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Author Topic: The Awesome Poetry Jam
Konfuzed
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OK i'm starting this llittle topic thing-a-ma-bob because I was reading about the poets of this site. So start your poetry jam! [Big Grin]
Posts: 5 | From: Texas | Registered: Mar 2006  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
Nailo
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Thank you, Konfuzed! For those of you who understand spanish, here's one I wrote a couple of months ago:
El artista

Me convertí en una marea.
Vos fuiste el pintor de almas
sentado a la orilla del mar.

Fue por ti que ocurrió
mi metamorfosis.
Me encantaba ver como,
casi sin esfuerzo,
pintaste en mí
risas, colores,
y hasta mi olor a sal.

¡Qué inevitable fue
tomarte mientras dormías
y llevarte mar adentro
para tenerte más cerca!

Y de pronto,
¡Qué intoxicantes tus pinturas,
que me impulsaban a regresarte
porque no las soportaba!

Vos, siempre inconsciente de la marea baja
que prefería verte de lejos;
y más aún a la marea alta
que subía porque anhelaba rozarte.

Tal vez lo único que quiero
es formar parte
de tus obras preferidas,
para poder ver de cerca
la luz que destila de tus ojos.

Tal vez solo quiero asegurarme de eso
para ver si puedo prevenir que vuelva
una marea roja.

--------------------
"Love does not make itself in the desire for copulation, but in the desire for shared sleep." - The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera

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Ecofem
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Hi Nailo,

I don't speak Spanish (although I can pick out some words and phrases or the general gist of things) but your poem seems cool. Could you translate it as well, be it just a favorite stanza or two, or even talk about the meaning specific words you found fitting in Spanish but hard to translate into English? I love poetry in all languages, and I'd like to understand it better (and not just from a babbelfish standpoint. [Wink] )

Thanks!

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oOo Lea oOo
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Yes I agree with Ecofem. Poetry is beautiful in all languages. I studied Spanish for 5 years in highschool and in college, so I could understand most of what you were saying, and it is very interesting. Good job! [Wink]

--------------------
And I say thank you for the scars
And the guilt and the pain
Every tear I've never cried
Has sealed your fate.
Did you take me for a fool
or were you just too blind to see
that every effort made has failed
and there is no destroying me?
Atreyu

Posts: 366 | From: West Virginia | Registered: Dec 2005  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
Nailo
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Lol, translating it on babelfish would be awkward. I've never translated a poem before; I just posted that one because it's one of my favourites. It probably sounds a lot better in spanish [Frown] But here goes!:

The Artist


I became a tide.
You were the painter of souls
sitting at the edge of the sea.

It was because of you
that my metamorphosis ocurred.
I loved to see how,
almost carelessly,
you painted in me
laughs, colours,
and even the smell of salt.

How inevitable,
to take you in your sleep
into the ocean
to feel you close to me!

And all of a sudden,
the intoxicating taste of your paints,
so much so that I was forced to send you back
because I couldn't stand it!

You, always oblivious of the low tide
that preffered to watch you from afar;
and even more so to the high tide
that would rise to touch you.

Maybe, all I want
is to be part
of your favourite masterpieces,
so I could see close up
the light that distills from your eyes.

Maybe I just want to be sure of that
to see if I can prevent
another red tide.

[ 03-29-2006, 07:44 PM: Message edited by: Nailo ]

--------------------
"Love does not make itself in the desire for copulation, but in the desire for shared sleep." - The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera

Posts: 410 | From: Dallas, TX | Registered: Dec 2005  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
oOo Lea oOo
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I was home quite early last night from my boyfriend's house, and I was a little depressed. It always helps to take a ride, write in my journal, or even read some of the entries i have written or go through old poems. Last night, I whipped out the journal.

I found this entry that I didn't mean to come out as a poem but it rhymes and it came out sort of poetic. I thought I'd share it here. It has a lot of meaning behind it and explains alot of what I go through sometimes. It's very personal and took me some time to convince myself to actually post it here. I wrote it last year. Its quite lengthy. So I'm sorry.

