How to Join Member's Area Private Library Search Today's Topics p Login
Main Forums Discussion Tech Talk Mature Content Archives
   Nav Win
 Sanctuary
 Poetic Haven
 Scraps
 1 2 3 4
Follow us on Facebook

 Moderated by: Poet deVine, Martie   (Admins )

 
User Options
Format for Better Printing EMail to a Friend Create a Greeting Card with this Poem
Admin Print Send ECard
Passions in Poetry

Scraps (by JM's specific request)

 Post A Reply Post New Topic   Go to the Next Oldest/Previous Topic Return to Topic Page Go to the Next Newest Topic 
Local Parasite
Deputy Moderator 10 Tours
Member Elite
since 11-05-2001
Posts 2929
Transylconia, Winnipeg


0 posted 01-08-2003 08:09 PM       View Profile for Local Parasite   Email Local Parasite   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to Submit your Poem to Passions   Click to visit Local Parasite's Home Page   View IP for Local Parasite

JM sent me a very persuasive (begging) email about posting my own scraps.  I've gone through my stuff, unfinished word documents, little pieces of paper in my binders that started poems but never finished, or never made PIP.  

First of all, if anything in here seems familiar, it's because often I'll toss my scraps aside and then use a line or image from my scraps in one of my more major works later on.  So this is probably where it appeared first.  Second, most of these aren't finished, there are gaps where lines might be, there are lines that don't quite end... it's all choppy and I just ended up ditching them, either by losing interest or giving up on them.

At any rate, here're my scraps:

***

(don't know the date on this one.  Just a bunch of stuff I was messing around with during my fear of death.  I still fear death if you're curious.  Sometimes it's fun to capture a vision of death as a physical place... I mean, hey, theists can so why can't I?)

Afterliving

Out on the sea of the barren plateau
Silken and cottony, chapels of  snow

Children so noble, the sporelings of sin
Singing their scorn to the shadow that flies
Skipping so outward but strangled within
Nothing to lighten the pins from our eyes

Into the valleys, and under the falls
Fetuses scratching the uteran walls

Limber with vision, but lacking a source
Infants that suckle to teats of remorse

Frosty and bitten with history's tooth
Fallacies glowing in malice's truth

Sunshine is mystery, warmth is a dream
All in the distance of galaxies far
Slowly, their voices rise high in a scream
O what vainglorious beings we are

***

(a paradelle I couldn't make a sensible last stanza to.  I had a few little notes at the bottom of this word doc, possible startings to a last stanza, so I've included them.)

Ball of Black Shadows

globe of shadows in the sky
globe of shadows in the sky
casting dark upon the land
casting dark upon the land
casting globe of shadows
in the sky, upon the land, dark

creatures of the hidden chant
creatures of the hidden chant
sending praise unto their gods
sending praise unto their gods
praise unto the hidden creatures
sending their chant of gods

one of us will perish
one of us will perish
at the thought, the shadows deepen
at the thought, the shadows deepen
the shadows deepen at will
one of us?  perish the thought.

shadows of the sky chant
shadows of the land deepen
will the dark perish?

***

(no real title, I was just ranting on to a girl I was trying to impress... this must have been about two years ago.  Had to dig it out of my MSN logs... hehe... Blah at my older poetry, it's pretty primitive.  But at least it's improvisational.)

came to me in a vision, it did.  the gremlin came into my room, and here's what the gremlin said.  "you will have the woman that you desire, that is your fate, and your doom."  so I hacked off the gremlin's head.

with the stains about the place, and the room in a tangle, I left the torso in the sill of the window, to forever ward, and to dangle


and then you arrived, in a specter of azure, for my salvation or my punishment I wasn't entirely sure.  you spoke to me in whispers, a chill about the air.  a spark of heat within your eyes, a squirt of liquid fire in you hair.

the ice was the wing on which you rode, the darkness your refuge, and my abode.  you told me all I wished to hear, I stood upwright and drew you near

a simple kiss was all I gave... and then you left.  the gremlin remains, like a valentine that a child would save.  his torso rotten, getting old.  i've never forgotten your embrace so cold...

and still I kiss the air at night... the wing of ice somewhere out there, forever in flight

***

(wrote it for french class last year, based on a poem of the same name.  We had to write a poem in the same format, about where we'd write something's name.  This one's kind of fun.)

Ton Nom

Dans les feuilles de l'automne,
sur l'écorce du érable,
dans les lames solitaires de l'herbe,
j'écris ton nom.

Dans la peau sur les dos du bétail,
dans le miel collant de la ruche d'une abeille,
entre une daine et son faon de nourrisson,
j'écris ton nom.

Dans les mortiers de l'acier fondu,
sur les dents des dicatators affamés,
avec le stylo bille de l'humanité,
j'écris ton nom.

Sur les corps des paysans noyés,
dans le sang d'million de coeurs saignants,
sous la gorge utopique que nous essayons d'obtenir,
j'écris ton nom.

"Progrès."

***

(I tried to write a poem about being bored senseless.  Then I realized I was late for class and just abandoned it while thinking "Hollow rope?  What the hell does that mean?")

"Boredome"

An hour before the next begins
Another see it gone?

Ablend between the forest green
an artificer's masterpiece
of leaves, of bark of mellow/stark
of life not lived in truer soil
I listen, me, I hear the toil
That wrestles knight to pawn
An hour before the next begins
Another see it gone!

