Bay 12 Games Forum

Finally... => Creative Projects => Topic started by: TD1 on May 24, 2016, 04:27:28 pm

Title: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on May 24, 2016, 04:27:28 pm

So, I was inspired by Jopax's "Daily Draw" (http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=156872.msg6863618#msg6863618) to create this thread, in which I will endeavour to post a poem per day. To accompany each poem I will probably add a prompt, so that any wishing to join in may do so. The general idea is to give myself motivation to write, as I have been doing precious little of it as is, but anybody wishing to join in is welcome. The prompt may be heeded or ignored as the individual sees fit.

So under the prompt of "Intimacy" -

Gentle as dreaming, friendly seeming
The darkness of the sheen, the light
Behind the veil of skin. How nights
Could pass, with nothing but the steady
Beat of heart-on-heart. How hand
And body joined, and were found ready
For the love that others scorn to dream of.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Jopax on May 26, 2016, 04:12:54 pm

Cool to see you going trough with this :D

I'm not much of a poem person but I'll give this a PTW in case something interesting comes up, so keep at it bro :D

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on May 26, 2016, 04:47:22 pm

Thanks - not going to lie, I forgot about it for a bit there while I finished my last exam, but here's one for today. I'm going to change it so that I'll post a prompt after a poem and then write something for it the next day. Given that wasn't the intention from the start, I'm simply going to forgo giving this one a prompt.

A darkness broods upon a throne
Gnawing upon a jagged bone.
"Bring me my wife" he roars;
They bring his ragged crone.

"My love," she croons, "you call for me;
Perhaps your days you wish to see,
For as you know, the future flies
And I know all that is to be.

A grunt received, she weaves her tale
Of journeys fruitful, hopes that fail
And other varied normal things -
But near the end she gives a wail.

"My lord, your future looms as tall
As any tree within an elf-lord's hall-
But heed me, husband of my heart
Even such trees must die and fall.

And you will meet your end by blade
Of light, by one who loves the Elven glade
And learned the Dwarven way to fight;
Alas for glory so to fade!"

Her King abides her words, but now
Grabs hold her hand, and shows her how
He means to make the free world fall -
In death, he makes her bow.

A darkness broods upon a throne
Gnawing a jagged bone -
No call gives he, nor stir he makes
But bides in shade, himself alone.

Not a particularly good one, but it is a particularly rushed one so there. For tomorrow: A forest at night.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Cheesecake on May 27, 2016, 03:00:46 am

PTW, and good luck with this! Might join in too.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on May 27, 2016, 06:03:45 pm

Walking along a moonlit path I saw
A tree in front of me, but one
Of many in a midnight gathering.
Yet it was solitary, free
Though often swept by wind and gale - it stood
Surrounded by a leafy company.

How men could strive to equal such a feat
Of isolation in the storm
Will never be revealed to me. Alas,
For like that sentinel we're worn
By blast. Buffeted by chance and ill
We fall. Yet it stands sentinel there still.

Now when I've passed that place and gone
Where day is shining and the song
Of birds uplifts the heart of man and beast,
Still yet I bring to mind its strength,
Its elder captured majesty. Bark and leaf
Alive in darkness, while I pass and grieve.

For tomorrow: Health

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: ShadowHammer on May 28, 2016, 12:54:43 am

Radical poetry, dude! Keep up the good work!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on May 28, 2016, 06:31:55 pm

Quote from: ShadowHammer on May 28, 2016, 12:54:43 am

Radical poetry, dude! Keep up the good work!

Thanks!

Father of a friend, in crutches.
Not known to me, and yet
His action and inaction
Effect his son. A friend's father
He is to me, and yet he is
Profound.

He does not act within my life,
His voice but rarely heard.
But why should I begin to slight
His pain. A man like that has but
One wish – to end his life or to
Be cured.

No, were it in my power now
I'd have him walk. Man should
Not stride in life as he is thought
To move in death. But nothing done
And nothing thought can be, and so
He fades.

For tomorrow: Meeting in an abandoned house

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on May 29, 2016, 06:03:10 pm

The moon rode hard the skies on high
As if the devil drove her sails -
The clouds her streaming flags flashed by
And stars, which looked upon a far-off trail,
Were playing down amongst the sedge
Where a wand'ring lantern lit the way
Along that pale white arc of road.
Hard on the chalk the hooves
Plunged where they ne'er would during day,
Fell on the moonlit path which led to where
Some distant visage forged of brick arose;
A skein of smoke-like mortar mixed with stone
That seemed still trapped in ancient throes
Of death. And here he pulled in rein
And left his horse to graze the grass.
Himself, he stood as if in pain
Before the entrance to that house
And often did his grey lit gaze alight
Upon some ancient common place
Whereon a sharp-tinged longing passed
Across the hard planes of his face.
Knocking the door, he stood with care
His sword unsheathed and gleaming there,
But though his pounding shook the frame,
No answer to his ready hearing came.
The hinges shrieked then broke before his arm.
Within, the stairway led to distant rooms
And spiders made their many haunts
Amongst the silver of the chandelier -
Belittling, as they would with taunts,
The man who dared to face them here.
Still silent moved he, and a lance
Of light seemed carried in his hand
Where searching moonbeams caught the blade
He held yet rigid at his side.
Each room he passed so choked with dust
Seemed like a shutting pain inside,
And often he would hesitate before
Some fragment or reminding shard
Of a former faded glory. Before long
He'd move onwards, but with each step
A weight seemed loaded on his shoulders-
Furrows made once a comely face seem hard.
At last this pilgrim found his prize;
A man in rags cut from the drapes
Whose very frailness seemed to be
A form of provocation to the sight -
The man stood still, and yet his eyes
Spoke of some hidden inner battle fought.
"Why have you called" the grated question came,
"Why order me back to this place?"
No answer did the form reveal,
For in the folds the wrinkled head
Lay resting, smiling, calm
Above a corpse whose heart was dead.
Outside, the lonely owl voiced sorrow
Whilst the man within laid down his blade.


Heavily inspired by the Listeners (http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/47546), a poem I highly recommend you read. It is part of why I started writing in the first place. What I wrote is only a pale imitation - this is the real deal.

For tomorrow: An animal in its natural habitat.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on June 01, 2016, 05:53:04 pm

Savannah and the plains,
Rugged mountains of red,
Red clay. The sun a water mark
Of yellow on a liquid day,
When heat is all that quenches
Thirst. Lions in studied ease
Watching for prey. The hot, hot
Day. An antelope flies past,
But dies to break some beast's
Repast. The great cat is at home
Where we are furthest from it.
The lion's mane is dust and dun
Threads of golden fibre
Picked out as with tools by sun;
The noble sun, the bestial sun
That preys upon the weak
The thirsty and the damned.
Its children learn from it the art
Of killing.

For tomorrow: A fantastical circumstance (fantasy in an every day setting)

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: MoonyTheHuman on June 02, 2016, 01:26:04 am

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on May 29, 2016, 06:03:10 pm

The moon rode hard the skies on high
As if the devil drove her sails -
The clouds her streaming flags flashed by
And stars, which looked upon a far-off trail,
Were playing down amongst the sedge
Where a wand'ring lantern lit the way
Along that pale white arc of road.
Hard on the chalk the hooves
Plunged where they ne'er would during day,
Fell on the moonlit path which led to where
Some distant visage forged of brick arose;
A skein of smoke-like mortar mixed with stone
That seemed still trapped in ancient throes
Of death. And here he pulled in rein
And left his horse to graze the grass.
Himself, he stood as if in pain
Before the entrance to that house
And often did his grey lit gaze alight
Upon some ancient common place
Whereon a sharp-tinged longing passed
Across the hard planes of his face.
Knocking the door, he stood with care
His sword unsheathed and gleaming there,
But though his pounding shook the frame,
No answer to his ready hearing came.
The hinges shrieked then broke before his arm.
Within, the stairway led to distant rooms
And spiders made their many haunts
Amongst the silver of the chandelier -
Belittling, as they would with taunts,
The man who dared to face them here.
Still silent moved he, and a lance
Of light seemed carried in his hand
Where searching moonbeams caught the blade
He held yet rigid at his side.
Each room he passed so choked with dust
Seemed like a shutting pain inside,
And often he would hesitate before
Some fragment or reminding shard
Of a former faded glory. Before long
He'd move onwards, but with each step
A weight seemed loaded on his shoulders-
Furrows made once a comely face seem hard.
At last this pilgrim found his prize;
A man in rags cut from the drapes
Whose very frailness seemed to be
A form of provocation to the sight -
The man stood still, and yet his eyes
Spoke of some hidden inner battle fought.
"Why have you called" the grated question came,
"Why order me back to this place?"
No answer did the form reveal,
For in the folds the wrinkled head
Lay resting, smiling, calm
Above a corpse whose heart was dead.
Outside, the lonely owl voiced sorrow
Whilst the man within laid down his blade.


Heavily inspired by the Listeners (http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/47546), a poem I highly recommend you read. It is part of why I started writing in the first place. What I wrote is only a pale imitation - this is the real deal.

For tomorrow: An animal in its natural habitat.

thank you for mentioning me (Moon) in your poem (;

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on June 04, 2016, 08:57:32 pm

You're very welcome.

Someone remind me to avoid the moon-struck lovers cliche.

I had trouble adhering to the prompt, so I eventually figured I may as well cling to it in as loose a fashion as I could.

I am beside you always.
Whispering, letting you know
That what is best for you
Is what is right.
I am the cloak that hides
Your thought, your hope,
Your greed, your hunger,
Hate, despair, desire for more.
I am what you would label bad
Yet keep within yourself.
I am external, and yet you
Forged a thousand links
To make me internal.
I am what lies beside you
When you dream your darkest thoughts
At night. Each notion that you hide
From others for the fear
That hatred will mark you
I keep within. When day is brightest
I am darkest, so that you may know
Goodness may succeed sometimes,
But hate and ire is all you'll ever sow.
Until your day of death, I will enshroud
And follow you. Then in the darkness
Of the tomb, I will exhale. Diffuse
Into the night and leave you.
Then a squalling babe, lit by harsh light,
Will open its eyes. And I will be there.
Foetal. Growing. Some child's forgotten,
Unassuming shadow.

Not going to lie, I want to try out my sonnet skills. For tomorrow: Love, or any other sonnet-able topic.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on June 08, 2016, 09:17:28 pm

-Snippety-

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on June 15, 2016, 09:07:53 am

Drat. I keep procrastinating. Still, I'm writing more than normal, which is good.

I saw her on the movie screen,
And thought she was for me.
Long curls of chestnut hair
As fair as fair could be.
And though she was beyond my league,
I knew her heart was true;
And so I thought, as fools will do
That she and I were meant to be.

Her acting left the crowd in tears,
Though laughter came as well.
Swift scenes of dialogue -
Such beauty, none could tell!
But with 'la fin' her presence fled
To leave me on my own;
By all accounts, so much alone
Existence was a type of hell.

For tomorrow: a long sea voyage.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on June 15, 2016, 09:17:23 am

A Haiku on Cinema

Silver screen, shining,
Men with popcorn, reclining.
Sit, start relaxing.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on June 15, 2016, 08:56:35 pm

Haiku has never been my favourite form, as it requires a certain amount of delicacy which I lack. I prefer more room to breathe, but you just casually threw out a cohesive poem. I'm impressed.

To whom may we deliver scorn,
When on a cloud tossed tempest night
The sails are broken down, or worn
Into a newer, shabby, faded sight?
'Tis true I'm but a sailor, far from home
With naught to keep me company
But dreams of home, and nightmares
From the works of Melville.
But who'll pay the butcher's bill
When waves come crashing over
And the moon sits watching sedate and still
As waters break the precious hull.
Will it be John, whom we have named the strong
Or even me, within whose breast
Still beats a heart that longs to live?
To whom may I pray, but this uncut rock
That was granted unto me by my future,
My sweeter days to come
Who even now waits at home, beside the sea
Where trellis flowers wind their way.
Aquamarine, I pray to you.
Aquamarine, grant me resist all sin.
Aquamarine, save me from death
Bring me back to my kith and kin.

For tomorrow: Possessions. I'm thinking specifically inherited, but any type of possession will do. Hell, even demonic. :P

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on June 15, 2016, 09:09:14 pm

On occasion, I like to think I can string together a few random words. The hardest part was the third line, because I realized that the first two were a rhyme and once you go that far you can't go without a third! Obligatory haiku again.

Broken bed of stone,
Shattered masts and pale, bleak bones.
Scylla mounts her throne.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on June 16, 2016, 07:50:45 pm

No lie, that last one is my favourite Haiku ever.

In silent contemplation of the past
A chest of drawers leans its battered head
Upon the wall, stalwart as any mast;
Though all its crew are long since dead,
Still it remembers hands that brushed its wood
And maybe exhaled on the varnish, hoping that
A mist would blemish its perfection
Or lend it some new regal air.

Around, other remnants are beached
In perfect, calculated cold indifference.
The Belleek is mixed with Tyrone,
Mahogany brushes stately shoulders with the oak
And, worst of all, that idle puff of gilt
Which once gleamed on a Clock's grand crown
Has fallen off and is degraded in the dust.

Behold inheritance, the past of the future.
When tomorrow comes, like some Grotesque
A body rises through that hatch and breathes the dust,
Then looks about for the old and the frail, to sell.
And so the hands that loved and cleaned, then failed
Send newer ones to look with cold, unloving eye
Upon the loyal and the fair. The chest of drawers
Is the first to go, dragged through the dust
As by some predator. Who can say whether to leave
Is to be given life, or to be made to die?

For tomorrow: A Rondeau (https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/rondeau)

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on June 16, 2016, 11:47:59 pm

Dwaw. Thank you! But what cruelty! How shall I make a rondeau haiku? This shall be a challenge...

Or I could write something that isn't a haiku.

Maybe.

One step at a time. But here is a tri-set of haikus to make up for it.

A small ring of brass,
A diamond, fit like glass,
But love? Not a dash.

Love comes from inside.
Love forgives the look outside.
Love stays by one's side.

Seek out truest Love,
Gold of Heaven, high above,
Love stands, push or shove.

It remains.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on June 17, 2016, 06:09:29 pm

I loved her once, when I was young
In days when songs were sweetly sung
To give her credit every way
Her lips would move, her hips would sway -
Oh, how by me her beauty far was flung!

But weary now is made my tongue,
As on the fields the petals thickly strung
Block out the healing sun shine of the day.
I loved her once, when I was young.

As per, the pendulum of time has swung
And shown me all the follies of the young.
She is gone now, and by no means I may
See where her path has gone, or where it lay.
But though our final bells have long since rung,
I loved her once when we were young.

For tomorrow: A Haiku :P

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on June 17, 2016, 10:38:47 pm

There we go. A Rondeau thing! And tomorrow... I'll see if I can hook up a haiku about haikus!

Come ye lads, and let us sing!
From the rafters, let music ring!
Dance the dance of love and light,
Look to the faces, both warm and bright!
Good cheer and joy, let all us bring!

Nary gloom nor dim despairing,
Here, oh my! That'd be quite glaring!
Recline and smile, your heart, relax.
Come, come ye lads, and let us sing!

Our work is done, let us be merry!
Pour out at last that joyful sherry!
We'll drink together till dawn doth rise,
And dream of tomorrow; wherever that lies.
Where burdens now we no longer carry,

Come ye lads, and let us sing!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on June 18, 2016, 08:10:29 pm

We wake. We watch sky,
Love each other, sometimes cry.
Then, when done, we die.

For tomorrow: Dawn in a foreign country.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on June 18, 2016, 08:51:35 pm

A lovely Haiku,
Is perfect when you are blue.
They make the world new.

Hah! Haikuception!

EDIT: This is relevant. (http://the-thiefoflight.tumblr.com/post/146117349921/fenrir-kin-sirartwork-because-ive-lost)

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on June 21, 2016, 07:51:42 pm

Busy few days there! My apologies. I'll try to write one now. It is now 01:37.
11 minutes later...

In France, the fairy dawn arrives
And swings great arcs of blue
Across the humble people's drives,
Reflected in the gleaming drops of dew.

Across the mighty Somme, a ray of sun
Touches with blushing finger tips
The whiteness of the tombs.
It shudders, recalling recent wounds.

Flitting amongst the stalks, it shows
Its newness to the freshest shoots
Of grass. And there, as red as memory,
It paints it all, from stem to roots.

Further, further the moving body hastens
Into uplands airy, through the silent valley
Impressions fair but fleeting as the dawn
Is drawn, is inexorably caught and pulled.

Urban graces, the gleam of kettles
And vehicles in the streets. The scent of bread,
The churches with the blinding steeples white.
The graveyards of the honoured dead.

Then, France laid bare, it moves on
Catching at the fleeing moonbeams,
Rushing for oceans and for countries far;
Seeking for new folk, and new dreams.

For tomorrow: Shakespeare

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on June 21, 2016, 10:25:19 pm

Not completely following any poetic schema this time, but I still like it enough. Glad to see you're still doing this!

On foreign fields, I lay my head.
In grains of grass, by horses tread.
Nighttime bliss, I would not forget,
Were not by the sun, her beauty did beget.

As she rose across the sky,
I swear I saw doves begin to fly.
The air was filled with amber rays.
Sweeping light; kissing my blinded gaze.

Fields afar, how I might miss you.

But you are nothing like my home.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on June 23, 2016, 05:52:27 pm

I am Ophelia, daughter of Polonius.
Long waited I for love's sweet kiss,
Watched seasons pass in multitude
And heeded all commands of Claudius.
Alas for poor Ophelia, of whom 'tis said
None knew her well. I weep, for death
And pain. Laertes! Do not avenge me
For when they tell you how I died
The answer's not my love, but fair insanity!
I weep, and as my tears the river flows
Washing me clean. Clean, clean as this
My blood. His words were venom
But were truth. Hamlet, the noble man
Whose spirit met the bravest charge,
Whose forehead furrowed over eyes
In which the spark of war alit.
Fair Hamlet! Bravest of all on the isles,
Professed his love to me then fled
And left me broken, with my heart in two
Mourning my sire….by him left dead.
You gleaming tides of holy fire, burn me!
Let purgatory be my fate, so long as I
Am swept aside before such thoughts.
Blood...blood, and father fighting friend
To guide my memory at this, my end.
They call me mad, but who is mad
In this nonsensical world but those
Who are tolerant of the contradiction?
Lord God, giver of light and darkness
Take my own light and dark now
I pray. Let me not see the grim conclusion
Of this darkest of all days.

For tomorrow: a monument

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on June 24, 2016, 07:34:51 pm

Grim.
Left by others,
Yet for us.
It rises,
Stone
Remembers
Those who died
Of blood and bone.
A splash of
Colour. Red
Remembers
Those who died,
Those who are dead.

For tomorrow: A descriptive poem, using an object.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: NRDL on June 24, 2016, 07:55:49 pm

"Tick Tock"

Gaze upon this watch, my friend
lined with gold and trim yet
beats with the fury of something alive
The ceaseless drive that defies any notion
of dying and just latches on to both wrist and heart
And makes itself at home
Look my friend at this artist's work
This face, deceptive
Inviting attention, demanding seduction
To the beat, the whirr, of gears and springs
Not unlike yours, it seems
Listen friend to the tick of the clock
The only sound that shall ever be known
in your ears, in your head, as you beg it to stop
Fear not, it is a most gentle ache
Dear friend, take this watch
You don't believe me, but you certainly will
When I say it is free, but not
For when you take the watch, you will with ages learn
That it's taken something from you as well.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on June 25, 2016, 10:16:42 am

Down with the words, roses are red.
Too contrite, that's not where I shall head.
That path has already been tread.

