Any poets? - Comments, CONSTRUCTIVE critisism, ideas.

prometheusunbound · 2003-07-18 20:26:28

The cypress still stands
immuntable, a most lovingkindness
of His testionomy to Man

To the groom of mankind
this tree will be wed
And last. . . .

The truth still stands
with one way still above all
and none greater than the cause of the effect.

prometheusunbound · 2003-07-19 19:49:18

Let the cry stand,
That man must rise from his earthbound cradle
In the blood of his painful birth of a thousand labors
Let him deny the silver love of the uncaring maidens
And let him forge the stolen gold of the river
Let him commit heroric promethean deeds
To light the former dark sky of the heavens
And ride the sky in mighty chairoits propeled by the helios
Unshackle the minds of small and eager boys
So that great and brave men might emerge and dream
So that men may have the hearts of 10,000 lions
and the spirit of dragons, invincable and couragous
And let us hang in the tree,
A spear at our side, for nine days
And unleash not the twilight of man
And unleash not the rebirth of man
But only, I ask, of new hope for the future

prometheusunbound · 2003-07-19 19:57:31

feel free to criticize. . . .(like my spelling )

space_psibrain · 2003-07-24 19:51:43

Ode to a Terraformed Mars

In eternity there lies a world,
a world of my dreams and my desires,
a world of hopes and a world of fears,
a world that I have long held dear

It is a world where darkness and light do clash,
where the eternal struggle is fought,
where eternity exists as a grim reality

It is a struggle of the beings of time,
for life and death, for hope and loss,
truth and deception, darkness and light,
as souls are ever lost into the depths of eternity.

It is the world where i was lost,
In the great tempest of humanity,
It is the world for which we seek,
this world within us, without us

It is a world that has shaped both you and I,
A world where life and death abound,
It is mars where I am found.

Palomar · 2003-08-07 12:46:58

*Stop it, Clark! Stop it!!

Seriously, it's just TOO BEAUTIFUL, the things you write. What a talent you have!

Only 1 criticism: "Broken doves wing"? The "broken" part doesn't quite "fit" the rest of the poem -- it seems disjointed, like a note out of tune to the rest of the song. But maybe that's "just me."

But please...continue torturing me with the lovely poetry!

--Cindy

Josh Cryer · 2003-08-07 23:30:11

celss

containimated water becomes fresh and clean
energy from the sun we efficiently glean
living biota is growing healthy and lean
seedlings aeroponically grow fast and keen
sunlight through plastic a sight to be seen

prometheusunbound · 2003-08-12 13:53:47

Crusade to abolish the laws of newton
Dream of destroying the pressure of air
And destroy the chains of 9.81
Wage war against the hegemony of earth

This is the deed of the mighty Saturn 5
that had the hopes of all mankind
dissapear into the cosmos
Only to return bearing heros of the highest order

prometheusunbound · 2003-08-14 12:36:01

Powerless to be born, we rise for some unseen destiny
The might of man is not in himself, but only in his creator's creation.
But what is the good of destiny when all is naught
And all exhortions against the heavens futile?
Are we but unbroken puppets in the scheme
Or are we more than conquers in all our dominion?
Is it a pleasure of life or an pain of life?
All questions are cut short, as we are powerless to die.

Josh Cryer · 2003-08-14 12:55:05

the seed

through the atmosphere, preamble;
falls this ball,
burning very bright

clustered with globules,
like a giant red berry,
parachutes open

the fall slows,
the brightness dims,
as it slams into the night ground

great open, quick scramble,
robots climb tall,
position to gather morning light

light powered capsules,
open up to ferry,
rocks gathered, unshapen

a furnace glows,
mechanical life stems
exponentially robots surround

Josh Cryer · 2003-08-19 04:20:27

May I ask why a majority of your poems do not rhyme, clark?

I really think the priority of mine is to pose a sublime, lark.

Echus_Chasma · 2003-08-27 00:32:05

http://newmars.com/forums/edit.php?id=18521Damn your poems are cool...

