[zorba the geek]

Nice poem! ^^

1-3 AM... My parents would almost literally kill me.

I don't have any poems off the top of my head right now, but if I manage to get that short story or any other poems I'll certainly post them

I don't ask my parents. Our schools strike, it's the... 33rd day, I go to sleep whenever I want. I just close the door, tell them good night, and I'm free to do as I wish

And 3am is nothing... You ever stayed up until 8am?

[attachment=16513:54.jpg]landlord,thats you???

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Yes, actually, my parents did disconnect my dear PC a couple of years ago, but that was not because of the late hours, that's because I dared to get some pretty bad grades in Math, I'm usually a very good student, so they were disappointed

And that scene would be pretty accurate, except we don't have a Renault Scenic (we used to have a Megane and it literally broke on every corner)

[Tal]

Yes, actually, my parents did disconnect my dear PC a couple of years ago, but that was not because of the late hours, that's because I dared to get some pretty bad grades in Math, I'm usually a very good student, so they were disappointed

And that scene would be pretty accurate, except we don't have a Renault Scenic (we used to have a Megane and it literally broke on every corner)

[frantique]

When I was at school we had a poetry book that we were studying. It had many poems from various poets with one poem on each page. At the top centre of the page was the name of the poem and under that the name of the poet and then the poem. The only poem from the whole book I remember is this:

Fleas
Anonymous

Adam had 'em.

[dsenette]

that's the best thing about poetry...there's no such thing as a bad poem....just ones you don't particularly like

one i wrote for my dad a long time ago:

~Pop~
Deaf man,
walking through the silence,
laughing at confusion,

taking stride without a listen
"baking glides without a glisten?"

"where am i" says he
"you tell us...you're behind the wheel" say we

Blind man,
gazing into the sea,
seeing all there is to be,

glancing into our souls
ah the things he brings to me

from days gone by he brings new light
to stories long gone by

Dieing man,
he lives today,
and every year to come,

he steps one step
and then anon
walking on his way

and one for the lady (also...a long time ago)

~Terminal~
flowers between your toes,
more than just a sign of AFFECTION, a sign of INFECTION,
an infection of my soul, deep down within,
your love like a virus, always with me,
ever changing, growing, taking over,
bending my cell's will to your own.
this welcome intruder to my heart, my only escape,
embraced by every fiber of my being this passenger stays within,
through this spot upon my heart i see all,
i see truth, i see you, your sweet face,
your third eye awakening to meet me on a cold winters day,
your warmth all that can be felt, burning through to the center of me,
cleansing me from all that is not you,
you have grown unto me, a new being,
in you i see my perfection, i see the me i want to be,
i see my Utopian bliss awaiting my return,
forever shall i love you and forever by your side shall i remain.

also...the other best part about poetry...punctuation and capitalization don't count

[Chopin]

Wonderful

[Chopin]

Storm, Breeze, and Flame

A storm is brewing, the sky is dark;
The flames of life will lick the bark
Of a great tree, the tree of peace,
And the flaming tongues consume the leaves.
Until the storm.

The storm is pouring; the fire is out
As it would be in a waterspout.
But in a land of strife and pain
A special person will fan the flames again
And make them burn.

Your soul is the fire; it lives in the blaze.
More oft than not, it reveals its evil ways.
But all has a fault, and all has a good,
And that fire’s good must be understood
To be used.

As the storm goes out, as the tempest recedes
The smallest zephyr, the tiniest breeze
Shall blow the spark into another flame
Which shall light the torch of the sacred games:
The game of Life.

But as the flame goes out and your fuel is spent
Don’t try to redeem, don’t try to repent
‘Cause it’s more likely than not that you have done
Enough good for you and another one
To move on.

[frantique]

That is beautiful Fredil... keep 'em coming

[Chopin]

Aww thanks

Unfortunately, I had one in my English binder but left it in the school cafeteria... I'll get it back ASAP I promise. Which is not going to be very soon because we don't have school for the next five days.

Edited by Fredil Yupigo, 20 November 2007 - 05:01 PM.

[ajsandiego]

Just thought I would share this.

Throughout life, we store information collected from experiences and try in some way to make sense of it.
When things occur in our lives that we do not fully understand, we often externalize the information.
By doing this, we are afforded a different perspective, thus allowing us to think more clearly about difficult
or perplexing events and emotions. Art is one of the ways in which people choose to externalize their thoughts.

An ancient legend once said that everyone possesses three hearts; one he shows to the world,
one he keeps to himself, one he himself does not know. We all have faces we let others see and
faces we hide out of fear, deception, or necessity. When we do reveal these deeper levels of ourselves,
it is usually through our actions, an emotional catharsis, or in intimate confidence. Each face is often expressed
through poetry’s contact of appearance versus reality. Sometimes these two elements are identical, but all
too often they are directly opposed to each other.

UNKNOWN

[Chopin]

Look for a less serious one about being stuffed with turkey and stuffing a few days later!

P.S. I'm completely seirous.

[PsychPosse]

Celibate Poet


























"End"