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Open Forum => Off-Topic => Topic started by: LadyNobody on June 25, 2009, 10:13:56 PM

Title: Poetry
Post by: LadyNobody on June 25, 2009, 10:13:56 PM
So, I am an avid writer, and one of my favorite things to write is poetry. I am wondering if there are any fellow poets out there on the boards, and if so, I am creating this thread for you to post some of your work. I'll start us off by posting two of mine. :)

NOTE: At the end of your post, make sure to say whether or not you are looking for critiques or not. If you are, I encourage others to offer helpful advice; if you are not looking for such, I would strongly encourage others to refrain from critiquing.

Okay, here goes. And yes, I am open to critique.

The Battlefield

A war, it wages all around
To most going totally unseen
A war for the ultimate prize:
The soul within me

The forces gather for the march
At the clear-cut bugle calls
A battlefield for an age-old fight
Will determine eternity

On one side, demons beat their chests
Oh hear their snarling roars!
They have but one mission in mind:
Complete destruction

Opposing them in reverent silence
Stand warriors of God Almighty
Angels with swords, humans with words
Hear the battle loom!

The King of Tyrus surveys in pride
His demon hordes in companies
Growling, thirsty for the battle
Thirsty for my blood

Then appearing on the battlefront
The Commander of Heaven’s Host
Upon His thigh, a Name is written;
He is Christ crucified

At His name, all demons tremble
King of Tyrus quells in anger
He growls but one order alone:
“Take the human.”

With quiet authority, Christ speaks,
“Those with swords, protect my child,
Those with words, pray your hardest
To defeat this evil.”
Suddenly, ignoring all rules of war,
The demons run to circle around me
I silently scream to the Heavens,
“I’m going to die.”

Snarling, hundreds of them swarm
I am overwhelmed, at their mercy
One grabs my head, pulling up
I begin to shake

Cruel black eyes stare into mine
I am face to face with evil itself
The King of Tyrus chuckles upon
Seeing my tears

Throwing a knife in front of me,
He silently conveys his command
For me to take my own life;
To surrender to him

Trembling, I slowly lift the weapon
Knowing I should not listen
Yet inside, I feel completely alone
No relief in sight

But before I reach for my wrist,
The demons scream in fury, pain
As Light itself bursts into the fray
My Savior has come!

His horse rears, His sword swings
Taking down the evil entities
As they fall, others flee in fear
Hear them shriek!

Now the King of Tyrus trembles
As Christ’s eyes burn with holy fire
“Leave my child,” His voice booms
With Heaven’s thunder

The King of Tyrus cannot stay
He must flee at Christ’s command
Defeated, he retreats with a snarl
Now I am saved
Kneeling, I violently begin to weep
For upon me, evil still has hold
Knowing my sin, I feel the guilt
Crushing my heart

Then Christ, the Victorious One
Lifts my chin from the ground
With eyes full of love, He says,
“Child, I forgive you.”

My tears turn from sorrow to joy
As I feel His Grace wash over me
Covering my sin, guilt, and shame
Forever and always

Yet I know the demons will return;
They will rally to attack again
But if I rest in Christ’s arms alone,
Demons cannot win

For Jesus Christ, the Conqueror
Has my heart for all eternity
With sword and word, He has won
The battlefield in me

A war, it wages all around
To most going totally unseen
A war for the ultimate prize:
The soul within you


My Friendly Enemy


Oh Time, how you move
In me, through me, all around me
Sometimes fast, sometimes slow
Oh Time, my friendly enemy

Oh Time, you crazy contradiction!
Always changing, yet always the same
I sometimes love, sometimes hate you
Oh Time, you I cannot tame

Oh Time, you cut short good fun
Yet you also create memories
Some to be cherished, some not
Oh Time, whizzing by like bees

Oh Time, will you ever pause?
Will you take time to look?
To smell a flower, hear a song?
Oh Time, freeze like a brook!

