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mistergreen77
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Post by mistergreen77 » Thu May 18, 2006 4:43

This is one of my favourites!

To the Parcae

A single summer grant me, great powers, and
a single autumn for fully ripened song
that, sated with the sweetness of my
playing, my heart may more willingly die.

The soul that, living, did not attain its divine
right cannot repose in the nether world.
But once what I am bent on, what is
holy, my poetry, is accomplished:

Be welcome then, stillness of the shadows' world!
I shall be satisfied though my lyre will not
accompany me down there. Once I
lived like the gods, and more is not needed.

Hölderlin
[size=84][color=green]“Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not one bit simpler.”[/color] - Einstein

[color=green]“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”[/color] - Nietzsche[/size]

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Post by Prideth » Thu May 18, 2006 6:17

One of the few Australian bush poems from a woman's perspective. It also doesn't glamorise the bush life like so much of the poetry from that time did. It has been one of my favorites since I first read it in school.


Past Carin'
by Henry Lawson (1867-1922)


Now up and down the siding brown
The great black crows are flyin',
And down below the spur, I know,
Another `milker's' dyin';
The crops have withered from the ground,
The tank's clay bed is glarin',
But from my heart no tear nor sound,
For I have gone past carin' --
Past worryin' or carin',
Past feelin' aught or carin';
But from my heart no tear nor sound,
For I have gone past carin'.

Through Death and Trouble, turn about,
Through hopeless desolation,
Through flood and fever, fire and drought,
And slavery and starvation;
Through childbirth, sickness, hurt, and blight,
And nervousness an' scarin',
Through bein' left alone at night,
I've got to be past carin'.
Past botherin' or carin',
Past feelin' and past carin';
Through city cheats and neighbours' spite,
I've come to be past carin'.

Our first child took, in days like these,
A cruel week in dyin',
All day upon her father's knees,
Or on my poor breast lyin';
The tears we shed -- the prayers we said
Were awful, wild -- despairin'!
I've pulled three through, and buried two
Since then -- and I'm past carin'.
I've grown to be past carin',
Past worryin' and wearin';
I've pulled three through and buried two
Since then, and I'm past carin'.

'Twas ten years first, then came the worst,
All for a dusty clearin',
I thought, I thought my heart would burst
When first my man went shearin';
He's drovin' in the great North-west,
I don't know how he's farin';
For I, the one that loved him best,
Have grown to be past carin'.
I've grown to be past carin'
Past lookin' for or carin';
The girl that waited long ago,
Has lived to be past carin'.

My eyes are dry, I cannot cry,
I've got no heart for breakin',
But where it was in days gone by,
A dull and empty achin'.
My last boy ran away from me,
I know my temper's wearin',
But now I only wish to be
Beyond all signs of carin'.
Past wearyin' or carin',
Past feelin' and despairin';
And now I only wish to be
Beyond all signs of carin'.
[size=75][color=darkblue]Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket
Never let it fade away
Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket
Save it for a rainy day[/color][/size]

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Post by Pitkin » Thu May 18, 2006 18:27

I wrote the following as a personal method of relaxation last summer. I call it Skychalk, and it was originally not a poem but a very short story with minimalistic paragraphs.


Skychalk

There she stood, looking up at the sky
Calmly she observed, kindly she glanced around
The blue cloudless illustration of the seas of the planet

Anger and frustration
Seemed to have been forgotten, at the last bus stop
It felt relaxing

She was breathing easily
The atmosphere had no stress in it
None at all

Carefully, she took out one of her few coloured chalks
White
To accompany the bluest of all skies

Raising the chalk
Towards the sky
She smiled confidently

With smooth, soft draws
She pulled out a cloud as white as her chalk
Blue was not alone anymore.

