Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → The Words and Workings of Wolf
| 634 | 207723 |
Here is a thread dedicated to my work as a writer. This thread will mostly be filled with my poems which vary in theme but I try to fashion myself after my favourite poet T.S Eliot, who I believed captured human nature in his words. I aspire to do the same. Please feel free wo citique and review my work. However, simply saying "I like it" is not good enough, as a writer I must grow and develop so I beg you readers to give me a reason as to why or why not you liked the poem. To start off I shall provide you with one of my personal favourties.
These Are The Boring Bits
Call life what you will,
A joke,
A curse,
A gift,
An adventure.
Take from it what you will,
Joy,
Sorrow,
Love,
Hate.
Lose yourself in it
Find your purpose
Or,
Find nothing at all.
A man asked, "What is the meaning of life?"
A woman told him, "Whatever you make it to be."
A child asked, "Is god real?"
A parent told them, "Only you can decide."
Personal opinion is what we use to guide us,
The opinions of others are what lose us.
We can never be certain
That we are certain of anything
Because of change,
And because things stay the same.
What makes sense one day,
Will confuse us another,
And so it goes on.
People tell others to:
Get in line,
Grow up,
Get our lives straight,
Who told these people these things?
And why tell us the things that broke them?
Is it human nature to be unhappy?
Two men sit on a bench,
In a park,
Under a tree.
They talk about family and friends
They talk about work and dreams.
One man says, "It is a waste of time to dream,"
The other says, "Yes, but to have dreams is not."
Dreams are what the world is made of
Bad dreams,
Good dreams,
Lost dreams.
Hope is never far off,
As the old die,
The young are born,
The young grow,
They become old,
The old die.
But while they are young,
They change the world.
Some for the better,
Others for the worse.
Inspiration is a dream.
The only inspiration in life is life:
What to do?
How to do it?
Can we change the world?
How to change the world?
Is there purpose?
Are we real?
Or a figment of imagination?
All questions do not need answers.
Call life what you will,
These are the boring bits.
- 634 Replies
Wow wolf, I was blown away by that last poem. As little as it is, it packs a big punch as you read it. So powerful and the last three lines in particular were very bold.
Great job my friend!
Wow, that was amazing. As a published poet i must say you have serious talent. I agree with Jezz, however, that your spacing is a little off and your ideas are a little random. Sometimes it helps to read things out loud, because you can hear how it will sound as far as meter and pauses, and it will give you an idea of how it will be interpreted by the reader.
As a published poet
You get a kick in the shin.
I like the simplicity of your recent poem, Wolf. Nice.
Wow, that was amazing. As a published poet i must say you have serious talent. I agree with Jezz, however, that your spacing is a little off and your ideas are a little random. Sometimes it helps to read things out loud, because you can hear how it will sound as far as meter and pauses, and it will give you an idea of how it will be interpreted by the reader.
I fully agree, however I have dozens of poems on this thread. Which poem are you refering to?
I like your most recent poem
I write for those who can not speak,
I write for those who can not look,
I write for those who can not stand,
Not because they will not,
But because they are the ones in chains.
Only the Fallen can rise again.
this poem, though short, contains a lot of meaning for me.
I was referring to These are the Boring Bits. Im sorry i coulnt reply, we had a power outage as a result of a storm and i didnt bother trying to get back on line
And this is why electricity is the secret devil...
Alas, another short poem while I work my mind to something more profound.
Wipe the tears from your eyes
We have come to the end of our tale.
And while the pages have been turned
Again and again.
Only to reach this moment.
I find myself unexpectedly
Satisified.
It's funny how those views keep going up and up but I hardly see a single comment on the thread. I am very tempted to see this locked.
I am very tempted to see this locked.
Nooooo.... DX
Don't do it, Wolf! Don't do it! Of course, you're probably not happy to see the same old me posting on your thread again. :P
Wipe the tears from your eyes
We have come to the end of our tale.
And while the pages have been turned
Again and again.
Only to reach this moment.
I find myself unexpectedly
Satisified.
I don't know why, but I expected this to rhyme.
It's really excellent, but the only thing is that I don't think there should be an "and" at the beginning of the third line. :/
I'm probably wrong, but it's bugging me.
The Words and Workings of Wolf: Tragedy and Nihilsm
Say what you will of my work, it's often a dark and winding road with no hand to guide you. Things seem to be without purpose and nihilistic in every sense of the word. I've never denied that, and at times embraced it. However, at the same time I tell you to look deeper. To find more than what I've given you on the surface. I'm not a flat writer. I write everything with intent and purpose. There is nothing completely black in my heart, and therefore nothing completely black in my writing.
I live in a world of grey. Nothing is definitive, nothing is certain. At times it is maddening, however, it is this life that has helped me develop a taste for humanity. Humnaity in all its forms. The good and the bad. You could say I'm dark and unrelenting in my pessimistic views that I care nothing for the good, and joy in life. But, you would be wrong. While I view so many things with disdain I also see thigns worth saving.
Humans are not good with virtues. We're selfish, greedy, backstabbing creatures. Compassion fits us awkwardly and even then we'll calculate how to benefit from it. Honesty is something we know nothing of. There's no truth to us except we're corrupted. However, despite all this, despite our flaws there are times when we shine past all the grime and ash that covers our virtues. Somehow, sometimes we rise past what we are and become something more.
-Tyler P. Kent
Within Your Hear Lies the Best of Me
Our love has seen better days.
Indeed it must be said, that only I hold to it.
Like some orphan begging for a gentle hand
To reach out and guide me from the streets
Where shattered hopes and pieces of my heart
Swirl around the gutters like so much dust.
You have forgotten my face, by holding me away.
No second looks for the way you came down.
You will not contemplate that road again; if only
Because you do not wish to see the guilt, that I am
So thoroughly convinced resides within your hardened heart.
No, there will be no time for you to give to me.
The wide eyed child who reaches our despairingly
Hoping for someone, anyone, to save him from this nightmare.
For all that was good was given away, in secret, full knowing.
You know what you hold, even if you do not realize it.
I gave you no choice, for it would not live within me.
It was wrong, but right. To save what needed saving.
Within the secret places of your heart and soul
Hides a piece of me. That piece hold everything I could not
And everything you needed to continue on.
Harsh words, and forgetfullness will never dislodge it.
What was once of me, is now of you. My last gift to you,
Though I knew it not when I gave it. At least, not for certain.
So, I ask you to hold on to what you have knowing what I do not.
I ask you to keep it secret. Never open what lies hidden
Because should you find it I fear you will discard it.
Hold tightly to the memory that I was the one who freed you.
I showed you a life beyond the chains you had built.
I loved you without need, even if I said otherwise.
Perhaps I presume too much, perhaps I but awoke what
Lay in you so dormant for so very long.
Yet, even if I only accomplished that small feat,
I am satisfied. I promised I would love you always
And I shall. No matter what you may think or say.
I gave you the best of me my dear. Keep it safe.
*head desk*
How is it remotely possible this thread goes up roughly 50-100 views per day and the only people who respond on a regular basis are Tacky and Moon?
Explain!
How is it remotely possible this thread goes up roughly 50-100 views per day and the only people who respond on a regular basis are Tacky and Moon?
Explain!
I like to read rather than post in these poetry threads.
Reality
Slips back
And forth
Between the
Hopes and dreams
Of one man.
I've told
Myself so
Many things.
All things
Lie hollow.
Shadows
Creep upon
My dreams.
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