I wish I could write like that.

Hey Clark, would you be able to give me a quick lesson in lyric writing?

Echus_Chasma · 2003-08-27 13:18:34

Is this what you meant by lyrics? For a song? Or for a dirty poem (I one new a man from Nantucket, and his penis was shaped like... well you get the idea...)

Yup, I meant song lyrics. I guess I need to practice my creative writing a bit more...

Those are quite cool, do you mind if I kinda um... 'borrowed' them for a song?

Josh Cryer · 2003-08-30 13:42:33

my poor attempt at a modernist rhyme

so fast
through red
glass
shattered
exhaustion
one last
hit head
past
mattered
elation

Josh Cryer · 2003-09-03 13:39:49

hehe, cute

Spider-Man · 2003-09-10 21:53:57

This is a fantastic thread. Great idea, Clark!

Once I get some free time, I'll write some verse of my own for here.

Bill White · 2003-09-17 13:45:27

"Poetry, the only form of self help that actually works"

Harold Bloom

Spider-Man · 2003-09-20 02:02:10

This doesn't have to do with space, per se (I'm writing a "Lunar Serenade" in Latin now that I'll post eventually), but it's certainly something that's been on my mind for a number of days, so I thought I'd put it into verse:

"Delight's Anguish"
2003 ? 9 ? 20
by Spider-Man

A dream too soft to sing or light to tell,
For ever in those darkest eyes to dwell....

To see such discs of bless?d fire,
Each time more sweet than words can say?
Alas, each time the dear desire
To gaze into them swept away...

What loss is there, O heav?n, what pain
Without the burning glow therein that gaze,
When days go by with naught, in vain,
To speak of from those eyes that blaze

As thousand suns obsidian,
More brilliant, bright than gold daylight,
And deeper, sweeter, softer than
Th?eternal dark that fills the night.

In truth,
Delight that brings my heart to sing,
The joy and inspiration there,
Is torture for my glance to bring
Itself ?way from that constant flare

Of fire which dwells, within which seethes
Those discs? enchanting dark, a flame
Which burns my core so cool and wreathes
My soul in bonds too soft to strain

Against with force or frantic flail?
Indeed, I?d pray such torrent tries
Would ne?er succeed and always fail
To free myself from such sweet ties.

But ah, fair queen! by name the one
One thousand ships were sent to save,
Though shafts of light and sacred sun
Do shine on others strong and brave,

Not ever will I know the gift
Of thy romantic eyes? embrace;
Not ever will my sight then lift
To gaze upon thy heav?nly face;

Nor will my soul be locked with thine
To feel all passion as can be,
And nor e?er will my own eyes dine
To know the spirit held in thee.

But yet, I wish not that it ne?er were so,
That I would not have seen such gorgeous eyes,
For though the pain and anguish through me flow,
Within me beauty?s mem?ry also lies,

A dream too soft to sing or light to tell,
For ever in those darkest eyes to dwell.

...Just to explain this a bit, there is an absolutely divine girl in Choir, named Ellen (from Helen, as in Helen of Troy, hence the "thousand ships" reference, and very appropriate considering she's by far the loveliest girl on campus), whom I'm not able to see casually more than twice a week during rehersal, along with most of the rest of Choir. I would have given anything just to be able to have five minutes to talk to her, without so many people annoyingly around, to tell her how I feel and how inspiringly beautiful she is.
I nearly did last night. But then, as rehersal ended, another guy from Choir approached, and they spoke to each other as if there were some romance or relationship between them, and made as to leave together... I said fare well, and conceded to my mediocrity and the fates.
Still, I'd give anything just to enjoy the melioration of her presence for an hour, to hear her musical voice, to feel the clasp of her hand in mine, and, of course, to gaze into her fiery brown eyes.
But such honors are not for me.

Byron · 2003-09-20 05:16:26

Still, I'd give anything just to enjoy the melioration of her presence for an hour, to hear her musical voice, to feel the clasp of her hand in mine, and, of course, to gaze into her fiery brown eyes.
But such honors are not for me.