Oh Time, why pass so slow?
Why keep my love from me?
Bring us together, then tear us apart
Oh Time, my friendly enemy

Oh Time, stop the clocks!
For a moment, suspend in air
Let love hold me, caress and kiss me
Oh Time, have you a moment to spare?

Oh Time, how you flow
In me, through me, all around me
Sometimes quick, sometimes not
Oh Time, my friendly enemy


Have fun! I look forward to reading other's works and will maybe post more of mine later! :)

~Britta
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: ~Jake of the Wolves~ on June 25, 2009, 10:18:29 PM
Friendly Enemy is endorsed by Jake.
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: The Warrior on June 25, 2009, 10:19:04 PM
 :thumbup:
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: LadyNobody on June 25, 2009, 10:24:23 PM
Haha Jake...and you don't endorse The Battlefield? That's depressing...especially since you know the story behind it.

You should post one of yours. Like, I am a Soldier. I LOVE that poem! Or The Wolf's Call. I like that one too. :)

~Britta
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: ~Jake of the Wolves~ on June 25, 2009, 10:28:42 PM
I endorsed Friendly Enemy because it's based on me. And fine, but the files aren't on this computer.
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: Rawrlolsauce! on June 25, 2009, 11:09:36 PM
I'm having trouble getting into a rhythm in "The Battlefield", and without rhythm it almost gets tedious. (This is why I usually consider rhyming so much easier than free verse  ::))
I like Friendly Enemy though.

Here is my poem (I'm not a poet. I am not artistic. This took me a total of 5 minutes to write...  :-\. (I'm not "looking" for critiques, but feel free to post them. I don't have any strong feelings one way or another.)


No Title

The children saw,
the enemy clad in gems and gold!
The elders realized,
they must do something bold.

The children knew,
it would all crumble away!
The villagers mourned,
the death of the day.

The children said,
it was about to be renewed!
Their dreams disappeared,
when their identities were misconstrued.

The children heard,
soldiers armed with spears!
Only to realize,
the addition of years.

The children saw,
what they themselves enjoyed.
This was a brutal realization,
they are the ones needed to be destroyed!

The children now know,
the error of their path!
It is too late,
they cannot fix the destructive wrath.

The children now say,
they will stop the crime!
It is too late,
they haven't the time.

The children now hear,
the cries of the sheep!
It is too late,
there is no time to weep.

The children now see,
who they had been.
It is too late,
they now rely upon their kin.

The children do not care what reality dictates.
They can all change their fates.
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: Colin Michael on June 25, 2009, 11:32:28 PM
I'll post something the next time I write a forum appropriate poem.
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: Lawfuldog on June 25, 2009, 11:37:00 PM
I really like Friendly Enemy, it's very well written.  :)

I suppose I'll throw one of mine out there. Just wrote this a minute ago, so if there's spelling errors... My bad.  :P

Critique is fine with me, I'm always looking for help to get better.


The Book


This book begins just small and undone,
Blank page after page, nothing but empty,
A book to be witnessed by none,
But to you it is an endless possibility.

This book is like yours, yet nothing the same,
Filled with characters, climax, and plot,
The rise to fame, then fall in shame,
This book is one that shall never be forgot.

Telling a story of which is not fiction,
Events that took place, people that are real,
There are no pictures, just the depiction,
Love and heartbreak; sadness you may feel.

This poor Romeo never found his Juliet,
He lived alone to wonder about the one,
The one who got away, or the one that is yet,
Sadly she never came, his patience was done.

He sold all he had to prepare for the ride,
Quit his job, told all his friends goodbye,
Left with nothing but his love and pride,
Without her, he realized he might as well die.

He searched and she was nowhere to be found,
Then the day came where he heard the worst,
"Woman found burned, buried in the ground."
The poor fellow cried, sorrow had immersed.

Her book closed with that final note,
Never knowing of the boy's love,
For her he had a poem he wrote,
He left it, so she could read it from above.

