words, jumbled up and so on...

[smcicr]

Hi,

Long time SK reader, just recently found these pages, I have a few of these that I like to loosely refer to as 'poems' kicking around and it would be great to have some feedback on them... (good or bad - I'm a grown up, I can take it ;D)

So, here you go...



little things


when i first
met her
she
had this saying
almost a
catchphrase
and it
bugged me
i used to keep
onandonandon at
her
to stop
and one day
she did
now
i wish
i hadn't tried
so hard.

[flaggwalkstheline]

thats really clever!
I wanna read more of your poems!

[smcicr]

@flaggwalkstheline - thanks very much :) glad you like it.

Next...this is sort of part two of a trilogy - little things being part one...



second hand thoughts at two a.m.


such
a
small
thing
i remember thinking so then
but she couldn't sleep with it
such
a
small
thing
i loved her so i understood
never even noticed it before
such
a
small
thing
but she couldn't sleep with it
so every night i silenced time
such
a
small
thing
but it stopped her sleeping
and now alone i understand.

[Odetta]

I am really enjoying these!

Please post some more!

[smcicr]

Thanks very much - more than happy to oblige...

Third part of the (kind of) trilogy...



old & new


half awake
half asleep
last night
i came to think of you

looking back
i can
only
see
blue skies

they hold a distant sun

it fades
an old
photograph
of
us

but its warmth
breathes fresh life
into
you and i.

[Jon]

I love the second part; romantic but not trite. Please post more.

[smcicr]

Jon - thanks very much :)

slight change of pace...



boundless


there is something
almost
beautiful
about it

the
understanding
acceptance
of the
load.

to embrace
it
totally
and alone
has a quality
rarely
understood
by any

excepting those
who
have travelled
the
same
way.

[smcicr]

If you've ever had a class you were really excited about that just sucked the joy right out of you, well - this is for you.



eng. 231


once upon a time
it
was all so beautiful,

passionate and free and sprawling

but
week after week
i sit here

watching

as they
slowly
strangle
it.

hem
it
in
chop it
up
stretch it where it doesn't want to go, was
never
intended to be.

they
disect it,
force it into
neat
little
boxes

stealing its power

and
leaving us both
cold.

[smcicr]

a healthy disrespect for authority


when you
get right down to
it

behind
their named doors
large
desks
and
larger waistlines

is
all too often

someone

who despite the fact
that
they
have
you
at their
mercy

is all too human

and
frequently,
not even
that.

[Seymour_Glass]

That was slightly perfect.

[smcicr]

Thanks, glad you liked it :)


lesson one


the result
is
immaterial
so long
as
you fought like hell
to
achieve
it

and in order to
fight
like
hell

you
must
above all else,
in spite of
whoever
whatever
and
whyever

believe.

[smcicr]

Ok, so creative writing classes - bit of a strange environment - bit of a strange concept - at a base level 'here are the rules to follow to be creative' hmmm. As with all classes, a lot depends on who's teaching them and if they like what you do. My teacher preferred stories, long, character driven stories. We got on just great.



a good one


i knew,
even before it was finished,
knew,
it was
a good one

they didn't often come out like that
and
while you could be pleased
with the others,
almost
proud.
this one fairly wrote itself
and i didn't
feel
afterwards,
i just knew.

this time
i
was waiting,
for the class
and
for
him,
i
wanted to see
his face
see them all
see the realization.

so i carried
it
in,
knowing
and they just sat there,
looking
at it,
at me.

he said his piece,
seven weeks in
and i could have said it with him.

a girl,
across from me
said
she
liked
it,
a lot

no-one else spoke,
we moved on.


(I'll post the 'good one' next ;))

[smcicr]

the 'good one' - well i thought so...


no words


to see the sun climb,
slow
and
sure.

to watch you sleep,
mirror
the line of your back
and feel you lean
easily
into me.

to see your hair spill
onto
the
sheets,
trace a line across your shoulder and
thrill
at your warmth.

to understand the cerulean sky,
contained
in my window
yet stretching,
sliding,

impossibly
into
the
morning.

to breathe you in,
knowing that
no words
can now,
or ever
catch
this
time.

knowing too
that i want it
no
other
way.

