My musings
 

As to not flood the general poetry thread, I'll post my things here!

Politics and Love and Plato
When you answered I was surprised
I didn’t really believe there would be
anyone at the other end
Maybe just a voice and a beep and silence
Followed by obnoxious rattling
As I struggle to put down the phone
But you picked up and
I didn’t know what to tell you
So I just said
We should go out for coffee or something
I don't know if you drink coffee
But it seems like the thing to do

I drew on a creased and stained napkin
Along with sad little poems
And single line monsters
with a Sharpie pen
While I listened to you talk about
Politics and love and Plato
In a caffeine-induced splendor
At twelve-thirty-seven in the morning

The silence of the room
buzzed with anticipation
as footsteps (hushed) grew closer
from down the hall
until the door
exploded open
into frenzied madness
of touched lips and tongues
whisperings of chaotic emotion
spill into hard fluid gatherings
of lace and silk and cotton
of smooth liquid time
paused as
breathing
in deeply
I fell

“Step through the window
The door is locked.”
she taught me
There is always another way in
You just need to look

Always the most lucid of my friends
I could see through her
And knew I was dreaming
Every time I looked real hard
I saw her escape route
Out the back door

She told me that she was
The door itself
And I figured she meant metaphorically
But you never know
With the way she opened to everyone
And the way she creaked in the wind

Orchid Dancer
 

I danced.

I danced for hours, and the wind beneath my feet
was unbearable. It was impossible.

I danced.

I watched the world spin for hours. Perfect little sphere twisting and turning for a small eternity.

All that is not eternal is useless.

I saw you smile tonight. Something small and discrete. Delicate. You're such a flower. Iris, Isis, Orchid. You didn't know I saw, but I did.

Great stuff here, Cellophanedeity. I especially love the door one, and these lines

" With the way she opened to everyone
And the way she creaked in the wind"

Look forward to more :)

Excellent......I too will be waiting for more. You have a wonderful style.

I like in particular:

We should go out for coffee or something
I don't know if you drink coffee
But it seems like the thing to do

I also like how the rhythm breaks at some points. Don't know how much nitpicking you want from my side but if you want a stanza by stanza critique shoot me a pm or something.

I like it very good overall.

Me too! But I liked the message of the first stanza best. These are all quite good. I like how your first sets a mood and atmosphere to it as well.

Asta!!

the ease with which you write is refreshing here.

this is the way it should go...

thanks for the reminder.

'course it's always on us to try somehow to make it always better - and that's a different challenge for each of us.

best luck with your excellent expressiveness!

Reflection
When I looked at myself this morning
I could not see the glass
or the dots of toothbrush spittle
I could only see myself
The darkened skin under my eyes,
from a hundred sleepless nights
The pink of my lips
cracked by the dryness of winter
The marks on my neck
the badges of honour
showing that I belong to someone
or at least did for the night

And I drew graffiti
on your back
with the tip of my finger
dipped in love
as we lay giggling
in the shadowed room
and I won't say a word to him
if you won't say a word to her
happy for tonight

Tomorrow we'll smile
be polite and discrete
knowing, knowing that no one knows
except you and I
and the cat on the windowsill
Our own little peeping Tom

We'll whisper our story to strangers
as we sit side-by-side
on an over-filled train
when the black inked initials
of teenage lovers
remind us of fingertips

shush
shush
don't say anything now
don't break the silence
I don't want to pick up the pieces

Wow. Those last two are just as good as the others. We all can relate to the reflection one so I thought it was great. The last one I like how your imagery and adjectives create an atmosphere that I almost feel I'm inside of when I read it. Really good stuff here :).

Asta!!

When said out aloud the second coffee is too much coffee. I don't know what to replace it with seeing as that is your job. :p (yes, I know I liked it to begin with but it changed when I tried reading the poems out loud)

However, I find little else to nitpick with but I feel that the poems are almost too personal for public viewing. Their general feel is that they don't call forth emotions (not the same you had when you were writing them atleast) and that they are too kind, verging to the naïve. I'd like a little bit more punch, aggressiveness and general madness/mayhem.

