Poetry.... or not??

warriorpoet

Just interested in hearing any comments - trying my hand at a bit of poetry for the first time.

Ring the Bells that Still Can Ring

I touched you once, skin on skin,

And a voice within me whispered “sin”.

“you sinned before and so must pay,

You cannot touch – repent, and pray.”

“That bell is cracked and will not chime,

Until, at least, you spend the time

To know yourself, to fill the hole

That you carry there within your soul.”

But you touched ME, as if a King,

and some little voice then whispered “sing”

“Your story and your song are real,

So do not hide them, sing and feel.”

“Love and Loss, and Joy and Pain,

Are stuff of life, not shameful stain,

Choose not to walk in fear and dread,

But celebrate your life instead.”

You touched me once, to my very core,

And the little voice within me swore,

That mighty Lion and Capricorn

Were not and ne’er would be forlorn.

Your satin skin electrifies, my mind and body’s butterflies,

Strong and true, your spirit free, releases me so I can be

Partly broken, partly whole, a mirror to your earthy soul.

Beautiful beyond decree - of land, and air, and wind and sea.

So I ring the Bell to hear it toll,

And I feel it fill my hollow soul

With pure and still imperfect light,

To let me sleep and dream in peace, tonight.

---

“Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in”

---

alfa beta

This is quite good - you choose words well and you understand the importance of rhythm in poetic language

However, you really are tying yourself down by insisting on such a tight rhyming scheme.

Grab a book of modern poetry and have a read - anything from the 1900's on - could be Sylvia Plath, could be Seamus Heaney, could be e.e. cummings! - anyone at all.

What you'll see is a much more subtle use of rhyme - none of the bum-de-bum-de-bum-de-bum lines that pretty much died out with Dryden and his gang.

you definitely have ability - so now it's time to start making the most of it - by learning from others and giving your writing a much more contemporary feel.

warriorpoet

alfa beta wrote: »

This is quite good - you choose words well and you understand the importance of rhythm in poetic language

However, you really are tying yourself down by insisting on such a tight rhyming scheme.

Grab a book of modern poetry and have a read -

Thank You - I think you're right about tying myself down with the rhyming scheme - think it's just the way I do things - order, precision, that kinda thing. But the insight and advice are very helpful, and will take on your suggestions - see if I can let things loose a little!!

“Ring the bells that still can ring


Forget your perfect offering


There is a crack in everything


That’s how the light gets in”

Yes, i love leonard cohen

i like your poem and the rhyming and rhythm

i tend to go with a lot of rhyme myself

warriorpoet

bluewolf wrote: »

Yes, i love leonard cohen

i like your poem and the rhyming and rhythm

i tend to go with a lot of rhyme myself

Thanks - Glad you recognised it - wondered if I should have said where it came from!!

As for the poetry, am really just starting, and I guess it's a bit "scary" to let go of the safety net of the rhyming.....

redarmyblues

I agree with Alpha Beta, it is also to me a little self consciousnessly poetic and perhaps overwritten but it is certainly a very good effort and with some refinement of your technique you could be a good poet, if that is an early attempt.

Ectoplasm

FWIW I actually disagree with alfa beta about rhyming structures or schemes, and there is some fantastic contemporary/recent poetry out there that uses 'traditional' poetic forms. Edwin Morgan is one that springs to mind, (his glasgow sonnet no. 1 uses one of my most favourite descriptive phrases ever 'hackles on puddles' but enough about that)

The one thing I would say is that if you are going to go with a strict rhyme scheme then looking a little more at metre too; is it a sonnet etc. It sounds somewhat boring but there actually is a real discipline that you learn by working to these traditional forms and it can help your 'other' poetry.

You definitely have a talent though and yes, it's definitely poetry.

redarmyblues

I think that a rhyme scheme helps the structure of a poem, blank verse is much harder to do well, but rhyme can also be a tyranny. I like a happy medium, the discipline of verse combined with the looseness of blank verse. The simple ballad form that Warriorpoet uses can be a little repetitive. More complex forms like the sonnet while very satisfying to read when done well are fiendishly difficult to write.

Ectoplasm

Oh absolutely, sonnets are incredibly difficult and I didn't mean to make it sound like 'oh scrap this and write a sonnet'.

I just think that an understanding of different metric structures improves all of your writing in general - so writing a 'bad' sonnet can help you write 'good' free verse, if that makes sense? I remember working on one poem in iambic pentameter for weeks. It was never a particularly good poem but the discipline of trying to find just the right words with just the right metric structure helped me enormously in my other writing.

redarmyblues

EMF2010 wrote: »

Oh absolutely, sonnets are incredibly difficult and I didn't mean to make it sound like 'oh scrap this and write a sonnet'.

I just think that an understanding of different metric structures improves all of your writing in general - so writing a 'bad' sonnet can help you write 'good' free verse, if that makes sense? I remember working on one poem in iambic pentameter for weeks. It was never a particularly good poem but the discipline of trying to find just the right words with just the right metric structure helped me enormously in my other writing.

