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Lady_Macbeth
11-15-2008, 12:54 AM
I finally did it! I completed an entire poem without just saying "screw it" halfway through! Enjoy!


Catharsis

Iíve spotted you out the window
Of my very own decaying ruin,
The formerly prosperous corner store.
And then it happens again.

My disease-ridden neurons
All fire at once,
Short circuiting my delicate mind,
And thus, result in a blackout.

The lights are off, but Iím still home,
In this blackness, devoid of rational thought.
Any attempt at self-control is futile,
Anything goes now.

And so I stand here, still as a stone,
And just as silent.
Contemplating,
Without restraint, without sanity
How Iím going to hurt you today.

I think, when you walk in the door,
Iíll kick you square in the testicles.
And in that split second,
When my foot makes contact with your reproductive organs,
And your beautiful, alabaster skinned and starry eyed face,
Contorts into something horrible,
With your agonized, ear splitting scream,
Amidst that brutal mashing of your genitalia,
And the mass-murder of your potential children,
You will become more than yourself.

You will no longer be
Just another person; that has promised me the world
And then spat in my face.
You will become every person; man, woman, and child
That has ever done me wrong,
That has ever caused me pain,
That has ever pointed a finger and laughed at me,
While my mind was breaking.

And yet,
With every cruel deed that I inflict upon you,
There is never catharsis,
Because those lights always come back on,
And I can see once more.
I can see what Iíve done, and perhaps,
In the deepest, darkest corners of my mind,
There lurks a little remorse.

And then of course, we cross paths again,
And the whole thing starts all over.



So, how did I do for my first shot?

John_and_Yoko
11-15-2008, 01:02 AM
I hate you. :arg:

I mean that in a good way.

Seriously, I wish I could write poetry like that--cathartic. I'm not used to it, and something keeps stopping me from doing so. My poems tend to be kind of passive in a sad way, pensive, lamenting, but not active at all (which I guess is the way I myself am). I've been complimented on it, but yeah....

Anyway, I wasn't planning on posting in these threads, but your poem definitely got my attention. I could feel what you felt, even without knowing what you have against this guy--it doesn't matter. I could see in him traits I've seen in people myself, and gotten angry over. And yes, even catharsis has its drawbacks, as it doesn't always make one feel better....

At any rate, my hat goes off to you, wordslinger, and may you hear the voice of the Turtle many more times! :D

Lady_Macbeth
11-15-2008, 01:24 AM
I hate you.

I mean that in a good way.

Seriously, I wish I could write poetry like that--cathartic. I'm not used to it, and something keeps stopping me from doing so. My poems tend to be kind of passive in a sad way, pensive, lamenting, but not active at all (which I guess is the way I myself am). I've been complimented on it, but yeah....

Anyway, I wasn't planning on posting in these threads, but your poem definitely got my attention. I could feel what you felt, even without knowing what you have against this guy--it doesn't matter. I could see in him traits I've seen in people myself, and gotten angry over. And yes, even catharsis has its drawbacks, as it doesn't always make one feel better....

At any rate, my hat goes off to you, wordslinger, and may you hear the voice of the Turtle many more times!

Why thank you. ^_^ I've been trying to write a half decent poem for years, but usually I would just get halfway through and scrap the whole thing. I just decided tonight I was going to write a poem about something, anything, and I wasn't going to stop until it was done, no matter how bad I thought it came out. My problem is that I'm just waaay too critical of myself, which is why I usually give up on every damn artistic thing I try to do, lol. :pullhair:

John_and_Yoko
11-15-2008, 01:27 AM
Why thank you. ^_^ I've been trying to write a half decent poem for years, but usually I would just get halfway through and scrap the whole thing. I just decided tonight I was going to write a poem about something, anything, and I wasn't going to stop until it was done, no matter how bad I thought it came out. My problem is that I'm just waaay too critical of myself, which is why I usually give up on every damn artistic thing I try to do, lol. :pullhair:

You can turn that into a positive thing, though--if you're critical of yourself, you can be a perfectionist, which will only improve the quality of your work! :D

And obviously you have persistence, since you made yourself finish--I've said if you have the three P's (patience, persistence, and passion), you can do anything. I've learned this firsthand, and I hope you continue to do so as well. :D

Jackie
11-15-2008, 12:47 PM
Wow Mandy that's pretty good


I think, when you walk in the door,
I’ll kick you square in the testicles.
And in that split second,
When my foot makes contact with your reproductive organs,
And your beautiful, alabaster skinned and starry eyed face,
Contorts into something horrible,
With your agonized, ear splitting scream,
Amidst that brutal mashing of your genitalia,
And the mass-murder of your potential children,
You will become more than yourself.


