poems by clarise

[clarise]

_____
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anxiety
_____
_____
__________it is written everywhere
___black planchettes scurry
______________across spongy waterlogged bricks
_insidious and insectile
__________rain cuts precisely
___into the blood sacrifice
______________casts divinations
________with surgical exactitude
_____
________it is not chance
____________the way this brick
________has been chipped
_____yet the others spared
________________that these twigs have
_______extended themselves
___________________like fraught hands
_____
_________________they are crafty
_______but I am not fooled:
_____
___________you will be leaving me soon
___________that is what they are saying
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_____
_____
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Notes:

1. The formatting works best in the Blue-X style (selectable at the bottom left corner of the forum page).

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[CS natureboy]

Sweet!

[clarise]

Originally Posted by CS natureboy

Sweet!

SHEESH!!!!!!!!

SORRY!

I was just fooling with my sig, and I saw your response (thanks, by the way), and I thought to myself, "What the bleep is Natureboy doing on the story site????"

Then I realized that I had screwed up and posted this to the wrong forum.

Oh, well. If the mods wish to move it, fine. Otherwise I'll just roll with the flub and continue posting poems here. In a sense this board is more appropriate, as the poems are not erotic.

Thanks again.

[AZRIEL]

[JoeDirty]

Originally Posted by clarise

_____
_____
_____
anxiety
_____
_____
__________it is written everywhere
___black planchettes scurry
______________across spongy waterlogged bricks
_insidious and insectile
__________rain cuts precisely
___into the blood sacrifice
______________casts divinations
________with surgical exactitude
_____
________it is not chance
____________the way this brick
________has been chipped
_____yet the others spared
________________that these twigs have
_______extended themselves
___________________like fraught hands
_____
_________________they are crafty
_______but I am not fooled:
_____
___________you will be leaving me soon
___________that is what they are saying
_____
_____
_____
_____
Notes:

1. The formatting works best in the Blue-X style (selectable at the bottom left corner of the forum page).

_____
_____

6kiphipxcm.jpg

[clarise]

Originally Posted by JoeDirty

Attachment 1891103

That surprises me.

[clarise]

_
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chess
_
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_
_r_k_b_q_K_b_k_r
_p_p_p_p_p_p_p_p
___x___x___x___x
_x___x___x___x
___x___x___x___x_
_x___x___x___x_
_p_p_p_p_p_p_p_p
_r_k_b_q_K_b_k_r
_
_
_______balance
____ever
______precedes
_calamity
_

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_

[snowleopard3200]

Clarise here is an example of my own poetry, such as it is. Let me know what you think if you would...

Eye to eye we do first see,
Just what for us may be,
Then was that tender smile,
That held our hearts for awhile.

Days would pass,
And each would ask,
Do you like this and that,
Waiting the others answer back.

Our hearts did see,
For you and me,
All that it would need,
And thus began to grow the seed.

In the course of time,
Your love was mine,
And to you I gave the same,
For which I am unashamed.

The first time our hands entwined,
You asked if it is your hand or mine,
I said it is ours,
And we both sailed among the stars.

On that day,
I can fully say,
Please share your life with me,
Please consider letting this be.

Up to me you did step,
Into my arms you had leapt,
A wondrous smile you shined,
Your kisses joined with mine.

We knew our love was full at last,
Problems we have worked out are fully past,
You said then to me,
There is one more thing for us to be.

Dinner was for us so fine,
Love the headiest of wine,
Of our very first long kiss,
We achieved complete bliss.

We knew each other so, so well,
Yet to each we did tell,
What we wanted to do,
And our hearts knew.

Slowly at first,
Thinking we may burst,
A kiss and a touch,
Let us seek such.

In our room I did get to see,
The moonlight on thee,
And seen me you had,
Lovingly you called me the cad.

And so our bodies did embrace,
As our passions did race,
Hearts entwined die we,
Find what could be.

Dare to dream from the start,
Learn to listen to the heart,
Take the chance,
In you and your lovers dance.

Thus is the communion of love shared,
For all who have dreamed and dared,
Challenges you both will face,
Yet two do win the race.

(Fin.)