Perhaps the line, there is always time.
Bah! A phrase like that isn't worth a dime.
Besides, it's too damn hard to rhyme.

Down it goes, into the waste basket.
It's final destination, it's casket.

Crumple, crumple roll.

Goodbye poem.

Another pittance for the grave.
Poems no angel can save.

It's not enough for a poem to be great.
The need for passion it must sate.
If it survives where none thrive,  then that's fate.

It's saved from being another basket case.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on June 25, 2016, 12:49:47 pm

Two great poems, there!

They can call it a silver bullet
With my name engraved upon it.
A writer's shame, to have his name
Upon his blade, or so they've said.
It is my pen, and it can write
The boldest lines of black,
Write of Shakespeare or Bach,
And still be ready for its use
At hands of passion, or of muse.

Like me, it bears my name
A small thing, but it bears no shame.

For tomorrow: The sea in storm

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on June 25, 2016, 07:15:35 pm

Danke, though that is actually more than just one. But, I think I have another to make it two!

An ode to my recliner,
You were never designer.
You were ratty and old,
All truth to be told.

But you were my friend,
Even till the end.
After the day was done,
You weren't really fun.

But you let me sit down,
Without a single frown.
You were comfortable bliss,
Even when the day was piss.

A little bit of home,
Wherever I would roam.
Oh my dearest chair,
Your loss is more than I can bear.

But my memory grows fonder,
Where ever I wander,
And when ringing on by,
My heart, it doth sigh.

Goodbye.

Edit: Ooh. I like this one. It felt natural when writing it.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on June 27, 2016, 12:33:05 pm

I don't think I've ever seen someone rhyme bliss with piss before :P

Come foam, foul weather and the spray!
I'll mix the three on this dark day.
The salt and turquoise of the wave
Forged are for me, to be mine slave.
Come cataract and hurricanoe,
I will rupture this fair bay!

Green silks from out the deep,
I wake you from your sleep;
Rise now as red as thunder's blow,
Wake all the monsters from below.
The day is now to take the land,
Our ancient holding and our oldest keep.

Ten thousand years we have been kept,
The whale has floundered, Kraken slept
But on this day the heavens will obey
And help the ocean on its way.
Unleash the powers of the skies,
Bring flood for every drop you've wept.

Hear us, oh man! Listen now with wonder
To the rage of those who were your plunder
Since time immemorial. Splinter of rock,
And streaming froth against the dock
Call to you now. Sleep, if you dare -
Our coming echoes with the thunder.

For tomorrow: a poem based on another poet's work. (For example, use the same style as Tennyson, Coleridge, etc. or keep the same theme or subject.)

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on June 27, 2016, 02:28:35 pm

Aye, the highs and low of the human experience all in one rhyme. ^.^

Rise, ye saucy mates!
Blast, damn ye crew oh savage.
Beware ye the storm!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on June 29, 2016, 06:54:43 pm

Same theme and scheme as Yeats' "Sailing to Byzantium (https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/sailing-byzantium)," written as an ottava rima. Comparing the two is a great help in that it shows the distance I've yet to go!

The city of the golden lights delights
In youth and patronage. The father's face,
Before the closing day restrains the sights
Most humbling to us of the human race,
Brings peace. But we have seen the brighter lights
Shining from fair Byzantium, and raise
The banners of the angels high. What age
Can poison we who live within that cage?

Perhaps some Grecian Urn will bring us life
And we will live in orchards, red-rimmed fair
Before the setting, rising sun. The knife
Of youth oft cuts those who do not beware
Such visions, seemingly devoid of strife
Yet offering the temptation of the snare -
Ours is the subtler path, who fleeing come
To grace the streets of artifice, Byzantium.

The Empire sleeps, yet still it dreams the song
That lifts us to the golden boughs of spring.
Who is to say the way of art is wrong,
That we aught not to raise jewelled wings and sing
Full throated as the poets did in days long gone!
None but the hands our fathers left to ring
Last season's bells, that we may listen thoughtfully
And see our pleasures in the light of melancholy.

For tomorrow: Tolkien. Okay, I'm being biased because I love his poetry, sue me :P.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on June 30, 2016, 06:16:58 pm

I'll join soon.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on June 30, 2016, 07:14:11 pm

More...err...figurative blood for the poetry gods!

Oh Theoden the wandering king
Who lived a life of war -
His brow was covered with the locks
Of hair the colour of the sun.

His hand held spear and sword,
His horse was fleet and strong.
From foal to sire the blood was given,
Through years of plenty, seasons long.

Now hear the Southron clash of steel!
They feel your noble blood, and fear
That they now face the Rohan King.
Rohirrim horses they can hear!

Race now o'er vale and field
Ride on the horses swift and sure
Come down to Gondor in its need
And of the dangers take no heed.

The burning brand has come
To smite the Witch King's army,
Hear the thunder of the hooves
Look where the horse-flesh runs.

Oh Theoden! Blood from Gondor
To Gondor goes, and in its hour
Raises the honour high, gives life
For pledges old and times long gone.

For tomorrow: An encounter at the circus.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on July 01, 2016, 09:39:02 am

Quote from: Tomasque on June 30, 2016, 06:16:58 pm

I'll join soon.

Huzzah!

As for Tolkien... Well I'll give it a shot. He was known for alliteration, aye? So we'll give that a go.

From home to horrors, the homely hobbit had away.
Narry tea, nor noonfeast, oh nay!
To travel to the lands afar to try his lot.
To cast a curious ring callously into a cragged pot.

Now none could nag him for his task.
Bale and brooding that bling, in evil did it bask.
Charms and chilling powers had it, that chained the soul.
Frightening the freemen and the forest men of ol'.

Alone, all would anguish beneath it's weight.
For freemen, foresters, aye, for all that was fate.
However, a hobbit had a friend, a helping hand.
Lightening the load, and lending him aid through the land.

Together, this time alone, they took to Mordor's might.
Even through evil evenings and the ethereal realms of night.
For a friend is a friend who will help you to do,
All that they can, and then be there for you.

Together, they went farther than when alone.
Together, they took down mountains made of stone.
For when you're with a wily, wonderful friend,
Then there no telling when your story might end.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on July 01, 2016, 12:51:08 pm

Up in the gallery

 I was up inside the gallery and she was riding down below,
and I watched her ride around and around in the Direktor's show.
 He held her by the waist then let the gray horse run around the ring.
She was as free as she could be - or was she really suffering?

 I heard a good man say once that if the same people down below,
were clapping like steam hammers as the master forced her through the show,
 one could find the courage to run down into that performing ring
and yell "Stop!" loud - make the whole crowd halt - and then end her suffering.

 But the circus leader wasn't hurting anyone down below,
and even seemed to hesitate before putting her on the show.
 He watched her with worried eyes as she ran the horse around the ring.
He gazed with fear - I shed a tear - who is to say she's suffering?
 
 
 Based on a story by Kafka (of the same name). 16 syllables in every line and a "inside rhyme" in every fourth line. I'm pretty darn proud of this.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on July 01, 2016, 06:52:19 pm

Be proud. That's pretty damn good sir!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on July 01, 2016, 07:46:37 pm

Tres bien!


Such ruffled fur, a mighty roar.
Left in the grasses of the plain
It would seem dull, blend in
But here its colour is like rain -
Refreshing and redeeming.
I smile to see it, hear the yells
Of infant voices – the squabble
From this strange primate.
Its ears prick, its eyes flash once:
You disturb my rest. Begone,
Or we will see what iron holds
And what it will let through.
I sighed to see it so, massed muscle
Caught and preened and taught,
Found in the wilderness then wrought
To suit this newer purpose.
But it wasn't until I got home,
With lightness in my heart
The memory of jugglers, flame
And beast still heavy on my mind
That I could feel the heaviness,
The rainbow, rainbow, rainbow
Of the fur, and think how I had
Seen a beast of Paradise, not only
Passed it by but left it be
And never spared a thought for it,
No drop of common empathy.
And suddenly the day fell flat,
Peace left;  with fullest fervour
Mind and thought turned back,
Back through the hours
Until I walked once more
Through the gleaming artificial arch
And saw that beast, and didn't pass
But looked it in its wild-still eye
Before nodding, as an equal to its match,
Though knowing it was greater still
Then turn for home, with thought for
Claw and tooth, fur, tempered by
One green gleam of an unrestrainéd eye.

For tomorrow: the grounds of an estate. Either describing them, or an occurrence on one.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on July 01, 2016, 08:40:37 pm

Oh God, not the clowns.
No! I am too young to die!.
Please, don't stop running!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on July 02, 2016, 05:36:51 am

Haha, that one was unexpected. I laughed  :)

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on July 03, 2016, 06:52:17 pm

Sweet Manderley! The lawns that sweep
Down to the gravel of the luring sea,
The buttresses of gleaming stone
Before an ever dawning sun.

Blood rose, blood rose blooms there
Where forest meets the tame. Ah Manderley!
Infamy is your mantle, and your shame.
In what dark corner lies her bones?

Her whose hands opened doors, whose
Footsteps echoed with proprietorial air
With each assured disclosure of the shoe.
Come, Manderley! Reveal her grave

For time is going on, and now the autumn
Leaves the grounds in disarray -
It does not care that colour be drained
Or that hair once brilliant may be dimmed.

The mighty roar the sea exhales
Is as the sorrow of the men.
Washed through her dress, and in her shoes
To kill that calm proficiency.

Most Noble Manderley, most sad as well.
Gleam seasons on the lawn, the well-cut hedge
Breathe life into its paintings and its elegance.
Somewhere she lies, in life more fair than thee
Before she went....before the sea.

My posting will be infrequent after tomorrow as I'm going on holiday. If I don't post a prompt, feel free to improvise.

For tomorrow: Gold, jewellery and silver.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on July 04, 2016, 02:52:51 am

Oops. I missed that last one.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on July 04, 2016, 06:44:40 am

It doesn't have to be time perfect. The day-by-day thing is more of a guideline - just post for whatever prompt is current, if you feel like it.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on July 04, 2016, 07:30:42 am

Not sure if I've ever been on or around anything that can be qualified as an estate. So I'll go for the nearest social equivalent. Farms!

Fields of green and ears of gold.
A little bit dull all truth be told.
Wave upon wave of amber grain,
Can nearly drive a man insane.

With cows for friends and hens for fun,
One day's work has at once begun.
Feed the fowl and milk the cow.
All the worse if you keep pig sows.

But perhaps there is joy in all this work.
Fulfillment found beneath all the murk.
There is joy in all that work.
So let your duties, ye never shirk.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on July 04, 2016, 08:32:18 am

Really, never? I've been to one or two, even on primary school trips.

As for farms, gotta love 'em. Though I may be biased given I live on one.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on July 04, 2016, 02:50:02 pm

Well, stateside I grew up in a rural area. I may have been at a wealthier person's house once, but there is nothing that I would quite label an estate.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on July 18, 2016, 05:17:33 pm

Well this seems to have ground to a halt. Alas, poetry can not keep me from the vice which is holiday.


Mine me boys, mine
Fer what's below to get.
It graces richer folk
But brings us milk and bread.
Mine me boys, mine
And pick thon silver stream.
It's ten times our salary
But we can nae start to dream.
Mine me boys, mine
Shovel the ashen lead
But do nae get in
Over your coal-choked head.
Mine me boys, mine
Wha cares you cough at night?
Doc says to stay indoors,
Though sick men get no pay.
Mine me boys, mine!
Strain 'gainst the rock and bone
We bring up valu-baubles
But nothing do we own;
Fer it's true what they say
Of those who mine the depths -
We mine me boys, mine
But in the end it's theirs!

For tomorrow: the seasons

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on July 18, 2016, 07:17:55 pm

Poems last always,
Threads of words and timeless praise,
Necromancy, yay!

Glad to see the thread woke up again. I prefer more or less just posting on occasion more than anything!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on July 19, 2016, 12:48:48 pm

Ah, Spring, Spring, Spring!
It has arrived, like some
Green fingered lady from the country
Who sows the seed and dances,
Green on yellow, blue and white
Above – ten thousand speckled,
Precious things left in the nest
And Daffodils, yellow as a razor
Hum their trumpet tunes to themselves
Beside some stretch of ice-melt water.

Then it is gone, but we recall that song
As growing from the darkness comes
The sun, and he is heard to hum
Beside the ever stretching blue.
Beaches surge to the sound of surf
And children run to see if they can get
The coveted cone, sweetness in the sun!
Grandparents sit, stripped of their youth
But smile with their remembrance of the summers
That they once had, swinging on aged boughs
And swimming in the country rivers.

Gone! The cycle quickens and the earth winds down
To orange, orange, orange! The colours
Burst from plant and tree in haloes
And the hedgehog tumbles in the ditch,
Playful and wise with his pattern.
Each night is crisp with memory of where
The wheel has taken them, and stealing
Along the sky the sun is often clouded
And bearded, old yet full of life.
How the seasons can balance on a knife!

Each germ now comes to this, the colour gone
And spectre grey the country side.
The lady sowed her last and leaves
The barren lanes, the stricken trees.
She smiles, however, as she still knows
That ice can form and crystallise, but
She will be back when the wheel turns
And in the meantime snow can fall
Enchanting all who watch the country sleep
Into thinking they are arriving at some ball
The fair folk held. May the lake freeze
And river hold its quiet noise!
We know the green, the glowing green,
The yellow and the orange, sky lark
Thrush and black bird,
Eventually will join their brother robin
With Pan to blow the pipes
And guide their steps in their predestined dance!

For tomorrow: a colour.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on July 20, 2016, 12:27:58 am

Seasons pass and seasons fall.
Winter, Summer, Spring takes us all.
Winter is cold,
and Fall grows old.
How many days pass under it's fold?

Too many, that's how much.
To live in the Bahamas, that'd be a clutch.
To live in sun and shining splendor,
And perhaps take some ice cream from a vendor.
Ah, what days to remember!

But would that be enough?
Could I take that kind of stuff?
Nay, I say.
Winter carries memories that all go their way.
And nothing quite beats the quiet Fall day.

Spring has it's fling.
And summer takes to it's wing.
But please also give me,
The quiet of a silenced tree,
And golden groves and snow-grown fields about me be.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on July 26, 2016, 09:58:33 pm

Silver flower, the dew of night cast
Like tears upon its surface
Pearly with wisdom, seeing death
Approach within its waxen sphere, but it is real
And dear to me, a humble thing this plant
Just silver, fans of silken heart
That capture one who dares -
So foolish he who dares! -
To look into its core of want, the typhoon
All mortals look upon with fear,
For it reveals that which we hold most dear.
Silver it is, and green, the gleaming plant
That I would hold, that I would love.
Desire is in its nature, though,
A thought wrought of the finest filigree
Too delicate ever to be touched;
But, by God, the beauty of its presence!
Want suffuses all with bursts of light,
Yet that which fuels it makes it flee;
The last light of the moon upon a distant crag,
Or froth upon the day's last volley from the sea.

For tomorrow: Greek mythology.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on August 02, 2016, 09:48:23 pm

-Snippety-
For tomorrow: Anything. (Bit of a cop out, but it's laaaate.)

As a side note, I've always felt deeply sorry for Calypso and her lost love, and for Odysseus who must stare ever for home while she tries to keep him company and content. It's always struck me as both poignant and sad.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on August 03, 2016, 07:00:38 pm

I stand along the bank, and have some thought
To blueness of the wave and shaded grotto
Where, so long ago, many a hand was dandled
Into the deep greenness. Here, Wordsworth held his pen
And shaded eyes that gleamed with unshed tears.
Here poets came in darker days, when full of fears
To gaze upon the greenness and the freshness,
The Eden of England, rugged and soft at once
With brooding height and shaded light.
Now here I come, with less a pen and more a thought
To hold in awe the blue-swept colour, magic in nature
Curve holding bluff and shard of rock, yet still
Enveloped in the gentle mists, softened and held
Gently, as with a child that needs but one soft tender touch
To know that it is loved. One can not help but sigh
To look into the waters and to breathe the air, to hike
The mountain trails of upland church, Yew and Oak
Towards the clearing deepness of the sky!

For tomorrow: An emotion.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on August 16, 2016, 01:48:00 am

Up above, a god's great eye
moves across the deep blue sky.
You can't see that now it cries:
When night comes, tears - frozen - lie.
Stained by sadness, never die.

Down below, a silver grin
though, in deep blue sea, a twin,
keeps - like brother - sadness in.
Pearly clouds slip out it's skin:
It cries, too, like brighter kin.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: RoseHeart on August 16, 2016, 03:03:09 am

I eat cake all day
To help me laugh away
Deepest sorrow I cannot say
Something missing, question mark
My heart is in the dark
For I feel Joy
While others weep dry tears
I climb trees While others hide from fears
Am I broken question mark
Or is it time I reverse the dark

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on August 16, 2016, 09:49:13 am

Sugar, I forgot to continue this. Thanks for reminding me - it's hard to get up the motivation to do it every day, and then I get caught up in other projects. Also, nice poems. I find it sad that when asked to write about emotion, we write on sadness - seems like a comment on all of us, heh.

In tales of old there ride
Great knights of Green and Blue
Who never counted men who died
In honour to be few.

Instead they raised the banner,
Flocked to noble cause -
Each one without a stammer
Quoted their rightful laws.

Each one in twilight stood
And fought to see the day -
Protectors of the dying wood,
Of hearth and crooked way.

Their sigils blew before their steeds,
The bards were heard to sing
In gracious tones the praise of deeds
Done in the name of lawful king.

But they are gone from here
And so we must decide -
Who will reject their fear,
Who'll stand against the tide?

None can, none will and least
Of all shall I be brave.
For I have never faced that beast
Nor would I venture to its cave.

Cowardice is all that remains, a
Stammer in the lawful book
Unwillingness to hold the blade
And fear to fight for good.

For tomorrow: Something based on mythology or fantasy.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on August 17, 2016, 07:11:25 pm

You looked at me with eyes of grey,
I knew you were my one.
Your hair was red as brightest day,
It blazed just like the sun.

My heart is yours, my dearest friend
That from my home has come-
From Emond’s Field your journeys wend,
And yet from me they run.

Oh yes, I knew you were for me
The moment I first saw
Your eyes the colour of the sea
That caused my heart to thaw.

A girl that spoke to me one day-
One fateful day of flight!
Told me that you and I’d not stay
A couple ‘neath the Light.

O woe, my love, don’t say it’s so!
I knew you since a child-
My love is free to stay or go,
For you it’s running wild.

Three girls to find, and you’re not one-
My dear, I love you yet…
And still, though you’re my sun
The sun must always set.

Three girls to find, and yet not me?
My hands they tremble, now,
How can you say these dreadful things,
How can you make this row!

The Wheel of Time weaves as it wills…

Speak not of Wheels, speak not of Time!
They both are nets to hold-
My love is endless as the rhyme
Of Ages long untold.

I speak because I’ve got a crown,
And you have got a Seat…
A Daughter Heir with eyes that drown
This day I chanced to meet.

The stole no longer is a gift,
It is a burden hard…
And yet, the Tower is my charge,
I have to stand as guard.

Goodbye, my dear, I’ve had my say
And miss your arms I do…
But fate has bound me off away
From home, from friends, from you.