I agree. A structured form can also produce a serepentity in meter, if you are stuck and cast about for resonant phrase, find one that fits and only realise when you are cycling home on the bike that it fits the rhyme.

crazyhorsecowle

Hi ,I have been writing solely for my own pleasure since I was a kid and I appreciate people with their ideas and ways to help in regards to writing but I can never understand how people can be so black and white in regards the way writing should be done,nonsense.

I loved your poem,It's how you wrote it as it was written and therefore is how it should be,brilliant.
It's the regimented writers in forms and should do's that have meant that poetry has stayed so bloody boring for the most part.

I was complaining recently as I searched the net relentlessly for inspiration looking at spoken word on you tube and looking for something other than the usual drone of over rehearsed theatrical ranting which seems to be the case with people who study form so much that everything just sounds over analyzed and the same.

My girlfriend asked me who my favourite poet was and I said thinking for a while,"I don't have one",
She said that she thought that was really sad considering how much she knows I love to write and that most people who love something have so many sources of inspiration,whether favourite bands or artists etc...

It was the first time I had ever thought about it like that and kinda left a hole in it's truth.
I commend you for your obvious ability and talent and urge you to continue as I really enjoyed it and would love to read more from you.....So hurry up and get writing !!!!

Poetry if written naturally will naturally follow it's own path from each word you write and each feeling you get from each sentence written,therefore in my opinion sound natural and more importantly real and true to you,warts and all.

I have been waiting for somebody good in dublin to come on the scene in spoken word so I could go and see them,The cream of the crop seems to be stephen james in dublin,which is a good example of what I was talking about above when I said over rehearsed theatrical poetry,
no offense stephen,you do what you do,
But I came across a girl called Kate Tempest and she is a prime example of honesty in what she does,
like it or loath it there is no mistaking she owns and feel every word,
I love it for that reason.

So go forth and wreck it ,mis pronounce and mis spell it ,and never know in which direction to profess it ,
Start with a word,
End with a word,
Somewhere in between these two your story will be heard.ten 4 over and out,roger that.

alfa beta

crazyhorsecowle wrote: »

Start with a word,
End with a word,
Somewhere in between
your story will be heard

now that's a very nice piece of rhyming poetry you've got right there crazyhorse

crazyhorsecowle

Thank you,I am new to boards although I signed up a while ago I am only for the first time realizing how much it has to offer.

I love writing but I left school young and I have no good grammar or notion of where to put full stops or commas and the likes or form but I end up with some crazy stuff which some times makes little sense in proper english terms but somehow tends to sometimes seem real in it's nonsense .

if that makes sense?I never know if it is going to end in rhyme or be brutal and rigid ? Thats why I love writing although would probably insult most people to call my writings poetry!!!
thanks again.
I can't seem to find much poetry on here, any advice for pages to look at?

I just posted something I wrote just there,it's called a bitch and it's world if you fancy a read.I got brave after seeing other peoples courage at doing it!!!cheers.

crazyhorsecowle

Maybe it's time to make our own decisions,
If there's no scalpel
There are no incisions.

Maybe-Maybe has no value
Maybe value has no cost
And what if cost is over rated
And because our minds are saturated,
Dripping thoughts just overflow?

There's no more room
This door is closed.

Situations vacant
position is closed
Traitors in view
Mind overload.

All's not forgotten
And all is not lost,
If it's hot it,s not frozen
No need to defrost.

alfa beta

crazyhorsecowle wrote: »

I can't seem to find much poetry on here, any advice for pages to look at?

This thread is old crazyhorse, but I absolutely love this guys style - can't think of much else on boards that's really blown me away though

http://www.boards.ie/vbulletin/showthread.php?t=2055359309

Anyway, we're going off topic a bit so best let this thread get back on track or the OP's finger will be hovering over the 'unfollow' button in mild annoyance!

crazyhorsecowle

Cheers for the link ,plenty to read.

warriorpoet

Another go.... similar I know, and maybe no further along, but here it is anyway....

THIEF

You stole from me, you took my soul,
You grabbed my life and ate it whole.
Mother, Brother, Sister, Son,
My peace, my love, my stars and sun.

Sly and nice, your sneaky tricks
Promise fun and harmless kicks.
You Lie and cheat, and play your game
Feasting on my guilt and shame.

You stole my wife, my friend, my core.
You left her feeling like some whore,
Beaten by your lies and mine,
Shame and pain in every line.

Forgetting who I was before,
Taking some and wanting more.
Losing track of twisted lies
I crawled to claim my rotten prize.

Bastard, made me just like you,
Denying everything that’s true.
Cancer, Virus, weeping sore,
You’ve had enough – you’ll take no more.

Bowed and beaten, bloody mess,
I stand before them and confess,
I tell the truth, I break your law,
I trust myself, forgive my flaw.

You cannot steal again from me,
I know you now and clearly see
Your rotten fruit, your stinking wine,
And say at last, it’s YOURS, not mine.

Daylight comes; your time is past,
And mine is near at hand at last.
A time for truth and honest pain,
To love and laugh and cry again.