Spider-Man, you give new meaning to the term "hopeless romantic"...lol... You certainly have a way of really falling for the ladies, don't you? But who among us hasn't been spurned in the arena of love? You're an extremely bright young fellow filled with beautiful thoughts, and I am supremely confident that you will find the love of your life someday...all good things are worth waiting for, you know! But dang, you sure can write some awesome poetry! :;):

This reminds me of when I was younger (in university), when I toured South America for 10 weeks... With me being 21 years old and having blond hair and blue eyes, I left a trail of broken hearts all over that vast continent. I mean, some of the women there fell for me hard...and it was heartbreaking watching them cry when it was time for me to move on...even though all I had done was to talk and hang out with them for a day or two. ???

But getting back to you, Spider-Man, just be glad that you're young and at university - for a limitless world of opportunity awaits you....I guarantee it...

B

Spider-Man · 2003-09-21 12:37:41

Spider-Man, you give new meaning to the term "hopeless romantic"

"Hopeless" is right.

...lol... You certainly have a way of really falling for the ladies, don't you?

Yes, but this one was especially saddening because her spirit is so unbelievably alluring and meliorating. That's why I wrote a poem on it ? and I rarely write any poetry that doesn't get sent to someone, so that should show how sincere these feelings are.

But who among us hasn't been spurned in the arena of love? You're an extremely bright young fellow filled with beautiful thoughts, and I am supremely confident that you will find the love of your life someday...all good things are worth waiting for, you know! But dang, you sure can write some awesome poetry!

Your compliments are very kind, my friend; they are appreciated.

This reminds me of when I was younger (in university), when I toured South America for 10 weeks... With me being 21 years old and having blond hair and blue eyes, I left a trail of broken hearts all over that vast continent. I mean, some of the women there fell for me hard...and it was heartbreaking watching them cry when it was time for me to move on...even though all I had done was to talk and hang out with them for a day or two.

*Laughs.* How the heck does my romantic failure remind you of your inherent success?

But getting back to you, Spider-Man, just be glad that you're young and at university - for a limitless world of opportunity awaits you....I guarantee it...

That's a very good point, one I'm well aware of. That's what makes it so torturous. Ah well...

Spider-Man · 2003-09-22 21:50:51

*Laughs.* Now you're just making fun of me, Clark!

It was good, quite good, very touching. However, for emulating me, you forgot the iamic tetrameter. Writing in rhyme is well enough, but I prefer the challenge of specified rhythm and flow and measure. In fact, I think that having poetry in meter is far more important than having it rhyme. The rhymes are merely emphases to punctuate the recurring rhythm, the rhythm and meter being the core, most important part of organized poetry ? in my opinion, at least, as I've garnered from Shakespeare, Chaucer, et cetera.

Spider-Man · 2003-09-27 17:06:32

Making fun of you? :laugh: Hardly. Making fun of you would be to make some jest about yet another young Italian male becoming smitten with a girl he hardly knows so he writes poetry about her eyes. It would be be a sad joke if it weren't so cliche. :laugh:

*Laughs.* I hadn't realized that! but I guess you're right. I'm not familiar with any specific examples though.
And I do too know her! *Grins.* I did the very moment I gazed into her penetrating optics, for therein is written her soul, and its beauty yet torments me most luxuriously.

Looks like the lure of 'Helen' runs through your people's blood, poem not withstanding.

*Laughs outloud!* That's so funny..! *Continues guffawing...*...wow, you're so right, 'cause of the Romans being settled by the Trojans... glorious!

Seriously though, I liked your poem. Form was never my my cup of tea though. The way I see it is Form, or structure, can be the brick and mortar used to construct great houses, or it can be the noose by which you hang. A time and place for all things, no?

I like your poem very much.

