 |
|
You are not logged in! F.A.Q Log in Register |
 |
|
 |
 (nobody)...and 448 guests Last 5 registered Oplandisks nothingstar N_loop yipe foxtrotromeo Browse members... |
 |
Members 8025Messages 2614196 Today 0 Topics 127547 |
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
hi there. I am a frilly-collared, opium-pipe smoking poet by the name of marlowe_is_dead. please read through my scribblings and see if you like them. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
230 year old man HA! |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
mm. not a big fan, I must say. I don't like your choice of words - they're almost cliché. the whole poem "orange" is filled with words I would never use in a poem (aura, demons, angels, soul, tightrope) - those words mean nothing to me, they are empty husks (oh dear! :P ). and I really dislike shouts like "ha!" and "ah". :) |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
I'm sorry, it's my Dickensian upbringing :P it's funny you pinpoint Orange, because that one was forced out kicking and screaming - but I knew I had to get SOMETHING out of me, and that was it! ;P |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
you darrk horrse you |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
what did you think of that soul-bearing? ;) |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
heres my effort. I just wrote it! Delve A billion embers Collect themselves Delve the winter And ring the bells A thousand hereos Lost and fallen A collar, medal a bugle calling A darkness laden An empty sky Plumes as their spirits Meet the Eye A distant rumble A thunder meant Their very souls To hell were sent A concious thought A grip and then Through space and time And where, and when A million lies Stamped and listed A tattered life construed and twisted A billion embers Collect themselves Delve the winter And toll the bells |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
I'm listening to some hiphop right now (hieroglyphics) and that went very well with it! nice one mc! |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
i have only skim-rread yourr poems i'll have a betterr look laterr, but some of them arre cerrtainly of a higherr standarrd than a lot of the crrap on that site. i would not be shocked if you arre wholly unapprreciated by most of the otherr memberrs. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
aww thanks A_P :) I have a certain niche at that place tho :) |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
i'd very well say marlowe assumes a triple poetic occupation as a poet, beatnik, and an MC. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
here are some comments on my poems +) |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
|
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
here's a poem I wrote this morning... Searching Sometimes I feel so alone Like the emptiness is devouring me inside. Sometimes I feel genuine happiness Like everything is perfect. Sometimes I feel like I have the answers Like the path is laid out in front of me. Sometimes I feel lost and confused Like the path is hidden amongst thorns. My heart lifts me up, and throws me down It is searching for the answers. The answer is somewhere inside, Somewhere there for me to find. People can provide a map They can help you glimpse what life can mean But they can never give you the answer. They can show you the door But you must open it. I've relied on others in the past, To provide the answers, and make me feel happy But when it came crashing down, It took me with it. I am searching my heart for meaning I am searching life for a pathway. I am still searching... that's a first draft... might change some things... I like to avoid super big words when I write poetry... to me the best poems and lyrics aren't full of supposed beautiful words, like the classic poems you study in high school, but are just honest statements from the writer... so I try to do that... I don't write much poetry anymore, only when I really feel compelled to write something down... |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
yes, I agree. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
it is about the message, but sometimes "big" worrds arre needed, they can explain the feeling morre accurratly |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
but i do agrree |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
nod, that is true... I think that's what I wanted to mean, but didn't really say very well... it is about the message when all is said and done... but I like to express myself in simple language... I personally feel it's more personal, heh... it always seemed to me, studying poetry in high school and stuff, that real famous authors used big words just for the sake of it... not my thing... |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
Where Are You Now? is grreat marlowe, i also think it would make a smashing song lyrric |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
you've got some really nice words/expressions here. i think it has inspired me to open up an account there so i can read all of you stuff, it won't let me now... and maybe post something i wrote.. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
"it is about the message" I don't agree. poetry is a form of highly concentrated language - it can all be about the words and their sounds and rhythms. much more important, imo. if there is a message, it shouldn't be obvious. |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
i really like "the stele of revealing." to me, it beautifully paints a picture of a feeling/idea that seems so difficult to put into words in such a way..i don't think many people can write this way about what i think that this poem is about..very nice work |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
nod, you're also right... I also like poetry to be vague as to it's exact meaning... but you can have this with simple language as well... |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
okay you inspired me to make one of those |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
| |||||||||
|
|
i'm a poet. this one was published in a college literary magazine: DISTANT PARADISE by Gus Young When I was young my father would whisk me and certain friends away to a foreign land a hundred miles from home where green fingers grew from plains waving at the vehicles passing on dusty roads my father would hunt horned beats, birds and sometimes snout-bearing warriors my friends and I would swim in ponds with gravel banks splashing in bronze water and catching its color in our clothes we would roll down gravel mountains and become steamrollers smothering flora and arise caked in copper dust we would walk along riverbanks dried from summer's sinister swelter and find ancient synthetic treasures and little pieces of mother nature and we would stand in the finger bearing fields singing my father's favorite old songs we were deities in those days basking in the sun's golden radiance |
||||||||
|
|
|||||||||
|
Messageboard index
|
|||||||||