If only he had taken the chance to show,
How much he loved her and always will,
For her he gave it all up, and again he'd go,
He had loved her then, now, and still.

This book is not about what could have been,
The moral of the story is easy to get,
The book of your life is written in pen,
So don't do anything you may regret.
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: crustpope on June 25, 2009, 11:43:05 PM
@ sauce  I didn't get the last lines.  The whole poem is about how it is "too late" but the last two lines turn it all on its head and there is no reason given why they suddenly realize "they all can chage their fate"

@ Britta.  Im not really a fan of the battlefield.  IT seems too long and a bit broken in points.  My friendly enemy is really good though.  Great phrase.  That is catchy (and sadly true!)  Good meter and rhyme and it has a nice rhythm.  I can sense the joy, passion and desparation behind it, just beneath the words.  Really moving

@ Lawful.  Good message but a bit mysterious and cryptic.  the whole "woman burned, found buried in the ground" part was a bit shocking compared to the flow of the rest of the poem and it stuck in my mind like a splinter.  I wonder if there is another way to phrase that she passed on without being so descriptive/grotesque?


anyway.  here is mine.  Critiques are welcomed and embraced

I am alone, yet you are here,
My comfort and my exiler.
Your Word has plowed an abyss; chasm.
I am set against them.
   Athanasius contra mundum.
   And I am contra mundum.

I am divided in body and heart,
Desiring acceptance yet driven apart.
Alone I stand; ignored.
I am spent against selfish hordes.
   Your Word is a fire in my bones.
   I cannot silence my souls groans.

In truth I have no choice to make.
My will is locked in Divine fate.
Choose havoc? I die in despair.
Choose peace? The wind blows fair.
   I am doomed to be a saint.
   Destined to see the pearly gate.

Often I feel the love I need.
Even when not, by faith I see.
Let your grace fall when I fight.
Let my steps follow the way ordained right.
   I am gaining life with every loss,
   Recklessly abandoned to the cross.


            S.W. Taylor



(btw, s.w. taylor is my pen name.  I figure if I am gonna write I might as well do it right!)
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: LadyNobody on June 26, 2009, 06:35:01 PM
The Battlefield is better when spoken properly instead of read. It's more of a ballad, I guess.

I like No Title, but I agree with Crustpope. The ending is sudden and leaves one wanting.

I also like The Book...but disagree with Crustpope. I think shock can be good sometimes.

Crustpope...What is your poem called? I like it a lot! :)

~Britta
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: Lawfuldog on June 26, 2009, 07:10:08 PM
Yeah the shock was intentional, was trying to get across the point that things in life can be sudden and there is no way to undo what had happened. That was about all I could think of on short notice.  :P
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: Rawrlolsauce! on June 26, 2009, 08:16:33 PM
I was lurking through some files I had saved on my computer, and found an English Assignment from last year.
(we had to write a free-verse poem, minimum of 20 lines.)

Feel free to critique. I don't really care  :P

The Wanderer
His victory was his defeat.
What was bestowed upon him mattered not.
His expectations had been far from broken.
To many people, he was filled with hope.

Yet the secret to his intelligence was his ignorance.
Had he refused what others had given,
had he taken the time to think,
he may have won.

The snares he layed, filled the room.
Yet he still walks to the center.
His reason to fight, is simply to fight.
He cannot hide in the clouds.

He had gained nothing, by losing everything.
The riddles and games, that he faced
have all but surely won.
His eyes continue to pierce the depths of them.

He shown a path troubled by much,
and boasted the demons of so much more.
He refused all solace,
for he cannot lose.

He will continue the struggle,
for he refuses to want.
He knows the outcome, what it entails
Yet he will continue until the end.

For his victory, was his defeat.
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: Lawfuldog on June 26, 2009, 09:23:05 PM
Aghh you're so lucky you got to write free verse in school.  :P

Last year we had to write Petrarchan and Shakespearean sonnets, along with various other forms of rhyme schemes, all in iambic pentameter. All of which were in-class assignments.  :o

Anywho.

