SHARE YOUR POETRY AND FAVOURITE POETS ?

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Like to share a poem you have written?

And who are your favourite poets ?

Here's one of mine - comments welcome.

Neil
========

IN THE SILENT VALLEY

In the silent valley
Dialogue of two
Fathoming such wonder
All around me you

Flooded by horizons
Folding out in me
Land of no intrusions
A place to simply be

Intensity of no-one
Far-resounding peace
Speak unspoken language
As if words had ceased

Darker sky brings coolness
Rainfall’s gentle hiss
Gorging eyes in blankness
Witness to your bliss

Grand and enigmatic
Light and darkness surge
Human life forgotten
Spirit lives, we merge.

My favourite is the wonderful English rural poet John Clare - perfect if you love communing with nature - it's uncanny how I know exactly what he is talking about. He's something of a well kept secret.

Hello MuteEleganceofStars,
I should read him so.

But "In the silent valley" is pleasant to read too.

i really like yours


"Floodgates"

These feelings that i kept inside
the floodgates broke, they're open wide
and i just wanna drink it all away
my face feels numb, my thoughts are dumb
and unconsciousness just won't seem to come to me
these dark circles that i try to hide
seem constant as the incoming tide
feet sinking in the sand, standing facing out to sea
i stand there on the windblown shore
not sure that i care anymore
empty bottles line the path that led me here
it's really kind of lonely when you're alone and out of beer
they say that misery loves company
but no one's standing next to me
when did all the people leave, and i stop believing
i guess it all just goes to show
how much i'd only hope to know
so f**k it all i'm going back inside
i'm drunk as hell and have nowhere to go
because friends that brought me here have left
and the streetlights don't really seem to reach
this sandy beach where only shadows seem to grow


"Bulletshield"

Child, you are safe
from every mistake I've ever made
I've grown up from you,
but through it all you're still here too
we're stuck together in this pit
but you've helped me get over it
so many times I've tried to climb
and you've thrown me a life-line
over and over through our life-time
I've grabbed and pulled at sturdy rope
woven from your misplaced hope in me
and from it drew security
so that no matter how f****d up life gets
i can be a shield, and walk with no regrets


"Craters & Catalysts"

Fall back into the crater where the catalyst hit
Of the depth of inspiration you’ve found in it
Far from the world let’s try to free fall
Like leaves from a tree first one, two, then all
to float on the surface, where you lie there dying
technically but surely, though some go on trying
Immersed in a sea, what is it to be?
So uncharacteristically buoyant
Yet still sinking quite peacefully
When facts don’t make sense
And ignorance, your only pretense
‘cause they’re all so shallow
like spheres sorely lacking dimensions
useful as a trip to the gallows
Grab hold as you’re told to the rope in suspension
Be ready to jump when you wish to land
The choice always given, everything close at hand
Not often we land on a sole destination
But with one foot in uncertainty, and the other temptation
For all that we seek, the bright-colored lights
That so light up our dreams
And fill up our nights
would you tear at the seams
As you drift from the heights?
No, dive in and absorb it, these rare lucid streams


"Frankentstein monster"

A world given to normalcy
at my passing watches warily
my eyes as dry as desert sand
they think i do not understand
the emotions that they come to feel
a weight that causes me to kneel
an inner light that goes unknown
behind a mask of flesh and bone
science gone wrong, abomination
the darker side of man's creation
to wander forth and ever be
iconic of man's duplicity
a nomadic trek of haunted steps
a wait to see God's promise kept
that though unnatural the birth
he least in me might find some worth
my days to me fragmented dreams
a patchwork heart with nightmare seams
love from none to spare upon
this life-given automaton

Hi Sean

I appreciate that. You've got some lovely stuff there, very visual, is any of it based on dreams you've had?

I particularly like:

these rare lucid streams

an inner light that goes unknown
behind a mask of flesh and bone

a nomadic trek of haunted steps.

And I like the concept behind Bulletshield.
Frankenstein's Monster struck a chord with me. I don't write much self-analytical stuff but I wrote this recently when I was having a bad patch - am ok now though ! It's just a fragment:

Strange Vision

A dozing corpse with childish dreams
A robot sighing hurt by woes
A sadness striking through in seams
A constant mind that won't let go.


