The Poetry Thread!

[ix_tab]

Since we already have an excellent, active short story thread, why not poetry? We're all on the internet, and the majority of us are verbose motherfuckers. This suggests to me that there are some poets out there.

I'll start off. I'm not the best poet ever, but man have I improved since my thesaurus regurgitating angst ridden teenage years.

Let's post up our poems and get some honest constructive criticism! I personally am open to people being brutal about my work, though I would love a decent brutalisation (ie not 'it's shit!' but 'it's shit and here's why...'). Other people may be more sensitive.

And now, poetry! (warnings: this one may offend some people. Hence, spoiler tags!)

Spoiler

i want to fuck you quietly in sacred spaces

hey baby lets go desecrate us a tomb or two
prayer is so last year
scream your screams from the last pew in the church
or under sullen skies

saffron becomes you so well
my hand under your robes
your sainted hand pressed desperately in your mouth

kiss the stone
worn smooth with the press of a thousand blessed lips
then flick your tongue a little to the left
in the dark the holy smell of moss and rock and ****

everything everyplace i touch you
becomes sacred
making our own religion
one orgasm at a time

 

[traceur_]

Spoiler: For the fallen

FOR THE FALLEN

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children
England mourns for her dead across the sea,
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow,
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again,
They sit no more at familiar tables of home,
They have no lot in our labour of the daytime,
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires and hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the night.

As the stars shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are stary in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

 

[ix_tab]

Spoiler

FOR THE FALLEN

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children
England mourns for her dead across the sea,
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow,
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again,
They sit no more at familiar tables of home,
They have no lot in our labour of the daytime,
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires and hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the night.

As the stars shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are stary in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Lest we forget.

Though I did intend for this to be a thread of poetry written by yourself, it's always awesome to see beautiful classics like that.

 

[puppydogvaan]

No one has poetry for this thread??

Therefore, I make up something for the occasion, composed as I type:

I grow angry at my mother regularly
No matter what I say she still will not trust me
"What are doing on the computer all night?"
No answer I give could ever make this right.

"I surf a church forum." I say
"I find a charity, and use my credit card to pay.
I find orphans and adopt them, I give them all my love.
I found a site where you type prayers, and send them up above."

Still she looks at me suspiciously, a frown upon her face
She thinks that I am guilty since I won't let her see this place.
How can I explain that it's a forum pure and true?
But some posters use some swearwords--and by some, I mean you.


--

Lol. As I said in another thread, no matter what I tell my mother I'm doing on the internet she thinks I'm looking at porn.