I like The Wanderer, especially the way you ended it.
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: Rawrlolsauce! on June 26, 2009, 09:58:33 PM
Quote from: Lawfuldog on June 26, 2009, 09:23:05 PM
Aghh you're so lucky you got to write free verse in school.  :P

Last year we had to write Petrarchan and Shakespearean sonnets, along with various other forms of rhyme schemes, all in iambic pentameter. All of which were in-class assignments.  :o

Anywho.

I like The Wanderer, especially the way you ended it.
So did we :(. I sucked with iambic pentameter, I just couldn't get the hang of it. We just had one free verse assignment and one "choice" assignment (no haikus or tankas).

All we did last year was write poetry, study "a feminist perspective" (one day she showed us an image of the word "she" with the S 3 times bigger than the h or e. According to her, an acceptable meaning of that "poem" was She is greater than he, but not there is no she without he.), and read books. Boring....
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: Minister Polarius on June 27, 2009, 04:09:16 AM
As I adore poetry, I'll make an exception to my "lurking only for now" rule. I've already posted Man of Stone, which I consider to be my best, but I'll post others here. Criticism/comment is exceedingly welcome.

"A Dock to Wait On"

If you were gone, away from me across a raging sea,
And I caught a whisper, just the faintest of rumors
That you were bound for home, sailing back to me,
I would leave, with no baggage, right then. I’d find
A dock to wait on.
I’d wait on that dock 'till time mixes with eternity,
I’d wait, though no news of you ever came.
I’d wait on that dock for any sign of your vessel,
And I’d wait long after I was sure you’d never come.

Washed by the hours, days, years on my dock,
Working for the fishmonger to strengthen
My back, purified by the salt air, I’d wait.
Hair shining in the setting sun, silvered and wan,
Though my life was spent, I’d laugh because I'd had
A dock to wait on.
When I sail away to dreams, I dream I’m sailing
Away to where you are. I dream I’m sailing
Away to where you are. The mementos you left me
Keep me. While I wait, I work. I build. I pray.
I work. I live. I laugh. I build a life. I build a life
For us. I build a home at the end of that dock.

One night, I am certain of it. I believe, I trust,
I have faith. One night soon, you will come for me.
And when I look at you, I will see
That you, too, have been purified by the sea.
Looking forward to that night, I am content with
A dock to wait on.
But I am still young, and I have heard that you
Are already sailing. As I write these words
I am traveling. When I reach the sea, the salt
Will wash my wounds and heal my mind.
There I will repair the temple. I will let God
Repair his temple. In those halls I will work,
In His halls, I will build. And in those halls
I awake. For a moment I wonder if you really are
Gone across the sea. “No,” I say as I half-awake,
“Not across the sea. But no less far away
From me.” So here I study, here I build upon
A future to wait on.
A future to fight for.
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: JSB23 on June 27, 2009, 12:21:18 PM
This some of my best
Blue

Blue is the sky
During a cloudless summer day
When the sun’s shining bright

Blue is the ice
Of a glacier far to the south
Where the cold never ends

Blue is the ocean
Stretching away into the distance
As the waves explode up on to the white sand shore

Blue is the night
After the sun goes down
When the first star comes out

Blue is a Neptune
A planet far away
On the edge of the solar system

Blue is the blue jay
Perching on a branch
When snow blankets the land

Blue is the rain
That bombards the land
With all its cold fury

Blue is life
The water that covers the planet
The life giver
What makes up you and me

This is blue

We Shall Speak

As the smoke from the fires
Still clings to the air people walk out
Beaten, bloodied, bruised changed beyond all recognition
Out of the camps they go into the joy of freedom

Though they are free in body their minds will always stay there
They will remember what happened to those who remain there
And they will speak
The Living shall speak for the dead

When their stories are scoffed at and they are put to shame
By people who refuse to see the truth
Bones of the dead shall cry out from the earth
To testify the horrors are true
The Dead shall speak for the living

After those who remember are gone
After the bones of the dead have crumbled to dust
Do we forget what happened?
No WE must carry on and speak out the truth
“For the dead and the living we must bear witness” – Elie Wiesel      
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: Matman on June 27, 2009, 12:30:52 PM
I love Battle Field. Great Job. ;D
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: LadyNobody on June 27, 2009, 01:10:34 PM
Pol and Josh, I love them. And I know the exact assignments for which you had to write those poems, Josh. Cherie hasn't changed at all! :) I'm pretty sure I used the same quote from the book, too. haha.