Direct link to it on the stories site: http://stories.xnxx.com/story/37699/Communion_of_Love

[clarise]

Originally Posted by snowleopard3200

Clarise here is an example of my own poetry, such as it is. Let me know what you think if you would...

Good poem.

The strict adherence to rhyme, the repetition of punctuation, and the completion of distinct thought in each quatrain combine to evoke the lyrical narrative style of the late nineteenth century (esp. Yeats), and more recently (albeit to a lesser extent) Seamus Heany and Galway Kinnell.

The strict rhyme is tempered by some variability as to meter, which prevents the stanzas from falling into a predictable (and boring) sing-song pattern.

Yeats was a master at the manipulation of meter, in the interest of keeping the reader on his/her toes. (Don't take this the wrong way, but I suspect he was more methodical and premeditated about it than you are.) For instance, read this aloud and pay special attention to the last line. (A rather famous stanza from Yeats. Pardon any errors; I am doing this from memory.)

Come away O human child
to the waters and the wild
with a fairy hand in hand
for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand

Most of my stuff is free verse. My poems occasionally rhyme, and they occasionally observe strict meter, but always for a specific purpose.

Maybe for my next post I'll dig deep and find one that rhymes.

BTW, Snowleopard, I am intrigued by the last stanza (because it breaks with first person and reverts to second person plural). If you did this inadvertently, shame on you for the error. However I will assume you did it intentionally and will consequently declare it incisive and beguiling. Is the narrator looking back upon a succinct regret, or has he been experiencing love vicariously, the unrequited adulation for one whom he has always adored, and has failed to win for himself? The last stanza, and its ambiguity, make the poem.

[ejls]

This is a welcomed addition to the forum. Thanks for sharing your talent, Clarise.

[onehandedtypist]

It isn't what you thought
Grip a little tighter on the reins
Lose track of where you're going
Though you know this road better than the lines on your face

Must be mistaken
When it all topples over
And the walls crumble
You are left standing there
In the middle of nowhere where you promised yourself you'd never be

Smoke and mirrors
Your only consolation prize
To not know if the light at the end of it all
Is nothing more than a falling star

Unable to touch it
Or clutch it in your hand
Or hold it dearly
For as long as you can stand to

The eyes open
The chest breathes
The legs walk
But does it thrive?
It talks
And jokes
And smiles
And laughs
But is it alive?

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by clarise

Good poem.

The strict adherence to rhyme, the repetition of punctuation, and the completion of distinct thought in each quatrain combine to evoke the lyrical narrative style of the late nineteenth century (esp. Yeats), and more recently (albeit to a lesser extent) Seamus Heany and Galway Kinnell.

The strict rhyme is tempered by some variability as to meter, which prevents the stanzas from falling into a predictable (and boring) sing-song pattern.

Yeats was a master at the manipulation of meter, in the interest of keeping the reader on his/her toes. (Don't take this the wrong way, but I suspect he was more methodical and premeditated about it than you are.) For instance, read this aloud and pay special attention to the last line. (A rather famous stanza from Yeats. Pardon any errors; I am doing this from memory.)

Come away O human child
to the waters and the wild
with a fairy hand in hand
for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand

Most of my stuff is free verse. My poems occasionally rhyme, and they occasionally observe strict meter, but always for a specific purpose.

Maybe for my next post I'll dig deep and find one that rhymes.

BTW, Snowleopard, I am intrigued by the last stanza (because it breaks with first person and reverts to second person plural). If you did this inadvertently, shame on you for the error. However I will assume you did it intentionally and will consequently declare it incisive and beguiling. Is the narrator looking back upon a succinct regret, or has he been experiencing love vicariously, the unrequited adulation for one whom he has always adored, and has failed to win for himself? The last stanza, and its ambiguity, make the poem.

Thanks for the information on Yeats, Heany and Kinnel.

In answer to the question of the last stanza, when I wrote this poem, which is only one of a handful I have done, it was meant to convey the moment of time and emotion when the "communion of love" is fulfilled in transforming from two individuals seeking love, to becoming one with each other and moving on into the future.

The part of succinct regret I will admit is myself in this case, there is one I cared deeply for, and we were just starting to come togeather when she was lost to me and all of us forever. Kimiko was my life, my future and my one great hope I held onto. She was murdered; and so this poem came about as part of my dealing with the grief.