She smilingly looked at her creation
In the sky
And drew another one, in the shape of a heart this time

Wind blew her hair calmly
And the two clouds
Moved westwards

She drew more hearts, a whole lot of them
Small hearts, child-like dreams and innocence
As white as her chalk

Responsible and caring hearts
Smaller ones
Would not feel lonely

Parents for children
For everyone feeling unsure
Everything as white as her chalk

There she stood
On a small hill, on a meadow
Looking up at the sky, smiling warmly

Without worry in her heart
She observed, calmly glanced around
The blue sky filled with hearts, big and smaller

Once more she raised her chalk against the sky
With one wide sweep she filled
The last big blue opening with the outline of another heart

Finishing her move
She brought the chalk softly next to her chin
Like an artist evaluating her work

She smiled happily

There she stood, looking up at the sky
Warmly she observed, kindly she glanced around
The blue sky filled with pure white clouds

A friendly, conciliatory smile
There she stood
With a chalk in her hand

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Post by eMTe » Thu May 18, 2006 20:00

This is my favourite poem, it has almost cult status in Poland and is considered the best Polish poem written ever. It may seem easy to understand and not to deep, but I remember from my secondary school that it took us three classes to make full analysis. Fortunately it's easy to translate, so the translation is very accurate.

-----

Elegy of Fortinbras

Now that we’re alone we can talk prince man to man
though you lie on the stairs and see no more than a dead ant
nothing but black sun with broken rays
I could never think of your hands without smiling
and now that they lie on the stone like fallen nests
they are as defenceless as before The end is exactly this
The hands lie apart The sword lies apart The head apart
And the knight’s feet in soft slippers

You will have a soldier’s funeral without having been a soldier
the only ritual I am acquainted with a little
There will be no candles no singing only cannon-fuses and bursts
crepe dragged on the pavement helmets boots artillery horses
drums drums I know nothing exquisite
those will be my manoeuvres before I start to rule
one has to take the city by the neck and shake it a bit

Anyhow you had to perish Hamlet you were not for life
you believed in crystal notions not in human clay
always twitching as if asleep you hunted chimeras
wolfishly you crunched the air only to vomit
you knew no human thing you did not know even how to breathe

Now you have peace Hamlet you accomplished what you had to
and you have peace The rest is not silence but belongs to me
you chose the easier part an elegant thrust
but what is heroic death compared with eternal watching
with a cold apple in one’s hand on a narrow chair
with a view of the ant-hill and the clock’s dial

Adieu prince I have tasks a sewer project
and a decree on prostitutes and beggars
I must also elaborate a better system of prisons
since as you justly said Denmark is a prison
I go to my affairs This night is born
a star named Hamlet We shall never meet
what I shall leave will not be worth a tragedy

It is not for us to greet each other or bid farewell we live on archipelagos
and that water these words what can they do what can they do prince

Zbigniew Herbert
"As you have noticed over the years, we are not angry people." (itebygur)

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Post by mistergreen77 » Fri May 19, 2006 16:18

I would be interested in such an analysis. I get some of its meaning but it is difficult for me perhaps because it is a translation and there is no punctuation.

Here is another short one that I enjoy.

Now the hour bows down, it touches me, throbs
metallic, lucid and bold:
my senses are trembling. I feel my own power -
on the plastic day I lay hold.

Until I perceived it, no thing was complete,
but waited, hushed, unfulfilled.
My vision is ripe, to each glance like a bride
comes softly the thing that was willed.

There is nothing to small, but my tenderness paints
it large on a background of gold,
and I prize it, not knowing whose soul at the sight,
released, may unfold...