Thanks Matman!

Here's another one of mine...

Do You Trust Me?

The rain is pouring,
Thunder roaring,
Lightning cracking,
Trees snapping;
Do you trust Me?

The sky is boiling,
The clouds roiling,
Day is as night,
You cannot see light;
Do you trust Me?

There seems no end,
Clouds won’t rend,
The storm won’t cease,
Brows begin to crease;
Do you trust Me?

Do you not know,
How I love you so?
Do you really think,
I will let you sink?
Do you trust Me?

Storms always come,
But I hold you from,
Before clouds appear,
And you realize your fear;
So will you trust Me?

I hold you so tight,
As together we fight,
Though Me you can’t feel,
Though I don’t seem real,
Will you trust Me?


~Britta
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: drb1200 on June 27, 2009, 02:06:09 PM
This is a little poem I wrote for School. It had to have 14 phrases, and 10 syllaboles in each phrase.

The Giant

The Giant stood there like a disturbed bear
His beaten fingeres numbered twenty-four

The features of his face distinctly rare
Staring into the face of hatred's core

His voice echoed throughout the hills of Gath
His spear was stained with blood of his rivals

His deathly eyes reflected gruesome wrath
His dark sheild was made of molten idols

His sword glistened with the stare of the sun
One warrior was destined to destroy him

But men who saw him thought only to run
But a child stepped forward, ready to fight

Only a stone, only a little stone
And the giant lay there, dead and alone
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: Colin Michael on June 28, 2009, 12:42:22 AM
Quote from: Rawrlolsauce! on June 26, 2009, 09:58:33 PM
Quote from: Lawfuldog on June 26, 2009, 09:23:05 PM
Aghh you're so lucky you got to write free verse in school.  :P

Last year we had to write Petrarchan and Shakespearean sonnets, along with various other forms of rhyme schemes, all in iambic pentameter. All of which were in-class assignments.  :o

Anywho.

I like The Wanderer, especially the way you ended it.
So did we :(. I sucked with iambic pentameter, I just couldn't get the hang of it. We just had one free verse assignment and one "choice" assignment (no haikus or tankas).

All we did last year was write poetry, study "a feminist perspective" (one day she showed us an image of the word "she" with the S 3 times bigger than the h or e. According to her, an acceptable meaning of that "poem" was She is greater than he, but not there is no she without he.), and read books. Boring....
Do you think every girl should try feminism at least once?
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: drb1200 on June 28, 2009, 12:28:24 PM
Quote from: Colin Michael on June 28, 2009, 12:42:22 AM
Quote from: Rawrlolsauce! on June 26, 2009, 09:58:33 PM
Quote from: Lawfuldog on June 26, 2009, 09:23:05 PM
Aghh you're so lucky you got to write free verse in school.  :P

Last year we had to write Petrarchan and Shakespearean sonnets, along with various other forms of rhyme schemes, all in iambic pentameter. All of which were in-class assignments.  :o

Anywho.

I like The Wanderer, especially the way you ended it.
So did we :(. I sucked with iambic pentameter, I just couldn't get the hang of it. We just had one free verse assignment and one "choice" assignment (no haikus or tankas).

All we did last year was write poetry, study "a feminist perspective" (one day she showed us an image of the word "she" with the S 3 times bigger than the h or e. According to her, an acceptable meaning of that "poem" was She is greater than he, but not there is no she without he.), and read books. Boring....
Do you think every girl should try feminism at least once?
No.
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: crustpope on June 29, 2009, 05:51:24 PM
Quote
Quote
[Do you think every girl should try feminism at least once?
No.

