Is There A Poetry Thread?
 

I know next to nothing about poetry but here's some:

The Festival

I don't want to festival.
I don't want to set up camp next to your neon-lit clothes
I can't sleep with the lights on.
I don't want to get in a scrap
with a man who's been dressed as a clown
for 3
solid
days
never liked clowns.
I don't want to go see Radiohead
as the people around me
holler creep
ad infinitum.
I don't want to fuck the man
by putting £200 in his pocket
I hear it's his orifice of choice.
I don't want to get so drunk
I drown Franz Ferdinand
with my own vomit.
I don't want to buy a £7 burger
that cost the vendor 20 pence
and the young calf, it's life.
I don't want to sit around the instant grills
listening to you play MGMT on acoustic guitar.
I don't want to say hello to MTV.
I don't want to say hello to STD.
I don't wanna catch festivitis
There's no cure.
I don't want to finally get some use out of my $80 Wayfarers
imported from the States
via blistered Asian hands
Your wage at the GAP seems way fairer.
I don't want to get my Espadrilles muddy.
I don't want to loiter on mother nature.
I don't want to litter on mother nature.
I don't want to ____ a stranger
when our bodies smell stranger
than this sentence reads.
I don't want to wear a dirty wristband
for a year
just in case people forget
I went Reading last year
and the year before
not going this year though
too mainstream.

I don't want to festival
I just want what's best, is all.

I've never liked clowns either, but...uh.....you wear espadrilles??

yow.

nah, I don't own espadrilles.

I wrote you a poem.

it goes like this:



granted, it's just a rough draft, but I'm happy with it.

I have a thread I made for writings.

EDIT: http://www.sonicyouth.com/gossip/showthread.php?t=30065

I'm 12 Years Old And What Is This?

The Riders
Who treads those level lands of gold,
The level fields of mist and air,
And rolling mountains manifold
And towers of twilight over there?
No mortal foot upon them strays,
No archer in the towers dwells,
But feet too airy for our ways
Go up and down their hills and dells.
The people out of old romance,
And people that have never been,
And those that on the border dance
Between old history and between
Resounding fable, as the king
Who held his court at Camelot.
There Guinevere is wandering
And there the knight Sir Lancelot.
And by yon precipe of white,
As steep Roncesvalles, and more,
Within an inch of fancy's sight,
Roland the peerless rides to war.
And just the tip of Quixote's spear,
The greatest of them all by far,
Is surely visible from here!
But no: it is the Evening Star.
Lord Dunsany

Poetry threads, where?
My life is one shit poem
It never will end

^^^ that's a much better poem than most of them. serious goth action.

the whistle

i love her
she knows
she loves me
i know


nothing to do
but to wait the rules
and laws by unknown
people who love

I'm not stalking her
but she wants
if another one appears
she'll think
about him
and the possibilities
and me
at last
will win

and i know
it's true!
so close
to do

This only works in a thread with nude pictures of JB or pictures of chicks putting pop rocks in their vagoo.

poems
they are poetic
poetry
pathetic

Confusion Moon:

Funny how fifteen days are seemingly
able to induce
Changes
On what we were willing to be

Confusion moon
flows
Everywhere

It takes just
One step
to unbuild
Everything

I won't stay up late
This time around
I won't wake up at 3am
This time around

I had someone write this poem for me. Funniest thing I've seen in a long time!!!


Liam baby gonna plug that hole
Liam bitch you know you make me whole
Liam my lovely, my only baby
You drive me crazy

Lets take a bath
Touch my shaft
Grab my ass and ride it fast
Super dooper man juice blast

Liam baby in the black denim pants
Lets get freaky and do the naked dance

Liam, Liam, Liam, (fades) Liam, Liam...

Hahahahhaha!!!

In England there's an energy drink called Relentless, and on each can is a short poem. Naturally there's a different short poem for every variety. The one I remember the most is "Morning Has Broken" by Wordsworth.

And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;
A motion and a spirit, that impels.

my taste is quite boring, many of my favourite poems/writings are EAPoe. I should probably read more poetry but there is so much to wade through to find anything that I connect with. When I read it definately isn't something I only read over once, I need to spend an hour or two finding subtleties and meanings and so on. It's time that I'd rather spend on other things, at least right now. :(

The City In The Sea

Lo! Death has reared himself a throne
In a strange city lying alone
Far down within the dim West,
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best
Have gone to their eternal rest.
There shrines and palaces and towers
(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)
Resemble nothing that is ours.
Around, by lifting winds forgot,
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters he.

No rays from the holy heaven come down
On the long night-time of that town;
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently-
Gleams up the pinnacles far and free-
Up domes- up spires- up kingly halls-
Up fanes- up Babylon-like walls-
Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers
Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers-
Up many and many a marvellous shrine
Whose wreathed friezes intertwine
The viol, the violet, and the vine.
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
So blend the turrets and shadows there
That all seem pendulous in air,
While from a proud tower in the town
Death looks gigantically down.

There open fanes and gaping graves
Yawn level with the luminous waves;
But not the riches there that lie
In each idol's diamond eye-
Not the gaily-jewelled dead
Tempt the waters from their bed;
For no ripples curl, alas!
Along that wilderness of glass-
No swellings tell that winds may be
Upon some far-off happier sea-
No heavings hint that winds have been
On seas less hideously serene.

But lo, a stir is in the air!
The wave- there is a movement there!
As if the towers had thrust aside,
In slightly sinking, the dull tide-
As if their tops had feebly given
A void within the filmy Heaven.
The waves have now a redder glow-
The hours are breathing faint and low-
And when, amid no earthly moans,
Down, down that town shall settle hence,
Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,
Shall do it reverence.

I just remembered one of the other short poems. It's "Endure Eternally" by Lord Byron. It's one of my faves.

But I have lived, and not lived in vain;
My mind may lose it's force,
My blood it's fire:
And my frame may perish even in conquering pain;
But there is that within me which shall tire
Torture and time,
And breathe when I expire.