Neil

THE PALETTE OF THE POET

There are certain colors
Very popular,
Like a child's strong reds,
Deep blues, elemental hues,
Strong shades of love, desire.
Sometimes young poets
Get stuck
On the sharp barb of "fu ck".
A strong splash of hate
Can be the tool
To concentrate the feel
Of language into steel.
But, too soon,
The disgrace
Dulls down to commonplace.
It requires more care
To ensnare the muted tones
Of subtlety, of evanescent
Momentary fancies
That float by like puffs of steam
Or thoughts from a recent dream.
Frightened mice
That dart in and away,
And are as difficult to catch
And snare in firm phrases;
Something that amazes
Even the one
Who fixes this phenomenon
Like a captured sun.

Thank you

and no, none of it is based off dreams of mine. my dreams tend to be erratic and nonsensical lol.
more based off feelings. I've been told i have a gift for relate-able poetry writing. I'm usually pretty critical of my own work though. i guess why I'm so anxious for approval and like to show it off.

and bulletshield had in mind the concept of the inner child. because deep down i can still feel the innocence of what i once was and part of it still remains buried deep down, even if it has taken a beating by a cruel world. something that at times i can draw strength from, something i can momentarily regress back to and call upon it's naivety and innocence so that i may believe even for one second that everything will be all right and remember what it was to be ignorant and happy. and wonder if that part of me can ever forgive me for fu)cking things up so badly.

yeah, i actually had aspie-NT relations in mind when i wrote the "Frankenstein Monster" poem. it resonates with me deeply and still brings up strong feelings when i read it occasionally

i really like your poem though btw
it reminds me a bit of my own writing style and even has some topic and word choice similarities to mine. great minds think alike? lol
it's relate-able
why isn't "relatable" a real word xD? it sounds like it should be but spell-check is shooting me down.

if you liked those poems i have more in my blog. there should be a link in my signature.

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

i've posted these on another site. i don't really write to any specific structure. as you can see most of my pieces have similar themes... oops. except the last one, which was fun.

when all the oceans dry up a boat is still a boat

‘you’re not smiling very much,’ you say and you put your hand on my arm.
i think it’s amazing how you can do that so naturally
because whenever i try it feels really awkward, like i’m doing it wrong.
you assure me i’m not whenever i ask but it’s still not like when you touch me.

‘i’m sorry,’ i say, ‘i’m just thinking.’
i look at you with your brow creased and your eyes worried and nearly laugh.
it makes me sad though too because you’re always worrying about me
and i’m not sure what to say to make you stop.
i brush your hair out of your eyes and it feels normal until i think of how it normally isn’t.
i try to tell you how beautiful you are but the words get stuck on my lips so I just sigh.

‘i miss you,’ you say.
i feel my chest go tight and i concentrate on not feeling sick, but it doesn’t work.
‘are we okay?’
i must look confused because you start talking again.
‘you know how it snows?’ you ask. i say yes.
‘and it’s so beautiful when it comes down and leaves everything white and pure
and you can’t help but feel like it’s Christmas even when it’s not?’
i smirk a bit and say yes.
‘and then the snow starts to melt and it turns all slushy and it gets all your shoes wet
and then it’s not so beautiful anymore and you can’t even really picture it as snow?’
i say yes, but bite my lip too.
you pause for a while.
‘are we like snow?’ you finally ask.

i’m not sure how to answer just yet
so i stare at the rug we bought at that garage sale last year.

‘do you remember the first time you stayed over?’ i ask. you say yes.
‘and how you woke up too early and saw me just laying there staring at you?’ you smile and say yes.
‘and you made us both hot chocolate and you kicked your leg against the dresser
because it was still dark and then you scalded your fingers?’ you laugh a bit and nod your head.
‘and we climbed up onto the roof and watched the sunrise?’
you don’t say anything because you know i know you remember.
‘and do you remember how we could see the sunlight before the sun even came up? i do, you say.
‘and we could hear birds chirping but couldn’t see them even when we looked?’ i do, you say again.
‘and I took your hand and told you how awkward it felt and you just kissed me?
i remember thinking that my heart can’t talk but i knew it wanted me to tell you i loved you,
but i couldn’t because i was scared it would sound cheesy.
and i knew that it was beating twice as fast because i wanted that moment to feel like forever.
i think you knew that though, didn’t you?’ i don’t know - i guess, you blush.
‘whenever i was quiet after that i was just thinking of how to tell you those things.’
you drop your eyes but i can tell you’re crying.
‘i guess i’m trying to say that just because you can’t see me smile doesn’t mean i’m not the happiest i’ve been in my whole life.
if we’re snow i want to get ugly and melt together.’
i cringe a bit because that sounds cheesy
but even though i can’t see your face i think you might be crying because you’re happy too.



