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.
Gather you far flung travellers, Those of deeds great and small. Gather round this glowing hearth And bear witness to life giving warmth. Witness flickering flames that lap egearly Like the sea in which they bear enmity For to they extinguish their warmth And life beneath such lapping waves, As such belong to the sea. Witness then dear travellers these flames. And how, in riotous life they dance. Dance, by secret word and limb, As only flames can. Oh beauty beyond reckoning. Speak to me of your deeds. Tell me your tales Each a precious gem to the insight Of fair mankind who toils beneath yokes Of coin and ambition; of dreams and heartache; Of a thousand thousand ideals and nightmares, And who is to call this unworthy? Enthrall me with your words dear friends, For I would live your lives for a moment. Oh, a passing moment, yet nonethelss... Ah, repast! Relief! I beg you, such tragedy! Our fire dims, and so too must our company. Truly cruel in this turn of fate. Lo! Let us sit a while longer. Let us linger by dimming hearth, Together for but this time Before fading embers wink out Leaving naught but the heat of life, Yet that too only passing. Before the cool ashes of demise And death sweep into once grand fire. Where the flames danced by word and limb. Oh dear friends witness this fading life. The great spark of truth, truly. Witness.
While this was.... daunting for me to read, I somehow managed to understand. I'm sure you have already realized the one or two spelling errors, so I won't mention them. I think you should've moved 'Oh beauty beyond reckoning.' down one, and had a comma instead of a period. Other than that I have no complaints. After a read through or three, I understood it... more. The title was a bit off balance, in my opinion. I get it now, but when first reading it I didn't ... But that doesn't matter!
The sea is calm today. Showing no memory of that day when the waves stirred deep, When the dreary sky cast grey shadows Upon the growing dawn. Where the uncertainty, The things perceived, half perceived and then, Lost to all thoughts and rememberances Came crashing down like the weight of Judgement itself. Nothing could be so coarse as certainty that day.
The sea remembers that day. How could it forget? Where upon these shores men died. The ever echoing guns, only drowned out by the Never ending pleas and screams for mercy. Oh poor soul, To say death was that mercy would be too cruel. No, that is an unworthy thought of you Who against all odds stood upon this shore. And died. Even that day, the sea was silent.
The sea has taken its fair share of blood. It drank deep that day, when men fell, and fell, Only to fall no more. And even the sea, in boundless thirst Was sated unto bursting, for the shoals ran red. And upon an iron shore, in a land gripped, squeezed and clenched Tight to the breast of an iron, clanking beast That lived for war, brave men stood. Victorious. No hollow victory this, bought and paid for by so many, so dearly. But the road ahead led into darkness.
From grey twighlight they emerged, no true dawn this day, And into darkness they would go To fall, and fall, only to fall no more. This, all this, to gain a measure of peace. Not for themselves, Such men can ever know peace again, but for those loved. All for peace. And lo, the sea is calm today.
I am a stranger here. No longer do I know your faces That pass me by, pass me by. I held you all within my eye, Within my eye. And for what? To have your waning interests flee before That convoluted storms that raged Within passions unknown to me? Ah Such fickle creatures. I am a stranger here. And I No longer know your names. And you, no longer see my face.
It's been a while since I've seen your smile, And the light in your eyes still drives me wild, But I guess we've grown apart now. And that's a shame because of how You used to love the way that I laughed.
That night seems so long gone. A memory that was never wrong. Your eyes are shining in the dim light And you're the only thing stopping me from taking flight.
I haven't seen you in ages, Sometimes I wonder where you are. It will always be yestday, the day You danced away with my heart.
Between the silences that divide, And those that conquer the souls of men, Lay unwitnessed truths. Parting only for a moment the sea yawns, And draws a weary breath, Giving way to the sunlight that bursts forth; Like a cannon.
Here, upon the shores of some unfound land, One ripe for the taming to human hands, Rests the last free beasts. Justifcation, salvation, mutilation. Those are the steps of human dominance. Though, be wary, what men call salvation Is naught but the fettered chain around your neck.