Rainer Maria Rilke
[size=84][color=green]“Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not one bit simpler.”[/color] - Einstein

[color=green]“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”[/color] - Nietzsche[/size]

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Post by Guybrush » Sat May 27, 2006 0:55

well - I'm not too much into poems - though - a few years ago someone (whom I by then cared a lot for at least) sent me this (I believe she had excahnged she and her with he and him)

They say that it takes a second to meet a special person
An hour to appreciate her
A day to love her
But an entire life to forget her

Never to be forgotten

It's been my steady sig on any forum I've ever been at - and still is as you can see :D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D
They say that it takes a second to meet a special person
An hour to appreciate her
A day to love her
But an entire life to forget her

Never to be forgotten

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Post by FogToo » Sat May 27, 2006 4:41

We may have years
We may have hours
But sooner or later
We push up flowers

I have written poems myself before, but all in danish and they are not translateable.. I wonder if you can see where this one came from.. ;)
[size=84][color=red]War does not determine who is right. War determines who is left.
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Det er latterligt at påstå, at computerspil påvirker børn.
Hvis f.eks. Pac-Man havde påvirket børn født i 80'erne, så ville vi i dag have en masse unge, rendende rundt i mørke rum og spise piller, mens de lytter til monoton og ensformigt musik.[/color][/size]

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Post by Dot O'Rock » Sat May 27, 2006 14:45

From the same game as this:

It shone, pale as bone
As I stood there alone
And I thought to myself how the moon,
That night, cast its light
On my heart's true delight,
And the reef where her body was strewn.

The best noir game ever, Grim Fandango ^_^
If you don't make a friend now,
one might make you -
so learn
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Post by Parvini » Fri Jun 16, 2006 13:44

I've written loads and loads of poems in my time, I did put some of them on my website a while back but they are currently offline. I'll just offer a couple here, one from around 2002 when I split up with my girlfriend for about 6 months :( and another one from around 2001 which was a rather interesting experiment with rhyme and metre - strict iambics where each "beat" of the line rhymes. Hope you like em.:

"After the Summer Birds”

After the summer birds have flown
And winter leaves you quite alone
To pick up the last shards of bone
That the bleak skeleton of Love did leave.

Solitude pierces like thorns
And when you’re helplessly forlorn,
Your mind and heart wrecked and torn,
From all the torture feasibly conceived.

Then you could see how I exist
Like Love’s last loathsome activist
Who’s laid his plaque, unclenched his fist
And sailed the Sea of Hope wholly bereaved.

There he sits on decks of decay
With not a soul coming his way
To perceive what he must convey:
The intense feelings that words cannot weave.

The sun can’t shine, it always rains,
“My heart’s in the Highlands” with pain,
With doubt, with passion, with your name,
With emptiness until I am reprieved.

The Song of the Knave

The knave he sings of graves and things,
Of brave old kings and caves of rings
But hark his mood, the darkest brood -
A bark imbued with stark, brown hues.
Heard much have we of such a tree
The hutched up plea of butchery.
Of war and peace, on tours of grief
We scored our sleep on cores so deep.
We paid our way through raider’s bay
We made our stay on th’blades of day.

The fight doth hum - the night it comes,
And mighty sun and light o’erruns
The pale blue moon, a frail new tune
To gales that swoon o’er vales and dunes.
That shines like bliss, the finest kiss,
(How th’rhymèd fist snapped Time’s weak wrist)
But then it came again the rain,
I penned my name in dens of pain.
It endeth there we’re friends who share
A mended tear, the tend’rest care.
"The mind is its own place, and in itself/ Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n" - John Milton (Paradise Lost, Book I, lines 254-55)

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Post by mistergreen77 » Fri Jun 16, 2006 16:37

Parvini, I think these are great poems. Thankyou for sharing them. What I really like about them is the great use of symbolism which to me is what poetry is all about.
[size=84][color=green]“Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not one bit simpler.”[/color] - Einstein

[color=green]“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”[/color] - Nietzsche[/size]

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Post by Parvini » Fri Jun 16, 2006 17:34

Thanks Mr. Green but they are also old. I'm home from work now (to watch the AWESOME Argentina versus Serbia in the World Cup) so I can post some more as I have access to my harddisk.

This one is from a sonnet sequence I wrote when I went to Iran for a month around Xmas 2002. I wrote my girlfriend a sonnet for every day I was out there - we weren't getting on at the time so many of them are full of suspicion and distrust but this was the last one in the series.