a cold roast dinner

we will walk slightly further ahead and behind of each other
until people wonder whether we’re together at all.
i will hate you and you will hate me for that.
one dinner i will say ‘pass the salt’ and you will pause,
pass the salt and then complain at how i always say ‘pass the salt’
and never ‘please’. then, how i never appreciate the effort you make,
how you feel like there’s an ocean between us.
i will stand up, knock over my water and the glass will break.
you will scream, i will ignore you and leave.
i will walk through the park alone, looking at leaves on the path
and pushing away tears because everything looks ugly.
everything looks like wasted opportunities,
wasted words, wasted life.
with trembling fingertips i will trace the lines on my face,
chest slowly pulling tighter under wasted skin.
my knees will hit the pavement first,
then my palms, flesh tearing like paper.
my breath will slow, becoming shallower and more desperate.
as my face presses into the concrete,
i will see my high-school graduation;
me sitting in the toilet cupping my face with my hands,
thinking of how to say, ‘i love you -
it doesn’t matter if you don’t love me...just let me love you.’
then i will see myself five years later
pushing through theatre doors,
struggling for air and fumbling for a cigarette,
loathing myself for not being able to move on,
loathing you for being who i have to drive home to.
i will close my eyes and feel the asphalt pressing into my pores,
feel you stroking my cheek on a Wisconsin beach.
blood will pulse through my head
and you will be standing beside our bed
with a hot water bottle and paracetamol
asking me if i need anything else.
everything will go dark slowly, like i’m falling asleep.
i will say, ‘there’s nothing’, and ask you to leave.
i will die alone, nauseous and cold,
knowing that my last breath won’t find your ears
to speak of what i will have just figured out.

settle for second best

second best
doesn’t press against your chest
or leave you with nothing else
calls when she says she will
smiles when she sees you
turns up to dinner in a nice dress
but not her best,
lets you pay if you want to
but is happy to split the bill

second best
takes it slow, keeps it steady
but spreads her legs when you’re ready
moans, but stops talking if you tell her to
lets you close your eyes
and pretend it’s someone else’s chest
someone else’s sweat
someone else’s breath
doesn’t get mad if you come too soon

second best
doesn’t ask you why you can’t look her in the eye
doesn’t dig too deep
knows you lie awake at night
thinking of someone else
pretends to be asleep
maybe moves a bit closer
to the far side of the bed
but doesn’t let you see her cry

second best lets you say
settle for second best
with heavy breath
sad eyes and a forced smile
and then takes your hand and holds you tight

the truth

oh, tonight;
a firework show in black and white.
a thousand tiny lights
strung out in a line and left to hang.
making art in the grass;
a game of faint brush strokes
and drunken harangues.
interpretative design,
a couplet; dreamy eyes and
bottles of wine.
a pin-striped and rose cheeked
gymnast on a wire,
a circus on fire,
god and the ethereal choir.

a spaceship caught in flight;
a firework show flashing bright.
a million blinking lights
hung up like a sign above where we stand.
words written in glass;
some sort of greeting cloaked
by trembling hands.
associates of the divine,
a couplet; vacant eyes and
fetal-shaped spines.
aliens with green skin and three heads
and breath of fire,
crazy-men and liars,
god and the ethereal choir.

i like the one.
Annabel Lee's another good one. and Eldorado

HOMAGE TO EDGAR ALLEN POE

Somewhere between the cracks of chronic comic cosmic cackling
Seeps blood and choosy boozie floozie oozy fluids down the wall
To pool and run across the floor and corridor
To convert the bureaucrats to acrobats in spats and hats
So they slip and trip and skip and drip
And dance in funny capers dropping all their papers
Stained and mashed and crushed and trashed to make a mess galore.

But upper echelons of bosses
Look up from their naughts and crosses
Hexed and vexed by jerky clerks
Who pirouette and dance quadrilles
Across the floor, on window sills,
And slither here and there and thither.

