Author |
Message |
Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Monday, July 12, 2004 - 9:17 am
I love poetry, both to read and write. I thought perhaps others might, too . . . so, if you have any, original or not, that you particularly like or want to share, please do so here! I wrote this today . . . A baseball shirt, a smooth ballpoint pen, Clean sheets, finding an instant friend. Smarties, or anything for my sweet tooth, Cartwheels, a skill from my forgotten youth. An internet community full of geeks like me, A blank piece of paper full of possibility. A three hour phone call with still more to say, A warm fuzzy blanket on a cold winter day. Long hot baths and candles with scents, The joy and wonder of a child’s innocence. Chocolate is a good one, peanut butter, too, And though I won’t eat it, the smell of beef stew. Bright blue skies with cotton candy clouds, Driving alone and singing out loud. Thunderstorms and fresh cut grass, Sunlight reflecting on multi-faceted glass. A weekday evening with nothing to do, Or one of my favorites, a new pair of shoes. A virtual hug, a three year old’s kiss, Checking something off of my to-do list. Just a few things of importance to me, Where I can find comfort, and with it, peace.
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Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Monday, July 12, 2004 - 9:20 am
And two more that I'd written and posted elsewhere . . . The Angel in the Mirror Another day Another dime Seems all I do Is waste my time. Always searching Always yearning Always looking Around the bend Never happy Never fine Always waiting For it to end. The angel in the mirror Doesn’t know How far the devil in the depths Will go It’s only right To feel the pain It’s only right To refrain From reaching out And taking a hand From calling a name Asking to understand The tears that shatter Before they’re shed Don’t speak the secrets They sing instead The devil in the depths Doesn’t know How far the angel in the mirror Will go Hiding the anger Feeding the sorrow Holding on For another tomorrow. Words on Paper How can I find the words To put on paper The words that lay bare my soul I can’t even speak them Much less place them on paper To find a life of their own In black and white Never to return But never to escape The words on paper Haunt me Even when burnt Shredded Torn They swirl about me Finding crevices In the armor To weave their pain The spoken words Fly into nothing Leaving only a shadow Easily hidden The words on paper Hide nothing.
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Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Tuesday, July 13, 2004 - 6:46 am
Ode to a Word Dinosaur I have this odd Obsession Compulsion Preoccupation With words. I enjoy their Rhythm Cadence Pulse To distraction. I appreciate Various Diverse Miscellaneous Idioms. It’s amazing how Fulfilling Gratifying Satisfying A word can be. There’s always the Perfect Pristine Consummate Word for an occasion. Sometimes, I drive myself Crazy Batty Daft Searching for a word. But then, it’s a short trip. :o)
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Rupertbear
Member
09-19-2003
| Tuesday, July 13, 2004 - 8:05 pm
(((hugs)))
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Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Wednesday, July 14, 2004 - 6:42 am
Untitled Yearning for the answer just out of reach. Close my eyes for the softest whisper Only to hear a resounding roar Flashes, passionate, flickering light Electricity crackling through my fingertips Pounding, pulsing, cleansing, Drenched through to my soul Wet, warm, rivulets run across my skin Arms raised to the heavens, inviting, beseeching, Throbbing, dancing, liberating As the rain comes pouring down.
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Ophiliasgrandma
Member
09-04-2001
| Wednesday, July 14, 2004 - 9:20 am
Wow, Cindori, however, you seem so sad. I loved the first poem, so full of life and hope. The others, although very good to my untrained ear, were sort of heartbreaking. I want all my friends to have a measure of peace.
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Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Wednesday, July 14, 2004 - 9:27 am
OG, for some reason it's a lot easier for me to convey dark emotions in a poem than lighter ones, such as joy. Sometimes what comes out on paper isn't what I'm consciously feeling, you know? For example, the day I wrote Words on Paper I was feeling incredibly upbeat. I'm glad that they made you feel, though, since that's my intent. And thank you for thinking they're good!
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Ophiliasgrandma
Member
09-04-2001
| Wednesday, July 14, 2004 - 9:33 am
Yes, you paint very good word picture. I can hardly wait for more of your work. I can't stand 'poets' who are so obtuse that little old ignorant me can't get what it is they are trying to convey. That's just a waste of their ink and of my time.
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Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Wednesday, July 14, 2004 - 9:36 am
Well, OG, as long as I know I have one reader, I'll continue posting them. Thank you again. 
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Ophiliasgrandma
Member
09-04-2001
| Wednesday, July 14, 2004 - 1:02 pm
Bring em on!
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Jan
Member
08-01-2000
| Thursday, July 15, 2004 - 8:49 am
Thanks to the updater thread for letting me find this thread. You are very good Cindori IMHO. I can so feel the emotions in your poems. I can't write poetry at all but I found this one the other day. IT was written by a "boy" I had just broken up with (in a mean way) in 1970 when I was very very young. When I read it the other day, I was surprised at how well he knew me in this poem: Tender Tender was her smile and soft the passive eyes that carried forth a mood of sheer indifference. Could it be she did not care or was it that she cared not to give, having learned that giving brought such pain. Tender was the heart hidden by a wall so high could time and tender be the cure.