And I was dying when I read that part :rofl:

The Lady of Shadows
11-15-2008, 03:54 PM
And in that split second,
When my foot makes contact with your reproductive organs,
And your beautiful, alabaster skinned and starry eyed face,
Contorts into something horrible,
With your agonized, ear splitting scream,
Amidst that brutal mashing of your genitalia,
And the mass-murder of your potential children,
You will become more than yourself.


now in all that anger, pain, hurt, humiliation, and fear it's this part that gets me. because there's the hope that he will become something more. the hope that the devastation that her/your vengance wreaks on him will awaken him to what is happening, awaken him in a way that nothing else in the entire world possibly could.

but in the end she/you know(s) that it will never happen. and the loop begins again.

very impressive. very painful to read (and not on a physical level either). i hope it helped. :rose:

Lady_Macbeth
11-18-2008, 08:39 PM
Behold! My second poem!


Purgatory

Here I am again,
Gazing out the window of my prison cell,
Whose walls are made out of cheap cigarettes,
And expired food.

I stare blankly at the world outside this room,
A derelict wasteland,
Comprised of skeleton trees,
Reaching out into a smog-choked sky.
Beneath it lie,
Crumbling homes, of those,
Who are all but walking dead.

And a road,
Where people drive to and fro,
Always too fast, eager to go
To the place they need to be
And to put this one
Far behind them.

And so I look back
At my rotting abode,
Just another place
Which has fallen to dilapidation and waste
In this peculiar little hamlet
Of decadence and disease.

This place,
Which is not quite hell,
But rather a sort of purgatory,
A place outside of time,
Matter outside of space,
A waiting place.

And those who find themselves,
Within this cold and empty,
Fluorescent lit limbo
Can only wait and pray,
For life to find them,
For death to take them,
For something, anything,
Other than this.

And so I stand here,
Decaying,
Like everything else in this place,
With that same empty smile
Plastered across my face.

And I swallow another pill,
Wait for it to take hold,
And deliver me
Into that hour or so
Of sweet, euphoric oblivion,
When I can’t feel this place sucking the life out of me.


There ya have it. Oh, and Mr. Jean Bear, could you change the name of this thread to "The Poems of Lady M". Say thanka big-big. ^_~*

Jean
11-18-2008, 11:14 PM
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Lady_Macbeth
11-18-2008, 11:17 PM
Well thank you for that standing ovation, Jean Bear, and thank you for changing the name of the thread. :rose:

Chap
11-19-2008, 01:23 AM
you seem very talented Lady_M!
If these are your first poems I hope you keep it up, because it's a very good start!

although I don't really like reading about the crushing of testicles, tbh. :unsure:

Letti
11-19-2008, 05:23 AM
And where do all these dark feelings come from? What makes you write about such things? I know life is not a game but it's full of good things. So when a young girl fills a writing with such darkness the question came to my mind immediately. Why?

Lady_Macbeth
11-19-2008, 12:04 PM
although I don't really like reading about the crushing of testicles, tbh.
LOL! Yes, I thought some of the men on here would cringe, during that line :P


And where do all these dark feelings come from? What makes you write about such things? I know life is not a game but it's full of good things. So when a young girl fills a writing with such darkness the question came to my mind immediately. Why?

I write better when I'm raging. Pure and simple, lol. :P Of course life is filled with light and happiness, and so much beauty my heart wants to cave in and all that junk, and I'll write poems about nice things too, all in good time. But like I said, I just write so much better when I'm in a BAAAAAAAAHH! :onfire::onfire::onfire: Sort of mood. =P

Lady_Macbeth
11-20-2008, 09:47 PM
Thought I'd try rhyming on for size this time. Also, you wanted nice things, and here you have em'. =P In all honesty, I'm not crazy about this one, I consider it more of a fluff poem, but I don't think it's too bad, considering it's my first shot at rhyming. Anywho, without further ado, here's my next poem.