With that said, your use of the iambic tetrameter is effective, and well done. I try to follow my own natural meter though, and I generally avoid the old-dead-white-men-poetry style. But then again, I always enjoy a challenge.
I'm glad you took my previous poem a little personally, it just shows that you connected with it. That's the whole idea though. The poem, I hope, connects with most people because the idea of the 'unattainable', or creating our own situations where someone or something becomes 'unattainable' is a bit universal.
Here is the revised form of the previous poem, in what i hope is a close enough approximation to iambic tetrameter (I tried to limit myself to 8 syllable lines, not 4 meters per line):

Beauteous, friend. I love it.

alokmohan · 2003-09-28 04:23:56

I am no poet,mars is wet.I lost my pet.

clark · 2003-11-12 15:10:27

No more.

I shall whisper, say goodbye,
Closing celestial door with sigh,
No more the sun, the moon, or stars
No more the frame of rising Mars,
To guide this heart, my mind,
No longer shall this siren bind,
With beauteous visions of what may be,
For faded, discolored, is all I see;
I, now tired, of the journey long,
Mired in wishful daydreams wrong,
Too often now to all recount,
Too many adversaries to surmount,
I give in and will fade away,
Let others sing of coming day,
When man does walk far above,
Touching finally the place we love,
But it shall not be my song or voice,
This, the sentence of my choice.
I now leave this task to all of you,
Farewell imaginations universe, adieu.

dicktice · 2003-11-22 14:24:24

Re. National Emblems, my friend 84-year-old Bob Cunningham is always coming up with poems he composes in his head on the way to Joe's Food Emporium each morning. His latest is a takeoff of the old Canadian Dominion anthem: Maple Leaf Forever, which begins: In days or yore, / From Britain's shore, / and goes on: The Maple Leaf / Our Emblem Dear, / The Maple Leaf Forever.... Here's Bob's version:

OUR EMBLEM DEAR

In days of yore from Europe's shore
Hords of hungry settlers bore
On Canadian scenes and planted beans
To feed and fatten rich and poor.

Here may they thrive and long survive
And join in love together,
Baked beans, brown bread and pumpkin pie.
On Saturday nights, forever!

The little bean a people made
And foundations for a nation laid,
As settlers climbed to a destination
Beans backed them all with determination!

With great aplomb beans have become
Symbols of a staunch endeavour
To see gross racism overcome
And colour barriers sever.

Beans of all hues, so widely sown
And strongly grown have clearly shown,
That colour's naught when all is wrought
For variegated beans to stand alone.

So the variegated bean is the emblem dear,
Of red, white, brown or darker peer,
Ensuring all both bright and duffer
Never shall from skin shade suffer.

clark · 2003-12-30 14:52:47

They Have Not Seen The Stars, by Ray Bradbury

They have not seen the stars,
Not one, not one
Of all the creatures on this world
In all the ages since the sands first touched the wind
Not one, not one,
No beast of all the beasts has stood
On meadowland or plain or hill
And known the thrill of looking at those fires;
Our soul admires what they, oh, they, have never known.
Five billion years have flown in turnings of the spheres
But not once in all those years
Has lion, dog, or bird that sweeps the air
Looked there, oh, look. Looked there, ah God, the stars;
Oh, look, look there!
It is as if all time had never been,
Or universe or sun or moon or simple morning light.
Their tragedy was mute and blind, and so remains. Our sight?
Yes, ours? To know now what we are.
But think of it, then choose -now, which?
Born to raw Earth, inhabiting a scene
And all of it, no sooner viewed, erased, gone blind
As if these miracles had never been.
Vast circlings of sounding light, of fire and frost,
And all so quickly seen then quickly lost?
Or us, in fragile flesh, with God's new eyes
That lift and comprehend and search the skies?
We watch the seasons drifting in the lunar tide
And know the years, remembering what's died.

You can keep your KSR, your Asimov's, or Clarke's. Just give me my Bradbury.

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#26 2003-07-18 20:26:28

Re: Any poets? - Comments, CONSTRUCTIVE critisism, ideas.

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