Everyone hates Poetry

[gaybear]

I hate most poetry. The poetry i like, i love, though. anyhoo, here's some of my gay stuff


San Diego



The breeze passes
a beautiful day into
a violet night.
The wind, it seems,
blows against me
though I wasn't going
anywhere,
nor,
is it leading me in
new directions.

At your call
I come over
to write and drink and smoke
like any other night.
I am a sucker for this.
The smoke pours as venom
from our lips
out the window
and
into the lungs of
the world.

Outside it is raining.
It is such rain
that forced the
English conquest
of the world.
I miss Oregon coffee--
a superior blend
of rain and melancholy.

Bottles are opened and
bottles are emptied.

Wine, to
slow down
between leaps
of lack
of faith.
Awkward words
and gestures
made over
many drinks
hold truths and
falsities
in measures
similar
to life.

It is time for sleep, though.
The air is too cold,
the thoughts to sharp,
and the heart, unsettled.
At 3 in the morning
nothing is calm.
Minds rest in whirlwinds.
Your boyfriend's band is on the stereo.

You wrote to me
that night
in my journal.
Your words, not mine.

“It's raining outside gabe
maybe it's just for you and i
smile for me tonight, darling
for tomorrow we might die
toccata and fugue
sings for us again
and again and again�

Somehow,
I resent that.

[DGNR8]

I agree. Thanks.

The late (suicide) Sylvia Plath was married to a British poet named Ted Hughes. His book Crow is one of my favorites. Crow is an everyman--trickster, who sees death wherever he goes. Yet Crow lives on.

Crow's First Lesson

God tried to teach Crow how to talk.
"Love," said God. "Say, Love."
Crow gaped, and the white shark crashed into the sea
And went rolling downwards, discovering its own depth.

"No, no," said God. "Say Love. Now try it. Love."
Crow gaped, and a bluefly, a tsetse, a mosquito
Zoomed out and down
To their sundry flesh-pots.

"A final try," said God. "Now, Love."

Crow convulsed, gaped, retched and
Man's bodiless prodigious head
Bulbed out onto the earth, with swivelling eyes,
Jabbering protest

And Crow retched again, before God could stop him.
And woman's vulva dropped over man's neck and tightened.
The two struggled together on the grass.
God struggled to part them, cursed, wept --

Crow flew guiltily off.

[gaybear]

neat stuff. i've read plath, but not hughes. i should check more out.

[gaybear]

mi poema sucks.

[izodiak]

This is really bad compared to You all..

Fairies drop of their all bonnets
Leather hands and some old shoes
Fly over the sky in pearls covered handshakes
Clouds lean their heads over a self vanities

Proud of their achievements and all insanity's
Old gets pale, and young stay wrong

Colors spread out on all the fake smiles
Some day it should start to change
Worlds in front of all human rage

Red people tears drop shaken and steady
All our wantons stay in line, waiting, and ready

Colors spread out on all the fake smiles
Some day it should start to change
Colors spread out on all the fake smiles
Worlds in front of all human rage



Red people tears drop shaken and steady
All our wantons stay in line, waiting, ready

but we had it recorded in 2006, so thats from the time I had teenage angst. haha.
http://www.last.fm/music/Order+Sang
Now Im settled for nice calm music.

[gaybear]

i like the music.

[gaybear]

Sun Kissed (Catena Rondo)

The Sun kissed me today,
a warmth on the back of my neck,
as I set out tea on the old decrepit deck.
The sun kissed me today.

A warmth on the back of my neck,
embraced by life giving arms
erased any fear of danger or harm
a warmth on the back of my neck.

Embraced by life giving arms,
like a sappling seeking light, I stood up
and drank sun rays from an invisible cup,
embraced by life giving arms.

The Sun kissed me today,
a warmth on the back of my neck,
as I set out tea on the old decrepit deck.
The sun kissed me today.