My Pillow

My pillow goes unused tonight
As does my love. As your face fades
My mind sinks through tunneless light
As does your love. As your voice raids
My thoughts cascade through whirlpool dreams
As does my love. As your breath shrinks
My mind pours its fragment less beams
As does our love, magpies that wink.

I grasp at the air, call out your name,
I shoulder my head as if it was yours.
Evasive of memory you remain
Futility strikes the crux of my cause.

So walk in my dreams and catch my love bare,
So sift through my love and find my dreams there.

-----------

This is one that I wrote the same night as "After the Summer Birds"...

Flowers Like Roses

You took a knife and asked me how it feels
Those type of wounds, you know, they never heal.
It’s written so bold, scarred across my chest,
Burns like love every time we get undressed.

I took your life and scraped it into mine.
I took your love and drank it up like wine:
Wine becomes water, miracles can fade,
Reality pollutes the dream cascade.

And we put a mirror up to our eyes
It splintered like wood. Shattered mirrors lie,
Shattered hearts cry tears of acid blood
Tarnished with pain, condemned like the judged.

Flowers like roses they whither with time.
The fragrance decays, the stem becomes slime.
Flowers like roses are not built to last,
The sick petals of memory have passed.

--------------------

This was the last poem I wrote to my girlfriend, I think from about February of this year.

The Future

The doughy eyes and fattened cheeks
The pattering of little feet
The button nose and tiny hands
Girl, I’ve seen into the future.

Church bells over the horizon
I walk the line, we walk the aisle
While the paper’s falling like snow
Girl, I’ve seen into the future.

The ember glow of cherry lips
The clink of glass, let’s drink champagne
“I always knew you would make it”
Girl, I’ve seen into the future.

The creak of age and rocking chairs
Of greying hair and fading sight
Two souls still nursing each other
Girl, I’ve seen into the future.

-----------------------

And this was the first poem I wrote her, from about September 1999 - I'll leave it there for now. Next time I'll offer some non-relationship writing.

untitled

Were I a soldier I would fight for you
And in battle dodge death just to see you again.
Were I a singer I would sing your name
In the sweetest notes at the top of my voice.
Were I a weaver I would make you a dress
From the finest silks in all of the world.
And were I a great poet I’d write you a ballad
Then you could see how much I love you.
But being none of these
All I can offer is my heart.
"The mind is its own place, and in itself/ Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n" - John Milton (Paradise Lost, Book I, lines 254-55)

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Post by mariesa » Wed Jun 21, 2006 20:57

Parvini, these ones are really nice... I'm very impressed

do you write very often or just when you have a really strong feeling like shiftlessness, heartsickness, anger, dolefulness or absolut pleasur???

a short one in german:

Gefangen, in Mauern gezwängt
Frierend, in diesem kalten Haus
Sitzt es, eingeengt, macht sich klein
Fragt sich, warum es nicht ausbricht
Aus diesem dunklen Gefängnis
Sehnt sich nach wärme, nach Licht
Nach einem anderen Leben

Doch warum flieht es nicht?

and:

Zum Schein

Verloren, vergessen gar fühlt sie sich
Einsam und allein in Mitten derer,
Die sich Freunde nennen.
Sie lacht, sie weint, sie atmet,
Sie tut, was getan werden muss
Zum Schein.
Das Gefühl wertlos, unwichtig zu sein
Lehmt und betäubt sie, macht sie krank.
Gefangen in ihrer Hilflosigkeit,
Kann sie nur an eines denken: Ihn,
Der mit seinem Lächeln,
Und mit seiner unbändigen Liebe
Sie versteht und sie leben lässt.
Denn nur in seinen Armen fühlt sie sich
Geborgen, wichtig und wunderschön...