Krista

I saw an angel in church today,
Beneath the stained glass windows
Set in parapets of stone
A goddess not ethereal,
But made of flesh and bone.

And as light poured through the window
Painting your flesh in shades of crimson,
Green and gold,
And as the preacher droned out dryly,
His sacred tales of old,

I let you saturate my vision,
My heart, my mind, my soul
And then I let your eyes burst through mine
And that was when you stole

My innocence, my sanity,
My world and peace of mind
And burst open from the pressure
Of our gazes intertwined.

My heart bled out your name,
First in whispers, then in cries,
And I stared until your toxic beauty,
Was burnt into my eyes.

And every day that followed,
I gazed upon you, dreaming, yearning
For you to only think of me
While I stand here lusting,
Breaking, burning

Writhing in the pain of twisted pleasure
Of this unrequited “heap of shit”
Said they, because it was not love
The world had a different name for it.

They called it sick perversion
They called it just a phase
They said it was revolting,
An insane, obsessive craze

It was passion against nature,
A longing against society,
Until the day you left my sight
For all eternity.

And so the winds of time
Snuffed out the inferno you ignited
Of joy, turmoil, sex and love,
Forever unrequited.

And even though your picture
Sits collecting cobwebs in my mind
And I look back upon in laughter
Those failed attempts to make you mine

Never for a second,
Shall I reflect and rue
A single moment that I spent
In lustful reveries of you.

Sam
11-20-2008, 10:39 PM
Here's my question to you... How did you feel while you write them and after they were done? If you just wrote them to write them, I would say you failed. If you gained something from them, then I would say you won. They were very good, but their success is based on how you felt about them. In my opinion.

Lady_Macbeth
11-20-2008, 10:53 PM
Here's my question to you... How did you feel while you write them and after they were done? If you just wrote them to write them, I would say you failed. If you gained something from them, then I would say you won. They were very good, but their success is based on how you felt about them. In my opinion.

I see what you're saying. Writing poetry is very therapeutic, and yes, I enjoyed writing them, (even though "Krista" got frustrating as hell with all the rhyming lol). So yes, in that sense, I would say they were successful, and I'm glad you enjoyed reading them, Sam. ^_^

Letti
11-21-2008, 05:50 AM
Not bad. I wouldn't like to write anything rough but I guess you share your poems to get some critics and to improve as well. So if you ask me the next step should be to try to leave out as many clichťs as possible.
It's really not easy to leave them out because there are so many poems in the world and it's natural that the nicest things (words, expressions) have been used so many times they started to lose their shine. It makes writing hard but still we must face it. I mean we must face it if we would like to write something special or original. That can give the people something.

Sam
11-21-2008, 02:43 PM
Simply put, my idea is that unless the poetry follows rules like Haiku does, a poetry critic is useless. An editor isn't a bad idea on anything that is to be published, but the artist is the person who should judge their poetry. This is all my opinion mind you, but I never wrote poetry for anyone other than me. Several of them were published in our college magazine, but aside from grammatical mistakes and misspellings I would not edit my work unless I thought the edit made it better. I DID listen to advice when it was given, but that was it. I decided the words. There were several that were not published because I wouldn't change the wording and they didn't want to have strong language in their publication.

I'm just trying to say that it's nice to hear what people say and hear that they like your work Lady M, but don't pay them any attention. Write for yourself, write what you feel should be there, and make no apologies for it.

Bright eyes fluttering
Bringing your breath to a halt
Feel yourself falling

Letti
11-21-2008, 02:55 PM
This is all my opinion mind you, but I never wrote poetry for anyone other than me.

This is where we absolutely disagrre. I would never dare to call my writings poetry but to use your words I can say I never wrote any poetry for myself but only for others. For my love, for my friends, for my family... but never for myself. No way. And the only thing that's important what they felt. The readers.
But I know most of the people write for themselves. There is no problem with it, moreover. It's absolutely understandable. I often feel clumsy with my view.

