Poetic Contributions of a n00b.

[Ierre Il]

Someone told me to post some poetry here, so here's some of my crap...

The Idol Word

Sophistry and wending words;
a hollow coil's wire,
to sculpt and shape a metal place,
in place of a true fire.

Let not my heart be so entwined
with words of fallen earth,
that I might lose that which I find,
in your world of true worth.

The spin of word, the clash of tone,
the sprinkling of the writ full grown,
these are but spice upon your bread,
and but a mint upon your breath,

Is not meaning more than beat,
and feeling more than tune?
Cannot we shake from our feet
the dust, and leave this room,

The dwelling of the human muse,
the home of poesy's idol,
this temple that our minds have wrought,
of that which you divided.

Though speech does link, and bind our minds,
still must our souls seek You,
for life in word too, as mankind,
has staggered from the truth.

All the spirit it retains is but to taunt,
to tempt and call
our minds back to that place that haunts
those who shall endless fall.

So let us seek, in love not word,
to see the face above,
presenting him a speech unheard,
an offering of love.



Laaaa.. what else... ah, this one.

Cage

Passing sands in pinch of now,
I see not here the why nor how,
that fashioned forth this land of truth,
from false and wounded heart aloof.

But is it heart or truth that errs,
in musing and in deed,
from holding that which binds it sure,
that which all truly need?

Thus turn the twisting spin of twine,
the cycle of the errant mind,
not content with self-wrought cage,
but stirring, pacing in placid rage.

Within these bars the heart does see,
the stars of hope spin gently,
and counts each as it cross that line,
at which it passes from our time.

Once again the stars do fade,
to silken black from which they made
the azure light that touched the hearts,
of those who would not reach their marks,

Nor learn from them the promise deep,
but turn instead, and scornful, weep
over the cage that hols them tight,
over the bars they formed with might.


Enough for now... Specially since my copy/paste function is broken...

[Jaron]

I actually quite like your use of slant rhyme, in several places.

All in all, DEFINITELY not bad

[Ierre Il]

Thanks for reading =P
Here's some more, since I had such a polite reader and so little to do at 2 in the morning when caffeine seems to keep me going far longer than it's usual lifetime...

Silence

I stand here now before the court,
of tears, and swards, and stars,
the place which he beyond has brought
forth from this love of ours.

My stumbling tongue does wend the words,
to stir their pity, show my pure,
but naught replies, no note is heard,
from this place built on loving words.

Silence my crime, silence my song,
silence my sentence, silence above
the fetters of fear, unleashed not my tongue,
nor freed me to speak with abandon my love.

To fear I submitted, by fear was subdued,
in my pride I twisted, and wrestled with truth,
but from stones I rose up, and as stone unhewed,
I lie still, unspeaking, unknowing, uncouth.

Shall he who can bring forth from stones the true men,
leave me thus silence, thus frozen and rent?
Shall he who has brought forth from men his own son,
leave me unhealed, unmade, unbegun?

Here stands he then, in love he has forged,
in beauty, in majesty, in speech we must seek,
the lord of great mercy my plea not ignored,
but stands still outreaching his hands to the weak.

By those who seek alone he's found,
by those who ask alone he's known,
To those who will follow shall he give a crown,
To those who will answer shall he give a throne.



What else do I have here... No, that one's only for A Canoe and I... ah, this one is vaguely interesting.

Oblivion

From that which sowed my heart within,
and taught my mind to speak,
from all that held me far from sin,
have I run hard, 'til weak

In a land strange, hard, I rest,
but here I find no sleep.
For within I'm marred and dead,
eyes can, afar, not weep.

Tendrils of the bardic muse,
that seek to bind my eyes,
find naught to bar their mournful hues
from reaching, scarring, lies.

Oblivion, in shards, does seep,
through pores lined with age,
and nothing jars my mind from deep
melancholy carved cage.

and why not the one that follows that in my archives...