[smcicr]

love does not die but it can catch cold


she had a big drive,
steep,
looked like
a ramp.

and there i was
at
three a.m.
in january.

freezing.

making this
huge
'?'
out of sticks, stones,
anything.

occasionally
a car would turn out
of the road
opposite,

catching me
full beam

there was
an
old
couple,

clear road and they just
sat there
blinding
me

and i
sat there
getting
blinded,
looking at them.

they eventually
pulled out and left
me
alone in the dark.

i finished
and
went home
to
bed.

she phoned me
the next day,

'it was you
wasn't it?'

'what?'

'you know, on
the drive.'

'yes'

'i thought so.'

she didn't see
it,
she
slept in.

her
dad had
swept it
up.

[flaggwalkstheline]

thats intense

[smcicr]

@flaggwalkstheline - intense in a good way? ;)

Ok, so we've all been here right?



worth it


i'd sit and wait
for the
bus

knowing that
ten
minutes ago
i
had been
in
bed

and not this tired.

sit and wait
for it
to come by and

clean me
off the kerb
take me
back
again
to pots and plates and
cups and forks

to steam and sweat and shit.

sit and wait
wanting the sleep
needing
the
money.

some mornings though
sat there
cradled
in the
stillness

the sun would
ease
up
into the
sky

making the mist
rise
just enough
that i could see
the
road

stretching itself
utterly
empty
across the town.

to see it so clean
and
unwearied,

expectant.

was

as the bus door
rattled
greedily
open,

somehow enough.

[flaggwalkstheline]

yes intense in a good way

I like your poetry, it has a distinct minimalist charm all it's own:clap:

[smcicr]

Thanks very much :) These are all pretty old now and I'm putting them up as is - I think I might go through and have a play with the structures at some point, some of them don't work for me as well as they once did, but for now...



because


while it is there
as it
courses
through you,

there is glory.

enveloped

overrun

vital

so much so that

the silent
timeless
hours

the
lost
empty
days

are eclipsed.

[smcicr]

the point to it


even
on the worst days
there
is
something

not much
maybe
but
something.

like the
clatter
of the drain
on
the
wrong side of the road
as you apex
the
s
bend
yourfootthroughtheboardsin
second
just to
hold her
down

and then the
perfect
white
O
of the lips
in
the face of the driver
coming at you
as you

get
the steering back
just enough
to
force the front

back

across then
clear
as he
flashes by

a breath away
and is gone.

leaving nothing but the
fading note
of
the horn

mixing
well and
easily
with the
laughter.

[smcicr]

realise


holding onto the good.

[death grip]

just a little too tight.

[palpable want.

very air, thick with it.
laced.]

blinded by memory,
so real.

[but it is.
gone]

the moment spent unwisely?

[perhaps not]



[now is jealous of then]

remember you as light,
incandescent.

you are still there

[remain imprinted]

when i close my eyes.

perfectly imperfect.

but i was not

[am not]

and i still feel you,
sometimes,

when your orbit brings you near.

[smcicr]

pause


and there is a moment,
luminous,
even as you are
telling me
that it's stupid.

a moment in your eyes,
in the unconscious
half smile
that catches you unaware,
pure.

and it speaks to me,
tells me,
that this is as far from stupid
as anything could be
because this

makes you alive.

[flaggwalkstheline]

pause


and there is a moment,
luminous,
even as you are
telling me
that it's stupid.

a moment in your eyes,
in the unconscious
half smile
that catches you unaware,
pure.

and it speaks to me,
tells me,
that this is as far from stupid
as anything could be
because this

makes you alive.