I see. The harder sight I have of you,
The world is bound beneath
The chains that hold, with war as glue
And swords are on your wreath.

I must away, my precious friend,
I have a State to run-
I’ve found my three, and they love me,
You’ve ceased to be my sun…

The Wheel of Time weaves as it wills.

((Okay I didn't write that one today. Shoot me :) ))

For tomorrow: An unexpected guest.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on August 23, 2016, 07:22:53 pm

I didn't hear him enter, but he sure did come that night.
When I saw what he had done, it gave me quite a fright!
Our presents equally distributed - what a sight!

Spoiler: I thought they were just rumors... but he's alive, alright. (click to show/hide)

(http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_857d7YwSU5A/TRNVdHUJ8bI/AAAAAAAAARU/e5Yw3fWqExQ/s1600/santa-karl.png)

 It took awhile, I know.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on September 04, 2016, 01:07:38 am

 You know who would be an unexpected guest? Th4DwArfY1!

    oooh! burn!


 But seriously, please stick with this. You're not the only one who needs prompts to keep themselves going. Hell, I'll even throw a prompt in here:
 Jester
((Maybe I'm being biased in my decision, but whatever.))

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 04, 2016, 06:14:52 am

Ah, indeed, the burn was tremendous.

I've been busy lately settling in at Denmark, but I'll start up again tonight. Nice to see someone with interest, though!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 05, 2016, 05:41:12 pm

An unexpected guest

He has come, who I gave my name
Who I nurtured through infancy.
Things are no longer the same,
And yet he came for me
When I called, when I asked
Upon the folded sheets of death
That he be here. My talisman
Against encroaching fear,
My courage and my bravery.
He smiles that small, remembered
Insult on my nature
The man who left him
Broke his heart
Left his life, fled
To make a better start
With someone else.
I would cry if I were not dry,
So stiff and aged that youthfulness
Is but a dream for me.
I left him, yet he came.
Through the delirium that is death
I see his eyes shine blue
And through the glare, the
Last glare I'll ever look upon,
I see his face, his wonderful face.
How could I leave, when he was there?
Death gathers round me, held by but a hair -
But hand still struggles to move
To reach out through years
And touch that still-young face,
Perhaps to wipe away
A few unearn-ed tears.
But in the end, I lie
In thinking that I could,
For all that's good has gone but him,
And all the wells are dry.

Jester

His hands are fast, his wits are sharp
His eye is blazing light!
Gather around to see his work,
My friends; he's here until the night!
Astound your senses with his act
His juggling of the flame and ball.
But tarry longer, and you'll see
Performance better suited to a hall
Than this bare stretch of green.
Come, gather, see the colour
The blue, the white, the red and gold!
He makes each life seem fuller.

Laugh if that's your will, my friends, the time
Has come with setting of the sun!
He must leave now for food and sleep -
'Tis now the end of all your fun!
Away he'll be come morning's light
To some far-flung place to fling his name.
What's that? You think he is a sorry sight
To wander roads alone (all sights the same)
For nothing but a slim smile and copper bit.
Nay, you are wrong! His will is strong.
He does not weary of the road, nor grow
Too sad with passing of the year. The way
He walks is never melancholy,
And he lives to greet each coming day!

For tomorrow: dedication to a cause

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 07, 2016, 05:44:16 pm

Given you gave the Jester prompt, Tomasque, I expect you to complete it!

Anyway, for today:

Feast on the dead, crow, live
To eat the flesh of innocence.

Long have I lived to walk
This bare, reproachful earth
Seen suns that fell
And living hell.
I have battled the demons
That were in my soul
Yet also ones that walk
To take from life their toll.
Many lands flash before my gaze
Each individual, yet the same
Devoted to the same endless,
Destructive ways.
The years pile heavy on my shoulders
And my brow -
Why help the poor, the lonely?

No reason to it all,
Inherently it lacks sense.
Instead, let live the crow,
That feasts on innocence!

Then came the soothing hand
Upon my burning brow.
The years were sand that fell,
To sift into the rolling waves
That was my joy.
I was renewed, remembered
Love and hope. Long sat I
Under oak and elm and beech
Listening to the lessons
Only she could teach.

But time wears on, and fades
Life and its memories!
Her eyes, once bright, are dim
And I feel darkness gather,
Gather like my prior sin.
I have forgotten all I learned of laughter
Instead to feel rejection, the
Tetherlessness of a boat in the ocean
A bird underground.

She smiles at me with death
Already claiming her.

Curse the crow, and death as well!
I will subjugate heavens
Raise hells and oceans and beasts
If she would live.
So shall I do!
I live but for one thing,
To turn the tide no matter
What it costs
In effort or in dissonance.
Aye, I have given oath
To slay that thrice damned crow
Which feasts on innocence.

For tomorrow: Wings

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on September 08, 2016, 01:11:26 am

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on September 07, 2016, 05:44:16 pm

Given you gave the Jester prompt, Tomasque, I expect you to complete it!

In a jail a figure lies:  7
Unmoving gaze;. 4
Unmoved for days.  4
 within or from its stone stall.  7
Unbeknownst to anyone,. 7
 its mind is dead to all. 6

This is but the final scene.
Much has passed
 before this last
 page of story. It'd be best
 to begin from beginning:
The Jester's Jealous Jest.

It started when the king's wise fool -
 The king was wise
 but in the eyes
 of fool he was just a doll
 - saw the court thought him foolish;
Saw fit to mock them all.

In his time alone he schemed.
He thought it through;
What he would do;
At last, found a fool-proof plan:
Mannequins to puppets made -
 puppets made like man.

Hidden in the balconies,
He played the knight:
 by day, he'd fight
 and by night court maiden fair.
He even sat his king doll,
 atop the doll king's chair.

One day, he saw fit to jest
 the eldest prince.
 Malevolence
 was acted out in his guise.
The guards pulled it to the floor,
 then down fell all the lies.

The jester fled to safety:
His room. Inside,
 he tried to hide.
They found it under the bed.
Limp and stiff, they dragged it off -
 What they thought man half-dead.

In a jail a figure lies:
Unmoving gaze;
Unmoved for days
 within or from its stone stall.
Unbeknownst to anyone,
 their fool has fooled them all.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on September 08, 2016, 01:15:06 am

 I really like the unexpected guest poem you made. It's really touching.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on September 12, 2016, 05:49:49 pm

Wings
In flight it seems so graceful,
 like a swan upon a lake.
On the ground, a sight distasteful -
 something science should not make.

It was foolish, I can tell,
 to put wings
 upon this thing.
However, I could not find hell,
 and no ice
 would quite suffice
 in cooling it too well.

But now they say I misheard.
They lie - I heard it right.
"When pigs fly," were their own words,
Now they buckle at the sight.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 13, 2016, 09:15:30 am

Sorry for delay. A bad mood combined with work load increase made me less than amenable.
Thanks for the compliment on the unexpected visitor one - though, I really didn't know what to make of that prompt despite the fact I wrote it, hehe.

To fly, and not be seen;
To move, yet not to dream
Of what may once have been,
Hidden within a Sphinx's sting.

Icarus knew it well, when sailing
High the overbearing clouds
He heard a music, dreaming, dreaming
Of sun and rain and hope and joy.

He died, though he was but a boy.
And yet, that music which he heard -
That full-blown, autumn inspiring tune
Can yet make grown men love the bird

And all its freedom. Dreaming, dreaming
Of clouds and water and earth and sky.
So would I be, had I the wings
Until the day I die.

For tomorrow: A memory of a childhood activity or event.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: RoseHeart on September 13, 2016, 02:39:57 pm

wings

Wings and Things,
Bones and spleen,
Heart and caw,
Mate
Kind
Romantic and divine,
A scavenger of affections
In a giant's world

The crow

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on September 13, 2016, 03:12:26 pm

Flight ethereal, serene
Watch the shimmering feathers
As they sink and dive.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on September 15, 2016, 06:13:24 pm

A memory

The bite of cold upon my cheeks
From nearby, a cardinal's screech
My focus on the snow below
And my brand new sled
Left and right I turn my head
Down below the hill's end
I ride and cry
Frozen tears
As I leave the hill

But still, but still
This memory's joy
Is worth the price in pain
As years go by
And time flies
I still have this happiness

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 16, 2016, 03:23:37 pm

I really liked that, Urist Mc Poet Dwarf.

"Walk down the lane, but hide the frown!
Ye who would wander freely here
Must careful be, of alligators free
In ditch and den from here to town!"

Yes, so he spoke unto his son
Who saw the slimy, grey green backs
Slipping between the trees
And 'round the wood-log stacks.

"Why here?" I'd moan, and clutch his hand.
He'd smile and say, with a wise twinkle-laugh
Caught in his eye, that they had come to eat
His son - for bothering his poor old da!

And if he would so freely frown and walk
Between the trees, that nature's arch
Which seasons laid for him to stalk -
Why, then they'd come to halt his march!

After that, I saw them often in the brook
The shadows of the trees, the leaf-strewn ground -
Yet all I'd do was look, and sigh, and cease to frown
'Ere they would get me, somewhere 'twixt here and town!

For tomorrow: A pledge or promise

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 17, 2016, 04:08:30 pm

Paladin's Pledge

Hold up the blade of Justice,
Dawn and truth revealing all
I pledge to shield the weak
And hound the fool to fall.

Bring forth the ranks of foe-men
Let loose the hounds of war.
They'll meet cold Justice
And be frozen to the core.

Lesser iron will fail to harm
For gauntlet blocks and girder guards.
I sing no songs of solitude,
That favoured theme of bards.

My pledge is thus to journey all
The world around its width -
Protector, shield and man
Who wakes each day to death.

For tomorrow: A mountainous landscape
If anybody else wants to add a prompt, feel free. I'm beginning to struggle not to repeat myself.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on September 18, 2016, 09:03:28 am

Bounded by twin rings.
A matrimony serene.
May love never die.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 19, 2016, 11:21:39 am

Black against the sky
Black with fingers
Twitching, searching
For sun, for earth,
For blood of mountains
On which to sup.

Deep cuts, so deep
The shadow swirls
Black, substance
Given to its bulk
A sharpness to its fold,
Or idleness to its hold.

Green, verdant
Pasture land.
Languid sheep
The shepherds keep.
Grey huts, simple folk
And cooking on the stove.

Roar of the sea
Susurrations,
Undulations.
Cold iron foam
Dark eddies
Toppling the throne.

All leads to it
Highest
Mightiest
The Gods' Seat
Mountain range,
Passing strange.

Edit: OR

It
Is black
Against the sky.
So foul, yet fair to see
Where birds and demons fly.
The mountain range is dark with
Every creature large or small, no cause
To ask a person why - as is, always was so.
To ask is to make one seem clever, yet still a fool
And anyway, those living here abouts are made to sow
Not think of why, why darkness broods and nature sits to stare
Upon the bleakness of that stone, that pale-white picked-on bone...
Indeed, no answers here. But do not give to fear, for mountain roots
Sink deeper than their surface, so they say, and it may yet be seen that here
The roots sink deeper, deeper, darker and further until they break the bare restraint
That earth and solemn sod had forced upon him. Aye, this mountain may break a glacier
In some frozen arctic scene, no shepherd's crook to rule its brook, and light to shine a chandelier
Issuing from the pores of stately marble-like material. And the locals may bow their heads before it
And love how its very presence attracts and ne'er repels, how all are welcome in its shade without a fear.

For tomorrow: Ambition

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 22, 2016, 07:32:58 am

Always to move the cogs, the groan
Of ash and marble ground, a throne
Of darkness gaping ever wider
Baring its teeth, its tomb-stone ring -
Here lie I! Forever forced to sing
A song of spring-time, church time,
Loving melody, stately rhyme.
Cogs of ambition grind! The very
Soul of uttered word is forced
Through sieve and ditch and dike,
Hounded through the electric coffin
Of the speaker's mic.

For a quick buck the antlers shed
And words crystallise, frozen, in the head.

For tomorrow: Hallowed

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on September 23, 2016, 08:19:10 am

Deathless dreams die hard.
Mountains impossible to cross.
Become a mole-hill.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on September 23, 2016, 02:43:21 pm

 A sacred note
Rings clear and pure
In a sacred place

A friend, a father, a healing prayer

Prompt: Fear

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 23, 2016, 03:02:37 pm

Fear:

Crippled, darkness
Panting
The hand, that reaches...
Closing
On the foot, my head
Hurts
Please, please, please
Why not...
Why stay? Please
Cold sweat. Breath.
Shivering limbs
Eyes darting in the
Ever enchroaching dark!

Why me, why me, why me?
I am forsaken, lost, abandoned
Nothing but dust! WHY ME?
Who am always last; yet
The feel of numbness comes,
So much a death-knell that I close
Cold, clammy hands about my ears.
Leave me! Hot, hot, press of tears
Lets me know the futility
As I fade, broken,
Into eternity.
I fear.

Hallowed:
All hallowed be, the mountains to the west
The Dryad of the wood, the stayer of the hand
Great bringer of the bounteous feast, that blest
A newer lease to life and living land.
The oak that spreads its green-touched boughs
Holds ever-blooming high the ancient creed -
We all in nature must prostrate and bow,
Aye even as the supple ever bending reed.
For river runs, the songbird sings refrain
Gently, the hallowed halls of nature claim
All of man's folly, to make right the stain,
Make whole the broken, trodden and the lame.
For we as man profane the temple, strip its wealth
But healthy, hallowed, it returns with stealth.

For tomorrow: Chained to a clock.

Thanks for the prompt! Two very different poems, that's good - practice!  :)

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on September 24, 2016, 10:36:48 pm

Fear

Biting compression,
My mind, my heart, unravel,
I am but nothing.

Hallowed

Church bells in the yard,
Ring the requiem for me,
My soul, I give thee.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on September 27, 2016, 08:52:07 am

Tick tock, goes the clock.
Ring ring, my heart starts to sing.
I, small bird, absurd.

Throwing a theme at the wall. Prompt... Politics!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 27, 2016, 09:34:06 am

((Arg! You wound me! Not politics... Nooooooo. :P))


Tick, tick the clock sings
Toppling the highest of kings.
"Sleep now" its chime rings.

Or

All fettered to the earthly tide
Of silver, gleam and moon -
Oh come ye lost, confused and hurt!
There lies more sacred here a tune
Of time when mistletoe could pierce
A heart.

Oh Baldur fair-of-face, of Spring
Was named most beautiful of lords -
A joke! The chains of time were held
And at his fairest throat, they were a sword
To cut away the life blood. The bell of doom
Has knelled.

Now comes the winter of the age,
Our faces weep in time, but none
Can care, for times have swept
And we have wept before. No fun
Is had in tomb or hall, but death
Is kept.

This is the tune that we must sing -
It holds no merriment, but it is truth.
By horn and hare, the Valkyries and
Valhalla's far flung mystic roof
We'll sing no other, though our bones may turn
To sand.

Politics:

When men are thought to speak the truth,
Beware.

Look to the past, and see their motive

Live the present for their words

Keep note of every shifting eye,

Reveal no thoughts that they may hear

Let loose no rabble-rousing yell for them

They may be false while ringing true.

But most of all remember
When men are thought to speak the truth,
Beware.

For tomorrow: The Vikings

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on September 27, 2016, 09:40:00 pm

((This is what happens when the prompts stop. ^.^))

Lizards wearing suits,
Planning the affairs world-wide,
Secretly, they plan.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on September 27, 2016, 11:26:24 pm

 Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I hope the prompt isn't too old.

 Fear
You wait in the musty mists of that dark alleyway.  13
Plead with all your breath,  5
 smell the scent of death  5
but the good and twisted gods ignore you as you pray.  13

The mossy cobbles hide the sound of coming feet,  12
 he is here he is here  6
but you can feel him near.  6
He comes in from behind you; Nowhere to retreat.  12

He taps you softly on your shivering back,  11
and gives you a brittle smile:  7
"I've waited for this a while."  7
 no one can ever escape the man in black...  11

You say, "I need more time before I go!"  10
His reply is a wider grin,  8
 ...nor pact with that cheshire of sin  8
and as it grows, you know the answer's 'no.'  10

Your lips quiver, his lips quiver back.  9
Then, stitches rip as smile tears the skin;  9
Old scars open up to let you in.  9
 all who live know: fear the man in black  9

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 28, 2016, 03:38:56 am

Johnny Cash would be insulted!

I think that one was good, just a small problem I had - the first and last lines of the first stanza. The first line may intentionally be Trochaic, in which case that's fine, but the last one doesn't flow - maybe "Both good and twisted gods alike ignore you as you pray" or something?

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on September 28, 2016, 01:39:36 pm

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on September 28, 2016, 03:38:56 am

Johnny Cash would be insulted!

I think that one was good, just a small problem I had - the first and last lines of the first stanza. The first line may intentionally be Trochaic, in which case that's fine, but the last one doesn't flow - maybe "Both good and twisted gods alike ignore you as you pray" or something?

Thank you for the compliment, and the correction. That line was bothering me, too!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 01, 2016, 08:21:50 am

We come over the heaving seas
See now our shields, and hear our cries?
Our blades that hacked man's cities
Have no respect for he who dies.
The gold we claim has life-blood's stain,
Our homes are far away.
We are barbarians, there is no doubt
Unfit to walk in light of day.
Hear we who raise that Viking shout?
We come from far away
To loot your cities of their wealth
And claim your bodies for the clay.

Then we go home, and raise our barns
Take out our tools, give kisses to our loves
And keep the cattle on our farms.

For tomorrow: Food

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on October 01, 2016, 04:28:41 pm

 I look
I search
I starve
I see a meal
In a diner
With valets
And maître d's
I see it
Thrown away
Half eaten
I pounce, and feed
On what others throw away
But it is food
And I will live another day

Another Prompt: You favorite smell

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 02, 2016, 11:44:19 am

Food:

Why seek we so to glut our souls
On apples, oranges and pears
On grains and meats and sweets
On fierce-eyed buffalo, running hares?
Why harbour enmity towards the small
The weak and helpless which we herd?
Christ, I have been a farmer and cared
For many a calf until I placed its neck
Upon the carving-block.
Doubtless it made a wondrous snack.

I have killed so I may live, and I have
Eaten of flesh and liked the taste.
Were I more of a man, I'd say
"No more of this, all life is held as waste
When set upon the table."
But I have no will in me to do so,
And so beside the orange and the pear
I eat the buffalo, catch the hare.
Where ends their blood and starts my own?
I know not, and how to clean them is unknown.

Favourite smell:

Smell them in the hedges
Where wheels the tumbled briar
The cottagers and villagers
Love to smell them too
Honeysuckle suckled upon
Morning and midnight's dew.
Many a walk down country lane
Has held that smell and been,
More than mere stretch of journey
But a hall of incense for a King.
See them within the hedge,
The winding briar's friend.
I walk these ways so I may look
Where Lords and Kingdoms end -
Here reigns supreme, as in a dream
The scent of summer strained for me.

For tomorrow: An angry person.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 03, 2016, 05:54:58 pm

There is something red
About the pain,
Something that starts
To work within the head
Then reaches outward
To consume the soul
Nothing salvaged,
Dark as coal.

There is something red
In anger, something dead
In it, something hated
And detested, yet disturbingly
Refreshing.
---

Apologies for lack of quality. I've got a really annoying headache.