(Journal)
I’m laying here, thinking, alone on my bed,
of all the horrible things in this life I dread.
I wipe away the tears as they come rushing down.
Isn’t it amazing how love can turn one’s life around?
The love of a friend, of some sort or another,
the love of an aunt who acts more like a mother,
the love for all the above, years after they’re gone,
kind of gives you a sense that you’re never alone.
Although, I’d have to admit, it gets lonely sometimes,
when I’m sitting here all alone with these things on my mind.
Sometimes I look at myself and I see so much of you,
I can even almost understand the pain you went through.
I admire your strength to hold on as long as you did,
and do as much you could for you and your kid.
I respect you although your choice may not have been right,
but I also understand how bad you were hurting that night.
I just wish you knew you had such an impact on me.
You made me see a part of myself I could never before see.
I used to think I was all alone in the way that I felt,
but I can relate to you and what your life has dealt.
I know that when no one else understands, I can turn to you,
because most of these feelings I’m feeling you probably felt, too.
Somehow I find it comforting to sit alone by your grave,
it makes me wonder sometimes how you were so brave.
You had a lot on your plate, but you tried so hard to stand tall,
I’m just sorry I couldn’t be there to help catch your fall.
But in your loving memory, I’ll promise to do my best
to manage the pain that fills this heart in my chest,
and if I find myself struggling, I’ll reach out for you,
because I know that you’ll stand beside me to see that I make it through.
I believe you are always standing there, guiding my way,
helping me with my troubles as they add up each day.
They say grief is a slow process, and gets easier with time,
but there isn’t a day that goes by that you’re not on my mind.
Sometimes, even after all these years, I can’t believe this is real,
when I look at you’re stone, I can’t explain the sadness I feel.
Then reality hits me again, I know you’re not coming back,
and as much as I hate it, I need to find the strength that I lack
to get up from my knees and wipe the tears from my eyes,
once again, like every other day, I have to say my good-byes.
And each time I do, I feel exactly what I felt that day,
when we laid you down for eternal rest and you flew away.
I guess I am foolishly selfish because I feel I need you here,
but there is someone more important now we lost this year.
Your mother laid her tired head, now she is up there with you.
So if you happen to see her, tell her how much I miss her, too.
Tell her I love her ever dearly, give her a kiss on the cheek
And with the biggest hug, tell her she means the world to me. . . .

I left it unfinished...

by the way, incase i haven't mentioned this before, my aunt committed suicide due to severe depression, and possibly bipolar, four years ago (this past february 25). She acted like a mother to me, and was one of my very best friends.

[ 03-29-2006, 02:47 PM: Message edited by: oOo Lea oOo ]

--------------------
And I say thank you for the scars
And the guilt and the pain
Every tear I've never cried
Has sealed your fate.
Did you take me for a fool
or were you just too blind to see
that every effort made has failed
and there is no destroying me?
Atreyu

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Nailo
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Wow... You know, I normally don't like rhyming poetry, but this one was really good. I read this and I really wished I could be there and comfort you [Frown] . The only part I didn't think belonged in the context was that you lost someone "more important" this year, since your aunt was obviously really really really impostant to you. Also, the poem seemed to be writen so she could hear it, or see it. I just thought that, with that in mind, saying someone else was "more important" was kind of strange :S. But that's my own opinion. Good job [Smile] My heart reaches out to you.

--------------------
"Love does not make itself in the desire for copulation, but in the desire for shared sleep." - The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera

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oOo Lea oOo
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when i meant more important, i meant more important than me. Because i felt as if I needed her here, but my grandmother is more important than me, so it made me feel selfish. Sorry, like i said, i wasn't meaning it to be a poem at the time..and it is longer than that..i just didn't want to type the whole thing on here.. its HUGE.