The bell confounds my stomping-grounds
secretion through the letter
And drip
And drip
Your looser weather
feather by miserable feather
By mast, aloof, the sails be strung
That speak in all convulsive tongue
By spit, (word "forsaken" scribbled out) the fluid writer's hung
On noose of hollow rope

***

(no title.  Just a strange little quatrain I found in my Environmental Bio binder.  Probably about God, but honestly I can't remember.)

Indulge thy sense to draw it in
The sculptor of our scars
By we, whose hands incite the sin
Whose feet connect the stars
© Copyright 2003 Brian James Lee - All Rights Reserved
Janet Marie
Member Laureate
since 01-22-2000
Posts 18986


1 posted 01-08-2003 11:14 PM       View Profile for Janet Marie   Email Janet Marie   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Janet Marie

Beg????? MothyMOI??????
Naahhhhh ... moths dont beg..they genuflect rofl ....

I JUST LOOOOOVVVVVEEEE GETTING ME MOTHY WAY

I'll be back in a bit...want to inhale these properly

thanks for endulging me bug boyyyeeee

Moths dont care if the flame is real
The moth and flame got a sweetheart deal
Nothing fuels like flirtation
Like need, anger & desperation

A.M.

Janet Marie
Member Laureate
since 01-22-2000
Posts 18986


2 posted 01-09-2003 12:28 AM       View Profile for Janet Marie   Email Janet Marie   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Janet Marie

Like a bad rash...Im BAAAAACK heh


Children so noble, the sporelings of sin
Singing their scorn to the shadow that flies
Skipping so outward but strangled within
Nothing to lighten the pins from our eyes

==================
whoa...deep deep...
those first two lines are soooo cool...
this begs to be used in future masterpieces.

shadows of the sky chant
=====================

how cool is that line and image..so surreal
keep this one in mind for future rhymes divine. *S*

quote:
Blah at my older poetry, it's pretty primitive.  But at least it's improvisational.)


primitive? nope...and as much as we hate going back and reading our earlier stuff..its a good tool to measure our growth and see our muses strengths and foundations as well...look at all the imagery and symbolism so evident in this piece...
your work has greatly matured but thankfully hasnt outgrown your style.

Dans les feuilles de l'automne,
sur l'écorce du érable,
dans les lames solitaires de l'herbe,
j'écris ton nom.



speak english baby...ENGLISH!!
the moth aint biwingual
I dont have a clue what this says..but it sure sounds good. *L*


Ablend between the forest green
an artificer's masterpiece
of leaves, of bark of mellow/stark
of life not lived in truer soil
I listen, me, I hear the toil
That wrestles knight to pawn
An hour before the next begins
Another see it gone!

The bell confounds my stomping-grounds
secretion through the letter
And drip
And drip
Your looser weather
feather by miserable feather
By mast, aloof, the sails be strung
That speak in all convulsive tongue
By spit, (word "forsaken" scribbled out) the fluid writer's hung
On noose of hollow rope

======================

rhymes divine--late for class???
seems like a fair trade to me
Hollow rope?  WAAAAAAY COOL

Indulge thy sense to draw it in
The sculptor of our scars
By we, whose hands incite the sin
Whose feet connect the stars

===================================

If you dont use this piece of poetry in motion..the moth will haunt you forever more
that verse must be given wings to fly.


I thank thee on genuflect knee
for spoiling me with thy scraps of poetry.
I swear upon my muse's meager pen ...
never to use wouldst or couldst again.

ROFL I owed ya

thanks Bri-guy.

Moths dont care if the flame is real
The moth and flame got a sweetheart deal
Nothing fuels like flirtation
Like need, anger & desperation

A.M.

bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 01-03-2000
Posts 8382


3 posted 01-09-2003 06:12 PM       View Profile for bsquirrel   Email bsquirrel   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for bsquirrel

When I read "Ton Nom" I couldn't get the Beatles' "You Know My Name (Look Up the Number)" out of my head. Progress, indeed.

I liked these scraps. They felt equally tossed-off and lived in, and afforded me a glimpse of you in the raw, without all the clothing and shields that measured structure brings.

Did that make one cent of sense?

In other words:

Loved 'em for what they are
and what they aren't.

.m.
LoveBug
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Moderator
Member Ascendant
since 01-08-2000
Posts 5015


4 posted 01-09-2003 07:50 PM       View Profile for LoveBug   Email LoveBug   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for LoveBug

*looks at the French*

EWW, Canadian poetry!

But Brian scraps.. should have known they wouldn't be anything less that what his stingy self chooses to post.

"Sunshine is mystery, warmth is a dream
All in the distance of galaxies far
Slowly, their voices rise high in a scream
O what vainglorious beings we are"

That is my favorate stanza of any of them, I must say. All of these pieces have great talent shining through them, however.

Just can the French, ok?

Peace I leave with you, My peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you.--Jesus Christ

Local Parasite will be notified of replies
 Post A Reply Post New Topic   Go to the Next Oldest/Previous Topic Return to Topic Page Go to the Next Newest Topic 
All times are ET (US) Top
  User Options
>> Sanctuary >> Poetic Haven >> Scraps Format for Better Printing EMail to a Friend Create a Greeting Card with this Poem
Print Send ECard

 

pipTalk Home Page | Main Poetry Forums

How to Join | Member's Area / Help | Private Library | Search | Contact Us | Today's Topics | Login
Discussion | Tech Talk | Archives | Sanctuary



© Passions in Poetry and netpoets.com 1998-2013
All Poetry and Prose is copyrighted by the individual authors