I hope this adds some clarification to it.

And thanks especially for reading it.

[ejls]

I have never claimed to be a poet. But these thoughts came to me tonight.

I sat on the dock as the sun set
Dangling my feet in the water
The cool current moving between my toes

The blazing ball painted the sky like an artist
It tossed amber ribbons onto the river
As the kayaks cut through them

I could see the lights of a ship in the channel
I heard loons calling in the distance
While the last of the boats came in

I remember the glorious days of summers long ago
When hide and seek was a nightly ritual
Before it was time roast marshmallows on the fire

We sang and danced for our parents
We told ghost stories, trying to scare the youngest
We whined when it was time to go to bed

I long for those days
I know we can never bring them back
But the river is part of my soul

[onehandedtypist]

Originally Posted by ejls

I have never claimed to be a poet. But these thoughts came to me tonight.

You don't have to claim to be a poet to be one. Sometimes, the heart has things it wants to say and it coaxes the brain to speak them aloud.

A poem is just a short story that on a whim can rhyme or it cannot.

[snowleopard3200]

Eljs...

Well done, as long as it comes from the heart and soul then it is among the masterpieces of the world.

[clarise]

Originally Posted by onehandedtypist

It isn't what you thought
Grip a little tighter on the reins
Lose track of where you're going
Though you know this road better than the lines on your face

Must be mistaken
When it all topples over
And the walls crumble
You are left standing there
In the middle of nowhere where you promised yourself you'd never be

Smoke and mirrors
Your only consolation prize
To not know if the light at the end of it all
Is nothing more than a falling star

Unable to touch it
Or clutch it in your hand
Or hold it dearly
For as long as you can stand to

The eyes open
The chest breathes
The legs walk
But does it thrive?
It talks
And jokes
And smiles
And laughs
But is it alive?

Thank you. I miss your poems. Surprised to find you here.

[clarise]

Originally Posted by snowleopard3200

Thanks for the information on Yeats, Heany and Kinnel.

In answer to the question of the last stanza, when I wrote this poem, which is only one of a handful I have done, it was meant to convey the moment of time and emotion when the "communion of love" is fulfilled in transforming from two individuals seeking love, to becoming one with each other and moving on into the future.

The part of succinct regret I will admit is myself in this case, there is one I cared deeply for, and we were just starting to come togeather when she was lost to me and all of us forever. Kimiko was my life, my future and my one great hope I held onto. She was murdered; and so this poem came about as part of my dealing with the grief.

I hope this adds some clarification to it.

And thanks especially for reading it.

Yes, it adds clarification, and thanks for sharing it.

By the way, in my haste I had misspelled Heaney.

[clarise]

Originally Posted by ejls

I have never claimed to be a poet. But these thoughts came to me tonight.

...

But the river is part of my soul

You must live in a beautiful place.

۩

Well, I had suggested to Snowleopard that I would find an old poem that rhymes. Easier said than done. I have gone all the way back journals from high school, and the few poems that rhyme from start to finish are extremely embarassing!

But, I have found a few lyrical poems that contain some rhyme. I will post one or two of them in a bit.

[onehandedtypist]

Originally Posted by clarise

Thank you. I miss your poems. Surprised to find you here.

I'm waiting for my stories to be deleted. It's taking ages so in the interim I'm watching the dust whirl with the dust.

It's from Robert Frost and it seemed to fit.

[clarise]

Okay, ladies and gents. I promised some lyrical poetry. Time to go way back.

This material is from high school and was adapted for a musical. I was fourteen.


Goodbye, my children

I had dreamed that I would grow old with you
I'd seen us in a garden at the foot of the hills
my grandchildren ran around me
the circle went 'round and around
our dance on the lawn like the air
forever seemed to go on

Now the dream dissipates with your parting
I fail to see a future after today
I want you to stay here with me
yet your destiny leads you away
I find myself knowing that
I'll never see you again

Goodbye my little ones
goodbye my children
you must leave me now
and go out on your own
goodbye my angel hearts
goodbye my children
and may your journey
take you far away


I see you close as if through a mirror
I touch the air, it has the texture of your skin
your hair shrouds the night
and the stars seem to dance within
signal fires scatter night away
letting spirits in

Look, the ship is taking me
steam is belching skyward
this beast that drags me from my home
and takes me away
if only it were illusion
if I could drive a dagger through its heart
if that could set me free
I'd do it, I would!
I don't want to go away
I want to stay here with you
my life, my blood, my family
you're my everything!