JTER

I really liked it ,as your name would suggest it was full of passion and anger. I'm a newbie to all this but I really enjoyed the tempo and rhyme . Will post up my own efforts when I get near a computer.

Dave!

I love this I'm sure experienced writers could offer more detailed feedback, but I was smiling at various points throughout it cos I was impressed. I like this in particular:

Your satin skin electrifies, my mind and body’s butterflies,
Strong and true, your spirit free, releases me so I can be
Partly broken, partly whole, a mirror to your earthy soul.
Beautiful beyond decree - of land, and air, and wind and sea.

warriorpoet

JTER wrote: »

I really liked it ,as your name would suggest it was full of passion and anger. I'm a newbie to all this but I really enjoyed the tempo and rhyme . Will post up my own efforts when I get near a computer.

Well spotted JTER.... passion, anger, pain, loss... and hope, I hope!!

JTER

warriorpoet wrote: »

JTER wrote: »

I really liked it ,as your name would suggest it was full of passion and anger. I'm a newbie to all this but I really enjoyed the tempo and rhyme . Will post up my own efforts when I get near a computer.

Well spotted JTER.... passion, anger, pain, loss... and hope, I hope!!

I'll post up my own tomorrow , I felt for you and could relate somewhat and don't worry there is always hope , it lies where it is lost!

warriorpoet

OK, just to try something completely different....

OLD
My old shoes are comfortable and broken.
They remember my feet and the miles,
But they keep their tongues still, and say nothing.

I am old and uncomfortable and nearly broken.
I remember the shoes when they were new,
But I didn’t notice them get old,
So I say nothing too.

barney4001

---

The Four Farrellys............
In a small hotel in London I was sitting down to dine.
When the waiter brought the register and asked me if I'd sign.
And as I signed I saw a name that set my heart astir —
A certain "Francis Farrelly" had signed the register;
I knew a lot of Farrellys and out of all the crew
I kept on "sort of wonderin'" which Farrelly were you.
And when I'd finished dinner I sat back in my chair,
Going round my native land to find, what Farelly you were.
SOUTH
Were you the keen-eyed Kerryman I met below Kenmare,
Who told me that when Ireland fought "the odds were never fair?"
If Cromwell had met Sarsfield, or Owen Roe O'Neill,
It's not to Misther Gladstone we'd be lookin' for repeal.
Would have Ireland for the Irish, not a Saxon to be seen,
And only Gaelic spoken in that House in College Green.
Told me landlords wor the Divil! their agints ten times worst,
And iv'ry sort of government for Ireland was a curse!
Oh! if you're that Francis Farrelly, your dreams have not come true,
Still, Slainthe! Slainthe! Fransheen! for I like a man like you!
NORTH
Or were you the Francis Farrelly that often used to say
He'd like to blow them Papishes from Derry walls away?
The boy who used to bother me that Orange Lodge to join,
And thought that history started with the Battle o' the Boyne —
I was not all with ye, Francis, the Pope is not ma friend,
But still I hope, poor man, he'll die without that bloody end. -
And when yer quit for care yerself, and get to Kingdom Come,
It's not use teachin' you the harp — you'll play the Orange drum!
Och! man, ye wor a fighter, of that I had no doubt.
For I see ye in Belfast one night when the Antrim Road was out!
And many a time that evenin' I thought that ye wor dead,
The way them Papish pavin' stones was hoppin' off yer head.
Oh! if you're the Francis Farrelly who came from North Tyrone -
Here's lookin' to ye, Francis, but do leave the Pope alone!
EAST
Or were you the Francis Farrelly that in my college days
For strollin' on the Kingstown Pier had such a curious craze?
D'y mind them lovely sisters — the blonde and the brunette?
I know I've not forgotten, and I don't think you forget!
That picnic at the Dargle — and the others at the Scalp —
How my heart was palpitatin' — hers wasn't — not a palp!
Someone said ye married money — any maybe ye were wise,
But the gold you loved was in her hair, and the d'monds in her eyes!
So I like to think ye married her and that you're with her yet,
'Twas some "meleesha" officer that married the brunette;
But the blonde one always loved ye, and I knew you loved her too,
So me blessin's on ye, Francis, and the blue sky over you!
WEST
Or were you the Francis Farrelly I met so long ago,
In the bog below Belmullet, in the County of Mayo?
That long-legged, freckled Francis with the deep-set, wistful eyes,
That seemed to take their colour from those ever-changing skies,
That put his flute together as I sketched the distant scene,
And played me "Planxy Kelly" and the "Wakes of Inniskeen."
That told me in the Autumn he'd be Bailin' to the West
To try and make his fortune and send money to the rest.
And would I draw a picture of the place where he was born,
And he'd hang it up, and look at it, and not feel so forlorn;
And when I had it finished, you got up from where you sat,
And you said, "Well, you're the Divil, and I can't say more than that."
Oh', if you're that Francis Farrelly, your fortune may be small,
But I'm thinking — thinking — Francis, that I love you best of all;
And I never can forget you — though it's years and years ago -
In the bog below BeImullet, in the County of Mayo.
-