stuff to ponder there
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Nickovtyme
Member
07-29-2004
| Sunday, October 17, 2004 - 3:27 pm
In the still darkness she cried in the night chilled by the starkness of the moons naked light As she stood weeping her heart ripped in twain the moon's light came sweeping to comfort her pain Trembled, so slightly she wiped at her tears then she spoke lightly, voicing her fears. "Oh, Lord up in heaven please hear my voice. My love is leaving and not by his choice. I wish him to stay here next to my side. Please, if you're up there, my words to you guide." Her voice became silent as tears again start her emotions are torrent she speaks in her heart. As if to answer, the moon then shone bright and long did she stand there alone in the night.
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Nino
Member
09-20-2004
| Sunday, October 17, 2004 - 4:26 pm
Thanks Nick! I loved your poem! I loved yours, too, Weiner!
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Zachsmom
Moderator
07-13-2000
| Sunday, October 17, 2004 - 7:41 pm
I like Weinermr's poem, actually I like all of them..but I identify most with his last one. Sad, but what he wrote is so true. So very very true. You all are very talented in writing and as a non creative writer I give you all kudos and want you to know that I (and I am sure others) enjoy them immensely!
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Vee
Member
02-23-2004
| Sunday, October 17, 2004 - 9:16 pm
I admire all you poets so much. I am no poet, but I recognize good poetry when I see it. This is one of my favorites, appropriate for this time of year. Hope you'll indulge me! God's World by Edna St.Vincent Millay O WORLD, I cannot hold thee close enough! Thy winds, thy wide grey skies! Thy mists, that roll and rise! Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff! World, World, I cannot get thee close enough! Long have I known a glory in it all, But never knew I this; Here such a passion is As stretcheth me apart,—Lord, I do fear Thou’st made the world too beautiful this year; My soul is all but out of me,—let fall No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call. This poem has very fancy positioning that does not come through in a post of this sort. My apologies.
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Nickovtyme
Member
07-29-2004
| Monday, October 18, 2004 - 5:21 pm
I'm like the William Hung of poets... When you have that feeling deep inside and know not what to think. Walk with caution and with care before you're on the brink. Of jumping into something bad and find there's no way out. Search your heart and then your mind be sure you have no doubt. I say this to you my good friend, because if you are wrong... You'll find out what you're made of and whether you are strong.
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Nino
Member
09-20-2004
| Monday, October 18, 2004 - 6:03 pm
Nick, I just loved that last poem you posted! Excellent advice!
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Mocha
Member
08-12-2001
| Tuesday, October 19, 2004 - 3:08 pm
Weiner, so very true.
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Gidget
Member
07-28-2002
| Friday, October 22, 2004 - 1:20 pm
you think you really know me well i have to assume you must because your words have judged me cloaking your contempt and disgust you think you have my number know what i am all about but did you ever really care or take time to find out i actually might surprise you i have feelings too i'm not the first nor likely last to lose sight of a value i hate cliches but cant resist till you walk a day in my shoes give me the benefit of the doubt and i will give the same to you
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Nino
Member
09-20-2004
| Friday, October 22, 2004 - 9:24 pm
Great poem, Gidget! Here is one I wrote over 20 years ago. I actually wrote it to a specific person, but changed his name to the word "darling". Funny how something like this can still hurt 20 years later, isn't it? Betrayed Love Your charm is what first drew me to you, I desired you like no other, And when I realized that you wanted me too, We fell in love with one another. The secrets you told me, the promises you made, Brought us together as one, Our love strengthened, the foundation was laid, Until you said it was done. Now you're saying it was all a charade, That there was never love for me, Now you're saying that the promises you made, Could really never be. I loved you and trusted you with all my heart, I gave my all to you, And you took my emotions and shredded them apart, And now you say you're through. The sadness I live with, the tears I cry, Is simply all in vain, Because whatever you felt for me came to die, And you left me alone with the pain. The things that you've done to me should fill me with hate, But hate I cannot feel, Because I'm still hoping that it's not too late, That you'll help my hurts to heal. Deep in my heart I know that it's through, But I can't accept it somehow, Life is so empty when it's not filled with you, And it seems to have no meaning now. Remember my darling, this love will never die, You'll be in my heart till the end, I'll never be able to tell you goodbye, And my broken heart will never mend.
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Karen
Member
09-07-2004
| Saturday, October 23, 2004 - 9:47 pm
(probably the lowest my poetry has ever gone..., I wrote this about eight years ago, when I was 17, and is probably the most personal of anything I've ever written.) The Senses of Death I see a masked demon escaping from my past a flowing robe, a ghastly pale face she envelops me in her arms, tricks me i think she cares murderous hands, death flashes in her eyes and it is over i hear the cries of those who loved me those who never let me know they cared until it was too late those who conspired against me only to save me from the pain i could not see i smell his cologne as he kisses me goodbye "forever wasn't long enough, my darling" the tears as they wash over the ground below the earth stopped cold, or was it ever moving? i feel his icy cold hands, 'welcome to the other side', i can't accept, i don't feel you the pain of a million mortals burning in this heart i taste the sweetness of the kiss of death and the bitterness in your goodbye i pray that you can forgive me for i could not forgive myself if you could not so, please, take me in your arms, i'll go gently and for always, we can make forever last.
