FFR Rad Poets Society

Re: FFR Rad Poets Society

also requesting this be stickied later

Re: FFR Rad Poets Society

wv likes this

Re: FFR Rad Poets Society

Here's a poem I wrote a couple of years ago...I like rhymes...>< It was titled "Romantic Symphony" --meh, kind of unoriginal, but whatEva.

I taught you all the things I knew
Devoted my time to thee
So you could join in playing the grandly new
Romantic symphony

An autumn evening we walk alone
Each tree ridden of all its leaves
I swear,one tree, it must’ve know
For it bore a small gift you would give to me
A solitary stem, a single leaf
Its shape was of a heart
Lonely, you rid it of its grief
In my hands was its fresh start
Cherishing the gift as I cherished you
An illusion I could not see
Happily we proceeded as one not two
To the romantic symphony

For hours we sauntered throughout the streets
In the silent dead of night
When suddenly the ground felt not my feet
Palms torn, I lost your sight
But you were safe, at home, not cold
In bed, not dreaming of me
And my work forever remained untold
As I practiced the notes for thee

Next day we did meet at the hall
Your apology was at hand
“Don’t worry, my love, I did but fall,
Come sit, I have our stand”
The piece began as we all thought
Perfect passionate serenity
But soon it was not as I taught
You deviated from harmony
Disloyal you were to every note
I thought we understood
For you the time I did devote
Thrown away like no one could
We all awaited the peaceful end
Eternal it could not be
Last notes that you could not pretend
And unexpectedly
Your final pitch was played too sharp
You slashed the loving tune
The sound rang fury, destroyed the harp
Sent quivers to the moon

The audience ran out in great disgust
The members, nowhere seen
The hall was desolate, cheated of trust
You said, “I did not mean…”
I’d given my all, but you ignored my will
And the love I showed for thee
You now are shamed, for you did kill
Our romantic symphony

Re: FFR Rad Poets Society

I am feeling sad
You must be feeling sad too
So you read haiku.

Re: FFR Rad Poets Society

Thanks for getting this thread going moches.

Bout moche's poem: It does get increadibly difficult to balance everything you're doing while maintaining the relationships you have. I wish you all the best on finding a balance. One thing I see odd in the poem is this:

"unavailable that’s all you are aren’t".

Either my brain's not working or you forgot to hit the backspace key . Edit: Looked at it again, got it. A comma would help me understand that.

Personally I'm awful at maintaining friendships, especially if they're a person I only see a few times a year (a majority of my high school and college friends). Your groups of friends will change as time goes by.

Eva: This will come out eventually in my posts: I have a general aversion to poems about love situations. I think I've just read so many 'they broke my heart' poems that I've become desensitized to them. It's nothing personal against anyone, I don't even like the 'love' poems I've written.
I did like a number of the images in your poem. The poem didn't feel long to read, which is always a good thing. Rhyme is always fun, and you managed to avoid the bouncy thing that commonly goes with it. Nice write!

Tps: Check out the making's of a traditional hiaku. It's worth a look. Here's my favorite haiku (I know the syllables are 'off' in english).

Here's a poem of mine in the same vain as the one I posed in the last poetry thread. I hate adding titles to my poems so I got in the habit of calling them "untitled #whatever". It probably works with paintings fine, but it's atrocious for poems in general, because the title gives no context to the poem. I'll try to actually have a new write my next post. Still not amazing, but I like a couple images here.

Re: FFR Rad Poets Society

Cool thread, I've got some work that I might post here

Edit:

The Galloping Hessian of the Hollow

-“The night grew darker and darker; the stars
seemed to sink deeper in the sky, and driving
clouds occasionally hid them from his sight.”
-Washington Irving

‘Twas a night like no other,
The wives do say;
The night that Ichabod was spirited away—
The light in the sky,
A blown candle, which smoked
With grey clouds coming and going it spoke,
To the disfigured specter that rode on a steed
As black as the soul, and as fast indeed
As the midnight blasts that howl and scream,
Like the sounds of a hellish festival of fiends.