"Goddamn!" They slam their bulky hams with palms so sly -
Threaten with their power drills to make round holes above the eye.
The clerks all scream, "It's just a dream we're all a team
And don't ask why." And so they cower in the shower
Confounded over corporate power,
Wheezing, coughing, sneezing, freezing -
Hoping that they'll soon be coping as they gracefully go loping
Round the wet and soppy soapy sloppy tessellated shower floor.

"Back to work!", the bosses rant, ties askew, eyes aslant,
"There's things you do and things you can't!"
But workers wet and workers weary
Fed with practice, jammed with theory,
Red rimmed eyes and vision bleary,
Hungry for a chicken salad topped with sauce but rather pallid,

Stuffed their ears with rubber foam,
Crammed the stairs and elevators,
Tumbled down the escalators,
Grabbed the cabs put on their tabs
And headed straight for spouse and home.

I wasn't sure if i would get much reaction to this new post but by the way it's going it could run and run. some wonderful stuff you guys are writing. We might have things in common but you can also see how everyone has a completely unique way of looking at the world. I cannot take it all in at the moment but I am looking forward to reading through it later when I get a quiet moment.

Does anybody write all the time ? I can only do so when the mood takes me - usually when feeling down, spaced out or exhausted, or sometimes a bit hyper, then words will suggest themselves. I jot down fragments then a week or so later I will mould it in into a shape I am happy with.

Neil

i also have alot of poem fragments just lying around.
usually when writing i'll just start with one lyrical sounding line and a feeling for direction. if it goes well, less than an hour later i have something worth showing. if not, i have a sheet full of fragments set aside for another day.


falling from your lips
like so many stone birds
attempting to take flight
as such are your empty words
falling on deaf ears
the fall and shatter on the floor
even as you begin to speak
i'm turning, walking towards the door

Good one, Sand...

lol
nice

Thanks. Here's another.

WEDNESDAY

The middle of the week
Wherein I balance on one foot
On the crack, the leak
Where past dribbles into future
And entropy sucks life
From activity. This suture
Healing memory to possibility
So compacted failures might
Form nourishment for hopes
To solidify my life to something bright.

Today a meteor, a diamond big
As a cabbage should come to fly
In my back yard to swipe a tree and dig
Itself half down to wink at me with stony eye.

Today I shall discover bumps upon my shoulder blades
Which undoubtedly will presage further sprout
And, in short time, to accolades,
Full blown wings will pop out

Today a knock upon my front door
Will announce a gorgeous girl who smiles
And indicates that I qualify, more
Than adequate to match her sexy wiles.

Today my local community will phone
To appoint me as their sage,
Offer me a seat in Congress where, alone,
I can lead my constituents to a golden age.

Today fourteen big eyed aliens will land
And offer me to be ambassador
To the galaxy. With friendly tentacles to my hand
We seal the deal and they depart in rocket roar.

The day is closing down.
I sit here to fiddle with my computer.
Nothing of immense renown
Could be muter.
Soon Thursday will emerge
Stifling the Wednesday manic.
One cannot stem time's surge.
But still, no need to panic.
Wednesday awaits a week from now.
Who knows what it might endow?

I don't really know if they're any good as I'm still a beginner in poetry and write prose better, but here's mine. I wrote them in the form of a psalm. Comments are welcomed.

The Proud Autistic

A curse
A contaminant
That’s what I have;
That’s what I possess
To the world;
To you, Gaea
My mind can clearly construct
Yet my tongue speaks jumble
When I converse with someone
Or when I’m listening to loud noises
I go blank;
I have meltdowns
“Pull up your socks,” they will say
“Let’s play Cowboys.”
And I pull up my socks
Or sit in the corner
And they look at me strange
Or bear little attention to me
I joke at a formal party
Joke at work
The host scolds me
Or the boss fires me
Would this world acknowledge my condition
Would it accept me for who I am
Must I wander in agony around you Gaea
Or tread along the path of Hel
Forget me
And forget you
For you mislead yourself like a June bug;
You walk like a hind-legged boar in the water
You shroud my kind with your cloak
And you spoon-feed me with castor oil
What goddess are you
The Lord knows you
Who presses favorites with your children
Or scorches us who fail in your delight
You bear hatred on us Cyclops;
You view us as freaks
Over the Titans
Or at least the gods
Yet you don’t know
(Or do you?)
The power we have
The gifts we possess
We’re creative
Unique
Look at our art
View our contributions
Pokémon
Stephen Spielberg
Hans Christian Andersen
Albert Einstein
See your favorites hang out with us
See us happy, accepted, and scholary
Your favorites have as many flaws
As we have gifts
We’re mere mortals;
We’re mere ants
Crawling on your belly
Or at least in Poseidon’s realm
So bear not judgment on us
Bear judgment on yourself
Not future generations
Nor those in heaven
For we have flaws
And just as much gifts
And our kind is unique
We’re made for a purpose
So accept us
Don’t kill us or make us conform with society
I have autism;
I have Asperger’s Syndrome
And I sing out to the world;
I am a proud autistic