For tomorrow: Mental Illness.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on October 05, 2016, 10:55:11 pm

Forsake fiery tongues,
That which burns the human soul,
Anger is no friend.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: flame99 on October 07, 2016, 06:27:58 am

PtW, and maybe irregularly contribute

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on October 07, 2016, 08:09:21 am

Irregular contributions is the watch-cry of the thread methinks. Which is why I stick with Haikus, since they are low maintenance and easy to pump out quickly. ^.^

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 08, 2016, 01:12:51 pm

Yep, irregularity is our thing. When I say "for tomorrow" you should probably read "I will aim for tomorrow but let's not get optimistic now."

Mental Health:

Beautiful, graceful, full of life
Busy, busy, busy and always
Set to make the most of time,
Working the nights and days.

Working yet never getting,
Not good enough to waste
Preciousness on, yes, busy
But not accomplishing.

Smiling that secret smile
Directed at the self,
Yet beaming outwards;
Chameleon life

Taught from infancy
The smile that hides the heart.
Worth nothing, with nothing
But some new task left to start

Some hopeless thing with which to
Distract the hope, the chill,
The iciness of tears so full of fears
You feel the slipping of your will

And then you bare your face, and know
You are not good enough, you have no place
You are not fit, so you must busy, busy, busy
Creating masks to chain around your face

But it is never enough, and you can feel
The tears still seeping, creeping down
Where none can see. Worth nothing
But the daggers which pin your smile in place.

For tomorrow: Errrm something more cheerful? A summer glade.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on October 09, 2016, 05:30:07 pm

 Long ago we walked
And long we ago we sang
Do you remember those old woods?
On that long ago summer day?
Do you remember the meal we shared?
The jokes we told?
In that summer glade
Time has passed
The world has turned
But when I feel oh so cold
I remember that long ago
Summer day.

For tomorrow: An old friend

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on October 09, 2016, 06:55:55 pm

Mental health need not all be that bad!
Life is not all but being sad.
A timely rest, a little break.
Can do some good, for goodness' sake.

Meditation, prayer and thought,
Can ease the pains that life may wrought.
And when we wish that the day just end,
We find relief in a tender friend.

Mental health can be quite scary.
And on occasion catches us unwary.
But take the time to ease oneself,
And you'll find a world of wealth.

Bonus Haiku!

A timely smile can
Soothe the heart, uplift man.
Our passions, it fans.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on October 12, 2016, 12:38:52 am

I'll post just a bit.
Little time (compared to wit).
I'll make up for it!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 13, 2016, 11:27:04 am

Alright, I fell off the wagon, but I'm back now. Hopefully.

A summer glade:

What are the words of those
Who stood at heaven's end,
Looking into the forest glade
As one looks for a friend?

Tolkien wrote of the Ents
And had them moan their fate -
A lonely life, without a bride
Where years are long and actions late.
And yet they had a beauty and their own
Nobility.

Frost passed the winter scene
Where spring had once been seen,
But did not think to moan the loss -
He saw, and what he saw was as a dream
For he had many miles to go
And more to pass before his sleep.

A traveller passes through the green
To house of ancient memory
To knock upon the door, his horse
Hidden by forest's canopy.
"Tell them I came," he cried
Then left that place.

But I, I come upon a forest glade
Lit by the summer sun. No magic
But that which it holds itself,
Just music of the spheres and time
Muffled by leaves, divided by light blades
Caught in nature's infinite, varied rhyme.

An Old Friend:

Memory of old days at school,
Camaraderie, no need to worry,
Hope for the future. Distilled youth.
That was the time in which we met,
And long have years of time passed
Where we walked different paths
To different industries and passions.
Yet we met again, today, to talk
About the old, the new, the sweet
Remembered hope of age.

For tomorrow: Business.

Edit: Nice to see you write something other than Haiku, birdy. (Though your Haikus are probably the best I've read). Conversely, nice to see you write a Haiku, Tomasque. Make sure it's not a permanent change, though :P

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on October 14, 2016, 08:09:55 am

Summer Glade!

A warm gust rolls through,
Sailing past the skies of blue.
Life takes a green hue.

An Old Friend

Memories flood me,
Of times we spent together.
It's all that remains.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 14, 2016, 05:56:21 pm

There is business here
Cold suits, the heady knowledge
All are ruled by fear.

If you can't beat em, Haiku em.

For tomorrow: A crush/love interest/SO.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on October 14, 2016, 11:13:21 pm

Business from a different light.

My father sold grain.
People sowed the grain upon plains.
Their plants died in pain.

That year brought no rain.
Plants, beasts, and man, hunger slain.
Grain nar' sold again.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on October 15, 2016, 05:36:12 pm

She smiles. I blush.
She goes. I wish I'm with her.
She cries. I comfort.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 17, 2016, 05:52:00 pm

Is it beauty I want?
In part, of course it is.
It is a primal thing, to own
That which can sparkle in the sun
To know that you posses, unique,
That which does not exist, bar one.

But it is more than that. I want laughter
And inclusion.
Not the every day, casual tolerance
But an active pushing back of my seclusion,
The feel of hands at dawn
And idle talks on someone else's lawn.

I want dedication, and strength, and
That special forbearance that lets me know
That I am not alone. There is another
Who will love me. Another for my heart,
Another wishing for my safety.
Someone who wants to stand beside me,

And brush a casual finger down my hand
Who understands that scowls can hide
Something more tender, and can feel
Encircling bands of trust, and not call them
Burden on heart and soul, but wings.
I want someone who sings.

Yet I can compromise with fate. I know
That what I want is not what I may get -
I can strip back aesthetics, and have
an ugly, coarse voiced mistress. But the seed,
The seed that holds the love and trust -
Why, that has none of want, and all of need.

For tomorrow: Historic building(s).

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on October 18, 2016, 04:09:05 pm

That was good Th4 DwArfY1. Really good.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on October 18, 2016, 06:37:54 pm

I miss you.
The way you move, the way you laugh,
Beauty is not contained in a paragraph.
It breathes and lives, it shines so bright,
And fills my day with endless light.

I miss you, it's true.
And I know that I should not,
But my mind is broken and taut.
I still love you still, whatever it may be,
And despite all the faults that I in you see.

I miss you.
Love is not perfection, but the breaking.
The heartbeat, the chest quaking.
And even though our time has passed,
I still prayed that it would have last.

My mind shatters into a million starlight fractures,
If the world's a stage, are we but actors?
Mindless pieces rehearsing lines,
But I can't help feeling those words were mine.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on October 18, 2016, 07:18:49 pm

 I liked dw4rfy's & birdy's poems (especially the end of the latter's). Sorry I'm not contributing, I have another thing I'm working on.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on October 19, 2016, 11:03:12 am

Indeed, the end two paragraphs is arguably standalone against the first. I had tried to write further, but honestly I don't think I could have matched those lines.

I think there is something about love that does that. It's a concept that brings out the best and worst of human being, and we get to write about both aspects.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on October 20, 2016, 11:15:22 pm

Though unrelated
(or related most of all),
I think you'll like this. (http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=161176.0)

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 23, 2016, 12:49:30 pm

Quote from: Urist Mc Dwarf on October 18, 2016, 04:09:05 pm

That was good Th4 DwArfY1. Really good.

Quote from: Tomasque on October 18, 2016, 07:18:49 pm

I liked dw4rfy's & birdy's poems (especially the end of the latter's). Sorry I'm not contributing, I have another thing I'm working on.

Thanks! It's one of the "true" ones, I guess you could say.

Historic building:

Wherefore the crown and gate
And where the lady fair.
Who tunes the endless bells of war,
Who gathers up her golden hair.

Alas, poor Yorek, I knew him.
Whose tomb is that I yonder see
Filled with the lead that bounds
All of us on the path of entropy?

Is it madness to see the buttress
The gleam of golden sun.
Elsinore, oh Elsinore, whose dungeons deep
Sink underneath this barren keep

Of sheet wall, star form, cannon blast
Crowned by Kronborg, encircling sea
Carrying from the past that Sound.
Oh Elsinore, why stand you tall?

The moat is deep, the swans are white
And all about the sea is spread, as fate
Is spread before us all. Ah, Elsinore!
Wherefore thy crown and gate?
--

For tomorrow: A winter battle.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on October 23, 2016, 04:34:43 pm

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on October 23, 2016, 12:49:30 pm

Quote from: Urist Mc Dwarf on October 18, 2016, 04:09:05 pm

That was good Th4 DwArfY1. Really good.

Quote from: Tomasque on October 18, 2016, 07:18:49 pm

I liked dw4rfy's & birdy's poems (especially the end of the latter's). Sorry I'm not contributing, I have another thing I'm working on.

Thanks! It's one of the "true" ones, I guess you could say.

What do you mean?

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 24, 2016, 07:25:05 am

Instead of working from some position I know nothing about, for example this one:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on October 08, 2016, 01:12:51 pm

Beautiful, graceful, full of life
Busy, busy, busy and always
Set to make the most of time,
Working the nights and days.

Working yet never getting,
Not good enough to waste
Preciousness on, yes, busy
But not accomplishing.

Smiling that secret smile
Directed at the self,
Yet beaming outwards;
Chameleon life

Taught from infancy
The smile that hides the heart.
Worth nothing, with nothing
But some new task left to start

Some hopeless thing with which to
Distract the hope, the chill,
The iciness of tears so full of fears
You feel the slipping of your will

And then you bare your face, and know
You are not good enough, you have no place
You are not fit, so you must busy, busy, busy
Creating masks to chain around your face

But it is never enough, and you can feel
The tears still seeping, creeping down
Where none can see. Worth nothing
But the daggers which pin your smile in place.

(I don't believe I've ever been depressed in my life), I was working from my own perspective. Truth as it is apparent to me.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on October 24, 2016, 08:27:59 am

Aging Parthenon,
How your marble pillars gleam,
Home of the Goddess.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on October 24, 2016, 09:26:52 am

You misspelled Pantheon  ;)

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 24, 2016, 09:31:15 am

Not sure whether you're joking, but just in case....

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

(http://www.nashville.gov/portals/0/SiteContent/Parks/images/parthenon/Parthenon-Dusk.jpg)

That's the Parthenon.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on October 24, 2016, 10:10:49 am

I wasn't joking. I thought he meant Pantheon, and the whole "pillars" part was symbolic.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on October 24, 2016, 06:56:57 pm

Nope! I am wholly literal in all things! But hey, for shits and giggles,

For Tommorow : Athena!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on October 26, 2016, 07:02:04 pm

Owl-eyed Athena
Queen of all knowledge
Mistress of battle
Weaver, teacher
Wise in all things

I feel like there should be more. Prompt: finish it.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on October 27, 2016, 10:39:06 am

Finish poetry> With pleasure!

Power like John Cena,
Fists like a sledge,
Her enemies are cattle.
Fighter, Master,
Lord of all rings!

---

Athena

Silver-eyed Goddess,
Grant your people your wisdom,
We await your call.

---

A Winter Battle

White winter's snow sheets,
Are covered in blood of men,
A cold reception.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 28, 2016, 04:07:24 pm

A winter battle:

The song of ages wove the air
To catch the crown within her hair -
The snow back-lit the scene
And framed her perfect king.

Love is as ashes in the mouth
When blades are drawn
How rude, how self possessed, uncouth
They are when seen at dawn.

The perfect king cast out his staff
And tossed his white-mane hair -
He left behind his noble laugh,
Abandoned all his previous care.

She loves him yet, and battles fought
Win wars not of the heart
But how could she show what she ought,
That he was both her ending, and her start?

He loved her yet, but time had shown
The mirror cloud in tears his face.
He left his men, his crown, his throne
To flee from her without a trace -

So she'd be safe from him! He's hidden
In a castle deep within the murk
And she pursued, and came unbidden
To that strange land where light meets dark.

And here the snow crisps white the ground
And snowflakes fall in gathering gloom -
How sweet, how unremarked the sound
As armies faced each other, and their doom.

And at the heart the sad refrain
That echoes all the land -
They face each other, feel the pain
For want of kindness, or a loving hand.

----

Athena

Crowned goddess of the Parthenon
Who looked down on our earthly race -
How sad, how sweet the marathon
To beat Arachnia, keep your crown.

Why weave you webs of such deceit,
Why cloud the contest's due?
Is it Pallas Athena fears to lose
Knows not the way to winning true?

Alas! Feel free the unrestraining beat
That guides you on the way. Cast down your crown;
Admit defeat!
And truly, truly be Athena, crowned and true.

Edit: Whoops, missed a prompt!

A continuation of Urist's poem:

Owl-eyed Athena
Queen of all knowledge
Mistress of battle
Weaver, teacher
Wise in all things
Helper of heroes,
Inspiration of the meek
Lover of rings
Upholder of the weak.

Owl-eyed Athena!
All you are, I love.
Bless us with wit,
Protect us from above
And I shall grant to thee,
And only thee,
Undying gratitude
And ceaseless loyalty.

For tomorrow: A tea party. Mad Hatter optional.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on October 29, 2016, 12:06:44 am

Two cups of tea sit steaming in silence.
Behind them a man of subtle violence.
Finally, before them - shaking - sit I.
"Drink up!
One cup
is poisoned. You shall die."

That's what he'd said to me as I sat there,
when I woke up strapped in that metal chair.
Now he's holding out sugar, like hors d'oeuvres.
"A bite
just might
calm down your frightful nerves."

I decline, so he puts the cubes away.
With shifting eyes I stare down at the tray.
At last, I choose and he toasts with his drink.
"To ends
of friends
who don't know how I think."

I take it with some sugar, to keep calm.
Halfway, I spit the drink into my palm.
Too late, I've figured out his cunning ruse.
"Poison
was in
the cup of sugar cubes."

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on November 01, 2016, 04:41:35 pm

Chamonile
Hot green tea
Earl grey
and a smile
Are all I need

This delight
A meal so slight
But friendship
That I won't let slip

You know what I'd like
I wish you could see
the wonder that is a tea party

Next prompt: A suprise

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Parsely on November 02, 2016, 01:22:11 pm

Montreal Doesn't Know Shit About Crêpes

cook me a warm crepe
pour a crepe out of ubi
it is made of shit

ubi = Ubisoft

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: apiks on November 02, 2016, 01:58:11 pm

A man of silence
Wears a grin of valence
His work before him
Giving a joy so grim

His handicraft so exquisite
That a master butcher would be proud
Of a craft so excellent
That a man be endowed

A woman lay stretched
With blood oozing away
Of markings etched
In a body from life belayed

---

Prompt: A siege

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on November 03, 2016, 01:18:07 pm

A surprise my love!
Two turtle doves for Christmas.
Guess what you'll get next?

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Parsely on November 03, 2016, 01:24:21 pm

Haikus are fun. Now whenever I write a short sentence I stop and count syllables.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on November 04, 2016, 12:10:11 am

Aye, there is truth there.
It's fun to convey meaning,
With few syllables.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on November 04, 2016, 12:20:29 pm

Tea Party:

The silver slipper slouches, half reposed,
The foot that holds it easy clad.
Make way, make way, the Dame is come
From out the Snow of Mustergrad
And she is weary from her journey,
Give her seat and give her tea.
Let her converse with young Joline,
The treasure we possess in this country.

And still the silver slipper slouches, half asleep
Uncaring of the world around.
Sits now the Dame, her name of highest Fame
And not to mention known for Wealth -
But for unlucky chance, and someone else was crowned,
She might have been the Queen of all of France!
Where e'er she goes, she rests assured, all drink her health.
She sips her tea, and gazes 'round, engaging with her speech
The fairest maid, so it is said, in all that precious country!

Still slouches on that silver slipper, unaware
(Or maybe simply without care)
That there sits next to her one step from royalty.
Her answers satisfy, her speech is sure
And all would sigh to see
The fairest in the land conversing well
With one one step from royalty,
Her youthful face, while flushed, suffused with surety.

Yet unbeknownst, the silver slipper slumbers on
Hidden beneath the table on the lawn.
Yet not alone, for opposite there sits
A golden slipper, casual, unremarked
Slouching solemn beside the silver,
Sleeping subtle without rebuttal.


A Surprise

How unremarkable the land is bare around
Where oceans once held mystery
And mountains screamed in storms that told
Of some adventure long ago,
Some long forgotten fact lost now to history.

The clouds are made of vapour, water tracks the skies
Basalt, granite, all igneous and ignoble are the mountains,
The geysers tamed to fit a fountain's frame
And all the cosmos probed by Satellites.
What is there left for us, the frontier lovers?

Nothing. The West is dust, and all the elements accounted
And Everest has been besieged by hikers, the ocean floor
Has now relinquished all its store, and talk of gold is lies
(We now know where to find material, no need for such prospecting)
And all we see is known, nothing left to imagination
Nothing to know or love, nothing that's new or comes as some welcome
Surprise.

A siege:
Ten thousand men the hand has bled
To keep from off the wall -
There one stood tall, the one who led
The men before the fall.

And aye, amassed were spears of war
And he was wounded, red
With the defeat unthought of in his lore.
He stood against the siege, and led.

Ten thousand more were thrust, and cruel
The fates had twisted all.
His men came yet, followed his rule
As men had done before the fall.

Now come another ten, he can't
Believe his eyes, his tears
Belie his stirring will to stand.
Confront them and your fears.

Ten thousand more without the walls,
Yet he stands still to kill,
Tears in the blood and hand of red.
Where he has led, so mankind falls.

And yet he knows, as dark the evening falls
That if he had a choice again
He would have taken on them all
And lived to stand, 'til he was slain.

For tomorrow: Academia.

Edit!:

Quote from: GUNINANRUNIN on November 03, 2016, 01:24:21 pm

Haikus are fun. Now whenever I write a short sentence I stop and count syllables.

Let me give you reason
To wish that I were dead or gone -
Haiku's out of season.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on November 06, 2016, 02:37:29 pm

The scribe has written all he may
When Byron led literature's course
And Keats in some old Grecian Urn
Saw all the truth he would endorse
Flowing in swiftness through the paint.

Yeats has written of modern magic,
Shelley of nature and of fire.
Prometheus has been caught and chained
By that most unassuming scribe
Who strummed with chains their ire.

All courses of that mighty river
Flow from off the writer's hand -
Though he may know it not, it's true
That he remembers that most solemn band
Who first had writ, and been a scribe.

For tomorrow: An Anapestic poem (rather than iambic, it's da da DUM).

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on November 06, 2016, 08:22:58 pm

Yo, school is for fools.
It likes ah, totally drools.
Now, hobos, are cools.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on November 06, 2016, 08:37:50 pm

Maybe not one of your most inspired :P

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on November 06, 2016, 09:55:33 pm

Academia.
It has no use to me, no!
I need, but hobos.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on November 07, 2016, 12:44:11 pm

I really have forgotten to write something here in a while.

Love's a bucket, my dear.
Ours holds only tears.
Life's not good as it seems.
To me death is a dream.

Jeez, this is harder than iambic pentameter. I'll probably make a longer poem later. This one was based off of something said on this (http://eblong.com/zarf/essays/idea-secrets.html) blog.

 EDIT: "Ours" is meant to be read as 2 syllables.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on November 07, 2016, 03:46:53 pm

Short sharp words
Slip from my mouth
Seeking only to hurt
To waste and to wound

It is kinda hard. For tomorrow: Right a poem that asks a question

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: apiks on November 08, 2016, 09:33:47 am

And they said goodbye
With a heart broken the other retorted
"I love you."
Said the woman
"I hate you."
Said the man
"I love you."
The other's glass heart pled
And they said goodbye

Now read it backwards.