Goodbye my little ones
goodbye my children
you must leave me now
and go out on your own
goodbye my angel hearts
goodbye my children
and may your journey
take you far,
far, far away

Goodbye my little ones
goodbye my children
time is merciless
and fortune is cruel

goodbye my mourning dove
goodbye my mother
and may this journey take me
someday back
to you

goodbye

goodbye

[wantsomefun]

Admittedly, I'm not a poetry fan. Maybe it's due to the way sing-song, Hallmark-card-type drivel was rammed down my throat in high school.

The work I see here so far is entirely different.

I've been dimly aware of Clarise's talents as a poet. She herself is unabashedly proud of her work, as well she should be. Her prose and her random posts are always compelling, and the work posted here so far is no different. Thank you, Clarise, for "Goodbye, my children". We've all seen how you write as an adult, but fourteen-year-old you did an amazing job of creating a mood and enthralling the reader.

ejls? I'm pretty public about my admiration of her work. Her untitled submission to this thread shows everyone why she is so successful as a writer on this site.

I've read snow's and OHT's prose and forum posts, and always enjoyed the unique style of each. Bravo, guys, for making me a fan of your poetry, too.

Who's next?

[AZRIEL]

Originally Posted by wantsomefun

Who's next?

clairese.jpg

[onehandedtypist]

It's what you might have hoped for
You told me once to live life
That is how experience is gleaned

I never would have imagined
Or considered the thought
Of a sun setting as it rose
In the middle of the sky

Boats that sail across the seas
Of distant sandy desert shores
Wanting what cannot be bought
Wondering what this life is for

Or waves crashing on the coast
At the beach I know the best
Waking up before I sleep
And living life after my death

It's unbelievable you see?
What I never thought could be
Is suddenly happening

[clarise]

Originally Posted by AZRIEL

Attachment 1895277

Sweet. A Shakespearean couplet. And who ever suggested that Azriel does not have a way with words?

I will go back to the old days in a bit, with another lyrical piece.

These days I try to do more with less, as in the poem called Chess (above), consisting of just four words. Here is another short one.


balance
_
_
_____Damnation
_______follows
_________not one’s
_____________perpetration of infamy
_________but one’s
_____________acquiescence to infamy
_
_
_

[clarise]

Originally Posted by onehandedtypist

It's what you might have hoped for...

...Is suddenly happening

Dark and somber. The sun setting as it rises. Great line. Yet a troublesome poem, a spirit rattling its chains.

[clarise]

Another lyrical poem from the formative days, written back in high school. This is a companion piece to goodbye, my children, above. This piece helps to explain why, in the first, a mother is putting her children upon a steamship to be parted from them forever.


famine

we can't go on believing nothing changes
that yesterday's paradise must persist tomorrow
that if we gorge ourselves today,
tomorrow will be plenty
that God's divine providence lasts eternally


child of Ireland the cupboards are all empty
all that we dare to taste brings pallor to our skin
our fair land is old and tired; our confidence is broken
taste it: taste the blight on everything


we call this the great starving time
and I know that I am lucky just to be alive


love is not enough to feed our famished children
nor faith strong enough to chase the horror away
oh, to be so young entrapped within this nightmare
they appeal with their eyes and nothing can I say


we call this the great starving time
and I know that I am lucky just to be alive

oxcarts roam the streets for bodies, and as they pass
I sometimes can't tell drivers from the dead
we call this the great starving time
and any day now my turn will come and I will die
but until that day I'll treasure every moment
cherish every breath, each whisper, and every word you say

we will survive
if just in spirit
___just souls
_________twirling in silent
_______________________dance
___________________________now

.
.

[snowleopard3200]

I wrote this one awhile back in honor of my mother and father; she is the one who I took my screen name from, as she loved the snowleopards that she loved so much.

Let me know how you like it.

And pardon the poor structure of the poem.