Glad you liked, yea I was pretty bummed out at the time. I had a lot of issues I was dealing with. It makes me feel stronger now, because I can reflect back on how I used to feel, and know that my life is on such a better path.

I still feel that way about her, though. I still go up to her grave, almost on a daily basis ( it is less than a mile from my house).

If i get upset I disappear. . Sometimes I dont even get out of my car, if its messy out, but being there listening to the music we both loved, gives me a sense that shes with me and I dont have to face it alone. I dunno. It helps me get through things.

Anywho.. glad ya liked it. thnx!

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origami_jane
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A lot of my poetry is political, so this might offend people -slash- get me on some weird government watchlist. I'm not going to apologize for my opinions, but I will remove this if it is an inappropriate medium for expressing my thoughts. I guess I feel that this is just important as what other people are writing about, and I don't feel it's any more "controversial" than other topics on this site.


Roses

In a small "Latin American" country,
Women tend roses that,
When about to bloom,
Are clipped
Wrapped in cellophane
And shipped to Wal-mart
So young blond men
In cotton shirts
Can buy them
On Valentine's Day.

The cotton is picked
From a patch of land
Stripped of its minerals
And worked endlessly
By people too poor
And too brown
To get our attention.

When the land is exhausted
Of its resources
The factory will close
Leaving unemployment
And rivers turned toxic
By chemicals
That bleached the cotton
So perfect,
Pure,
White.

And the pesticides used
To ensure the highest yield
Of roses per acre
Cause miscarriages
And birth defects
In the women who work the plantations.

Many top executives consider themselves
Pro-life
Pro-familiy
While they perpetuate
A cycle
Of economic slavery
And slow genocide
Of people
Whose CIA-installed dictator
Does not allow them
To speak up for themselves.

But when you peel back the cellophane
Clip the stems of your roses
And put them in a vase on your desk
All anybody sees
Is how much he loves you.

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oOo Lea oOo
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nice.. jane..
[Wink]
im looking forward to hearing more from any of you!

--------------------
And I say thank you for the scars
And the guilt and the pain
Every tear I've never cried
Has sealed your fate.
Did you take me for a fool
or were you just too blind to see
that every effort made has failed
and there is no destroying me?
Atreyu

Posts: 366 | From: West Virginia | Registered: Dec 2005  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
origami_jane
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Thank you.

Your poem about your aunt was very sad.

Sometimes I wish someone would remind people that change is a possibility, and things could get better, but I know that's not enough.

Posts: 129 | From: Mid-Atlantic US | Registered: Feb 2006  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
oOo Lea oOo
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Hey guys! I stumbled across something yesterday when I was checking an old email address that I rarely use. I subscribed to Poem Hunter.com and I had a ZILLION poems in there! I also had a folder of peoms I wrote and that I liked from the net..

I found this. . .

Judgemental Minds

Glance at this image.
It does portray
a lopsided smile
shining sincerity yet uncertainty,
eyes filled with the sun;
but a bittersweet heart
filled with love
a world cannot award;
a room overflowing with dozens
upon dozens of long stemmed roses,
or any other flower, cannot convey;
yet patterned with scars
left by guilt, regret,
doubt, and hopelessness,
stomped in by this evil world.
Take a look at this body; at me.
What is seen?
A confused mind it must be, Yours.
Impatient, too.
It takes not a second
to view beyond
into the sould of me,
or any creature, or thing.
So quick to judge are many.
and you included.
The prize is interior
and cannot be seen; only known.
A characteristic, trait,
or any exterior makeup of me,
or any creature, or thing,
cannot possibly depict the true being
for itself,
or its purpose, or its passion.
Like a flower, dried by the sun.
Withered. Rough. Dead?
To a naked, uninterested eye,
it is of no significance.
Its passion, and beauty lies inside,
and what used to be.
Have you known of its beauty, before?
Have you taken time, seen?
If you fail to look deeper,
and are only eager to rush by
with a short, passing glance,
you cannot possibly have
gathered knowledge enough to judge.
So judge me not, until there is reason.