---

Poem with a question:

Beauty hers stained
With the shards shed
Trickling down face unrivaled
Of a dream only read

Before her he smiles
Teeth radiating for miles
He asks on one knee
"Will you marry me?"

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on November 08, 2016, 12:42:46 pm

Who wears a hat?
What's the point of that?
It just causes people pain,
And falls off in the rain.

It doesn't hide baldness.
Nor the face of shyness.
Your solution is inconclusive,
And by all means quite elusive.

So why, why wear a hat?
It just makes you look fat.
I pain to say it again, and again,
But it's all so silly and vain.

A hat is for the bureaucrats,
Those who are lazy, like cats.
They don't do their hair,
So that's neither here nor there.

It's lazy and crude,
To dress like a prude,
And bespeck your skull
With a hateful hat dull.

It's draining I know,
But it just goes to show,
Why wear a hat?
You're just too good for that.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on November 08, 2016, 01:07:33 pm

An Anapestic poem:

Give me torch and crowbar. Off to scorching sands far!
We shall seek such treasure of no equal measure.
Ours is that ancient gold, and all what we can hold.
"To the desert?", I say. Who "I" says, will find pay!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Parsely on November 08, 2016, 04:07:17 pm

Quote from: Tomasque on November 08, 2016, 01:07:33 pm

An Anapestic poem:

Give me torch and crowbar. Off to scorching sands far!
We shall seek such treasure of no equal measure.
Ours is that ancient gold, and all what we can hold.
"To the desert?", I say. Who "I" says, will find pay!

I like it. Adventure is fun.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on November 08, 2016, 04:18:16 pm

 Thanks!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on November 12, 2016, 04:55:44 am

Question poem:

It's shown to those worthy in the line.
Tell me, have you seen the Yellow Sign?
I myself was shown it when I read
the manuscript which its secret said.
In "The King in Yellow" it is found,
and I'll be that King once I am crowned.
But first, there are others whom I fear
are worthier than me from their years.
I shall find them to make them decry
their succession or  to make them die.
So I do ask you now one more time:
Tell me, have you seen the Yellow Sign?

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on November 13, 2016, 12:06:55 pm

I've neglected this thread. My apologies.

I'll go now to see God
With you dear, for I must
But here, now, you alone
Are deity of life.

And I spit into death,
I cry love into night
To lend tears to all hope,
Give our blindness new sight!

You cry, sweet as thorns fall
And our love resides deep
I had wished to give all,
And now...we....as one...sleep.
----
Wow, that was weird. I'm so used to Iambs that I really had to make myself think. Definitely glad I made a stab at it, no matter how iambic it seems in places :P

Quote from: Tomasque on November 08, 2016, 01:07:33 pm

An Anapestic poem:

Give me torch and crowbar. Off to scorching sands far!
We shall seek such treasure of no equal measure.
Ours is that ancient gold, and all what we can hold.
"To the desert?", I say. Who "I" says, will find pay!

This was well done, though. I can definitely see its anapestic nature, without it being a burden to the actual poem.

Question poem:

Did he who made the lamb make thee?
What hand dare frame.
Who art thee?

You burn tenacious, life is your coat.
Where came that fire?
Who spoke?

What words trembled the darkness
And formed a man?
What is life?

Who first sharpened a stone, a knife
And did he do murder.
Why give death?

Who are you, strummer of lives
Why do you ignore me?
Do you exist?

Please, give me an answer.


----

I'm interested, Tomasque. Most of your poems have a certain style to them that reminds me of that Jester poem. Is that that poet's influence, or did you like the poem/poet because his style appealed to yours?

For tomorrow: Adventure!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on November 13, 2016, 03:47:10 pm

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1

I'm interested, Tomasque. Most of your poems have a certain style to them that reminds me of that Jester poem. Is that that poet's influence, or did you like the poem/poet because his style appealed to yours?

You're referring to the Fool's Prayer, right?  It's the latter. I like it because it appeals to my love of Jesters, and  it has a consistent rhyming scheme and tempo, which I value above all else. Hell - I don't think I've made a poem without it!

 However, recently, I've had another inspiration from a favorite poem of mine - the poem you introduced to me: "The Listeners." I love the idea of a mysterious "Traveller," unnamed but with some deep purpose, travelling far to complete some quest known only to himself. I've even made a few poems about it - complete with my consistent rhyme and rhythm, of course. ;)

 BTW, I'm still waiting an action for Storm. I can't wait to see what you'll do next - for reasons yet to be revealed. 8)

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on November 16, 2016, 01:07:53 am

Welcome, travelers, to my home.
You'll die within these walls of stone.
A misstep here will seal your doom
and yours shall be this Horror's Tomb.

You've entered through the proper way,
yet danger still before you lay.
Deadly pits run down the hall,
and a demon who hungers all.

You'll find a me that isn't me
and gargoyle with arms just three.
A fallen corpse and crimson stains.
"Look to the fourth to find your gain."

If you are brave and wise and fast,
you'll reach my secret tomb, at last,
but take the gold and leave me then,
else not return to world of men.


 If I wasn't tired, maybe I'd actually look at the module and make a more in-depth poem, but bed awaits me, so you're stuck with this.  :P

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on November 16, 2016, 09:37:19 am

Life is made of expectations defied,
Until our final fate is realized.
We seek one truth, then experience another.
In far-off lands, we find ourselves a brother.

We as kindred souls who walk this path so bleak,
Never quite with full knowledge of which we seek,
Are but found and bound in self-same surprise,
When fickle fate doth say, 'Try this on for size.'

We find our lives do not go the way we planned.
We find our dreams are but palaces of sand.
But of ill days from that which we run in fear,
There be our greatest memories we hold dear.

So! An ode to adventure, both planned, and not.
And the lonesome road with many dangers fraught.
Gladsome travelers along that winding way,
Treasure when expectation is held at bay.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on November 16, 2016, 11:04:33 am

May I suggest a new prompt?

 Masquerade

That should be fun. I'll make a new poem once I have the time.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on November 16, 2016, 12:06:11 pm

Agreed! I'll give-er a day as per usual, then I'll give it a shot.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on November 16, 2016, 12:58:50 pm

Feel free to post whenever and however often is wished. It's at least one per day.

Hrm. Or. You know. Is meant to be :P

Also, Masquerade is certainly interesting. I think I'll do one for that as well. First though, adventure:

We three by three are seeking thee
Or more particularly,
We wish to find what we will mind;
The jewelled laughter laugh of thee.

Once heard upon a breeze, the trees
Carried it to us. If we receive without a fuss
We'll leave, we three by three,
Your laughter as our albatross.

We've waited long without a song
The earth's grim turn abiding -
But we have heard it from the trees
That in your soul, one is still smiling.

We've come to claim your laugh, you see
It is most precious thing to we.
Give it to us, without a fuss;
Too long we have been we, yet still melancholy.

I'll edit in Masquerade later tonight.

Monarch and ape, butterfly damsel
We're lost within the shade,
The hue, the brilliant bloom.
Is that my love, my father, my foe?

Is that the exit, or just another room
Echoing to the beat, the heart string tempo
The thud-thud capering of meat
Resounding to the foot falls of the damned.

I put this mask on, white with pain
To hide my past, my previous shame.
Now I can see the colour, the honour killing
Dance of green on blue on purple wings.

The music rises, pitch increases, fiddle sings
Hair flings in rising arcs, and do I see a grin
Stuck in its place, as with a pin?
Flash of sabered eye, a tear I'd like to cry
The room is spinning, spinning with brilliance
With its own transcendence proliferating its essence,
Out of control it swirls and mixes, seething as a cauldron
Steeping itself in darkness that shines so bright.

Who hides behind the mask that holds my arm!
All damned we are, all damned who hide our faces
From the shame we should know! Crying, I tear away the swirl
And bustle, the bubble-glow like oil. I throw it on the floor,
Cold face bared, empty eyes staring up. All watch, and don't.
All see this one who stands revealed, yet stare, so bitter-cold
From out the darkened caves of eyes. None stop the dance.
It was a futile chance. A lone human amongst the vicious flowers,
I drown in monarch, ape and butterfly damsel.

For tomorrow: two strangers help each other on the road.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on November 16, 2016, 03:35:03 pm

A mountain stands
Forbidding and grin
Two climb high on it
Their breath growing thin
One surges, forward, turns
Offers their hand
The other reaches for it
Oh, isn't it grand?
When two who are
Nothing to one another
Suddenly start acting
Like they are brothers

For tomorrow: Chess

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on November 19, 2016, 11:18:08 am

Dwarfy: I don't understand your Adventure poem. What dies it mean?
 Also, how should I read the Masquerade poem?

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on November 20, 2016, 05:30:20 pm

The Adventure one is essentially three by three seeking the smile of thee. People seeking happiness, in other words, but incapable of finding it in the traditional sense, so they attempt to "take" it. The Masquerade one was basically trying to give the event a feel of claustrophobia and sinister intent. People hiding from themselves.

I should mention that I'll probably not be posting in this for a while. I've got essays to do, texts to read, and exams to prepare for. I'll return to it after the 13th, no worries.

This also applies to Storm, if you don't mind, Tomasque? I'll continue doing it of course, if you want to continue.

In regards to this thread, feel free to continue without me for a bit.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on November 20, 2016, 05:43:47 pm

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on November 20, 2016, 05:30:20 pm

This also applies to Storm, if you don't mind, Tomasque? I'll continue doing it of course, if you want to continue.

I'm alright if you take a few weeks off from the game. It'll give me more time to concentrate on some stuff I've been wanting to do, which should wrap up by the time you get back.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on December 05, 2016, 09:41:28 pm

Chess

The old king points his weary hand
ahead into the no man's land
He tells him, "You must make a stand."

The child stares in disbelief,
like at a vagrant or a thief,
if he died would he have no grief?

But he's a pawn, and must obey.
He steps forward to join the fray,
and hopes that he won't die today.

Before him lands a tower black,
but he's not in it's deadly track
- and it's in his path of attack!

The pawn took out the rook this game
or, said differently - still the same -
the childe to the dark tower came.


Here's the next prompt: A poem based off of a story

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on December 06, 2016, 04:42:42 am

Rook, king, queen, and knight,
With the good bishop, they rise.
But only pawns fight.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on December 06, 2016, 12:15:19 pm

Well, I've been reading The King in Yellow lately, so my poem is based off one of the "mini-stories" within the Prophet's Paradise (http://www.chaosbutterfly.net/library/kiy_prophets.html) section. It is The Green Room:

The powdered Clown was sitting on his chair.
He turned to his mirror and asked,
"If it is true that to be fair
is to be beautiful, don't none compare
with me within my pallid mask?"

"Who can?" I asked Death, next to me, to learn
the truth of this from his reply:
"Who can to me? Paler am I."
"You are beautiful," said the Clown, then turned
away from his mirror and sighed.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on December 07, 2016, 04:41:08 pm

Squares white and black
Bodies to fill them they not lack
Pawn and rook and leaping knight
Endlessly clash and fight
But as the game goes on and on
More and more of the pieces are gone
And for what do they fight?
They're in the same box at the end of the night

For tomorrow: A tool

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on December 07, 2016, 04:54:56 pm

Quote from: Urist Mc Dwarf on December 07, 2016, 04:41:08 pm

Squares white and black
Bodies to fill them they not lack
Pawn and rook and leaping knight
Endlessly clash and fight
But as the game goes on and on
More and more of the pieces are gone
And for what do they fight?
They're in the same box at the end of the night

For tomorrow: A tool

The syllable count is rough, but the ending is great!  :)

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on December 08, 2016, 05:25:30 pm

Many thanks.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on December 15, 2016, 01:04:50 pm

Back in business! Whoo. Okay... I have a lot to catch up with.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

A mountain stands
Forbidding and grin
Two climb high on it
Their breath growing thin
One surges, forward, turns
Offers their hand
The other reaches for it
Oh, isn't it grand?
When two who are
Nothing to one another
Suddenly start acting
Like they are brothers

I really liked the message of the above, Urist.

Two strangers help each other on the road:

Dark and Light meet
In the woodland,
Both unsafe and
Neither knowing.

Darkness gives his
Hand. The rotten
Wood collapses.
Death approaches.

Lightness gives her
Hand. The growing
Wood is breathing.
Death is coming.

Dark gives hand, and
Light accepts it.
Both together;
Death is nowhere.
----

Chess:

Chivalry on a board.
The King protects the pawns,
The Queen is ready to defend
Against the marshalled might of wrong.

Wrong. King is saved by pawns
Who throw their flesh between
Imagined thrusts and parries.
The mind which watches all
Enjoys it, the macabre, the massacre.

The Queen does not defend, but sends
Herself into the fray, Angel of Death
Manoeuvring through the ranks,
Killing the loyal knight, honour-bound rooks.

Battle on a Board, the Master is not bored,
He revels in the flesh that is not flesh.
World falls away. All the world's terrors,
Made of wood, are here. And they will pay.

A poem based off of a story:

(Inspired by Beren and Luthien)

The wind blown Hemlock brings
The scent of bubbling springs,
Though many years have passed
Without you near, my life's repast.
Give me your hand of lily-white,
The mystery of your hair
And I will live, if living is to fight
To see your heart, and to be there.

I may be but a man, and you an elf
Who ne'er grows old, nor has bad health
But when the wind blows in the Hemlock sheaves
I hear your voice, the voice of Autumn leaves,
And in their cries, I see your eyes.
Though death may come for me, I'll give my hand
Nevertheless to one who never dies
With but one wish, and one demand.

Love me through all the years to come,
But when I am the moon and not the sun
Remember me as I am now, my hand
Dipped in the brook where nearby stand
Hemlock sheaves and the leaves,
The leaves I hear you in,
An elf with gold-embroidered sleeves.
Ah! Since when was to love a sin?
---
A tool:

Most work is simple as the day,
You do it fast and get your pay.
You put in work and get out gold,
And in this way you soon grow old.

But find a trusty tool to use
Along the paths of your abuse
And you will find that you can smile
Though pain may visit every mile.

Also, I just watched phantom of the opera. It has a scene in it reminiscent of the Masquerade poem I did for a prompt a page or so back: Most notably after 3:00. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Bn4BAlp8NQ)

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Quote from: Tomasque on December 06, 2016, 12:15:19 pm

Well, I've been reading The King in Yellow lately, so my poem is based off one of the "mini-stories" within the Prophet's Paradise (http://www.chaosbutterfly.net/library/kiy_prophets.html) section. It is The Green Room:

The powdered Clown was sitting on his chair.
He turned to his mirror and asked,
"If it is true that to be fair
is to be beautiful, don't none compare
with me within my pale mask?"
((pale is 2 syllables here))

"Who can?" I asked Death, next to me, to learn
the truth of this from his reply:
"Who can to me? Paler am I."
"You are beautiful," said the Clown, then turned
away from his mirror and sighed.

I really like this. I have a slight issue with using pale as two syllables, but it's small.

For tomorrow: Juletide, Christmas, Winter. You get the idea. Something seasonal.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on December 15, 2016, 02:39:32 pm

I changed "pale" to "pallid" later, in my notes. I forgot to change it online, so thanks for reminding me.

 Also, welcome back! Do you have time for Storm again?

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on December 19, 2016, 04:45:44 pm

Winter wind
Blowing strong
Outside my house
It's been blowing long

The fire is glowing
Even as the snow
Builds up even higher
I'm not feeling low

Because winter's my
Favorite season
December the best month
It's the time for leaving

And finding new warmth

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on December 31, 2016, 01:44:02 pm

 This needs more poetry. I'll add some later.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on December 31, 2016, 02:00:20 pm

Indeed it does. I spoke too soon unfortunately in saying I was free(edited this from three. Seriously, me?). I am currently 11 pages into an essay, but once that's wrapped up I'll rejig it, don't worry.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on January 05, 2017, 12:06:44 pm

The yuletide is gone,
Her evergreen branches, fade.
Winter doth remain.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: George_Chickens on January 05, 2017, 12:49:15 pm

Darkness creeps across the land
The midnight sausage is in your hand
A pain in the stomach, boiling blood
Stool sprays free, like flowing mud

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on January 06, 2017, 06:47:25 pm

Christmas is here.
There are candles.
Family is visiting,
Many relatives.

They bring their gifts
Of tin and foil
For our delight
This Christmas morn.

One was born on this day
Many years ago.
He stood in a manger
And greeted every stranger.

Then when they left,
He asked his mum
If he could change his birthday
To some time other
Than Christmas day,
For who would want two
Celebrations in one?

Okay, that was terrible. Shoot me :P

For tomorrow:a scene from a book/movie which stuck with you.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on January 08, 2017, 10:56:22 am

The oceans crash tempestuous,
The mountains pierce the skies
And all is lost, all feeling gone
But man's impassioned eyes.
Rage, rage against the falling stone,
The hurdles thrown and broken bone.
Take hold the system that's in place
And raise the master race.

There is magic here, yet none care
To sieve the light from darkness,
Harness all the mountain rage
Dichotomy of truth and song
To last until another age.
*
She died.
*
We must care for the ones who work
Who toil in mine, who work the vine
Who clean the house. The separation
Of idea from reality, the magic
Of love embodied individually
Within each person.
I was wrong. I was wrong.

The magic raises storms of death
And power kills the man.
And yet...and yet, what curses
Yet may bless, may raise a flower
In its stead and grant us life.
Love is the power we must grow
Inside our hearts, and that then sow.

Internet cookies for the one who can guess what that message comes from.

For tomorrow: Winter beauty.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on January 09, 2017, 10:27:40 pm

Fractured echoes scream.
Reality is broken.
Give me back my warmth.

---

Comes from a nifty concept in a game called Exit Fate, where the game explores a few 'What if' scenarios where some of the main characters choose to take a different course of action. Moments where certain characters respond competently turn out to be horrible, horrible decisions and said characters invariably end up dead for their mistake.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on January 14, 2017, 02:32:49 pm

Snow drifts outside
Wind sings softly
Inside,  a fire burns
Keeping me warm as
The outside freezes

For tomorrow: A cave

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on January 14, 2017, 03:58:02 pm

-Snippety-
For tomorrow: Time

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on January 15, 2017, 03:54:16 pm

Yellow years go by in bloom
The golden in despair,
The silver tread speaks of our doom
When beauty turns from fair.

Death approaches, not on wings
But stealthy as a cat
And takes the threads of things
We once could take for fact

But no longer do we feel its touch
For death is calm and cold,
Still yet that force which turns so much
From youthful face to old.

Some day we will see the curve
Is sour and unattractive,
When the souped-up media
Has its new youth out on display
Replacing those from an
Older, less important
Day.

A Cave:

The marble sparkle of the domes
Of granite and of pearl
Stretch up into the darkest arch
Where busts of might unfurl.
And here the light grows dim
To stretch the shadow far
And in those depths, the phantoms swim
To light of gem-like star.
Long have we wandered in the cave
No light nor food to eat
To contemplate the might of stone
Beneath the mountain's feet!

For tomorrow: A task you undertook.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on January 16, 2017, 04:50:42 pm

I looked at the mount
So high above me
And knew I'd find
For what I'd seek

I climbed long, I climbed hard
Until I fell, just not far
And at the bottom of a hole
I found another

The hole was dark
Dank and deep
But within is what many seek

And so with my task complete
I returned with riches replete

I feel like there's a story there, I just can't figure it out.

For tomorrow: Fire

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on January 16, 2017, 07:49:50 pm

Time

He runs, but he's known all along
he'll never beat the setting sun.
He knows he doesn't have that long -
this time by time he'll be outrun.