The Catena Rondo is a form created by Robin Skelton, and presented in his book “Shapes of our Signing,�s. There isn't a prescribed meter. It is composed of quatrains with a rhyme scheme of ABBA (great band!). The first line of each stanza is also the last of that stanza. The second line becomes the first line of the next stanza. The last stanza is a repetition of the first. Thus, he named the form Catena (chain) Rondo (circle).

[hotrodperlmutter]

Sun Kissed (Catena Rondo)

The Sun kissed me today,
a warmth on the back of my neck,
as I set out tea on the old decrepit deck.
The sun kissed me today.

A warmth on the back of my neck,
embraced by life giving arms
erased any fear of danger or harm
a warmth on the back of my neck.

Embraced by life giving arms,
like a sappling seeking light, I stood up
and drank sun rays from an invisible cup,
embraced by life giving arms.

The Sun kissed me today,
a warmth on the back of my neck,
as I set out tea on the old decrepit deck.
The sun kissed me today.

reads like a creed song.

[gaybear]

Sun Kissed (Catena Rondo)

The Sun kissed me today,
a warmth on the back of my neck,
as I set out tea on the old decrepit deck.
The sun kissed me today.

A warmth on the back of my neck,
embraced by life giving arms
erased any fear of danger or harm
a warmth on the back of my neck.

Embraced by life giving arms,
like a sappling seeking light, I stood up
and drank sun rays from an invisible cup,
embraced by life giving arms.

The Sun kissed me today,
a warmth on the back of my neck,
as I set out tea on the old decrepit deck.
The sun kissed me today.

reads like a creed song.

haha, ouch

[Gavin]

The sun kissed me today, WITH AHMS WIDE OH-PAAAHN

[hotrodperlmutter]

haha, ouch

srsly though, it's very generic.

poetry is about the details. down to the smallest relevance.

you talk about this romance you have with the sun, but you continually refer to it as the sun. why not personify it? give it human emotions, like you're showing you feel for it.

wtf are you doing walking around on a decrepit deck? it sounds like it's about to fall over. you need to relate how while you and the sun were making out, the heat from it was warping the boards on your deck...

you need to revise this. replace generic words with suggestions from a thesaurus if you can't come up with them on your own. if you don't use them, you'll kindle some sort of mechanism in your mind that will strive to top whatever word you've laid out. work on it.

[gaybear]

got my grades today. all A's. 549 points out of 550 possible in Writing 242. sweet*

ah, so not a poetry class...

reads like a creed song.

srsly though, it's very generic.

not very useful bullying.

The rest that follows is useful though.

poetry is about the details. down to the smallest relevance.

agreed

you talk about this romance you have with the sun, but you continually refer to it as the sun. why not personify it? give it human emotions, like you're showing you feel for it.

the 'conitinual' reference is because of the repetition inherent in the Cetena Rondo form. I personally prefer to call the sun the sun, rather than Sol (which is the same thing) or Hank, or something. Do you have suggestions? I thought the whole poem was kind of a personification of the sun? The sun doesn't really 'kiss' or 'embrace' or have 'arms' or give a rat's ass about me.

wtf are you doing walking around on a decrepit deck? it sounds like it's about to fall over.

um, it's at my front door so I can't help but walk on it? It's old. It's decrepit. I don't own this place, so i'm not gonna replace it. The owners plan to though. Not sure why that bothers you. Tying the decrepitude to the sun is a good idea though.

you need to revise this. replace generic words with suggestions from a thesaurus if you can't come up with them on your own. if you don't use them, you'll kindle some sort of mechanism in your mind that will strive to top whatever word you've laid out. work on it.

very true, and ironically, generic advice.


Anyhoo, it's no great poem, I agree. I posted it more to illustrate the Cetena Rondo form, which I think is neat. This is my first in that style, and fell flat so far. No worries.



*Oh, and it was a poetry class

[Bacchus]

I like that, but I read it completely differently. I read it that those qualities being attributed to the sun were the internal qualities of the narrator that circumstance allowed to come out.