As they are now, they're good and a future steppingstone and it's a sentence I don't like to use, but it's got great potential. I'd love to read more if you get to a phase where you feel more homicidal. In the meantime I'll read these and dig them.

Thanks for the insight sepia!

For a while I stopped writing all together because I found that all of my pieces have the same emotion. I thought that I shouldn't have bothered writing 'cause my suburban perfect life is too "nice" to write about.

A couple of my songs are angrier, but the lyrics aren't very poetic.

I promise, the next time I'm feeling a negative emotion (I have no idea when that will be!) then I'll write a poem for you. ;)

if your 'creativeness' follows the same paths as mine, just write when you feel like it. something might surface that has a different tone but you get the exercise anyhow and that's always good baggage.

Wow... I like the feeling you express in your writing...I really enjoyed the way reflection took me...

hey cello - glad I stepped into your thread. Your not keening about a torn soul wrap't in barbed velvet whilst tiptoeing through the dust bunnies of unswept reflection is aok writing wise for me ;)

... "In a caffeine-induced splendor
At twelve-thirty-seven in the morning"

..."The marks on my neck
the badges of honour
showing that I belong to someone
or at least did for the night"

..."when the black inked initials
of teenage lovers
remind us of fingertips"

Your stuff works for me.

I'm glad you appreciate my happier outlook Kramus!

I'm glad "I work" for you! ;)

Well, yes ... actually ... you do :thumbsup: And your words also :D

*laughs* :icare: You made me blush!

(writes that down)

Asta!!

I have a new one that I'm relatively proud of. Whatcha think?

===

the sky is falling outside of my
window panes cracked paint dusty with
dreams left from years long
past memories of catching
fairies in jars waking to discover that they found
escape from the monsters in my
closeted fears of you seeing just how I
feel the light of the moon reflecting
off of the deep end of the dock and into the
water beads off of your smooth
skinned knees bleed red, I will kiss you
better run home little one, you don’t want to be
late nights warm underneath the starry
sky falling outside of my
window panes cracked paint dusty with
dreams left from years long passed

I like it :)

Are you published? This is really, really good. And I've seen enough awful deviantart poetry to know the good stuff when I see it.

*blush*

No, I'm not.

I think you should try for it, really. Your rhythm and intonation are especially good, and you never plump for the obvious simile. Excellent.

Thank you!! I'm very flattered. Perhaps I will try sometime, when I'm back to writing on a more frequent basis. :)

Wonderful stuff..maybe one of these days, I won't be so shy as to post my own.

been really nice reading yours tonight, hope you write more

These are excellent, excellent. The feel of the language is soothing and calm. I agree with Kramus, I like the fact that you don't write "torn soul" poetry. I especially like the poem in post #11, though I'm not sure it needs the last stanza. I love this line in particular:
"... and the cat on the windowsill
Our own little peeping Tom"

And I would certainly buy your book if you were published.

*bump*

I'm still writing...

---------- Post added at 10:49 PM ---------- Previous post was at 10:49 PM ----------

It started with crow.

In the beginning there were trees and air and ground and sky and sea.
In the beginning there was dust.

Nothing made a noise.

Crow watched the silent world spin from the top of the tallest tree on the tallest peak.
Crow watched the silent world and began to sing.

The silence shattered as crow's voice flooded the world,
The whole world called back.

The sea rushed and roared.
The sky split and cracked.
The ground whispered and sighed.
The clouds gathered and boomed.
The trees clapped and pushed up to danced.

And with all of this sound,
And with all of this noise,

Dust pushed up to dance.
Dust gathered and boomed.
Dust whispered and sighed.
Dust split and cracked.
Dust rushed and roared.
Dust turned to blood.
Dust called up to crow and began to sing.

Feel this love like music
in rich tumbled vastness
crashing solace of pulse and beat and rhythm

In blue and green and grey
and red red red

I feel you in my sleep
climbing through tangled vines
of memory and faith and dream
In truths in lies in myth in god

Like falling from sky covered towers
of song and light
like freedom to run and to stay
to be quiet and sing
feels like the way you are

like summer rains and delirious skies
in golden ever reaching birch trees
in fish and buzzing flowers
in stairs to nowhere
in you