I'm not good in using symbolism and I think they are really simple...
but they are important for me
thats why I post them

and it's also nice that no one of you understand it exactly, so that I do not get so much criticism from you :D :D :D
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Post by Chroelle » Wed Jun 21, 2006 23:03

Well I do read German and understand most of it. :D

Please remind me when I get moved to the new apartement to find my old poems and post a few of them. Most of them are in Danish though :D
Good luck on understanding those. Besides Danish members I think only FM could make out a few lines :D
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Post by Scythe » Thu Jun 22, 2006 12:39

Well, this one is probably my favorite of my own (old) poems. From a time when I was more introspective than I am these days. Some of you may have read it "elsewhere."

REFLECTIONS
Mirror, mirror, on the wall
I tried to meet my gaze
But could not see beneath the face
Reflections, that was all

Wondered what it could all mean
Existing with such strife
I wanted death, I wanted life
And everything in between

Considered what it meant To Be
I never was too bright
Trying to turn off the light
When voices came to me

”Come”, they said, ”enjoy the show
And see what lies beneath”
What I saw bared it’s teeth
But was there more below?

I tried to see beyond my eyes
Facing my own stare
Looking stiffly at my glare
To penetrate the lies

Secrets buried were exhumed
I guess it was too much
I tried to reach out, feel my touch
When by myself I was consumed

Now in this mockery of night
My moon is full it seems
All I can hear are my own screams
”The straightjacket is too tight!”

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Post by Pitkin » Fri Jun 23, 2006 15:24

Can't hate it from some time ago, inspired by a song Kirai Ni Narenai (can be translated 'Cannot Hate It') sung by Ayumi Nakamura. The first verse comes roughly translated from the song. No rhymes whatsoever. ;)

I cannot hate it
But sometimes it's not enough
Every now and then I notice
I didn't know everything about myself after all

I wish it was easy
Just to adjust and be 'normal'
I didn't ask to be this way
I never chose to make it hard, difficult
Being different brings joy
Being different brings sadness and tears

I wanted to hate it
But couldn't get that done
I wanted to make fun of it
But it turned out to be impossible

I thought I could change
Change 'back to just being normal'
I looked into it
It turned out to be a stupid thought
Rights bring responsibility
And right side needs left to balance

I do not hate it
But sometimes it's not enough
Every now and then I feel
I was left all alone with myself

I wanted to keep it to myself
No one else should learn it
I got depressed, feeling down
It proved too much to carry alone
Being myself brings happiness
Being taunted brings sorrow, death

I do not love it
But getting better already
Each day I think of it
And I hope one day I don't have to anymore

I've come a long way
Learnt to admit it to myself and others
Now that I think of it
It's got to be the beginning of real life
Being honest is a scary, terrible thing
Being honest is the most wonderful thing

I'm able to smile about it
I'm able to laugh about it

Will I be able to tell my friends and family about it?

One day I will love it
Right now feeling alright is enough
Every now and then I notice
I didn't know everything about myself after all

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Post by Parvini » Sun Jul 09, 2006 2:35

Here are a couple more, one from the sonnet sequence and one from about September last year:

The Rain that Falls

I sleep, slip the shore as Salvation’s slain.
I creep, ‘cross chasmed crags, the kin of Cain.
I weep, with withered woe, as willows wane.
I reap, the wrath of the rancid, rawkus rain
That falls, fraught with fear like Failure’s frail,
That falls, from frenzied Fury’s faithful flail,
That falls, like fangs; fretted Fortitude fails.

The blood that’s drawn drips, bubbles round
Like venom penetrates the ground,
Like molten hatred without sound.

I blow, the bitter breath on bloodied bark.
I sow, the sullied seeds of suff’rance stark.
I drown, neath the dank and dungeoned demisons dark
I drown, drained by the demon’s deathly dark.





Where Do All the Flowers Grow Now?

Crimson sky cloaks the barren trees
Cracked like the lover’s broken wing
All turns to dust in the desert
Where do all the flowers grow now?

Forbidden fruit dried in the heat
Lost like the dreams of the lover
Cast deep in the bottomless soul
Where do all the flowers grow now?