Hope you enjoy
[Smile] Lea

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PenguinBoy
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I love the poem about the valentines rose.

I wrote a poem for a girl i was with a couple years back. i still really like it. Also, i could never think of titles for poems, but i didn't have much trouble with the title for this, hence the ending.


Georgina
========

No longer a person any more, you're a feeling,
My mind burned from distraction
Til satisfaction found in action,
As the final recognition of a passion.

Without your singing
my church would be silent,
But your quiet-quiet voice
still penetrates and resonates.
Crumbles Gargoyles.
Watery tear drops in my eyes boil.

I, a jack of all trades
have been found by a mastery.
Is it love yet? I don't know.
But you're my only titled poetry.

[ 04-19-2006, 11:10 AM: Message edited by: PenguinBoy ]

--------------------
Jacob - my Scarleteen Blog - Please help sustain scarleteen

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StarHallie
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Wow, guys. Your poetry is beautiful. It is great to be surrounded by other poets here at Scarleteen!

I especially enjoyed your poem, Roses, Jane...

Well, I just discovered this thread and would love, love, love to post some poetry here and have you guys critique it.

This is a poem I wrote about a week ago after a pretty grisly breakup.


"Arson"


He came, wide eyed, and set ashore
an island virgin, soft and wild,
put down his sails, numbered four
gladly, eager to explore
this land with dew perfumed and mild
and knew no earthly wanting more-
the theme of a best-written score.

As sly moons passed, the land’s white heather
transformed with wind and salt of weather
became explorer’s daily bore
as seasons changed her color more
to his demise, now forced together
his ship abandoned, useless, sore
though land sustained him never poor.

A fire devoured in its power
explorer and explored, now ashes,
sashes of his arson choked
the land once in her finest hour
leaving once sweet footsteps sour
in the sand where ocean crashes.

--------------------
"Sex without love is an empty experience, but as empty experiences go, it's one of the best."
-Woody Allen

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StarHallie
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P.S. Is there a way to omit this poem from google search?

--------------------
"Sex without love is an empty experience, but as empty experiences go, it's one of the best."
-Woody Allen

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AnansiGirl
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Hey, I thought I'd join in, if that's okay.

Everyone's stuff here is so incredible...especially that last one. That's...wow. Just wow, y'know? Sorry. Not so great with feedback.

Anyway, Here's one that I came up with a little while ago, and if you know anything of West African mythology, it might explain my username a bit -

Little-loved spider,
Washed down the spout
Little-loved spider,
Bad sans a doubt

Hairy limbs and gangly frame
So easy to break, so easy to save
Ugly face, bright-black eyes
Two or eight, or could be five

Skinny frame and wrong-set knees
Tiny body, sharp, stupid tongue
Barbs not meant for ought but food
Ugly body, too small, too sly.

Insi-wincy spider,
Clamber up the spout,
I'm insi-wincy spider,
Seen as bad, without a doubt.

[ 07-29-2007, 11:55 AM: Message edited by: AnansiGirl ]

--------------------
"I'm bouncing off the walls again, woah-oh~
I'm acting like a fool again, woah-oh~
Threw away my reputation,
For one more song on the RADIO STATION~"

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PenguinBoy
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hehe, i liked it. (Are you referencing Skunk Anansi? in which case *heads up*)

(no title)

I think I hate
to know too much
to watch my heart
to keep it dry
to pull the reins
to reel it in
out of the wind

I think I want
to be the person
to be a lover
to be a pervert
to be a man
with long hair and a tan

I think I am the man
who thinks of water
who is on fire
who has the logic
which doesn't see
the love and the pain
who has them both but has them in vain

--------------------
Jacob - my Scarleteen Blog - Please help sustain scarleteen

Posts: 633 | From: Bedfordshire, UK | Registered: Apr 2006  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a Moderator
   

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