Ichabod was leaving a quilting frolic they say,
And truly he must have not gotten his way;
For he walked toward his horse with that hasty step
That is so familiar to a man upset.
Katrina, that coquette, as sweet as a peach,
Must have spoken some words,
Some words that seeped
Into the mind of poor Ichabod Crane;
Oh, to win the heart of a dame,
Is a wild, peculiar, game!

Whatever the case, Ichabod did not say goodbye
To the plump and rich mansion where things went awry;
Rather, he prodded and pleaded old gunpowder to go
Back to Van Ripper’s, if only he’d known,
The trouble that would face him;
The trouble that roamed!

The night was as silent as a vacant plain,
Only the sound of a cricket or frog came
To the ears of Ichabod Crane—
The stories of goblins and ghouls that day
had begun to sink into Ichabod’s brain.
Every sound in the dismal and haunted wood,
Enchanted Ichabod, who frantically stood,
Stirring at every moan and groan,
That a bough or two did surely own.

As he faced the tree where General Andre was seen,
He burst into tune as to repel the fiend!
And as he got to the stream that was dark with history,
Where Andre was taken, and had seen no victory,
He gave old Gunpowder a blast in the ribs,
who answered with a lateral move instead.
As Ichabod tried to regain control,
He heard a plashy tramp in the grove;
And on the margin of the brook,
Poor Ichabod shook,
In fear at what he took—

There stood something towering,
Something queer;
Something in the shadows,
Something near.

This gloomy specter was a master in mimicry;
For Ichabod tried to beat him with trickery,
But the ghost would not be lost!

Ichabod went on his way,
Whistling a psalm, as if to pray,
This monster would be out of sight,
That this was just some dream or fright!
But alas! The specter was no fright,
It proved to be of physical might,
And it traveled alongside Ichabod!

Sweat had now begun to pour,
Down and out of every pore.
Ichabod thought he’d beat his foe,
Give him the slip, but this would show
A foolish outcome, of that I know.

Ichabod shot like a cannon that roared,
Through the forest as a Seraph that soared,
Passed the demon rider that sped,
With equal vigor, as one they tread!

Rising over a stately hill,
Ichabod had truly gotten his fill.
There upon, there upon that hill,
He perceived his pursuer was headless!

Frantically he sought to fly!
Kicked old Gunpowder who again denies,
The direction that his master lends;
And down, down, down, a hill that sends,
Them screaming toward the churchyard bridge,
That Brom had faced with courage—

According to the story see,
The goblin would shoot in ecstasy,
Away, away, in a fiery blast;
If only, if only, he could get passed!

Ichabod, panting like a wolf, it’s true,
Came upon the bridge as a bullet that flew;
Thundering passed every last beam,
Ichabod turned to watch the fiend
Waste away in a show of light,
That the prophecy told would come upon sight
of the churchyards spiritual glow.

Instead, what happened could not have been seen,
As Ichabod saw the head of the fiend
Come flying toward his person!
This head came crashing upon Ichabod’s skull,
And thus, the move had seemed, but null—

The search the days that would follow,
Amongst the hills of the quiet hollow,
Would prove to heighten the mystery;
Because there, on the earth where the chase had ended,
There was found the remains of a shattered pumpkin.

I made this for a thread that got no real attention xD it might just be not that great, but I'd love to hear some feedback.

Re: FFR Rad Poets Society

I'm not good at giving poem feedback, but I enjoyed reading the thread so far.
I don't want it to die so here:

Toll
September 30, 2012
---------------------

They tell us it's going to be ok
Everything will work out in the end
They say life is a happy ending
That happiness is a smile away

Most say it's not that easy

I want to tear a fissure in the Earth
bring down lightning from the sky
heal the great wounds of the Earth
and scorch injustice from the ground

to hold your fate within your hands
the power to control destiny
bending time to your will
every moment a living moment

Between what is and what should be
is a chasm unmeasurably wide
close the gap a bit by bit
but wider it will always seem

It will be alright, You will be ok
sometimes believing is easier
The decision is the toll of life
to whom will you pay?