On the mountains under the stars,
We cast our dream nets wide and far,
Though at first it was true,
We did not know what love could do.

When first you came,
To all you did explain,
The Leopards of the Snow,
All of them you would come to know.

For me,
It was to be,
The stars and sky,
Studying what is there so high.

Here in a land so, so far from my home,
After the Leopards did I roam,
Like a many ghost to chase,
So much time did it seem to waste.

This land is your home,
So you told how the Leopards roam.
The tales of how they came to be,
Part of the life great family.

Many a night,
By the fires light,
We shared in the snow,
Hoping the Leopards would show.

Talks in which we shared,
What the other cared,
A story here and story there,
We were shrouded by the fires golden glare.

Your giggles so, so fine,
Not at all rough like mine,
Eyes of the richest hue,
They are of sapphire blue.

One day you scuffed up my hair,
Asking if there was a goat up there,
Then I saw your so, so impish grin,
One hand teasingly left under your chin.

I then knew it was so, so true.
I had grown in loving you,
With giggle and grin the chase was on,
In a shot you were running on.

On the mountains under the stars,
We have cast our dream net wide and far,
It did not feel so out of place,
Yet clearly you would win this race.

And then there you lay,
Down you bade me to stay,
Silently you pointed one way,
There is the sight we share to this day.

A family are they,
Leopards of the Snow at play,
Your hand sought out mind,
And thus our hands did entwine.

In that field of snow,
Our love did flow,
While the Leopards danced,
Our hearts did so, so pranced.

We left those we found,
Without a lot of sound,
Knowing where they will be,
I loving the way you look at me.

That very night you and me,
Got to see how love is to be,
And so that very, very night,
We let our hearts delight.

One hour we did share,
Then I watch you lying there,
Knowing that with you and me,
It was meant to be,

For soon enough we learned,
There would soon be,
You and me,
Plus one who would make it three.

(Fin.)

[clarise]

Originally Posted by snowleopard3200

I wrote this one awhile back in honor of my mother and father; she is the one who I took my screen name from, as she loved the snowleopards that she loved so much.

Let me know how you like it.

And pardon the poor structure of the poem.


On the mountains under the stars,
...
Plus one who would make it three.

(Fin.)

I will let someone else comment on this one. Except to kindly advise: be careful, SnowLeopard, with that heart upon your sleeve! With the first one you sort of set us up by asking for opinions without first informing us that it is an elegy to a murdered lover. This one is dedicated to your mother and father, and again you are asking for honest opinions. 'Tis a tall order, even between the very best of friends, and some people here are not very nice.

One other thing. In both poems you are rhyming the word race, and each time it has reminded me of a poem by Donald Lehmkuhl. The poem is rather simple (and thus memorable), in style reminiscent of Tolkien's songs in LOTR. It would have been lost in obscurity, were it not for the fact that Lehmkuhl is a friend of a graphic artist named Roger Dean, who in turn is a friend of a singer named Jon Anderson, which has led the poem to be immortalized on an old Yes album cover.

Your rhymes are almost always couplets (aabb), while this poem is iambic tetrameter (abab).

Here are a couple stanzas of the poem. NOT MINE. By D. Lehmkuhl, sometime back in the late seventies. (No, I am not dating myself, yet yes, I own the album. Pianist. Into retro rock. Rick Wakeman, Keith Emerson, etc. Long story.)

Love is waiting for the lover.
Generations kneel for peace.
What men lose, Man will recover
polishing the brains his bones release.

Truth conceals itself in error.
History reveals its face
days of ecstasy and terror
invent the future that invents the race.

[clarise]

_
_
rash
_

______on no other word
___do I tirelessly attend
__________paralyzed by its caress
_rendered helpless
______by its promise
_
__________love
_
_____we have only
__________one life
__to know joy
______only one
_
_

Notes:

1. The formatting works best in the Blue-X style (selectable at the bottom left corner of the forum page).

[onehandedtypist]

Originally Posted by snowleopard3200

\I wrote this one awhile back in honor of my mother and father; she is the one who I took my screen name from, as she loved the snowleopards that she loved so much.

Let me know how you like it.

And pardon the poor structure of the poem.