Variation of the Human Spectrum

I tread along the sidewalk
Tread along town
Beside the flaming rug
And along with the zephyr
I see fingers pointing
Faces jeering
And I cover
My face
Shroud myself
In darkness
Or at least behind one of the large broccolis
Laughter goes on
Fingers are bayonets
Piercing my heart
Piercing my confidence
“Your kind are weird,” they say
“They need to be cured”
“Can’t you be of any use?”
And a river of snot creeps down my nostrils
A deluge of tears become waterfalls
My pride
My pride
O my pride
Hic
Hic
Sniff
An experiment
Is that what I am to you?
Am I a burden to you
Or a threat to society?
Am I a monster carved from Satan’s flesh
That need to be slain?
Answer me
For my soul wants proof
That the Aryan race exists
“Leave him alone!” a voice says
I look up
And the fingers,
Laughter—
Gone
“Are you okay?”
The same voice
And I turn back
To see a girl
Dressed in a cotton strawberry dress,
Skin peachy as—well—a peach
I smile
And she smiles back
I grab her hand
And she, mine
We gazed at each other
And I blushed when she blushed
Or she blushed when I blushed
“Avis,” she said
And I blushed harder
A Coca-Cola can
“DeUndrae”
Hooray! One person in the world
One person accepts me
A gift from God
One of nature’s prizes
I’m not an experiment
Nor an object
I’m a human
Purely made in the sight of God
I’m just one of many variations of
The Human Spectrum
And I’m happy with that

The World of Autism and Neurotypicality

One looks at me,
Watches me,
And I sit alone in a corner
Or gaze away from the eye
He goes to a large crowd,
Attends an elegant party,
And he notices me,
His face twisting like an ugli fruit
I clasp my ears,
Maybe scream
He laughs, wondering,
Or sympathizes me, saying,
“Poor boy.
I hope he’s okay.
Did he learn any social skills?
My boy would never do that.”
And he struts away
Thinking he’s lucky,
Or he goes to his friends
To talk about the day
But he observed my outside,
My symptoms,
For if he dived into my heart
Or have gotten to know me,
My world,
My mind
Would shower blessings upon him,
Even inspire him
View my autism
View my Asperger’s Syndrome
As a gift from God
Not one with natural selection
Watch me imagine
Watch me craft
An ancient land
Filled with humanoid creatures with squirrel ears and tails
Observe as I solve
Tangrams or a Lonpos problem
My fruit blossoms
My wisdom enlightens
And mankind shall pick
To share with every culture,
Not just my own
My world blossoms,
Intrigues
Never forgotten
And surely never dead
A creation of God
His masterpiece
Meant to be blessed
For everything he makes is good
Don’t shun it
For my world is beautiful
Though strange,
Even eccentric to you
And an autistic world sprouts balloon-bell flowers
Whereas yours, roses
But my flower radiates
As bright as your flowers
Though different
But when mingled together,
Yours and mines,
Our world completes God’s test,
Bears Aphrodite’s beauty,
Achieving peace
And inspiring others
We need each other
Our imagination
Our smarts
And God wouldn’t have it any other way,
For we’re Iris and Colonel
Designed to be one,
Not Mega Man and Bass
Blasting each other with our busters.
Join my World of Autism
And be enlightened by its ingenuity
We’ll connect
To be the perfect Reploid
Never to be destroyed
And never to turn maverick

As for my favorite poet, I guess I don't know really have a favorite as I'm just starting to understand it. I like Job 41 from the Bible (the one where it describes Leviathan), and I do really like Maya Angelou, Langston Hughes, Beowulf, Geoferrey Chaucer. "Poetry is a journey," I would say, and the more you read it, the more you'll understand it. It's like reminenscing of your past experiences when you're an elder.