 And he'll never remember
 who he was, and the stars
 will be snuffed out like embers
 that have floated too far.

She's ran her whole life next to him.
She knows that she can't beat the clock,
and begs it now to change it's whim,
but it won't speak - it only tocks.

 And she'll never remember
 who she was, and the stars
 will be snuffed out like embers
 that have floated too far.

They've both been running many miles;
They've lived too long, and that's their crime.
They're running but they their trial
can't outrun - they've run out of time.

 And they'll never remember
 who they were, and the stars
 will be snuffed out like embers
 that have floated too far.


 Only doing one cuz I'm lazy

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on January 17, 2017, 10:51:48 pm

A task undertook:
That square monolith of death.
Inside rests the remains, the
Pink vase I gave her one Christmas
And each card that she wrote
With the imaginative looping 'A'.

I am to carry this. In coming days
It will decay. Memory will disease
And die, clutched in the loam;
The darkness gnaws the wood.

She is buried where once she stood
To look down on the graves of others -
And I put her there. The earth
Piled in around each hug, each time
She let me know that she was there.
Though it remains heart-breaking
The task yet remains - the dead will die,
And must be buried.

Fire: Okay, an imaginative interpretation.

Yawning, crying. The salt of tears and darkness
Closing on the softness of a bed-side light.
I loved you once, you must know. You fled,
For fear was yours, and wed the coming night.

So salt and midnight mix, to form the piercing need
That shakes the frame and lowers thought.
Gladly would I abandon honour, strike my friend
And forget all the things so sorely taught

If only I could hold you this one night, and close
The closing of the day with just one kiss, tender,
Careful, lighting up the stillness of the room with flame,
Banishing all my shadowed loneliness with love.

Also, small edits:

Quote

She's ranrun her whole life next to him.
She knows that she can't beat the clock,
and begs it now to change it'sits whim,
but it won't speak - it only tocks.

For tomorrow: Walking a city.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on January 18, 2017, 07:56:01 am

Fire

A vivid dance
Destructive, purifying
It all ends in ash.

A task undertook

The lyre is muted,
No voice to sing, unplucked.
Her strings are unmade.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on January 31, 2017, 03:36:04 pm

Fire

Ash and ember all astir
Wind winding through the firs

The flame alights
It splits the night

The fire has begun

For tomorrow: something unattainable

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on February 01, 2017, 11:17:20 am

The Streets of Almonds and of Damson,
Curbs of Currants,
The Towers of Trees
And tears of cities.

The marble front that once
Held granite, polished
By the hands of native
Man, conjoined
Connected and one
Beneath some long
Forgotten Tree of Sun.

That dock, now wearing
Pleats of ships, like pips
Walked past, and left behind
Reminding us
Of water meeting land
Where grows now
Only rue.

We have been left behind
To watch the gardens die
To see the sea turn hard
And walk the city streets
Where we've been left behind
Watching the gardens die
And seas turn hard.

Something unattainable:

The shattered song of seasons
Strews the pathways and the lanes
Where hands once swept
To keep it clean, so careful,
Oh so carefully
That one could not discern
The crackle of the leaves, the hands
That brought them out to burn
And found that what one gives
One will receive.

The season's shattered syllables
Speak yet on the ground
And miss the soft stirring susurration
Of their fellows being brushed
Away.

For tomorrow: Modern art as opposed to traditional art.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on February 01, 2017, 11:32:28 am

I should really get back to doing this  :-\

 Expect something. Soon. Hopefully.

Also, do you have the time to get back to Storm now?

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on February 01, 2017, 11:36:11 am

Sort of. I'll get back into it today.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on February 01, 2017, 12:01:40 pm

Okay

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on February 01, 2017, 04:43:53 pm

Walking a city

Pidgeons scatter, fly,
Cooes and caws of dim surprise,
When walkers walk by.

---

Something unattainable

Man cannot live on dreams.
Life, not always as it seems,
He drowns, and drowns in sorrows sound,
Wishing dreams that will never be found.

To dream asleep is to dream of death.
To drink so deep of the river called Lethe,
And yet, be stilled and know.
That dreams inside a fire sow.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on February 06, 2017, 02:02:26 pm

The crafted smear;
The textured blotch;
The square so exquisite.

And laying here
a broken watch:
the paragon of wit!

It seems to me
they did succeed
in art that cannot fail.

From what I see
it's hard to lead
to loss and art this stale.

 ((Yeah, I know it doesn't actually compare the two.))

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on February 10, 2017, 04:15:45 pm

Shall I compare you
To a winter rose?

For you are all the more lovely
As you grow all the more distant

I would make a summer out of snow
If together we could be alone

I know nothing about art, which makes it hard to write a poem on

For tomorrow: A flower?

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on April 03, 2017, 09:39:54 am

Okay, life has sorta decided to calm down for a bit. I'll probably not be able to post here much over the weekend because of work, but I'll give this another shot.
Modern art Vs. Traditional

It's said it has a style all of its own,
A grandness to its sweep you need to
See, a colour painted bold that leaves you
Thinking of the tales untold. In short, it's more
More beautiful than the explicit, the sculpted
The profane (for they were pagans, they who
Formed the older art. God fearing men are
More abstract, subtler-thinkers). I dare to disagree.
Bold colour hints ten stories to be seen, but ah!
Have you not passed some gothic building
All amazed, and basked in it, as it were life?
Picasso never once did paint a thing
That made a man just stop, and breathe
Rather than think of what the thing could mean.


Flower:

Admiring every day its form, I pass.
It stands in that clean square of stone
Surrounded by the beauty of the Builder -
Amongst red clay, black brick and learning hall
It has its corner, of its kind alone.
Each day it stood, bare and neglected
Rude in its own sophisticated way
And dwarfed by man's accomplishment.

Now I pass it with awe, to see
The brilliant pink among the canopy,
The blooming life of that fair tree
Amongst man's carven panoply!

--

Yea, not particularly happy with either myself. Oh well - out of practise :P

For tomorrow: drawing

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on April 03, 2017, 07:42:52 pm

 A line, some shade
I pause, erase
I study her so slow
More lines still seem
Not to capture her

For tomorrow: Work

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on April 04, 2017, 05:23:30 pm

Drawing:
A line of thought from then to now
In charcoal or in pencil
Stretching, stretching from those old greats
To newer pen, and willing pupil.

Work:

Stretched muscles at end of day
Relaxing into bitter pain,
The feel of back that bent too much
Sliding into familiar chair.
Hearth, and fire, and book
Mixing with strain and ache
For him who ends a day of work.

For tomorrow: The last bard.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 04, 2017, 07:53:57 pm

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on April 04, 2017, 05:23:30 pm

For tomorrow: The last bard.

This immediately reminded me of someone's sig I saw, which was the following piece from the song "The Minstrel Boy:"

    "Land of Song!" said the warrior bard,
    "Though all the world betrays thee,
    One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
    One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

 Great lyric, in my opinion - I thought it was a standalone poem when I first read it!

 Anyway, a poem of my own, I suppose:

    They thought that he had met his end
    like all his fallen crew.
    'Twas right of those who were his friend -
    of him, it wasn't true.

    But long it was upon that hill,
    until the minstrel stirred.
    He saw them, and once more was still,
    then left without a word.

    It was that night that drives him on,
    the memory of friends long gone.
    He walks along,
    and sings his song,
    for soon his journey ends.

    Upon his back he carries now
    beside his harp a vengeful vow
    And in his ears
    He only hears
    The whispers of his friends

    Today he knows he will at last
    - with blade in hand - atone
    those long-sought specters of his past
    and make his grievance known.

    They'll be no joy in what he'll do,
    he's known that all along.
    His final words, he knows those, too:
    One final battle song.

 Looking over this, I'm pretty damn proud. The second stanza feels a little weak, though. Any ideas on how to improve it?

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on April 05, 2017, 03:33:34 pm

-Snippety-


----

Quote from: Tomasque on April 04, 2017, 07:53:57 pm

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on April 04, 2017, 05:23:30 pm

For tomorrow: The last bard.

This immediately reminded me of someone's sig I saw, which was the following piece from the song "The Minstrel Boy:"

    "Land of Song!" said the warrior bard,
    "Though all the world betrays thee,
    One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
    One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

 Great lyric, in my opinion - I thought it was a standalone poem when I first read it!

Have you a link to the song?

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

    They thought that he had met his end
    like all his fallen crew.
    'Twas right of those who were his friend -
    of him, it wasn't true.

    But long it was upon that hill,
    until the minstrel stirred.
    He saw them lying, and was still
    Then left with ne'er a word.

    It was that night that drives him on,
    the memory of friends long gone.
    He walks along,
    and sings his song,
    for soon his journey ends.

    Upon his back he carries now
    beside his harp a vengeful vow
    And in his ears
    He only hears
    The whispers of his friends

    Today he knows he will at last
    - with blade in hand - atone
    those long-sought spectres of his past
    and make his grievance known.

    There'll be no joy in what he'll do,
    he's known that all along.
    His final words, he knows those, too:
    One final battle song.

Nice poem! Obviously my changes to the second stanza are just advisory - but you're right that it does need changing somehow.

For tomorrow: Lost

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on April 06, 2017, 05:14:13 pm

I wander in this place, for all of time
And breathe the steady air, hear the normal
Voices of my friends and family.
And yet I'm lost.

Each thing is known and understood,
I've gathered here or wandered there,
And home and sustenance has never
Been an issue of survival.
This place has seen my like ten times
Ten thousand times, and yet despite
My living here as free of cost
The bridges burn, the paths all twist,
The people lie, the work men lie.
I am lost.

For tomorrow: Something based off this picture:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/52/73/78/527378a38d8aed1ea95c9ccc118ecad3.jpg)

It can refer to the source material - Patrick Rothfuss' Kingkiller Chronicles - or be entirely image - orientated.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Urist Mc Dwarf on April 07, 2017, 03:34:31 pm

Kvothe the Arcane
The bandits slain
To Severen
He went to claim
His rightful reward
Won with spell and sword
But was tricked by the wife of the Maer.

For tomorrow:Lightning

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on May 15, 2017, 06:58:41 pm

Urist, you missed one small detail between killing the bandits and Severen.....

O Felurian silver-fleet
Of midnight down and twilit flower,
Of blossoms tempest shook
And night’s most secret, sacred hour.
Lithe form and Faeish grace
The hair a liquid darkness ‘round your face,
Your skin as lilies, white as lace.

O Felurian of the storm-tossed skies!
Whose face would raise a thousand ships
To drown in wonder at your eyes.
Felurian, ca thra mien ca te!
Your lips are soft as love,
As warm as life.
To go without would be a knife.

O Felurian! I would willing pay
To die each night within your arms
Safe from the coldness of the night
And warmed by outer glory’s inner storms.
Such beauty and vitality!
If ever woman chanced to me
Such danger and mystery
I would throw a kingdom at her feet;

All men would bow before her, as their Queen
And I would pray, pray, she’d raise me for her King.


I'll do one on Lightning in a bit.

For tomorrow: a scene in which the sound of water features.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on May 16, 2017, 08:58:27 pm

Thunder and lightning.
Very, very frightening.
Bohemian songs.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on May 17, 2017, 02:55:01 pm

Quote from: birdy51 on May 16, 2017, 08:58:27 pm

Thunder and lightning.
Very, very frightening.
Bohemian songs.

That's pretty funny. I'm short of time, so I'll just post a haiku I made in middle school:

Dew drops on the leaves,
Dripping, dropping to the ground,
Where do they come from?

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on May 22, 2017, 11:46:50 pm

 Hey guys. Sorry I haven't been posting for a while. I've been working on a videogame version of the Storm Poetry Text-Adventure for school and it's been taking up a lot of my time at home. The code is almost finished, and I was wondering if you'd be willing to playtest it when it is done. I'v made a post about it here (http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=164250.0) if you're interested.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on May 24, 2017, 08:50:56 pm

Well, my big project is almost over, so I'll be back to posting soon. I've just put up the code for it, so you can play it now, if you'd like.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on July 27, 2017, 09:17:36 am

Echoes thundered;
Clouds aflame.
Things remembered
In the rain.
~
Hot like tears,
The rain of Spring,
Rolls back years;
Awakening.
---
In the ears,
The echoes sing.
One still fears
the lingering-
~
Cold December;
Holding canes.
Thought, an ember,
Still remains.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on September 12, 2017, 08:50:38 am

Wake UP!

...



    Prompt: Attempting to achieve something unattainable

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 12, 2017, 10:28:48 am

Em, about your previous poem, I just reread it and realised that "Once Upon a December" (Which was playing in the background while I read it) matches it eerily well.

Attempting to achieve the unattainable:

When honour shines the darkness through to dawn
And sips the cup of honesty,
When virtue, nobly, speaks through lips of men
And thought is turned to chastity.

Then, as the hour slips by with none to cry
Will I be glad, and smile, and sing.
For I have striven long and hard to fly
On honour's oft forgotten wing

But never found it held my weight. I'm flawed.
For I can never see a thing
That's pure, or dedicated unto God
Without the feel of envy's sting.

And pride is my standard, replacing steel
In thought and sinew. Fools will please,
Not turn with grit the great ship's guiding wheel
For fairer fortunes, calmer seas.

I strive for honour, hope for strength and truth
But know that in myself I fail.
But still I try, and hold those virtues not aloof
And grab the wheel. But can it sail?

Prompt for tomorrow: Childhood fancy.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on September 12, 2017, 07:08:49 pm

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on September 12, 2017, 10:28:48 am

Em, about your previous poem, I just reread it and realised that "Once Upon a December" (Which was playing in the background while I read it) matches it eerily well.

Oh my god, you're right.

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on September 12, 2017, 10:28:48 am

Attempting to achieve the unattainable:

When honour shines the darkness through to dawn
And sips the cup of honesty,
When virtue, nobly, speaks through lips of men
And thought is turned to chastity.

Then, as the hour slips by with none to cry
Will I be glad, and smile, and sing.
For I have striven long and hard to fly
On honour's oft forgotten wing

But never found it held my weight. I'm flawed.
For I can never see a thing
That's pure, or dedicated unto God
Without the feel of envy's sting.

And pride is my standard, replacing steel
In thought and sinew. Fools will please,
Not turn with grit the great ship's guiding wheel
For fairer fortunes, calmer seas.

I strive for honour, hope for strength and truth
But know that in myself I fail.
But still I try, and hold those virtues not aloof
And grab the wheel. But can it sail?

Prompt for tomorrow: Childhood fancy.

The topic of the poem is amazing, and I love the use of imagery. Occasionally, though, it feels as if the stress that words would normally have clashes with the stress that the iambic meter wants them to have:
And pride is my standard, replacing steel

Also, your second to last line has 12 syllables instead of 10, is that purposeful?

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 12, 2017, 07:14:17 pm

Perhaps it is my Northern Ireland accent. I say Stan-derd.

As for 12 instead of 10, that's a big oopsie. I seem to be suffering from not looking over it after I write it ;)

Still, I like the sound of it, so I think I'll leave it.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on September 13, 2017, 02:34:56 pm

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on September 12, 2017, 07:14:17 pm

Perhaps it is my Northern Ireland accent. I say Stan-derd.

As for 12 instead of 10, that's a big oopsie. I seem to be suffering from not looking over it after I write it ;)

Still, I like the sound of it, so I think I'll leave it.

I say stan-dard, but I think the proper English way is stand-ard, lemme google it.

Stand-ard is correct. Isn't going to change the way I pronounce it :P

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 21, 2017, 08:27:24 pm

Ah, yes, Stand-ard. That's a better way of representing how I say it. Perhaps Stand-erd is closer, though. Anyway, it works for me and fellow British Islers.

So there. :P

Lightning:

Seen from afar, it paints the clouds
With limelight from the stage.
A jagged ladder to the sky
Which heroes climbed in days long gone,
The wielder of the sword and sacred song
Who sang the land to wakefulness
Beneath the ever-moving plough.

His hand was harsh, his heart stone-fired
As they who wield the lightning bold must be.
The heroes move their way into the stage
He makes, the clouds are moving
Flashing over our more mortal age
With nothing to reveal, nothing, nothing
But light, cold, perfect, and undying.

He is the Lightning God, and all must bow
Before his field of churned up-clod,
His harvest rising to the blooming sky,
His many virtues, many sins
The tear within his blinded eye.
We weep with him, while up above
The heavens crack, no one knows why.

((Went with a stream of consciousness thingy there whereby I wrote whatever came to mind and didn't change it, so if it makes no sense, it's because my mind apparently makes no sense, heh.))

For tomorrow: A word cut by a sword.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on September 26, 2017, 09:55:59 am

Wait, do you know the song "Michaelmas Time?"

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Yoink on September 26, 2017, 01:38:33 pm

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on September 21, 2017, 08:27:24 pm

For tomorrow: A word cut by a sword.

Love, mercurial,
A thing of shadows and of light

Angelic, infernal,
Buoying hearts and burning souls alike

Bravos, strutting,
Think pursual of love a friendly game,
A clever, dashing joyous art

But, far too late,
Learn duellist's hired swords pierce, not only
Jerkin, but both Love and heart.

---

...Yes, I realise it's terrible. :P
It is past four in the morning and I was feeling strangely inspired.     
For some reason renaissance duels were the first thing that sprang to mind when I thought of words and swords.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on September 27, 2017, 12:06:49 am

That's pretty neat. Lemme give it a shot.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on September 27, 2017, 01:02:06 am

I heard the pen is often said to be
The mightier of weapons, though to me
It seems its stroke cannot my strike withstand,
If it is even there when I'm at hand.

For though it is the pen that takes the word
And prints the slander down that tries to sway
My Master, where's the pen, when - undeterred -
He stops that writer's cry: "I can explai-"?

"So long," I say to manuscript and man;
Their cutting words I cut and hang to dry
To show that though ideas never die,
The sword will win the war the pen began.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 27, 2017, 07:58:54 am

"Stand and deliver!" cried the man, a hard gleam in his hand.
"For I am Edward of the Marsh and Bog
And come from water, fern and fen, to steal from greedy men."
His foe but reined a black-marked horse and smiled.

"Yet I am Baron Marque de Gaul," began the noble man,
"My lands stretch far and wide, though no bogs have,
And I own many tonnes of golden coin from mountains cold.
Yet I would die before I part with one."

Edward the Marsh man raised his sword, "'tis well" said he, quite calm
"For ever has this blade drunk blood of fool and knave alike.
Stand, and do not deliver, then. Still, gold will grace my fen."
The Baron, smiling still, drew out his blade.

The duel began - the horse fell first, and breathed its last of life
But Marque de Gaul launched from his seat, and stood.
His foe was agile with his skill, but it takes more to kill!
So Edward thought, as he pushed forth to strike.

And there was blood in air, and sword on sword was heard to ring;
The dance that ends in death. Foul, and yet fair
To see the two, striving each side for sustenance or pride,
While wind through forest over all noise sighed.

It ended. Baron stood above a commoner and thief,
And felt a stir of pity deep within;
Unwanted but hard to ignore. He bled, both red and sore
Our Edward of the river's fickle fen.

"Surrender" Marque de Gaul began to say, but he saw not
The hidden blade the Marsh man had at side.
As fast as river came the blow; the lord was much too slow.
The word unfinished was his death.

Quote from: Tomasque on September 26, 2017, 09:55:59 am

Wait, do you know the song "Michaelmas Time?"