I really love the phrase dream net. It embodies what I've always felt dreams are. We hope our thoughts can be acted out in the real world, by providing them with bait in our sleep, we will catch what our minds aspire to have for themselves.

Starlit skies tend to be places where everything seems possible. The world is open and vulnerable to us mere mortals, all we have to do is take it. But that isn't true. It is an illusion. The line on the mountains under the stars is a somber refrain. The narrator keeps going back to that moment when everything was right and good. Life stood still under that sky and I wished it lasted a few moments longer.

Watching two leopards at play in the snow as the two of you were laying there is an excellent use of imagery. Humans are animals. Being so advanced, we have reached the pinnacle of our creativity and intelligence. Animals appear ancient in the scope of our reasoning, so much so that we kill them without a conscience for our food.

But these two are relating to the leopards, almost devolving into their former selves and taking comfort in their surroundings once more.

In that field of snow,
Our love did flow,
While the Leopards danced,
Our hearts did so, so pranced.

I used bits of your poem, snowleopard3200 for reference. I hope you don't mind. I did ramble a little in making a point and for that I apologize.

I really enjoyed your offering a lot. Maybe someday you'll contribute another to the forum?

[snowleopard3200]

Originally Posted by onehandedtypist

I really love the phrase dream net. It embodies what I've always felt dreams are. We hope our thoughts can be acted out in the real world, by providing them with bait in our sleep, we will catch what our minds aspire to have for themselves.

Starlit skies tend to be places where everything seems possible. The world is open and vulnerable to us mere mortals, all we have to do is take it. But that isn't true. It is an illusion. The line on the mountains under the stars is a somber refrain. The narrator keeps going back to that moment when everything was right and good. Life stood still under that sky and I wished it lasted a few moments longer.

Watching two leopards at play in the snow as the two of you were laying there is an excellent use of imagery. Humans are animals. Being so advanced, we have reached the pinnacle of our creativity and intelligence. Animals appear ancient in the scope of our reasoning, so much so that we kill them without a conscience for our food.

But these two are relating to the leopards, almost devolving into their former selves and taking comfort in their surroundings once more.

In that field of snow,
Our love did flow,
While the Leopards danced,
Our hearts did so, so pranced.

I used bits of your poem, snowleopard3200 for reference. I hope you don't mind. I did ramble a little in making a point and for that I apologize.

I really enjoyed your offering a lot. Maybe someday you'll contribute another to the forum?

Thank you. Glad you enjoyed it.

[clarise]

This one is recent. The last stanza rhymes. If you're into that. As always, use the Blue-X style (selectable at the bottom of this page).

BTW, there is a reason why I am into posting non-erotic poetry these days: I am formatting many of these poems for the new Kindle Fire HTML5/KF8 standard, because they are about to go on sale at Amazon. More on that if anyone is interested. And now to the poem.




ephemeral

_lost in the complexity
_____of a paisley bedspread
___we wander within
__the chaotic pattern
______the topiary labyrinth
___dart through the garden
_________past terracotta statues
_____amphoras and fountains
_______leaded glass gazebos
_among the high hedges
______and poplars
_
________night falls and blooms hoarfrost
____on the emerald grasses
______crystalline solipsists that incant
__________moods into the aether
________souls caught in a cycle betwixt
__ ascendence and descent
_
________together we gaze skyward
_____at vast forms that majestically
___traverse stardispersed heavens
________and at coffered shadows
__cast by the faint distant
_____ceiling light
___as we empty ourselves
________into the empty world
_
___my awareness
___drifts between
_____a melody
_.and then a dream
_._pauses lingers
_.__first with me
__and then it turns
._to dance with thee
_
_
_

[ELaken-Palmer]

Very good, clarise. You have always had a way with crafting words and these poems are exceptional.

________

[sunny666z]

Nice poet good keep it up

[clarise]

Originally Posted by sunny666z

Nice poet good keep it up

Thanks. There will be more.

[clarise]

Originally Posted by ELaken-Palmer

Very good, clarise. You have always had a way with crafting words and these poems are exceptional.

________

Thanks, Emerson.

I will read "Digger" at some point, but I will not comment on it. After my CAW10 dust-up with HardDrive, I do not comment on anything, unless I know the author personally.