Anyway I know I am not a critic and I didn't mean to seem the wise and old one giving advice. I have just written down how I feel. But that's why I do it once in a blue moon.
So, I am sorry.
Lady M, I won't edit my last post because it wouldn't be correct but I didn't mean to push you anyway I just hoped you wouldn't mind to see what an outsider had felt and thought.

Sam
11-21-2008, 03:57 PM
What I meant was I wrote because I wanted to, not because someone asked me or paid me to write. That is what I mean when I say I write for myself. I can't write because someone told me to. It doesn't work that way. The work comes out forced and stilted. With only a few exceptions, all of the fiction and poerty that I wrote for classes throughout school would garner only average grades. It was only when I had something already in my head that I could write did I ever get better grades. Those stories got top scores. I just can't force it, but that's me.

Lady_Macbeth
11-21-2008, 07:01 PM
This is where we absolutely disagrre. I would never dare to call my writings poetry but to use your words I can say I never wrote any poetry for myself but only for others. For my love, for my friends, for my family... but never for myself. No way. And the only thing that's important what they felt. The readers.
But I know most of the people write for themselves. There is no problem with it, moreover. It's absolutely understandable. I often feel clumsy with my view.

Anyway I know I am not a critic and I didn't mean to seem the wise and old one giving advice. I have just written down how I feel. But that's why I do it once in a blue moon.
So, I am sorry.
Lady M, I won't edit my last post because it wouldn't be correct but I didn't mean to push you anyway I just hoped you wouldn't mind to see what an outsider had felt and thought.

Hey, it's no problem, I'm always open to criticism. I don't think I used many cliches in Purgatory, but yeah, I know Krista was cliche as all hell >_<. That's why I'll always consider it more of a fluff poem than anything serious. And yeah, I'm really working on trying to stay away from as many cliches as possible. Thanks for your advice Letti!!

Sam
11-21-2008, 09:26 PM
What else do you have and have you experimented with the short form?

Lady_Macbeth
11-21-2008, 09:44 PM
That's all I got, but more will follow! And I'd like to experiment with short form, I have a few ideas for things to do with that.

Sam
11-22-2008, 11:46 AM
If you decide to try your hand at haiku, remember that the idea with it is to convey HUGE concepts in those few words. I have heard the Frank Herbert's book Dune was inspired by a haiku.

Lady_Macbeth
11-28-2008, 09:09 AM
Hai guys, I managed to dig up this oldie while I was aimlessly exploring my old computer. I wrote this when I was like 15 or 16, to serve as a prologue to a fantasy story that I was writing (which explains why its about princesses and evil forces lol). Not my favorite, but I'm pretty impressed I could write something this decent so many years ago.


A World Turned Upside-Down.

A golden sun warms pristine land
Pure blue waves caress pure white sand
In the meadow, a little princess plays
In a memory of halcyon days

Those days have swiftly gone away
Our little girl has gone astray
To a dismal tomb she has been taken,
Only for her noblest guardian shall she awaken

The age of corruption has begun
Thick black clouds have slain the sun
Tis’ a world of bloodshed, a world of tears
Evil is the ruler here

Aeons spent in fitful rest
Soon she shall begin her quest
Cleanse the land of evil and regain her crown
In a world turned upside-down

Lady_Macbeth
11-28-2008, 10:43 AM
And now for something new:


The Drunkard

O to know
The bliss of never clutching
To a sweet, shimmering dream.
To have never held in your heart
A pretty thought.

To breathe in and taste,
Noxious, toxic waste;
Look out into the blue gray ruin
And call it heaven.

What ecstasy these souls must thrive in,
To never be burdened
With the nuisance of life
Outside the bottle.

And O, how they ride out
Into the unforgiving streets,
Like dark knights,
Invincible in armor
Of blissful ignorance.

Like vampires,
Immortal
Hunting for innocent blood
To pierce through and flood
With their own filth
And foul disease.

And with nicotine-yellowed fingers,
They point and laugh
At us who see the world through sober eyes,
Who have known such splendors
As love and light and hope
To only have them ripped from our hearts.