Nope, afraid not. Is it any good?

Quote

Love, mercurial,
A thing of shadows and of light

Angelic, infernal,
Buoying hearts and burning souls alike

Bravos, strutting,
Think pursual of love a friendly game,
A clever, dashing joyous art

But, far too late,
Learn duellist's hired swords pierce, not only
Jerkin, but both Love and heart.

:)

Also, Tomasque, you've got an 'it's' instead of 'its' in there.  I like the last two stanzas, but I have trouble following the first.

Edit: Whoops, forgot the prompt.
For tomorrow: underwater.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on September 27, 2017, 10:19:23 am

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on September 27, 2017, 07:58:54 am

Nope, afraid not. Is it any good?

I like it. Anyway, your previous poem reminded me of it, so I thought it may have inspired you somehow.

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on September 27, 2017, 07:58:54 am

Also, Tomasque, you've got an 'it's' instead of 'its' in there.  I like the last two stanzas, but I have trouble following the first.

Thanks. The poem is told from the point of view of the sword, so the first stanza is saying, "I've heard the pen is mightier than the sword, but it seems to me that its stroke cannot withstand my strike (in combat), if it even shows up when combat begins (because the writers are always cut down quickly (and you can't really fight with a pen, anyway))" Basically, the sword finds no merit in the pen, because it interprets it through a sword's point of view.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on September 28, 2017, 10:49:56 am

Depth, crushing pressure,
Dragging down, deep 'neath the waves.
Drown ye spirit, drown.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on September 28, 2017, 01:49:56 pm

Oh, hey. I wrote a poem with an "underwater" theme a couple of days ago. I'll share it soon, when I have the time. Lunch break's almost over.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on September 28, 2017, 02:52:49 pm

Deep below the waves
Blue is all that's left of life
And death comes quickly.

For tomorrow: A city

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 01, 2017, 07:15:51 pm

I see it. Horses from the Camargue
Gust down the street in silver falls
Of molten flesh.
A single vendor shouts his wares
In calm precision, money-minded
To the end.
The crowds walk by. And up above,
A King in Silk and Golden Robe
Sits a throne.
None see the other. The horses
Stream by to some thought of a sea,
Leaving all;
Vendor sells and barters with the city
But holds not one for friend,
Nor as love.
And up above the shining streets
A King signs off decrees, his head
Worn by crowns.

Only one sees them all, the power
Of the horse in flight,
The yearning merchant
And the ruling monarch.

Brick, mortar, and cold, cold stone.

For tomorrow: Music.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: JoshuaFH on October 02, 2017, 06:27:46 pm

I so rarely look into the creative projects portion of the forum, but it seems I need to change my evil ways because you guys are fuckin poeticizing it up in here. I'm very impressed.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on October 03, 2017, 12:24:13 am

Here's the "underwater" poem. To put it in context: There's a story called "The Distance of the Moon (https://genius.com/Italo-calvino-the-distance-of-the-moon-annotated)" by Italo Calvino, and I really like it. In that story, there is a song that the characters sing, but only one stanza of it is written out. I took it upon myself as a challenge to write a poem that included that stanza, and that contained themes of the story. Well, I succeeded, though I owe the success of getting the themes down to the fact that they're already woven into the stanza, so it would have been pretty hard to write a poem around it and avoid the themes. Anyway, enough talking, here's the poem, in all its trochaic glory:

Here, the fisherman - with patience - baiting
fish below the ice of cold December,
shivers softly in the snow,

but his thoughts are elsewhere as he's waiting
- in the cold, the warmth of love remembered -
while the fish swim down below,

and he - as on loves afar he's doting
pitying the lonely one who's sought them -
sees them as they seem to be:

Every shiny fish is floating, floating;
and every dark fish is at the bottom,
at the bottom of the sea. . .

 (The last stanza is the one taken from the story, if you're wondering)

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on October 03, 2017, 10:32:44 pm

Music

Floating sensations, vibrations on air,
God's great creation, David's own heir.

No single sound, no single breath,
Our heaven found, in earthly death.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 05, 2017, 10:54:48 am

The fiddle sings a merry tune,
To the barrel, me friends, the barrel!
Patrons crowd the pub room's floor
And wine like water flows.

When dusk is painted up above, it's
To the barrel, me friends, the barrel!
A jaunty song will heal all wrong,
And ale in tired hands.

For when from foemen you have fled
To the barrel, me friends, the barrel!
You'll find a ready friend
And beer to keep you well.

Oh, yes, it's to the pub
Where music swells and swings
Where wine and ale can never fail
And mankind can grow wings
That you and I, me friends, will go
Til all the harvest's over, boys
And we can reap what we did sow
At the barrel, me friends, the barrel!

For tomorrow: Norse mythology.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on October 06, 2017, 01:39:43 pm

Odin pets ravens.
How beautiful they both are.
Who is a good bird?

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 19, 2017, 07:36:27 pm

Come fire and lightning 'gainst the pane,
Come weather warring weather in the sky,
Come waves of froth and bloodied seas
Come ending times, when all must die.

There is no corner now for Odin

No Shrine is kept for Thor

The Wayward God is lonely, cold
Behind some never-opened door.
His son beats iron at a forge
When once he stood on heaven's floor.

There is no corner now for Freyja

No Shrine is kept for Freyr

The beauty goddess put down roots
And married to an oak -
Her brother, strong and virile Freyr
Is now unknown to common folk.

There is no corner now for Wonder

No Shrine is kept for Joy

The gods are gone from mind and heart
And search, search, search out signs
Come lightning, weather, waves
For new-come ending times.

For tomorrow: Slaves

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 24, 2017, 08:39:50 pm

Her name was Jennifer.
She was the world to me,
Cliched though that may be.

Her eyes were stars at night,
Light lit her hair in every line
And all her love was mine.

They came, with torch and chain
With manacle and pain.
And now I weep, for I remain

While she is taken, far away!
Oh, where she now is held
Dreams she of fen, and me, and glade?

I hope not. For, when in the darkness
Tears fall from my cheeks,
Thinking of her, my Jennifer....

I know. I would not wish such pain,
Such emptiness inside
Upon my fiercest, deepest foe

And so I stay, and curse the men
Who took her from my tender care,
My wife. My love. My Jennifer.

For tomorrow: Something less depressing.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 25, 2017, 02:45:17 pm

The water as I walked the bridge
Was shining from the lamps
That hung about its Lagan length,
An echo of the snow....

Which has not come, just yet, it's true;
But still seems to be there
Twisting the moon-struck waves with ice
And painting all the scene.

And up above, the tiny birds
Flit through the twining lights
And flutter, as a group invincible
Contented in their nightly flights.

Each one who passed me, passed alone
And did not look above,
Nor see the gleaming joy below
But walked. And walked. And walked.

For tomorrow: Majesty.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 25, 2017, 05:14:36 pm

Flip wrong thread

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on October 26, 2017, 06:12:33 pm

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on October 25, 2017, 05:14:36 pm

Flip wrong thread

?

 Also, I'll work on a poem now.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Fniff on October 26, 2017, 06:39:28 pm

Your majesty, might I request,
A change in manner and an upgrade of tact?
Your majesty, it's a simple request,
You are not the King of us,
We have decided that you are King.

You may find a man who claims a plot of land,
And calls to those around him that he owns this land down to the very bones of the earth.
And your majesty, you may call him mad,
But is he any madder than yourself, your majesty, claiming to own every river and ocean and swamp?

Your majesty, a word of advice,
We believe in you as long as the good times roll and the mead is plenty,
But when the wells run dry and the cattle are butchered,
And we see you in your fancy purples and your rolls of data,
Well, I'm sure you can connect the dots...

Your majesty.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on October 27, 2017, 11:30:56 am

Claim ye Peace and Grace,
Majesty is a calm land,
Where all may find rest.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on October 27, 2017, 07:42:17 pm

There was majestic splendor
in this valley long ago,
but the splendor had to go
and, as well, those who'd defend her,
for our Majesty said so.

My heart will strain, in sorrow,
with the words I'll never say:
How the Majesty, today,
can believe he brought tomorrow
when he took our past away?

In years, I've gotten wiser,
and I miss the land I knew,
but I'm guilty of it, too;
I'm the Majesty's adviser
and I told him what to do.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 27, 2017, 08:36:55 pm

I like that one! Good ending in particular.

In throne of gold there sits the Fool
'Mongst precious gem and jewel.
His brow is furrowed deep in thought
Of all the Majesty had wrought.
The Prince had swept away the Lar,
He'd crushed all Babilar
And taken men to dig his mines
In endless, human lines.

The kingdom booms, and trade is fair.
Attacks? No one would dare
And though the river burst its banks
Through aid, the Prince reaped thanks.

The fool frowns deep. The King is old,
His children dead - or cold
To him. The mines enrich the state,
But for the King, too late
For soon he'll die, none to succeed
Of his own Princely seed.

A sigh. The throne bites deep his skin.
He does not see
The point of Majesty.

For tomorrow : sea serpent

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Rangalos Grajuriantilatos on October 28, 2017, 03:54:00 pm

Prompt: Sea Serpent

She said, "It's a BIG snakey!"
"Up, down, up, down - it's back is shakey!"
I flip a thick and shiny page,
and ponder how she's just the age
where if I guide her chubby hand
across the scales and blue-green band,
she'll follow me where I have been,
and want to read it all again!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 30, 2017, 08:10:20 pm

Nice! Can definitely tell you've entertained a child at some point, hah. Little blighters.

Ten times ten fathoms deep
The Worm awakens from his sleep.
An eye of emerald, ruby skin
And none alive of his own kin.
The Serpent lives.

For many centuries aloof
Sleeping with sea and wave as roof
The Dread Worm writhed with dreams
Which saw the death of ships and kings,
But not its own.

Each fang as long as laden craft
Which Jason steered, and merry laughed
To see the deepness of the blue
Beneath his keel, with all his crew.
The Serpent writhed.

Now comes uncoiled each brilliant length
Imbued with Herculean strength,
And now to plague Aegean seas
The serpent undulates, and breathes
Then goes above.

And is met by calamity.
No Argo sails the gleaming sea,
But on the waves are metal hulks
Which carry commonplace bulks
It knows not.

The serpent writhes! It moans,
And cataracts appear. Its head
Moves down once more, until
It rests once more upon its bed
For another thousand years,
Until the sea once more is sailed
By prey of worth to fight,
Or sun turns red and all seas boil,
To put an end to all man's toil.

For tomorrow: Illumination

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on October 31, 2017, 11:34:46 am

A son may love his mother,
Mother love a son,
But when the knives are out
How fare they, when one
Is gone?

For it is dark, and long
Since I heard tell
Of how my son was living
On his distant fell.

Wed he a stranger, beauty, true
And took his house to her
Leaving me cold, alone
With none of bright nor fair
To brighten home.

Ah! If he'd but return
I'd give a feast of joy
And on his head a wreath bestow
Illuminating on his brow.

But I know not if death
Has walked its careful tread
About that world-endearing boy,
Upon that noble head.

A son may love his mother,
Mother love a son,
But when the knives are out
How fare they, when one
Is gone?

For tomorrow: SPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKY

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on November 01, 2017, 05:47:49 pm

Hey, I'm pregnant now
And want to call our child Fern.
I'm just kidding. Boo.

For tomorrow: Apocalypse. Ragnarok. Tarmon Gai'don. Whatever results in mass destruction, really.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on November 08, 2017, 03:03:54 pm

Oh tell me he is here
Who came to me
When I was lost
And gave to me
Purpose.

Tell me that now his hand
Is still at work,
That laughter rings
And naught is dark
With him.

The gates are high above
And white the floor
But is he here
Whom I adore,
My love?

For there was fire on earth
And man 'gainst man,
I lost his hand
In death, and ran
To here

Where angels sing a praise.
I see him not.
Where has he gone?
What is his lot,
My Lord?

For tomorrow: Elven

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on November 11, 2017, 02:24:16 pm

They say ten thousand years ago
The rivers weeped with blood
And all that walked the world of men
Despised, was, and not good.

Then came a light from over hill
And darkness fled the scene.
A host, remarkable and pure;
What could have been.

And all that haunted empty earth
Looked on with fear and awe
To see the hope they'd killed
Alive. And well. And fair.

For tomorrow: a broken window.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on November 17, 2017, 03:03:28 pm

Cricket is not for the weak of heart
Nor, really, for the weak of arm.
Or so I found, at least, when bowling
On the first - and probably last - occasion.
There was a crash, and
The feel of parents' ire.

For tomorrow: Despair.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on November 20, 2017, 02:00:57 pm

What does the child think
Stranded in the snow,
Her arms before her bare
No family as her own?

What does she say, when in her heart
There's nothing but her fear,
Or when her insides cry for food,
Or eye sheds fruitless tear?

What does she say to we who pass
In coats we deigned to buy
For fashion or frivolity,
No other reason why?

Nothing. She says nothing, but looks
Towards the churned-up ground.
This is despair. This is the greatest grief.
And yet it doesn't make a sound.

For tomorrow: Ancient

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on November 21, 2017, 05:56:35 pm

An Endless, Boundless,
Wasteland, Choked of Life and light,
Where Tears Fall No More.

Despair

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on November 23, 2017, 06:56:05 pm

Time passes.
The floor is strewn
With many falls of leaves.

The shattered memories
Of past growths and new starts
Left on the ground.

A high wall, ancient mortar
Guarding inner sanctum.
Green tendrils, yellow flowers.

A place where man once lived
But now is made unwelcome.
Hard ground, harsh sun, tall wall.

For tomorrow: Repentance.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on November 28, 2017, 03:40:32 pm

I beg of you forgiveness
Who I once had wronged
I beg a truce of souls be forged
Between our wayward songs.
I wish that we could walk the path
Of moonlight and of sun
And never worry of the sundering
Which pares us down to one.

When I left you, I left a hole
In size and shape a heart.
I'm sorry, and I hope I'm not too late
To forge forgiveness' dart
Out of your broken flesh, and mine.
Let us be one, once more entwine.

For tomorrow: anxiety and stress

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on December 04, 2017, 02:39:17 pm

A song is singing in the background,
Muffled music of the ether
And one on top of one on top of one
The troubles gather, gather, gather.

Beyond, there is a beauty, true.
Words speak of light. Grand sight. Great view.
Before me is a deadline.
Do this. Do that. Then die.

And with your muffled words,
Feed an uninformed new generation,
The children of your detractors
Growing fat on misgrown knowledge.

Close all doors, then, and let none in.
Leave all alone to their own thought
Forgetful of their evils, of their sin.
Forgive me all that I have wrought.

The song is distant in its beauty.
Before, the ground is bare.
All good is gone
And naught is fair.

For tomorrow: That which was lost is found.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on December 08, 2017, 11:48:52 am

But now, I've found what I have sought, at last;
The lost, elusive City of my past.
It walks the earth around in mortal guise.
I look around myself with tearful eyes,
And know in where it hides, to where it's gone:
The stolen glances of the passerbys,
And in the their whispers of the lonely man
The one in whom forever shall live on
The unforgotten city, Alzebaan.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: dustywayfarer on December 08, 2017, 12:12:01 pm

Quote from: Tomasque on December 08, 2017, 11:48:52 am

But now, I've found what I have sought, at last;
The lost, elusive City of my past.
It walks the earth around in mortal guise.
I look around myself with tearful eyes,
And know in where it hides, to where it's gone:
The stolen glances of the passerbys,
And in the their whispers of the lonely man
The one in whom forever shall live on
The unforgotten city, Alzebaan.

Sounds like a mental plane from a recent FoTF reply.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on December 08, 2017, 04:23:38 pm

Quote from: dustywayfarer on December 08, 2017, 12:12:01 pm

Sounds like a mental plane from a recent FoTF reply.

What's that?

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on December 08, 2017, 07:41:21 pm

One of my favourite by you, Tomasque.

My gem is lost. Ten men
Came and took it from me.
The light it granted for me gone
I sank to misery.
It was a fair gem, fairest I have seen
And brighter than the common fair.
So lovely lords went envious
On seeing it with paupery.

Ten men 'gainst one.
It ended as you'd think.
My gem. My daughter.
Gone.

Okay, so I forgot the found bit :P

For tomorrow: a loyal retainer.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: dustywayfarer on December 09, 2017, 07:39:39 am

Quote from: Tomasque on December 08, 2017, 04:23:38 pm

Quote from: dustywayfarer on December 08, 2017, 12:12:01 pm

Sounds like a mental plane from a recent FoTF reply.

What's that?

The Future of the Fortress is a thread (http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=159164.0) where Toady answers questions about the future of Dwarf Fortress. The latest (lengthy) reply has a tidbit about the possibility of having

Quote from: Toady One on December 01, 2017, 04:48:10 pm

your squad of dwarves [mine] a demon's interior soul plane.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: birdy51 on December 09, 2017, 11:59:58 am

I see you again,
Pale shade of memories gone,
Not lost, forgotten.

Darkness round me hangs,
My eyes glazed with age and wear,
Still recall the touch.

A glancing finger,
Sweet, siren softly calling,
Sorrow lost, returns.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on December 09, 2017, 12:28:12 pm

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on December 08, 2017, 07:41:21 pm

One of my favourite by you, Tomasque.

Thanks!

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on December 27, 2017, 04:20:44 am

The Nightingale sings out the glooming day,
Her feet the forests misty stay
And dance like autumn leaves and wind -
So goes in whom both love and faith are twinned!
By murky river rolling fouly
Through the rocky mountain valley
Sings the Nightingale her song
Of fences fixed and righted wrong.

Then from the bank of twisted holly
Comes the faithful Aravolly
In whose breast a heart doth beat
Desiring only for her feet
To ever tread that wholesome measure
Granting unto him undying pleasure.
He weeps to see the beauty bright
Where otherwise all would be blight,
And cries out loud "you flighty lady! Stay
A while your fleeting step! The day
Is near to close, and I would speak
To one as fair as feather-wing, as singing-creek."

The rivers sighed their misty tune
The trees were dark beneath the moon;
The Nightingale but smiled a smile
Yet on she danced, and sang the while:
"Oh man who seeks to shackle me
I have no thought for courtesy
And I have many ways to go
Through twisting ivy, heath and sloe.
The land benighted is, yet where I pass
Greater the mountains, greener the grass."

So Aravolly mused a while in thought
Then looked upon what she had wrought,
Then searched his heart, and with amaze
His inner eyes saw but her gaze,
Saw there her eyes of mellow brown
Of waters swirling dark, and softest down.
I have but met this fairy free, and yet already
Of all things, fairest she is to me!

And so he followed where she led
And fancied heard the sound of wings ahead
Where danced the Nightingale her path
Through seas of darkness, ruins of wrath.
Yet in her words he saw the truth;
Her path brought light and growth
Even unto the darkest land;
Heart aching, he observed green flowing from her hand
And like the gentle rains above, he wept
Knowing her touch from him was kept
Ere failed her flowing step so light,
'Fore darkness stole her piercing light.

Through fields of holly, under moon.
Over the mountain swept her tune
And in her spreading wake full grieved
The noble Aravolly weaved,
New-growth his bane and his desire
To view the Nightingale on fire
Her feet ablaze in darkest night
Her hair a wing to promise flight.
Ah, how he wept in silence still
To hear her haunting, mournful trill.

Yet found he foes among the way
Who sought for his fair maid to slay,
And drawing forth his gleaming sword
He struck them down with ne'er a word,
Their lusts revealed in crimson streams,
Hatred vented in useless screams.
No hand would he permit on her, not one.
Ay, though it pained him, nor his own.