[clarise]

_____
_____
_____
jericho
_____
_____

___she stands at the sill
________in her room of sand
_____and escarpment stones
_________a scarlet rope coiled
_______upon the table
_____
_________she labors over alternatives
_____
___________should she warn the city?
___________cut the rope into pieces?
___________hang them in all the other windows?
___________damn herself with an act of mercy?
_____
__she unravels the frayed end
________and drapes the thin scarlet thread
____finer than a strand of hair
__________from the sill
_______amid the cobwebs and lint
_____
_______she crouches on a mat
__________under the window
________to wait
___________and wonder
_______whether
________the infidels
_____or the angels
__________have better eyes
_____
_____
_____
_____

[LadyRed]

My first Poem. Written many years back when my son was but 4. Now 23 and medical problems arise, he is yet that small child of years gone by. Hope you like.


Autistic Child

The best word for Autism is Frustration.
That for most is an Exclamation.
I am a child just like you,
I like to play with toys too.

Autism is not catchy as some people think,
I can not give it to you, even if we share a drink.
I cannot say all I wish to say,
My words are garbled even when I pray.

Not even my Mother can understand all,
The frustration makes me want to bang my head on a wall.
There is only one who understands,
My life and soul are in his hands.

Thank you God and Heaven above,
For my Mother's unconditional love.

[clarise]

Originally Posted by LadyRed

My first Poem. Written many years back when my son was but 4. Now 23 and medical problems arise, he is yet that small child of years gone by. Hope you like.


Autistic Child

The best word for Autism is Frustration.
That for most is an Exclamation.
I am a child just like you,
I like to play with toys too.

Autism is not catchy as some people think,
I can not give it to you, even if we share a drink.
I cannot say all I wish to say,
My words are garbled even when I pray.

Not even my Mother can understand all,
The frustration makes me want to bang my head on a wall.
There is only one who understands,
My life and soul are in his hands.

Thank you God and Heaven above,
For my Mother's unconditional love.

Good poem. Sad and troubling, the way it is written from your son's point of view. It is unfortunate, yet perhaps necessary, that the best poems must be inspired and tempered by pain.

[clarise]

Some of the poems that I am posting here will be featured in a novel that I will be putting on Amazon soon. The novel, Beauty, has been formatted for Kindle Fire and Kindle for iPad in the new KF8/HTML5 standard (a techie way of saying that one can control font typefaces and whitespace in such a way as to make poetry look beautiful, which was never possible on Kindle before).


The book is currently running on several Kindle Fires owned by my "Brotherhood of Thieves" (the denizens and malcontents who read my stuff, occasionally turn it into porn for my own good, and generally keep me doing this).


I owe a special debt of thanks to my very, very, very good and close friend, Ariana Pearce, for a rockin' book cover. If you know the books and characters at all, you'll hopefully agree, because it brings in the New Hampshire Presidential Range (a recurring setting for the novel series), together with overlays of the Mandelbrot fractal set (one of the main characters is a child prodigy and mathematician).

Oh, sheesh. Better to show it, right? Here's the cover:










As you can see, we have stripped the author pen name from the cover for a few weeks. Those of you who have read Nascent will know my Amazon/Barnes&Noble pen name. For anyone who wants/needs to know, my pen name's initials are (of course) A.P., and with a book title like Nascent, I am certainly easy enough to find on Amazon.

Beauty should be going up on Amazon in late July/early August.


Okay. Enough shameless self-aggrandizement. Back to the poetry.

[clarise]

_____
_____
_____
_____
plaint
_____
_____
___do not think of me too fondly
________as the curling wake places
_____its distance between us;
_____________do not turn and call to me after
_the signal fire has exhaled
________down to ash; this world is too
__________large to hold us together
___
_____
_____
_____

[onehandedtypist]

You'll find someone
better than
I dare to dream up
in my rambling thoughts
of grandeur

Persuaded and
blinded to reason
by the slightest suggestion
that you like me
for who I truly am

When I show
what lies beneath
this cold facade
I am shunned
and rightly so

Or so you think
in your belief
that something is wrong
intrinsically

You don't have it in you
to expend the effort
it would take to
mend this broken heart

[clarise]

Originally Posted by onehandedtypist

You'll find someone
better than
I dare to dream up
in my rambling thoughts
of grandeur

Persuaded and
blinded to reason
by the slightest suggestion
that you like me
for who I truly am

When I show
what lies beneath
this cold facade
I am shunned
and rightly so

Or so you think
in your belief
that something is wrong
intrinsically

You don't have it in you
to expend the effort
it would take to
mend this broken heart

Are we repairable? Can one fix another? Do we expect too much of each other, of if not expect, than merely pine wistfully?