Guys, This is a poetry forum so take this discussion to the PM's or start a new thread.  I think it could be a great discussion, it is just out of place here.

Quote
Crustpope...What is your poem called? I like it a lot! :)

I call it Contra Mundum.  It comes from the Latin Phrase "Athanasius Contra Mundum".  Athanasius was a Early Church father who was exiled from the church for his beliefs, but eventually his ideas were accepted and became orthodoxy.  This poem borrows that term but I use it to decribe how Sometimes it seems that God is both for us and against us, but inspite of how we sometimes feel bitter or angry or frustrated with God, my heary and my head can never truly find peace apart from God. SO I am set Contra Mundum because even when I am not at rest with God, I know I can never find rest apart from God.

@ Britta, I really like do you trust me.  IT has some great images in it and is a real simple concept and rhythm to it but a powerful message

@JSB23  Is that second poem by Elie Weisel or just the last line a quote by him.  I really like that poem But I am pretty sure it is by Weisel.  I could be wrong though.

@ Pol.  I Loved "A Dock to Wait On"  I was there by the sea with you as I read that poem.  The Longing and Yearning  yet steadfast devotion is prevelant in every line.  I could taste the salt in the air as I read it.  That, IMHO, is a good way to tell if the poem is good.  If it moves you then it did its job.  Great Work.  

Here is another:

Of Fear

He walked along that day with a grin replacing his face.
His day was going good, he was a happy man.
No worries, no tests, no troubles, no pests ... only smooth riding.
   -And then the presence of the Lord came bearing down upon him-

Just as in ancient days, as the Israelites carried the Ark of the Covenant,
sometimes they were reminded of the fear that should grace their hearts.
On occasion, while walking along in laughter, a smooth catching stone
would fell them, and imminent death of divine magnitude would ride
downward bearing the presence of that Almighty upon them.
In that significant second, when the Holy of Holies met
the Hellion of Hells in fury and righteous rage, they knew the fear of God.
   -in spite of the ignorance their heart had previously entertained-

The Lord came in the form of men;
one in a suit, one in a gown, two by the road and one from out of town.
The latter first, as his Lexus remodeled the Honda Accordingly.
The screech of tires giving way to the grinding crunch of steel,
the Honda owned by the happy man.
Now both sit silent in the path of progress, obscenely broken,
and the Happy man’s eyes close in uncomfortable rest for unknown length...

The Lord moved through the man in the suit.
He gave a lending hand to the man in the Honda According to need.
His need was great.
He lent his hand at a cell-phone for a call of merely three digits.
Nine times the suited man called out for help.
One helped with his skill in revival of the flesh.
One helped in revival of the spirit as he knelt to pray...

The Lord move through the man in the gown.
He held weapons in his hands as he fought
to save the flesh from dying.  He cut, he knitted, he sewed, he patched.
His battlefield was a Happy Honda man.
His enemy was unrelenting and its victory seemed secure,
still, slowly the battle turned to the point
where the adversary’s victory was questionable...

The Red Cross of hope on one side
against the blackness of death on the other.
Whose weapons would win in this battle for more than the flesh,
the stainless steel weapons of medicine,
the expensive scrap metal of a twisted import,
or the prayers of a righteous man
and the deeds of those who walk in the light?...