They say they wander yet the world
Where evil's banner is unfurled
And she will sing a song of love
To bring once more the fox and dove,
And where there rest the darkest fears
They are swept clean as by his tears.
And if you seek for Aravolly,
Though in Wisdom or in Folly
Seeking, you may never hope to fail
If you first find the Nightingale.

---
Does that count as a retainer? Ah, it'll do.
For tomorrow: rivalry.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: dustywayfarer on December 27, 2017, 06:53:49 pm

The Keys of Power

"To be the President or not to be"
This was the question that they asked of me
When I said yes, to my perfect chagrin
"You're him!" they pled, and drove me right in.
Not knowing, they could not then remonstrate;
No experience warned me of my fate.

A king's strict bridle controlling, his will,
Built cities of name while status sat still.
Status President, all pomp, rank, and praise,
Will not endure critical public gaze.
This status is something to hide behind;
When wounded, it cannot return in kind.

A president, true, has some of the keys
That emperors hold and all wish to seize.
But when things go wrong and escape his eyes,
In the dungeon of personal demise,
Disguised as an achievement and designed as a label
To capture his identity and chain it to the table,
He sits there helpless and cannot escape,
For plebians pass by, point fingers, and gape.

I wrote this a while ago; it probably doesn't fit rivalry perfectly.
EDIT: Clarity & meter & SPELLING! Thanks, Th4DwArfY1

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on December 28, 2017, 02:37:00 am

Emporors should be emperors.

Otherwise, a solid poem! It doesn't really fit rivalry at all, but to be completely fair I've bent the meaning of prompts a fair few times myself :P

So, for my poem I'll use your title 'Keys of Power.' I'll work under the assumption that you don't mind, and get stuck in.

One key for him, the other went to her
Whose heart most precious was, most fair.
One opened doors to power, yet not both;
The other was the key to love and growth.
Who held each key would keep them up
Long over night, and though they'd sup
Together, once the food was gone each key,
The keys were taken out for each to see.

One night, he took both keys, the one
To power, one to love, so that before the sun
Could rise he laughed. The problem had
An easy answer after all! It was not bad
To hold the both at once, and be a great
Great man. Together, he was loved by all,
From greatest politician to man most small.

But with no key to warm her heart, no hope
Left in her soul that there could be
A better dawn at the end of the tunnel,
She...she, bereft of key, faded as he grew strong
And in the shadow that he cast
She breathed her last.

For tomorrow: You're on a world with two suns, and there's a singing forest nearby.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on December 28, 2017, 03:21:44 am

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on December 28, 2017, 02:37:00 am

For tomorrow: You're on a world with two suns, and there's a singing forest nearby.

I feel like you already wrote a poem for this, and just want an excuse to post it.  :P

 I'll bite. Writing something weirdly specific is going to be fun.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on December 28, 2017, 04:25:11 pm

You're on a world with two suns, and there's a singing forest nearby.

The day is over; I am all alone.
The twin suns set;
Can I forget
the promise I had known?

And echoing my memory,
the forest sings it's song:
"But who would do but this, that knew
the end would mend the wrong?"

The deed is done, and I am all alone.
The world is dead,
but I, instead,
am bound to flesh and bone.

And as the wind comes whistling,
The forest sings along:
"But who would do but this, that knew
The end would mend the wrong?"

The stars have risen; I am all alone.
Can I amend
this bitter end?
I've done no wrong - or less of wrong, than good.
I've waited long, and long you understood.
You know my reason. How shall I atone?

"Before the war, 'for good' you swore,
and still the will is strong,
But who would do but this, that knew
The end would mend the wrong?"

I am the last, and I am all alone,
but for my past, I beg, can I atone?

"You now allow regret, and how
For end's amends, you long!
But who would do but this, that knew...

...It seems the means were wrong?"

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on December 29, 2017, 11:28:05 pm

A foreign land awaits.
I forded stars like rills
And passed through heaven's gates
To reach Elysium hills.

Now am I here where in
The sky, two suns are hung.
Great brands celestial run,
And all sky red as rum.

And it is beautiful;
The spreading wings of flame
Make gems of Earth seem dull
If they dared shine again.

My heart is filled. The hills
Sweep pleasantly their way
And hide soft sounds of rills
That sparkle in the day.

But whist, the calm is broke
As though a person far
Had raised his voice, and spoke.
A touch of ice, of hoar
Is on the eldritch wind
Which passes o’er the land.

A forest; mighty, old
With leaves of silver-gold
Is in my view. Alas!
How did I miss this mass
Of darkling branch and bud
Which holds
Raw beauty of the stud.

In all the hollows ring
The sound of trees... which sing.

And it is sharp. So sharp
The very air is rent
With music. All world hears
A forest made a harp
And I, amazed, regret
My prior gloried thought.
For it is sadness that I hear
In softer, whispered tone
And all I thought of cheer
Is turned to stone.

I find a tear on cheek
Which rarely saw its sort
And turn away. To seek
Some newer planet’s court
I travelled hard and far
Around this comet’s path
And near that blazing star.

Yes, much I saw betimes
But never, never heard
A sound so sweet or sharp
To wring a tear from me
Or pierce this hardened heart
----
Note: whist is a local term which means 'be quiet'
Also, I made it specific for a change of pace :P

For tomorrow: Native peoples.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on December 30, 2017, 02:15:59 am

 I really like that poem. I ended up minimalizing the whole singing-forest thing (I didn't try to - it just kinda happened), but you made it all fit nicely.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on December 30, 2017, 09:36:23 pm

It actually took me two reads to see what your poem meant, Tomasque.

Native peoples:

Where all the wing and fowl would be
The limsom beech, that supple tree
Rivalled by willow for its subtlety
Stands firm from wind-blown destiny.

The winds were raging in the dark
When people came, as from an ark.
Their feet touched sand and left a mark
When they first thought to disembark.

Then heard they stranger sound
Than they had heard before abroad
From beasts which on that land abound,
And dappled birds still long unfound.

Their guns were stashed in hidden haunts
And went unused.
People they found, and well-like fonts
They shared. Great thoughts ensued!

Then dreams of Pocahontas,
Of the bronze-skinned maid,
Were whispered and not spoken;
Tenets of peace were left unsaid.

Green grows the native tree
And beautiful the scenery
But red as sin the rivers be
And man there acts instinctively.

But land goes on
And sings its song.
Who cares man's wrong?
The earth will still strive strong.

Where all the wing and fowl would be
The limsom beech, that supple tree
Rivalled by willow for its subtlety
Stands firm from wind-blown destiny.

For tomorrow: a wild hunt drives a fox from its den .

I've decided the odd specific prompt is not bad :P

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on January 04, 2018, 10:28:59 am

Red are the roses
Growing on the bank
Crimson the sun light
Streaming from the clouds.
Sweet tastes of dawning
For the horseman’s prey,
The fox is from her den
With the coming day.

Hear horns a-sounding,
Feel the fleeting feet
Of hunter, manly
In his glut of sport.
Hounds chase the foxes!
Cubs cry out the dawn.
Red as the roses
Is a mother’s blood.

Down through the gullies
Over autumn’s stems
Of striving nettles
Like dying gems
The cubs go racing
Fearing hunter’s mark
The cubs go racing
Before all goes dark.

For tomorrow: A gem, a woman, and a knife.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on July 09, 2019, 12:24:34 am

I recently had a prompt given to me by a friend. It was "not recognizing yourself in the mirror." It made me think if this thread.

I guess it's been longer than I thought. To necro this thread, I'll make that the new prompt. I won't post my poem until later, because I don't want to influence you guys.

Lets make this a thing again.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on July 09, 2019, 05:38:02 am

Why not?

Long have the years passed in this place.
The river, like a crooked smile,
Has smoothed and faded
And the house is grey and squat.

I have been here since childhood rang
Unwitting bells of bliss.
We fished that river, made a keep of stone
And laughed. And lived. And loved.

The mirror hangs magnificent, yet faded.
Its gilt is grimed, its surface - once a gleaming pool! -
Bears tendrils of a creeping dust.

What life I've lived has come to this.
My eyes are closed, and I recall
A boy. His eyes gleam, aware as mine are not,
Hair tousled, trousers torn.
Oh how I know him, oh how the house longs for his return.

I look into the mirror. Grey frames a sagging face.
Eyes peer, yellowed, disenchanted.
I know him not.

Prompt: something (or someone!) unobtainable.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on July 09, 2019, 03:36:32 pm

Reflection:

Another night, a new motel;
It's nice, compared to most, as well.
But still you've got that idle thought:
You're feeling out of place.

But everyday you're somewhere new;
This time the problem might be you.
Flick on the light, to find the sight
Of your reflected face.

What lurks behind those bleary eyes?
That's not a face you recognize!
What happened to the one you knew
This stranger did replace?

You've run too long, and now you find
That all along, you left behind
Yourself, instead, to get ahead,
And now you've been lost in the chase.


Unobtainable:

To hold in your heart unobtainable dreams
which others have said never seem to come true.
and still live your days with the hope that you'll meet
a stranger, one day, who'll complete them for you.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Superdorf on July 09, 2019, 07:33:01 pm

Heyy, this is fun! I'll have to try and cook something up sometime.

In the meantime... anyone up for a little comedic verse? Prompt: BEEEEEEES

If not-- Prompt: Betrayal

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on July 10, 2019, 08:18:54 am

Unobtainable

Trees line the path we walk along.
Their roots, no doubt, are deep below
Involved in intimate processes
Such as seeking water.
Those roots entangle and conjoin.

King Arthur fought here, once upon a myth
And tried to forge a unity from disorder.
So goes the local legend,
She reminds me, and I must agree.
It was a noble venture which he joined.

He failed, of course, and only trees still heed
Arthur's philosophy.
She smiles. Knows I pontificate. I smile back.
Pontifex maximus, the pope, drew reins upon
A continent and beyond, I say.

Again, the smile, but Luther came, she says.
Sage nod. We are approaching our path's end;
We must part soon.

I reach towards her hand, thinking of Arthur who fought here,
Seeking to embody a tree philosophy,
But she is gone
And we have reached the end.

Xxxz

Will probably do something for the others later. Prompt: coffee or tea.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on July 31, 2019, 09:21:52 am

Betrayal

A needle through its eye, his sword has pierced my chest.
To think that I, who studied well anatomy, had not known
Could not know
The shade of red which wells from such a wound,
The tangy smell of iron in the air.
His blade is through my heart, I know,
And death is writ upon my unturned pages.

Still, let it not be said that fate has lacking
Nor that such a lacking be in making jokes,
For fate has frozen time for me to think,
Reflect,
Remember.
Dread.

Oh cosmic comedy! I saw him first
When with autumnal glory
The heavens burned
And fire was in his eye, a flame within responding.

All I did was smile. It was enough.

The winter came, but love warmed us
And through season and fallow we lived
Together in all things.

In time, our children took in hand the fields
And went a-blackberrying
Down through the hedges which he knew.

The songs they sang, ah, how they’d pierce a heart.

But it was not enough. His face which loomed
And wreathed in memory the face of love
Was like a well-worn path too often walked.

It was only once.

But he knew.

His sword is through my heart. How funny, now, to think
About the past betrayals. The love-yous and the see-you-laters
Which were never meant.

But in my way, I did love him. And as I die,
I do not think of stolen moments with some other
Nor repent upon the cusp of death.

Instead, I look him in the eyes
Recalling how I met him first
And all the flames which warmed us.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 01, 2021, 07:33:38 pm

I joined a creative writing class to get some motivation to write poetry. I thought I'd spread some here, too.

Prompt: Turn a famous monologue into a poem
Alternate Prompt: Cyberpunk

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 01, 2021, 08:03:39 pm

Been staring at the screen for a while. Here's what I've come up with.

Bright streaks and muddy skies
where once were stars.
Young kids make horoscopes
of passing cars.

Baby steps, I guess. I'll write something more, later.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 02, 2021, 09:53:35 pm

Not cyberpunk, but this is where the prompt led my wandering mind to, so it counts.

Beneath the vault of heaven,
I gaze upon the stars.
For staying out past seven
I'm locked in iron bars.

I'm woken in the morning
to greet the splendent dawn,
then let go with a warning
by the goodwill of The Khan.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 03, 2021, 03:35:44 pm

Prompt: An empty room

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 03, 2021, 06:26:50 pm

Four walls and a door;
A bare wooden floor.
That’s not all I’m leaving behind.

Where once stood the bed,
I stand now, instead,
To feel its weight in my mind.

And ghosts of those books,
Still tucked in their nooks,
Hang so where I tore down the shelf.

Four walls and a door,
And yet so much more.
I leave, and leave part of myself.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 05, 2021, 02:36:16 pm

Prompt: Voyage

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 05, 2021, 05:43:35 pm

The winds are rough,
The clouds are dark,
The skies are looking grim.

But not enough
To keep this ark
From sailing past the Rim.

No world too far,
No night too deep
to keep us from the dawn.

Farewell, dead star,
we'll wake from sleep
beneath Aldebaran.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 09, 2021, 08:19:18 pm

Prompt: Invisible Cities (http://brownreading.weebly.com/uploads/1/1/3/8/11385519/invisible_cities.pdf)

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 09, 2021, 09:57:36 pm

The city, built where dunes and waters meet;
The place to which those weary pilgrims ride.
Some come in search of shelter from the heat,
Some enter seeking solace from the tide.

The camel-driver sees its distant roofs,
Believing them the sails of a ship,
And - aching from the trek on camel's hoofs -
Imagines now a sleek Atlantic trip.

But in the port, the flags of distant lands
that sway - like marching camels - in the breeze
give captains thoughts of treks through open sands
away from crowded cabins on the seas.

One city, yet two ways it can be seen;
Two deserts, one mirage built in-between.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 12, 2021, 10:11:13 pm

Prompt: Dungeon

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 12, 2021, 11:08:24 pm

The Gorge

At last, you'll find the place
Where twine and trail
Behind you leave no trace;
Where maps will fail.

Make peace with gods of man
Before you look:
Below you is the Plan
That they forsook.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 14, 2021, 10:17:10 pm

Prompt: Souvenir

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 14, 2021, 10:45:17 pm

The road trip charm, the Christmas cheer.
The untouched snow of a brand new year.
Our lives moved on; I kept them here,
Inside my snow globe souvenir.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 17, 2021, 01:34:44 am

Prompt: Sunset

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: EuchreJack on April 17, 2021, 11:39:04 am

Screw the Sunset!
My life will never end!
Many more to met!
And gardens to tend.

EDIT: God that's awful.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 18, 2021, 12:41:39 am

Blood in the west; death of the day.
Stygian crest pierces luminous girth.
Clinging atop, draining away,
Drop after drop, through the pores of the earth.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 18, 2021, 12:47:51 am

Quote from: EuchreJack on April 17, 2021, 11:39:04 am

Screw the Sunset!
My life will never end!
Many more to met!
And gardens to tend.

EDIT: God that's awful.

Didn't think I'd see you here.  :)

Don't worry. Everyone's first poem is awful.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: EuchreJack on April 18, 2021, 11:56:26 am

Quote from: Tomasque on April 18, 2021, 12:47:51 am

Quote from: EuchreJack on April 17, 2021, 11:39:04 am

Screw the Sunset!
My life will never end!
Many more to met!
And gardens to tend.

EDIT: God that's awful.

Didn't think I'd see you here.  :)

Don't worry. Everyone's first poem is awful.

...but it's not my first poem.  Still, it's been about two decades since I've fiddled with poetry.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: EuchreJack on April 18, 2021, 11:57:44 am

Prompt: Trees

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 18, 2021, 11:40:52 pm

Winter Hike
Our path winds around through the forest,
with nary a sound in the trees.
But try as they might to ignore us,
I hear one take flight when I sneeze.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on April 19, 2021, 08:01:30 am

My dad, hair umbral, fashions for its home a corner
Of our garden. Sun throws greenness
On leaves, its fingers start to yawn beneath
The earth.

My dad, hair edging grey, cocks eye to
Catch what shade its cage of arms provides.
He shows teeth, places sun-tanned hand
On bark.

My dad, beard patched and thatched by silver
Sits among the roots, boots discarded,
Knowing uppermost branches bend beneath
The snow.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 19, 2021, 10:34:43 pm

Welcome back, Dwarfy. How have you been?


The Estate

In the shadows of the wood,
land I thought I understood,
world of my childhood,
lurks a secret darkness
long sequestered
in that carcass where it festered
on the beautiful and good.

Walk the roads I've walked before,
Through the underbrush explore,
Scour for it shore-to-shore,
till it's been uprooted
- long, uncoiled -
from polluted earth it soiled,
stripped away to plague no more.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 20, 2021, 08:44:01 pm

Prompt: Archery

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 20, 2021, 08:44:32 pm

It's quite the thrill!
I scarcely glance away
and three have struck.

The speed - the skill!
But, jealous, you just say
"It's only luck."

Think what you will;
I've seen them forge their way
when they were stuck.

While you are still
content to simply stay
beneath the muck.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: TD1 on April 21, 2021, 07:12:10 am

Quote from: Tomasque on April 19, 2021, 10:34:43 pm

Welcome back, Dwarfy. How have you been?

Incredibly busy with my doctorate! Which is why I've not been engaging much with this. But I've been enjoying reading everyone's poems.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: EuchreJack on April 21, 2021, 03:43:21 pm

The soldier looks up
The weather is clear
A sound from the air
Shield arm too slow

Death from Afar

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 21, 2021, 07:50:26 pm

Quote from: Th4DwArfY1 on April 21, 2021, 07:12:10 am

Incredibly busy with my doctorate! Which is why I've not been engaging much with this. But I've been enjoying reading everyone's poems.

What are you studying?

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 22, 2021, 10:25:13 pm

Prompt: Dinner

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 23, 2021, 05:48:18 pm

Tuna Steaks
After unpackaging them, I prepare
Each side with some pepper and salt,
Next, with four hundred degrees (and a prayer)
I lock them away in the vault.
Call me a pro if they're medium-rare.
(If not, then it isn't my fault!)

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: EuchreJack on April 23, 2021, 08:03:14 pm

Booze
Dinner at the bar again
Nachos, Beernuts, crumbs on bar

Dinner at the bar again
Too drunk too drive in my car

Dinner at the bar again
All fried, all salt, all gone

Dinner at the bar again
Who's gonna drive me home?

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 27, 2021, 07:54:54 pm

Prompt: Early Morning Mood

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Tomasque on April 27, 2021, 08:56:52 pm

A breathless stillness in the air
Hangs over him whose standing there,
And settles on the tranquil pond
that stretches to the hills beyond.

But when the sunlight mounts that crest,
and wakes the valley from its rest,
The silent curtain will be gone,
to leave just me, the pond, the dawn.

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: EuchreJack on May 06, 2021, 10:04:23 pm

As I'm sitting around listening to music, staring closer and closer to midnight and reflecting on the pain of stuff...

Prompt: Night

Title: Re: Poetry Prompts
Post by: Lawson on May 10, 2021, 07:00:30 am

Quote from: Tomasque on April 27, 2021, 08:56:52 pm

A breathless stillness in the air
Hangs over him whose standing there,
And settles on the tranquil pond
that stretches to the hills beyond.

But when the sunlight mounts that crest,
and wakes the valley from its rest,
The silent curtain will be gone,
to leave just me, the pond, the dawn.

Nicely written