We who have known other worlds
Than the hellscape before us
Just like the first man and woman,
Who watched Eden shatter to pieces
Before their very eyes,

And lived on
Forever soiled with the knowledge
That something better exists.

They laugh,
For they are the chosen many
Who have nothing to lose,
Yet are the richest of us all.

Look upon them in pity or disgust,
Our views of them don't matter,
They're better off than us
For they had no dreams to shatter.

Jon
11-29-2008, 02:38 AM
A poem can be therapeutic but sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.


I like the emotion of your works lady M.

Lady_Macbeth
11-29-2008, 05:51 PM
Why thank you Jon. :)

Aaron
11-29-2008, 09:16 PM
I like your style. The tone is realistic, one that relates the subject matter to the reader in the most honest manner possible. But, as constructive criticism, it did have something of an accusatory air to it, which took me away from that wonderful tone of honesty a couple of times.

But then, that kind of seemed to be a portion of the poem's message, so I don't know that I would recommend changing it. But I definitely liked it. It made me think of Aqualung by Jethro Tull. :cool:

Lady_Macbeth
11-29-2008, 09:25 PM
I like your style. The tone is realistic, one that relates the subject matter to the reader in the most honest manner possible. But, as constructive criticism, it did have something of an accusatory air to it, which took me away from that wonderful tone of honesty a couple of times.

But then, that kind of seemed to be a portion of the poem's message, so I don't know that I would recommend changing it. But I definitely liked it. It made me think of Aqualung by Jethro Tull. :cool:

First off, I must say I'm honored to have you comment on my poetry, since I think yours kicks the bejeezus out of mine, LOL! And I thank you for your kind words. As for the accusatory tone, I assume your talking about "The Drunkard" right? Or did you run into the same sort of thing in any of the other poems?

Anywho, when it comes to my writing, I like to think I'm in the right direction, but I know I have a long way to go before I put out anything great. Thanks for reading! :D

Aaron
11-29-2008, 09:32 PM
Yeah, I was talking about The Drunkard. And please, sister, with your too-kind comments! :blush:

I'm a guy who used to write lots of good poetry. :pirate:

Lady_Macbeth
12-21-2008, 05:50 AM
Hi all! I know it's been a while, but I'm back with another poem. Enjoy!


Paranoia

Peering out
Through the cracks in my haven of steel.
Tin foiled windows catch the winter sun
Shimmering like Saint Michael’s holy armor.

Smothering the wicked world from my sight
Choking out the cancerous light.

Go outside, they said.
Who said?
Was it the rats inside the walls?
Or the voices in my head?

Step outside the door of sanctuary,
Hinged between safety and destruction
Deathly pallor, pus filled sores of scarlet,
Spread like constellations against rotting flesh.

All brutally exposed now,
Naked against the pitiless sun,
Scathed by the bloodthirsty stares of passer-bys’.

Strolling,
Feet against the frozen pavement
Form a rhythm, chant a chant
Whisper up the words:

Go home
Go home
Go home
Go home

Obsidian trees
Silhouetted skeletons
Against the hellscape,
Winter barren claws
Ready to seize my throat.

Into town now.

Whispers falling from the lips of everyone
Pervade the filthy air.
Whispers about me.

Laughter penetrates my flesh like razors.

What daggers lie behind the winsome smile
Of the fair young lady or the little child?

Behind every closed door lies
A vicious plot for my demise.

A north wind howls through the street,
Singing a song:

Out to get you
Out to get you
Out to get you

For what pleasure was I to find,
Amidst December’s chills?
Curiosity beckons,
Curiosity kills.

Run, retreat, recoil, flee
Back to home’s sweet sanctuary.

Home again.

Lock the windows, lock the door
Curl upon the cold wood floor.

Listen to my heart pound
The same old mantra against my brain:

No one is safe
No one is safe

Jon
12-29-2008, 06:18 AM
So, are all of your poems here or are there ones not here that are on AP?

You got me hooked you devil!

Lady_Macbeth
12-31-2008, 01:55 PM
Nope, these are all of them (I'm still a poetry n00b), but I'm always working on more. =P

flaggwalkstheline
01-04-2009, 09:20 AM
hmm that most recent poem u posted here is quite good, u have a really good sense of rythmn and meter