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Jan
Member
08-01-2000
| Sunday, October 24, 2004 - 7:50 am
Ahh sweet youth, Karen, always bringing out pain and fear in all of us. I have never written poetry but I came across something I did write many many many decades ago in my long ago youth: To be me is to be pain dumb mental worry anxious negative generous buying love sad sad sad tears forever never reaching the greener side a prisoner of me always wanting just one more thing for happiness – never comes to be me is to be a pain
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Gidget
Member
07-28-2002
| Monday, October 25, 2004 - 11:34 am
a life on the periphery. a life lived looking in no genuine emotion ever felt no way to ever win never feeling any joy never feeling surrender a soul that cannot fly a soul of a pretender i pray today for all the lost i pray for their release i ask myself how can i help i ask to share my peace
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Nickovtyme
Member
07-29-2004
| Monday, October 25, 2004 - 7:51 pm
This one I appropriately entitled Bad Mood. I can't remember exactly why I wrote this one... Twisted mind heart and soul. Freedom a dream.. Alone - Without love. How I despise the hurt which torments; always. Eating away from within... I cry out, though, unheard. Hate burns with the chaos of insanity.. Till every thought equals petty revenge. How much longer till it consumes me? Then the final step I will take.
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Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Tuesday, October 26, 2004 - 10:15 am
Lost - David Wagoner (I've never heard of him, but I just found this poem and I really like it.) Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here, And you must treat it as a powerful stranger, Must ask permission to know it and be known. The forest breathes. Listen. It answers, I have made this place around you, If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here. No two trees are the same to Raven. No two branches are the same to Wren. If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you, You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows Where you are. You must let it find you.
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Hermione69
Member
07-24-2002
| Tuesday, October 26, 2004 - 10:18 am
Nick, I like your poem! I used to write poetry, but haven't in awhile. I am better with free verse than rhymes. ETA: I've enjoyed all the original TVCHer poetry even if I don't always post in here. I admire all of you for sharing your own poems. 
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Hermione69
Member
07-24-2002
| Tuesday, October 26, 2004 - 10:35 am
I like poetry, period. Birches by Frost is my favorite, although cummings is my favorite poet.
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Gidget
Member
07-28-2002
| Tuesday, October 26, 2004 - 10:46 am
I dont read much poetry... why dont you post it for us hermione. i prefer the original stuff but let's face it some of these people actually made a living writing the stuff.
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Karen
Member
09-07-2004
| Tuesday, October 26, 2004 - 10:50 am
Not sure if this is a poem or more of a prayer, but I first read it last year at my fathers' funeral. Since I'm coming up to one year now without him, I've been thinking of him a lot and this has been running through my mind endlessly. Anyone who can tell me where it's from, who wrote it? (I'm not a religious person, in the least, so please forgive my naievity if it's obvious...) May today there be peace within you. May you trust your highest power that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content knowing that you are a child of God. Let His presence settle into your heart, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, and to bask in the sun. It is there for each and every one of us.
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Hermione69
Member
07-24-2002
| Tuesday, October 26, 2004 - 10:53 am
Karen, I think it is a prayer. My mom sent it to me in an email once. I have no idea who wrote it. Gidget, it surprises me that you do not read much poetry because you are a very talented writer of poetry. Your heartfelt emotion always shines through in your poems. I would have guessed you read poetry often. I am even more impressed than I already was! I still remember your spider poem. That was my favorite of yours.
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Hermione69
Member
07-24-2002
| Tuesday, October 26, 2004 - 10:55 am
For you, Gidget, this is my favorite poem ever-- BIRCHES When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy's been swinging them. But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay. Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning After a rain. They click upon themselves As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel. Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen. They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load, And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed So low for long, they never right themselves: You may see their trunks arching in the woods Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground, Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair Before them over their heads to dry in the sun. But I was going to say when Truth broke in With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm, I should prefer to have some boy bend them As he went out and in to fetch the cows-- Some boy too far from town to learn baseball, Whose only play was what he found himself, Summer or winter, and could play alone. One by one he subdued his father's trees By riding them down over and over again Until he took the stiffness out of them, And not one but hung limp, not one was left For him to conquer. He learned all there was To learn about not launching out too soon And so not carrying the tree away Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise To the top branches, climbing carefully With the same pains you use to fill a cup Up to the brim, and even above the brim. Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish, Kicking his way down through the air to the ground. So was I once myself a swinger of birches. And so I dream of going back to be. It's when I'm weary of considerations, And life is too much like a pathless wood Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs Broken across it, and one eye is weeping From a twig's having lashed across it open. I'd like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate wilfully misunderstand me And half grant what I wish and snatch me away Not to return. Earth's the right place for love: I don't know where it's likely to go better. I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree~ And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more, But dipped its top and set me down again. That would be good both going and coming back. One could do worse than be a swinger of birches. --Robert Frost
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Hermione69
Member
07-24-2002
| Tuesday, October 26, 2004 - 10:56 am
This is my favorite part-- ...So was I once myself a swinger of birches. And so I dream of going back to be. It's when I'm weary of considerations, And life is too much like a pathless wood Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs Broken across it, and one eye is weeping From a twig's having lashed across it open. I'd like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over...
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Hermione69
Member
07-24-2002
| Tuesday, October 26, 2004 - 10:57 am
and this poem by e.e. cummings is a close second. somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look will easily unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
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Hermione69
Member
07-24-2002
| Tuesday, October 26, 2004 - 10:58 am
gidget, you should post that spider poem again! i loved it!
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Gidget
Member
07-28-2002
| Tuesday, October 26, 2004 - 11:00 am
it is the personal, emotional nature of poetry that i enjoy. thus i do not enjoy reading poetry of people i dont know. admittedly i do not know everyone who posts poems here but they are part of the tvch family so i am interested in what they have to say. thank you for the compliment. this is the most poetry i have written since i was much, much younger. i like that it forces me to express an emotion and it forces me to try to communicate that emotion in words. which in turn forces me to be open with people instead of hiding my feelings. i realize that i am odd to write poetry and not really be a fan of it like most other poets are. but well that is me. what can i say?
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