Faith

Feverish within me flit
the words and writhing schemes,
to follow through these depths torchlit,
shade lanced by putrid beams.

The spiral scythe of vapid air
does echo on my skin,
and deeper still, down my heart's stair,
its meaning echoes in.

For far beyond this clamorous realm,
of sullen shuddering stone,
there is a land of reaching elms,
where lights shine not alone.

This stirring in the stillness deep,
though bitter on its own,
does induce me, not to weep,
but ever onwards roam.

Somewhere beyond surge chortling streams,
sigh forests in the breeze,
somewhere beyond this tomb unclean,
beyond lives felled with ease.

Ever shall I follow thus,
deep sure of hope unseen,
for pond'rous stone shall not hold us,
nor shall doubt come between...

Hmmm... *rummages some more in archives* Ah, here's the first poem I wrote after I returned to school.. I started writing during a holiday period, you see.

Ode to General Studies

Vagaries of slothful thought
dry eyes that sleepy weep
a head in custom's vices caught
and sunk to depths beneath.

The chortle of the thoughtless
hangs distinctly in the ait,
and crushes me meaningless
with apathy laid bare

The sordid echoes, slurring ways,
do hold this drearoom right
in ethically forged maze
of days and endless nights.

This subtle chatter draws my mind
from all with meaning true
and once again consciousness fades,
and intellect resumes.



Right, I'll finish with this, more a crazy ramble than a poem... something that came to me when my mind and fingers had naught else to do...

Rant

See the green of sky maintained
by constant push of work fogged brain
hear the endless muttering
the cries for meaning cluttering
I feed my brain upon the shelf
with pellets given by that elf
that once was here and now is gone
leaves me alone with my song
the aching jaw and scar stained robe
that clamorously seem to flow
the waves that never leave the hand
that called them forth upon this land
here I stand or sit or lie
write words that still refuse to die
but meaning yet eludes my pen
as I pace with within this den
this home of thieves whom unafraid
have by our tangling minds been stayed
and in this mist have ceased to roam
so civilised have made their home
no stirring now within the eyes
that once this silent word defied
who sund in silent, fought the ade
that stone with which our lives are paved
now to stand not rut nor stain
lives unfeeling void of pain
yet from all this my spirit quests
caught in maddened blind behest
onward in unmeaning haze
a useless rant of he half-crazed
but surely more these words can sing
within my heart whittled musing
what I know, feel unfusing
rattle bars within my soul
demand of me all be made whole
moss crusted my statue stares
what is asked I cannot bear
banish instead all but these words
that 'pon these curtains are conferred
that from my prowling hand pour out
and in this flow of ink I drown
like many more before my time
I sink beneath this stormy brine
of coiled lies and stinging truths
that crept upon me softly hoofed
unheralded by coconuts
or baying of the wagging mutt
once more this binding maze does spring
within this place cold withering
for all around there's naught I see
which shall not pass away from me
ready to leave uncoloured ways
but these sought havens too are grey.
Tiredness still grasps my eyes
like hungry ghoul that waiting lies
and even words on parchment thin
appear as naught, uncaged yet dim
as circling speech besets my ears
my mind is called by nothing here
echo instead, no way but hurt
within these lands of dark and dirt
amongst the paths that we must choose
it seems at every turn we lose
I lose my vision, lose my way,
lose all but he who my life saved
yet I wander this veiled realm
wonder whither it once fell
and still my oozing time does spill
from hourglass heads so full still
and stare 'pon unending stars
so old these lights, far beyond ours,
the night and chill, ah, my old friend,
where in this is there an end?


To answer my own question, the end of this post lies here. Goodnight... if I haven't already deadened your mind with my bleating perhaps I'll post again sometime... I'll certainly post in other sections of this board, a most interesting place...

[J.R.V.A.]

Yes, I'm glad somone told you to post here. Very good. i like your sense of humor. Thanks

[HeAtHeN]

I like Cage.... but they're all very good. Thanks for sharing.