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Alobar

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Answers1,913

I agree with Leonard Cohen: "There are no dirty words. Ever."

  • Are you afraid of the dark?

    The Dark

    It is night

    there is no fire

    yet still you run from shadows

    Do not think me the coward

    you say

    for I am just a man

    And at night

    when there is no fire

    it is the shadows which we all fear most.

    8 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • If you found a ruby in the ocean, would you throw it back?

    My Unadorned Heart

    I wash the collected jewels in the ocean

    The green one

    the yellow one

    the red one

    The smell of salt water

    somehow

    causes the sparkle to be even more intense,

    to delight beyond delight,

    to enrapture

    I stroke each jewel like a mother, her babe,

    feeling the sensual smoothness of the sides

    the sharpness of the edges

    and the fading moisture… like memory

    What do you make me feel?

    And you?

    And you?

    Each jewel is unique

    and sparkles hypnotically, like a star

    a hand-held star

    Each jewel’s colour is rich, full and defining

    touching my heart in its own way

    shading me, melding with my nature, creating me anew

    I wear each colour upon my face for a time

    see how it reacts to moonlight

    And somehow

    at sometime

    each eventually dulls and begs me

    return to the sea.

    7 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Not a word from my pen in two months, and this--what do you think, too much?

    A Poem For My Wife

    My wife

    standing alone in the grass

    the sun upon her face,

    cloud shadows morphing her expression

    making her unknowable

    In the distance birds sing,

    celebrating day

    with mating calls

    and timeless songs we all know the words to

    She is twenty-seven

    and she is grace

    Other sounds now:

    metal knife edge cutting through earth,

    quiet whimpers,

    deadened, muffled thuds

    like parade drums

    bringing the remains of a regiment

    finally home… to rest.

    My wife

    standing alone in the grass

    strong and tall in the wind

    as Taps plays—

    live well, my love,

    live well.

    16 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Do you have a moment to spend with me?

    Passing

    the moments pass

    no matter what you do the moments pass

    some were soft

    and bathed in moonlight

    at other times

    a child, bare-chested,

    fought for honour, slayed the dragon

    and slept soundly in his mother-made bed

    and there was pain and hurt,

    tears flooded the streets of the past

    but each time they stopped

    leaving the ground dry and clean

    and always

    the moments pass

    no matter what you do the moments pass

    but this time

    as you lay prostrate and waiting,

    mind whirling between fantasy, memory

    and hallucination,

    they pass profoundly,

    each noticed

    and mourned

    for this time

    no matter what you do

    no matter how hard you squeeze and grasp

    no matter that you’re trying like never before to hold on

    the moments pass

    ‘til soon

    there are no more.

    13 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Hmm, any thoughts on this?

    To Winter in March

    I walk through snow-dusted streets

    alone, her face gaunt and skeleton like,

    sunken cheeks heralding approaching death

    Grey umbrella of sky has no form

    or character, it is close and infinite

    at the same time

    Shoulders hunch slightly in response to the cold

    but jacket is unbuttoned,

    heroic statement

    optimistic resolve

    More snow falls but it is whimpering, dying—

    the grey skies are clearing

    (whether you can see it or not)

    the grey skies are clearing and soon

    she will again return to dust

    and annual slumber

    But for now I reach out my hand and

    marvel at the delicate touch of a single

    flake which kisses me softly,

    a final farewell

    turning to tears

    and sweet water.

    10 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Any thoughts on this?

    Not Stepping Up

    The moon is translucent,

    a grey ghost

    faintly hiding in the blue, blue sky

    The sun screams loudly

    its song

    Flowers awaken,

    applaud

    and drink

    I remain silent,

    afloat

    in a sea of tranquility.

    11 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Anyone up for surfing?

    In Silence

    You know how to surf echoes,

    the more musical the better, you say

    I admire that,

    but can’t wait for the day

    you tell me

    you have surfed the vibrations of night

    and the hum of the stars

    Then you will be ready;

    Then we will go together

    and learn

    to surf silence

    and understand love.

    13 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Do you know what you have forgotten?

    Quiet Exit

    In the ether of night air

    I imagine seeing the final turns

    of my lost memories

    as they leave me forever

    like young birds, the nest

    Is there home or heaven for these forgotten moments,

    or do they

    like long-dead peasants

    crushed under a forgotten plow

    merely just pass on,

    their quiet whimper

    eclipsed by the roar of history?

    10 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Any thoughts on this piece?

    Watching the Poets, Smiling

    Young, youthful poets

    arrogant like astronauts

    rapping out rhymes

    re-using rhythms

    and afraid

    afraid of absolutely nothing

    I was that young once

    I too had the strength to slay dragons

    17 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Is this working, or is it trying too hard? If you think it's working, suggest a title?

    The piano came on like a forest fire

    raging across the countryside

    There was no chance of rain,

    no sad drops of melancholy

    Only crescendo,

    building,

    filled with hard notes

    and staccato phrases

    Life

    becomes music

    becomes life

    Roar!

    Roar of flame as

    world explodes in

    kaleidoscope of passion, brilliantly red,

    orange,

    the violent shades of yellow

    Roar!

    as heartbeat turns to drum

    pounding rhythms of destruction

    creation and

    realization

    Roar!

    as you cover the

    innocent, virgin field

    with something like understanding

    And all then

    that remains

    is a barren, desolate field

    covered by blackened skeltons

    of the past

    and existential dust

    You rest,

    the piano falling silent,

    the air heavy

    with the profound sense

    that something this time has mattered

    that something this time

    has changed.