:excited::clap:
I like this poem very much

[smcicr]

Thanks very much :D


living alone



people asked me

'do you like it?'

and i'd say

'yes'

no hesitation
but i was never quite sure why,
couldn't pin it
down.

tonight it clicked,

it's sitting on
my sofa
in
my living room
with a beer.

naked.

[smcicr]

look harder


there is always
victory.

sometimes it wears the clothes
of defeat

but
if you allow it

there is always victory.

[smcicr]

security


i need the words to be seamless,
unbroken.

i need the comfort that they bring.

they let me be
somewhere,
they are my compass,
my point
of
reference,

my constant.

i am safe within.

safe
within

[Jon]

Nice theme in breaking up your thoughts. You displayed the feeling of a lack of security by violating the very first line :

"i need the words to be seamless,
unbroken."

[smcicr]

Thanks Jon, appreciate you taking the time to leave a comment.

This is a little different, I saw a friends band - Hope & Social (not sure what the links policy allows in this case but if you google the name it should come up) last weekend. They were celebrating the launch of their new album and asked everyone coming to write a 'prayer' that would be left - the ultimate idea being that one will become a song. Prayer was used in the loosest possible sense and didn't have to have a religous connotation. This is what I wrote...


i hope.


that the things you hear and read and see light fires in you
that you are just sad enough to be truly happy
that you are as strong as you need to be
and that you love too much

that you are lucky when it matters
that you are kinder than you have to be
that you are clever enough to know better
and wise enough not to be clever all the time

i hope you see the world in colour.

most of all though, I hope you are true to yourself.

[Jon]

"that you are just sad enough to be truly happy"


GREAT line!

[Jean]

that you are kinder than you have to be isn't that bad, either

[Jon]

Yes...many good lines.

I wish for more, dear poet.

[smcicr]

Thanks to Jon and Smokey :D Getting to the end of these now, the longer stuff has been taking over of late...


untitled


and so she asks me

'what's the matter?'

'are you cold?'

and i have to smile
(to myself)
in the darkness

i have no answer,
no explanation.

so i just lie there smiling,
holding her
and
shaking.

[flaggwalkstheline]

Thanks to Jon and Smokey :D Getting to the end of these now, the longer stuff has been taking over of late...


untitled


and so she asks me

'what's the matter?'

'are you cold?'

and i have to smile
(to myself)
in the darkness

i have no answer,
no explanation.

so i just lie there smiling,
holding her
and
shaking.

:rock:
thats really awesome

[smcicr]

Thanks Flagg ;)

Ok, just a few left now, I'm saving my (current) favourite for last so until then.



lonely


felt it again today,
it's not there all the time
just now and then.

like the leg i broke
that aches to tell of the coming storm.

only this is a different ache
and it speaks of
a different storm.

[Seymour_Glass]

I love the economy of your poems. They say exactly what they have to, no more, no less. That's really effin cool.

[Jon]

Yes Seymour...and difficult to do so well.

[smcicr]

Thank you both - very grateful for the kind words and just really glad you like them.

Of pool and as it happens, life...


metaphor


it is
simply
a
case

of seeing all the
angles

knowing
what
will go
where

and
being able to
put it
there.

[Seymour_Glass]

See? That right there is exactly what I mean. :thumbsup:

[Jon]

Aye yup.

[smcicr]

Thanks guys - I'm looking for some input on this - very new, the ink is still wet on it if you like so I'm officially too close to it at the moment. Any and all thoughts please.


Bittersweet


These secret moments,
we embrace them,
hold them close.

We wrap ourselves in them
to deny the everyday.

They are sanctuary
yet we suffer them.

A singular smile,
hands entwined in the silent dark,
the solitary simplicity of a kiss.

Too much
and not enough.

[flaggwalkstheline]

I like it
It lacks (what I percieve to be) the extreme minimalism of ur other poems I've seen but it's interesting nonetheless

[Jon]

Perhaps it lacks the usual minimalism, but the simplicity is alive and well.