River rapid snakes as a ghost
Drained like the cry of defeated men
All ends up at the throne of blood
Where do all the flowers grow now?

Wildcat eyes flash in the night
Fade like the days that have now passed
From my life into oblivion
Where do all the flowers grow now?

Poisoned blade pierces two hearts
Burst like the damn that kept us in
As tears conceal the motive
Where do all the flowers grow now?

Little voice trembles in the dark
Safe like the captain of a ship
All things that were will be again
Where do all the flowers grow now?
"The mind is its own place, and in itself/ Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n" - John Milton (Paradise Lost, Book I, lines 254-55)

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Post by Scythe » Thu Feb 01, 2007 21:08

Just wrote this, and didn't care about rhymes and stuff for once. :)
***
Heart of Winter

Frozen dreams
Icy veins, blood runs cold
Frosty skin, breath a cloud
Pale emotions

Love’s Winter
Snowfall on my soul
All that blooms; crystals of ice
My heart freezes over

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Post by Prideth » Sun Feb 04, 2007 10:04

This is one I wrote a couple of weeks ago. For the poem to make sense, a brief back story is necessary.

An online game, nation sim, many nations grouped into voluntary alliances. A large number of these alliances go to war, our group stays neutral, but there is division within our group about whether we should be, or should enter the war to assist our friends whom are being decimated by a much stronger enemy. The Eagle is the mascot of our alliance and represents its ideals, the lone man represents the dilemma we faced.

The Eagle

On the edge of the precipice, a lone man stands
staring into the gloom below

Should he leap forth from his safe solid perch
and plummet down into the unknown

How did I get here, he thinks to himself
why can't I walk away?

What keeps me here, right on the rim?
can somebody please explain?

I watched the others stumble, leap or fall
down into that deep abyss

My friends, my enemies, one by one
till only I am left

I called out to them, and begged them no
don't leave me alone I cried

It is safe here at the top of the cliff
nobody needs to die

I hear them now, way down there
the prayers, the insults, and screams

Some begging for help, some cursing my name
and some warning me to leave

Pain and anger, joy and hope
take turns to float up to me

I feel the despair, and the satisfaction
in defeat or victory

What brought us all here to this accursed cliff?
that has ripped my soul in two

why must I choose to stand or fall?
when will I know what to do?

The lone man ponders on this for a while
as the sounds below became strident

Finally, he looks up at the sky
and sees a magnificent eagle flying

It is big, beautiful, bold, and free
neither asking permission nor giving

The lone man watches the bird with awe
and feels something within him brimming

The eagle looks down, right at the man
straight into his very heart

The loan man feels its presence there
and his gloom begins to depart

I know now what to do, he thinks to himself
the answer is clear as the sea

Follow the others, or not perhaps
but that decision is up to me

The leap is long and the fall is hard
Of my choice, I need to be sure

Because if do this wrong, either way
I won't be much help at all

The lone man slowly takes two steps back
away from the edge of the cliff

As the eagle circles high over his head
screeching its relief
[size=75][color=darkblue]Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket
Never let it fade away
Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket
Save it for a rainy day[/color][/size]

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Chroelle
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Post by Chroelle » Sun Feb 04, 2007 10:19

That one is a masterpiece. Especially when you know the back story. Good one Pridy.
Currently testing Life version 2.9 (With added second child)
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www.paed-it.dk - My blog in Danish

Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.
--Mark Twain

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Pager
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Posts: 1249
Joined: Mon May 01, 2006 15:54
Location: Berlin, Ontario

Post by Pager » Sat Feb 17, 2007 2:12

I was once writing a horror novel, and at the beginning of the chapters would put a short poem sort of setting the mood that I wanted people to already begin experiencing before they read the chapter. Here is one of the less darker ones...


In my house there is a box
Full of broken memories
A life forgotten and left behind
In the bottom there is a boy
Frightened of what he is
Frightened of what he could be
Alas, that boy is me
And that box is where I will be.
CWF - Safer than Crack, Twice as Addicting

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