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Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Thursday, July 15, 2004 - 8:58 am
I like that a lot, Jan. Very feeling. Thank you for the compliments. It really means a lot to me that other people like my poetry. I tend to not have a whole lot of confidence that it's any good! Please, post more!
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Jan
Member
08-01-2000
| Thursday, July 15, 2004 - 11:33 am
It's funny that people can be so self conscious of things they do so well (here I am talking about you and your poetry  ). I know nothing about poetry of course, never read it, never buy it..but I know that I like what you wrote and might read more if more of it was likes yours!!! I had a friend who could remember ever poem she ever read. I was always so impressed with that. The only one that ever stuck in my mind ..and I only remember the first two lines and the last two lines: Margaret are you grieving over goldengrove unleafing ... Tis the fate that man was born for. It is Margaret you mourn for.
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Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Thursday, July 15, 2004 - 11:48 am
Thank you, Jan. I'll try to post more. Here's your poem in its entirety. Margaret, are you grieving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leaves, like the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? Ah! as the heart grows older It will come to such sights colder By and by, nor spare a sigh Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; And yet you will weep and know why. Now no matter, child, the name: Sorrow's springs are the same. Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed What heart heard of, ghost guessed: It is the blight man was born for, It is Margaret you mourn for. -- Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Ophiliasgrandma
Member
09-04-2001
| Thursday, July 15, 2004 - 12:07 pm
Now, Cindori, that is the type of poem that causes my eyes to cross and I zone out.
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Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Thursday, July 15, 2004 - 12:13 pm
Yeah, OG, I'm not all that fond of that type myself, although some of them do speak to me.
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Zules
Member
08-21-2000
| Thursday, July 15, 2004 - 12:16 pm
Excellent stuff everyone! Here's one I like by Jim Morrison: Old men worship w/ long noses, old soulful eyes. Young girls worship, exotic, indian, w/ robes who make us feel foolish for acting w/ our eyes. Lost in the vanity of the senses which got us where we are. Children worship but seldom act at it. Who needs temples & couches & T.V. We can do it on a sunny floor w/ friends & make any sound or movement that comes. Roll on our backs screaming w/ mirth glad in the guilt of our madness. Better to be cool in our worship & gain the respect of the ancient & wise wearing those robes. They know the secret of mind-change reality.
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Jan
Member
08-01-2000
| Thursday, July 15, 2004 - 12:27 pm
LOL Cindori...now I see why I never remember the rest of that poem! I only remember the lines that make sense and are relevant to me  
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Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Thursday, July 15, 2004 - 12:46 pm
Jan, I think I'll forget it, too! Here's another one of mine: A public façade for private pain Seems to be a common way Of allowing others to be close, But never to let them know The real face behind the name. But what happens when One manages to creep in Going over the wall And learning it all Only to retreat in the end? Or if one gives in to the act Believing it to be fact Forgetting the start The pain in one’s heart To leave the image intact. Destined to obscurity Rife with disparity Incremental Incidental Sublime with ambiguity.
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Jan
Member
08-01-2000
| Thursday, July 15, 2004 - 12:59 pm
My God Cindori. I didn't know you knew me well enough to write poems about me! That is wonderful and I will copy it to my word file on quotations if you don't mind?
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Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Thursday, July 15, 2004 - 1:03 pm
Jan, you made me smile! Good job! I'll have to see if I can discern more information to write about you. Of course, you can copy it. I generally sign them at the bottom with a G if you'd do that for me.
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Zules
Member
08-21-2000
| Monday, July 19, 2004 - 1:42 pm
The Daffodils - William Wordsworth I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils, Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced, but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A Poet could not be but gay In such a jocund company! I gazed - and gazed - but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
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Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Monday, July 19, 2004 - 1:46 pm
Lovely, Zuly dahling. Of course, I like him a lot anyway, but that one is fab. Thanks for posting it!
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Ophiliasgrandma
Member
09-04-2001
| Monday, July 19, 2004 - 2:08 pm
Wordsworth and Cindori...my kind of poets! If I can't understand what I'm reading, it's just a waste of my time. Why try to make it so hard, when with less effort/a little more effort I can leave the poem with understanding and not frustration.
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Cindori
Member
07-25-2003
| Wednesday, July 21, 2004 - 4:48 pm
To My Daughter No, he’s not a horse, So please don’t try to ride the dog. Baby, we’re outside Could you put your pants back on? There’s not a dragon in the closet Or a ghost in the bath. Sure, we can play tickle monster I love it when you laugh. No, four isn’t quite grown up You’ll still have to hold my hand. I don’t want you to rush it And sometime you’ll understand. Don’t put your toes in the VCR Here, I’ll kiss it better. Let me brush your pretty hair I’ll let you hug me forever. Don’t feed your cookies to the dogs Yes, I know they like them. Oh, how my heart smiles when You tell me I’m your best friend. Let’s sing a favorite song And dance around the room I know you like Happy Birthday But can we pick another tune? We can go catch lightning bugs The moon is really bright Sure, you can stay up with me We can enjoy the night. I’ll count the stars with you For a little while, at least But soon after we sit down You start to fall asleep. I swing and watch the sky And I begin to see All the things I would have missed If God hadn’t given you to me.
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