    16 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Comments on content? Comments on form?

    Expectant Father

    How great is Man!

    How great will Man become?

    A staircase I see

    to the stars

    with each of us, everyone

    a chance

    to climb

    and to see

    the very face of God.

    How great is Man!

    How great will Man become?

    From cesspools and squalor

    from tiny babe

    and from violent holler

    noble Man will rise,

    I pray I will see such a day,

    such a bloom of flower,

    such a Spring.

    How great is Man!

    How great will man become?

    Will he ever echo the potential

    contained in the gleam

    of the child’s eye,

    and will I the father proud

    see the evolution

    be allowed

    the joy of

    Mankind’s ascension to the altar

    of his own promise?

    5 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Care to read a sad (but common) tale? Any thoughts?

    Complacence

    I no longer excite you

    in the bedroom or the mind

    and lo, this roof we raised

    with our own four hands

    and these supporting walls

    so lovingly painted to reflect our eyes

    have paled,

    and yet we continue to walk towards the horizon

    hands clasped tightly

    as sun falls, unstoppable

    Is this love

    your eyes ask the silent sky

    We grip hands tighter

    to keep from falling

    in sideways freefall

    never noticing

    how like chains

    our interlocking fingers are beginning to look.

    12 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Does this provide any comfort, or is it just empty words?

    Look to the Sun

    Whisper her name into the wind,

    if she does not return

    in body

    and shade falls on your heart

    remember

    shadows are shadows

    and not scars,

    they fade easily

    in the morning sun.

    13 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Any thoughts on this poem, are the rhymes too forced?

    Learning to Dance

    Briefly you danced

    upon checked floors

    under lights of stars and angels

    I was entranced

    then watched you soar

    beyond the bonds of these strange shells

    It was a time beyond compare

    It was a time that wasn’t fair

    So now I dance

    silent, alone

    but the stars burn even brighter

    For this romance

    this jewel, this stone

    is in night’s sky despite her

    Leaving me in this silence

    Leaving me in this silence.

    13 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Does this poem provoke any feelings or thoughts in you?

    Lonely Thoughts on a Cool Night Under the Stars

    The moon is a sliver

    like it has sliced through the sky

    a tiny wound

    and one wonders

    why there is no bleeding,

    why there is no blood.

    12 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Do you know any CEO's who lost their jobs?

    Investing in Spring

    Springtime is coming,

    by its side

    rejuvenation

    Certain hearts are able to

    feel it

    inside the walls

    the fragile walls

    of their purity

    While Masters of the Universe stand

    empty

    weeping beside the rubble

    of their crumbling castles

    fallen to ruin

    before their unbelieving eyes

    Some would say this bitter irony

    is just reckoning,

    just judgment come to pass

    like an executioner’s sword

    through the neck

    of a murderer

    of children

    But back to spring,

    for it is coming and

    by its side

    rejuvenation;

    and we,

    we the pure

    we the real

    will be there

    with our brooms and our shovels

    to clean up the mess you have made

    upon our broken streets

    you once said

    you would pave for us

    in gold.

    9 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Any thoughts on this idea, it's pretty cliche I know, but sometimes cliches exist for a reason?

    Lines of Futility

    I wonder if it’s possible

    To let everyone have their say

    Or if it will all devolve

    Like it did today

    Can everyone not learn

    To stop sometimes and listen

    It’s better to bring together

    Than incite division

    8 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Still sucking at sonnets, but here's another one for critique, would you?

    The Sonnet Of Importance

    And then, when the guns have fallen silent

    And then, when the swords have been dulled by rust

    And then will we know what it is that’s meant

    By the thundering beat that’s ‘neath our bust

    Not glory, fame nor immortality

    Not colours, medals, bright and a-glimmer

    Not brave feats of Hollywood gallantry

    Not memories than only grow dimmer

    Instead it is truth – the bonds between men

    The connections we make during our time

    Not the people long-gone, lost, forgotten

    But the ones who remain, there to share wine

    My friends, my family and ‘course my love

    There’s nothing greater below nor above.

    8 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • How many poems do you think have the word poem in it, and are these appreciated by those who don't write?

    I wrote a poem last night that referred to a poem, I read a couple last night, randomly, in a book I have on the go, and I've noticed several on here today. Poem becomes a symbol for artistic expression, for confession, for commitment, and for a whole slew of other things, but do people who don't write poetry (just read it) appreciate that, or do they find this constant poem referencing annoying at best, narcissistic at worst? Just wondering.

    10 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Sonnet: Meter's off but tongue planted firmly in cheek, I ask what you think of this?

    If Shakespeare Got Caught Cheating On His Girl, A Sonnet

    I cannot sing a song for you today,

    No music can I gift to you, I feel

    As though I’ve failed and now in great dismay

    Am humbled and can only stop and kneel,

    And like a sword from knight to royal queen

    Do I present to you a single rose

    And hope that in your heart you will then glean

    Wherefore the yellow flower I had chose,

    Whose pedals were the colour of the sun

    And thorn as sharp as eyes of my desire,

    Admit to God you are the only one

    I love, ev’ though she had stirred my fire.

    So with this man will you agree to live,

    His passions, you graciously forgive?

    6 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago