|
|
Post by angelous on Mar 17, 2009 12:39:19 GMT -5
Two Here that I used in an RP...
Make a Choice
Listen, listen, is that my voice?
Is it telling me to make a choice?
But what choice have I, what choice have I?
What will I do when the time draws nigh?
Will I stand and act,
will I agree to that valued pact?
Or will I say it matters not,
even if it puts me on the spot?
When the slips are counted,
and the verdict rings,
will it be me who sings,
even if I took no part in that sacred tradition?
This one is about voting...
More on the way!
EDIT: These are all written out before hand, and dated. So if they get stolen, I have a case for a lawsuit. ^_^ [/color][/center]
|
|
|
|
Post by lysander on Mar 17, 2009 12:48:48 GMT -5
Pretty noice. I'm not a huge fan of the rhyme scheme, but it works. Very few of my poems have a rhyme scheme, mostly because it always feels forced.
It's pretty straightforward, less abstract than most, but good. It has a few great ideas behind it (I like the end where you talk about those who talk without having voted). The topic is pretty well picked as well. I normally wouldn't think to write a poem about voting.
Praaaaaaaaaactice.
|
|
|
|
Post by angelous on Mar 17, 2009 13:40:41 GMT -5
I have ones that don't rhyme!
White Flag on Doomsday
Here we go again, waiting for the time,
wondering when we'll here the line.
That one word, two word, eight word sentence,
that sends us to confusion.
For the most part this has been peace, with a few bouts of anger,
but overall, it has been quiet.
Two huge nations, both full of might,
wait silently for the shot to fire.
And when it does, one moves for war, the other peace, or both toward war I cannot tell,
Who'll wave that white flag of fleece?
If worst comes to pass, and an all out blast erupts,
will anyone be left to wave that flag
and if there is, will it matter?
Or will there be no one to wave that white flag to?
In 100 Years
Time goes on, as do we,
humans age, but Earth does not.
How will it look in ten years, fifty years, one hundred years?
For even though the earth doesn't age, it changes, and those on it change it.
Will the earth be a barren wasteland,
or a tropical paradise?
Will it be cluttered with machines,
or covered by water?
Will it be frozen over?
Half the fun I believe is thinking about what'll happen.
So think to yourself, in ten, fifty, or a hundred years,
what will the earth be like?
|
|
|
|
Post by lysander on Mar 17, 2009 14:39:21 GMT -5
White Flag on Doomsday was pretty sweet. Once again, I was thinking it was of pretty average pace until I got the end and you had written one idea that just cinched it for me. Waving the white flag when everyone's already dead or defeated or gone. It's a notion that, although I've thought of it, I've never thought of it in quite the right respect; you phrased that very well.
In 100 Years was a nice observational piece, but I honestly think that you deal with more specific ideas far better than you do with such a general topic. It was a nice change of pace, but I wouldn't want it to be your central style.
Overall, I think you handle ideas very well, and have a few great ones. Your rhythm sometimes stretches out, so you might think of shortening some lines (or dividing them). Instead of "Ten years, fifty years, one hundred years" how would
"Ten years,
fifty years,
one hundred years" Or
"Ten years,
fifty years, one hundred years" make a difference? Would you like that change?
|
|
|
|
Post by angelous on Mar 17, 2009 14:44:06 GMT -5
Thank you for your compliments Brezzen. I have more to come, and more to write. And I'm going with Walt Whitman's idea of free verse, no specific rhyme scheme, tempo, or line length. That's why it is the way it is. I probably won't change it for most poems, but a few will be the way you suggested, no doubt there. And my general idea thing, isn't my central style.
As for whatever, I'm planning on getting all my poems published into a book when I get enough.[/color]
|
|
|
|
Post by angelous on Mar 17, 2009 14:56:40 GMT -5
Double post I know...Snow, Snow, Snow
Snow, snow, oh joyus snow,
on the ground and in the air,
putting on a wonderous show,
causing people to stop and stare,
as you fall down to the ground.
The sun comes out and shines,
making it bright all around,
for snow, snow, oh joyous snow,
acts like a mirror and holds no light. [/color][/center] Another more general one I know... [/size]
|
|
|
|
Post by Rocket! on Mar 17, 2009 18:03:07 GMT -5
Woo. I didn't expect to see poetry here of all places! All of the following is a critique, and is hoped to be taken nicely. Anything I say is all about helping you get better. Feel free to correct me and tell me that the way you did something is "your style", okay? Things We Take For Granted Most of us have nice things, of this I'm fairly certain. But few of us realize that there are those who don't. We take these things for granted, cause we don't realize what we have when they're here, but miss them when they're gone. There are those without those things, who really wish they had them. They wish for more than a car, or a t.v., they also wish for a bed, a home, and warm clothes, as well as food and water, and other needed things. So next time you see these things, open up your eyes. Try your best to realize that compared to some, we live like kings.[/center][/size] This is very much a literal poem. By this, I mean it's a story or message written in a neat way. Poetry, in the traditional sense, involves a bit more... meaning? Is that the right word? No.... Okay, my only real "Um, what?" thought with this poem is how straight-forward it is. Poems, especially the fancy ones, typically involve a bit more symbolism. Symbolism, where (as you know) one thing means another, is often used in poetry to force the reader to think. Reading a poem that's already spelled out like this one is no different from reading it as a story. Actually, the way it's written now, it'd make for a nice pep rally speech at a foundation fundraiser or something. Very nice, if that had been the goal. Basically, there are things that show professionalism (also known as "fancy things"). You know what they are, but I dunno if you fully get their intended use. Rhyming, for example, was originally used to draw attention to something. If something rhymed, then it was the writer saying, "Hey, lookit this!" Same goes for symbolism (like when something's blue to symbolize valor or sadness), allusion, (not illusion. Allusion. Something I think you'll like. ^_^ To Google!) and onomatopoeia (sound effects!). You're doing great. I think it's well past the time you should've been given a step up into the next league, truthfully. So, look into some more poetry mechanics when you get the time. I think your writing, poetry and otherwise, will drastically improve from it! And good luck! At this point, you deserve a pat on the back. My current vote stands as Eh.... (number 3). But this is 'cause I'm used to seeing the big stuff. No worries! |
|
|
|
Post by angelous on Jun 11, 2009 11:33:38 GMT -5
I redid the poem Rocket critiqued. Not just because he/she didn't like it (clarify your gender btw) but because I agreed with his/her comments.Things We Take
We all have things we know and love,
we all have things we love and cherish.
We all have things that others don't,
and we too don't have things that others do.
There are those with few,
and those with more.
There are those better off,
and there are those who aren't.
But most of us share one thing,
and that would be a simple thing.
This thing affects all who have,
but rarely those who don't.
This thing is this,
the things we take for granted. [/size][/color] I wrote this next one after getting in a fight with a friend. We got really into it, and he ended up punching their backyard fence (mind you the wood wasn't that thick) and it cracked. It then began to rain. It started lightly at first, then it began to rain pretty hard. We were still mad at each other when it first began to rain, but shortly afterward, we weren't mad anymore. We apologized, hugged, fist bumped, high fived, stuff like that. So I wrote this poem to describe the rain's effect on us.Soothing Rain
I hear the pitter patter of the rain,
and close my eyes, and then relax.
Because while I listen to this rain,
I feel no anger, no sadness, no pain.
This gentle, rythmic, pitter patter,
falling for a time, gives me something to hear.
Rain can soothe most anything, even a monstrous beast,
this is the power of the rain's gentle pitter patter. [/color]
|
|
|
|
Post by angelous on Jun 11, 2009 11:48:25 GMT -5
I was thinking of some old "wise" sayings a while back before I wrote this next poem, and the other day, I realized one key factor. The "wise" sayings I was thinking of were all had one key thing they shared. So I wrote this poem.
A Wisdom Irony
A wise man once said what is today, but yesterday's tomorrow.
Another wise man said you'll never know unless you try.
A third wise man once said that being ignorance is bliss.
I like these wise men for what they've said,
though I myself know them not.
Funny thing is, I too have been called a wise man,
not for repeating what others have said,
but for saying my own wise sayings.
But has anyone noticed one key thing?
Most of our wise sayings come not only from personal experience,
but rather, from our mistakes.[/center] One night, while laying in bed, I was thinking to myself. There aren't such things as monsters, at least not the sort you see in fiction books and movies, like vampires and such. So why then are people so afraid of the dark? I asked myself this question over and over again for at least three hours. And then it hit me, and I felt dumb for not realizing this right away, although I attribute my late connection to the fact that not much of anything happens in my town, not even at night. So I figured to those of us who don't get why others are afraid of the dark (and this wouldn't count those with the phobia, because they can't control that one, at least in my mind), I'd write this poem, to help those like myself, who may sometimes have troubles understanding this. Afraid of the Dark
In the darkness of the night,
many things come out to play.
Owls, cats, wolves, and bats, and even humans.
All of these enjoy the night, as well as many others.
So why then do we fear the night, and see naught but monsters?
Vampires are fake, Werewolves aren't real,
so just what are these frightening things?
They are burglars, and killers, and rapers, and more,
they are the reasons we all lock our doors.
So next time someone asks why you are afraid of the dark,
just tell them one thing and one thing alone.
Tell them humans are just as scary, and just as dangerous,
as any other monster. [/size][/color]
|
|
|
|
Post by LEO LION on Jun 23, 2009 23:03:36 GMT -5
You're poetry has a strange and unusual feeling to them. I find it difficult to find a rhythm or beat to them, which can make it a little difficult to read and causes me to falter and reread a line a few times before I can get back into a smooth feeling. Some of the words are also off feeling, like they don't seem to fit in, but the messages are altogether good and clear.
My advice would be try to make things not-so-clear. Poetry doesn't always have to lead you to the answer, some of the more successful poets actually leave the answer for you to decide, which can make a poem something special and more personal to the people who read it as well as those that write it.
|
|
|
|
Post by angelous on Jun 24, 2009 8:03:49 GMT -5
My poems are based off of Whalt Whitman's idea of free verse. This means no set rhythm, no set amount of verses, no set amount of words in a verse, etc etc. But instead of doing so to be creative (which is part of the reason I do most poems in such a way) I do it to force the reader to create their own rhythm to it. And as for the making my poems not so clear, I'm working on that. I'm trying to find things that could symbolize what I'm saying in my poems and still get my message across. All of these are rough drafts, and as such, are for the most part not the versions I would have published.
|
|
|
|
Post by Xemnas (I) on Mar 4, 2010 16:47:14 GMT -5
...good job, Angy. I have to say, you have a way with words. I agree, it(the poetry in general) could be more flowy, but it works the way it is. So, I'm going to put my vote in the second option, since my vote is in between.
All in all, though it needs a bit of work, I think you have some natural talent there.
|
|
|
|
Post by angelous on Mar 4, 2010 21:02:20 GMT -5
My Bright Tomorrow
I wake up in the morning so weary,
And see my kids so bleak and dreary.
I wonder where the good life went.
I wonder if it has been spent.
I wish for some food today,
And hope for a bright tomorrow.
I see my kids and hope and pray,
to find something to end my sorrow.
They Say Old Age
The say you gain experience the older that you get.
They say this experience grants us wisdom.
They never said that idiots would cause us so much grief.
If it were not for experience I would have lost belief. [/color] More on the way![/size] |
|
|
|
Post by Fate on Mar 5, 2010 16:47:34 GMT -5
You almost have an iambic thing going for "My Bright Tomorrow"-- it had good flow to it. It actually reminded me of "The Raven" at the beginning because of the initial rhyme scheme. It says a lot about the current state of things, doesn't it? Your word choice was quite lovely.
The bluntess of the next poem was enough to make me laugh. It speaks a bitter truth that I've thought to myself at times. Again, good word choice.
|
|
|
|
Post by Hamlet on Mar 5, 2010 17:25:26 GMT -5
My poems are based off of Whalt Whitman's idea of free verse. This means no set rhythm, no set amount of verses, no set amount of words in a verse, etc etc. Oooo zis ist a nasty idea. But, dona take me wrong as a hit on you. Nein, nein... You see Walt Whitman...he isss a BIG iffy in the poessy world. There ist reason it is said there are poets, and then there ist "Whitman". Say his MO in poetry, his form is very unique. Distinctive. Like my normal little type. Most sane people would not be dumb enough to type like I am. But, it helps people remember who I am. In Song to Myself this can be seen... No rhyme, no iambic pentameter, no real thought for enjambment, no alliteration really, etc. The real force here is Whitman's sense of narrative and "I". Tis not a singular monologue I. We can see this by all lack of regard to conversation with an unseen entity, instead, Whitman is declaring, his I is mapped as a sense of human being. Ok...so, my main point is Whitman doesn't really work if he's not picking the world up and declaring like a town crier his thoughts. And while this might seem like all poets, Whitman does this EXPONENTIALLY and it's hard to emulate him. I think your poetry is missing the key element of being "yours". Granted free verse may seem wide ranging and open to unlimited interpretation, but it has definite draw backs. It is quite like other poetry, however the poet must make an extra effort to link everything together, to make element connect and an idea to appear, but most of all keep the reader's attention. So, back to your element. What is your voice? What is your mission? Perhaps you can try Blank verse? Similar to free verse you merely need a rhythm going, which can help flow of ideas and word choice. Sorry for the long post. Ist just to provide critique, no? Oh, and I'm sure you know about Whitman, was just laying what I know. |
|
I did post in shades of grey if anyone even remembers that lmao