Am I too cynical? Has Greta been in my head for too long?

Here comes one. You will most likely recall it. And I fear you might be the only one reading.

[clarise]

The old drill: select Blue-X to suffer in style.
_____
_____
_____
_____
_____
temper
_____
_____
_______thunder rolls the hills down into the valleys
___shopkeepers rush to their windows
__________to verify the levee hasn’t broken
________no, it’s just god in the cloudbanks
_____saying hello again, making his
__________presence and our peril known again
_he has a crude and uncouth manner
__________of speaking now and again
_____his voice full and throaty
_______like a truckload of chemical drums
___broken loose and crashing down the highway
____________smashing all the cars in their wake
_______god’s voice makes every bit as much sense
_________has all the same justice as your everyday
___run of the mill happenstance disaster:
_____it is the essence of omnipotence
________to rumble insistently in the hills
__________lest the attention of lesser beings wander
_____
_______yet still we persist and wonder why.
_____
_____yes, there is a reason why, and why?
_____because I told you so, little dearest, that is why;
_____now we mustn’t strain our little brains
_____with silly thoughts and questions.
_____
________hush,
______________hush,
____________________hush,
_____
___________sweet little baby,
___________and tend your knitting.
_____
__________
_____

[clarise]

Here is a little bit of shaped verse from the novel I will be putting up on Amazon in a couple weeks. For best viewing on this forum, use the Blue-X style at bottom left of screen.
__
__
__

__
__le
_late
_etal
__el
__
_l
_aa
_ttt
_eeee
__
_late
_a__t
_t__a_
_etal
__
____e
___te
__ate
_late

__
__
__
__
__

[clarise]

More shaped verse. Blue-X style.
_____
_____

_____
v
vi
via
viab
viabl
viable
_iable
__able
___ble
____le
_____e
__
____a
_v__b
viable
_a__e
able
_l
_e
__
viable
i____l
a____b
b____a
l____i
elbaiv
_____
_____v
____vi
___via
__viab
_viabl
viable
_____

_____
_____
_____

[richief]

Anxiety, was a poem that I could understand, though naive but who cares not many can call on the talents of the greats, your message came across plainly and simply, if it had been hidden then I would not have seen it.

Chess. Was short and sweet but the simple message was there for all of those, like me, who find poetry hard to understand.

Goodbye, my children. Now this hits so close to home, I have watched my kiddies grow and then found so much loneliness when the last one left home, he would have stayed if I asked but who am I to deny him his adventures, then it turns to the death of the patriarch which again hits home.

I know nothing of poetry, my favourite poem is the "Ode to a Goldfish".

Oh wet pet!

I cannot say whether they are good or not from a classic standpoint but I enjoyed them and really that is all that matters, unless of course you wish to impress the professors of English Lit at Oxbridge.

Keep writing.

[ejls]

I have not been as diligent reading your poetry, Clarise. I think my favorite is Goodbye, my children. It made me stop and think, well, maybe wonder, what it will be like to grow old.

Wonderful poems, everyone.

[clarise]

Ejls and Richief,

I did not want to comment last night and bump KnightLover off the top, so I'll thank you now for your kind remarks. My thanks especially to Richief, as I know how difficult it can be to draw oneself away from the General Discussion Board's diverse entertainments.

[clarise]

Originally Posted by JoeDirty

I was responding to Ejls, Clarise. I was also pointing out an inconsistency regarding "attention whoring" that many posters here are guilty of.

Do you want me to now point out the inconsistency of you ranting against my "rant"?...

Please, no. Your logic is more than I can bear.

Here you go. Derail this thread.

Spew whatever you want. Be a dweeb. Fine with me. All I'm saying is keep your crap off the story threads.