Re: FFR Rad Poets Society

this is my first in a while.

september 1, 2013 - drought's end

the first drop is the alarm blaring, the bacon sizzling, the
dog licking my face. i thought it was you but you were never
one for speeches. no, this is a drizzle, a little
mist to refresh the eyes, get them to work again

it’s never over

i thought
i had forgotten how, that my monsoon season was finally over, but
no. you tore it out of me again, dug your bladed words into my earth
as you wrenched out chunk after chunk of me. it’s been
so many times you’ve done this that
i can no longer bleed, but if you scratch off the top layer, the
dust, i am still soil
still 70% water
but it hurts so much more than that

Re: FFR Rad Poets Society

I guess I could put one up. Been several years since I last wrote a poem or something related to it.

Despair

Despair...
Such an oddity it is.
Its one that mankind never wishes to fall upon.
Its a state that relishes us of our animalistic instincts.

It deprives us of what we truly drive for in life.
If we're stranded in a place...
Of lost hope,
Our sanity depletes,
Invoking our despair to simply leave such a desolate place.

One minute,
We're all brothers.
The next,
We're at each other's throat to leave such a cursed place.

Despair follows us everywhere,
In love...
Harmony...
And even in death.

Despair is one within our soul,
Sealed away until something unlocks it.

Until then...
Help yourselves and satisfy your lives...

~Katamachi

(just wrote this down during the nght so excuse me for any sort of major derp ups x.x so rusty at this...)

Re: FFR Rad Poets Society

i like the ellipses... what's the effect you're going for with those? something a little contemplative? a little measured?

on one note, i think it helps a lot to read out your poetry. it helps you figure out which words will fit better. some people have an ear for it (i'm not so lucky), but even then it can really make your poetry feel the way you want it to!

Re: FFR Rad Poets Society

Its something contemplative. Its actually relative to a story that I am writing right now that relates to a darker theme. As a relation to a darker moment that I had gone through years ago.

Re: FFR Rad Poets Society

Re: FFR Rad Poets Society

hi cool thread


(She wants out, eventually.)

We watch the whitecaps crashing, sitting placidly locked agaze in misplaced frontlawnchairs on the gray pebbled sandy shore, sipping rum and colas:
gulls and their brash happy cries adorning the blue sky with flecks of
white, salty seabreeze warmly teasing our feet entwined stretched serenely out before us,

heeling our mark in the wisping unsettled sand, knowing its impermanence
and settling for it.

-

(Dice)

Gamble. A cubic eye cast clattering: I win again. Eyes of my peers with sour disappointment swelling: eager hopes all dashed by sheer fortunes--cruel fortunes dictating the cast of all dice.

I reap my yields with equal grins.

Ren watches too, sitting across me--but the dim copper eyes convey no cheer. Hair left imperfect over the face, statue-still sitting, bentlegged and curiously removed. She does not play, nor invest.

This is my suburban veranda: wrought from vermilion paintchips.

Matches her hair.

Catches the sun nicely.

Dourness unwelcome here--but I have come to read her well; not like my friends’ eyes swelling; hers--downcast, dimly--dispelling her haunts. She does not dwell--but casts: copper fighting gray’s ghost’s resurfacing: a conscious effort: more active, to scorn time’s passive promising to mend all scars. Leaves naught to cruel fortunes.

A cubic eye cast clattering:

I worry for Ren.

I worry with guilt for myself; for that to which my assuring peers are blind. We two they cheer: You are perfect, All is well. But for what their swollen eyes see--what I fear I cannot mend. Impotent as time: scars threatening to come unsealed. All faith placed in cruel fortunes.

Vermilion paintchips scraping up with our chairs’ shifting. Back, and forth, and back.


I can’t afford to redo it now.

-

these are part of a really long narrative poem i'm probably never gonna fully finish but it's fun to share!

Re: FFR Rad Poets Society

damn... that poem part of your 3 month exodus in the himalayas..