His day was going good - then he opened his eyes and saw his need,
a precious life spent in guilty passions…all for a good day.
Now had a good day, not by choice but by gift.
As he felt the Lord with fear and trembling.
As holiness began its work, a work to be carried out
in part by the new God-fearer and in part by God,
he was born anew and victory was begun.
   -in spite of the past he had previously entertained-

That day peace replaced his grin,
and on that table, through the many hands of God,
He knew the fear and awe of Immanuel.
   -and the presence of the Lord came to live within him-
               
         
                  S.W.Taylor

I also like this one because it contains a reference to one of Redemptions most popular characters.  A cookie to the first one to get it right!
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: JSB23 on June 29, 2009, 06:30:52 PM
Just the last line is a quote and thank you
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: lightningninja on June 29, 2009, 08:37:20 PM
Samuel?
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: crustpope on June 30, 2009, 11:18:29 AM
Nope, The refference is in this part:

Just as in ancient days, as the Israelites carried the Ark of the Covenant,
sometimes they were reminded of the fear that should grace their hearts.
On occasion, while walking along in laughter, a smooth catching stone
would fell them, and imminent death of divine magnitude would ride
downward bearing the presence of that Almighty upon them.
In that significant second, when the Holy of Holies met
the Hellion of Hells in fury and righteous rage, they knew the fear of God.
           -in spite of the ignorance their heart had previously entertained-
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: LadyNobody on June 30, 2009, 12:53:53 PM
King David/David- smooth catching stone?

~Britta
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: ~Jake of the Wolves~ on June 30, 2009, 02:25:41 PM
Fine fine, Jake will get the Wolf's Call in here.

The Wolf’s Call



In the land I call my dreams
There is much I have seen
Hills and plains, mountains and valleys
But most of all, I have seen visions

I have seen a pack of wolves
In the distance, the mournful cry of a lone wolf
The pack lifts its eyes to the hills
In unison, they lift a call to the moon in reply

Into their midst strides a tall and strong wolf
The pack parts like the sea, and the alpha strides before the loner
The young wolf straightens, bearing himself regally
The Golden Alpha circles the Loner, and finally sits before him

“You pass the test of physique, young wolf
But this is My pack.
You do not enter by strength of jaw and leg
If you wish to join, you must fight Me in a battle
Beyond that of the flesh.”

“I am ready, Gold One.
I have lived on my own since I was weaned
I have passed every test the wild has given me
I am confident I can pass your final test”

The Golden Wolf, who glows in the moonlight
Leaps at the loner, and with a flash of light, is gone
They are in a dark and barren land
The Alpha shines like the sun, and the Loner like the black of night

Again the Alpha speaks,
“Here, the strength of leg and jaw has no power
Your heart and soul will be tried
In a battle unlike you have ever known”

The Gold One sits and stares at the Dark One
The Dark One leaps for him, but finds himself trapped by vines
The Loner cuts his binds and leaps again
Only to find there is a wall between him and the Alpha

“You have cheated, Gold One
You use abilities I do not have
And you know it
Face me, Gold One, and we will see who wins”

“I have done nothing yet, Loner.
You still spell your own demise.
I will accept you into my pack if you can but reach me
But to do that, you must conquer yourself.”


This serves to confuse the Dark Wolf
He strains against the many binds and walls to reach the Alpha.
He finally reaches where he thought the Alpha to be
Only to discover he is back where he began.

He begins to try again, but notices words carved in a rock
“He will help you, if you ask”
The Loner ignores this, and again strains to reach the Gold One
And again finds himself where he began.

“Do not presume to make it to Me on your own strength”
The Gold One is again speaking, and the Loner howls to the moon.
“I am strong and swift, Gold One. I will beat your challenge.”
“You simply serve to erect more barriers as you inflate your pride”

The Loner continues trying, and time and again he fails
The Gold One watches, patiently
Finally, the Dark Loner howls pitifully
“I cannot beat your challenge, Gold One. Help me!”

The Alpha rises to his feet. “Come to Me!”
The Dark Loner strives again, and this time the Gold Alpha runs toward him
As the Loner becomes again entangled, the Alpha slashes the vines.
Every dark vine shrivels and all the walls crash

“You have finally passed, Loner.
This test cannot be passed with the blight of pride
Nor the scourge of doubt
This test is to strip you of pride”

The Loner, who is no longer as dark,
Says to the Alpha
“But now we must fight, and I must win
And I am too weak to fight”

“I surrender. The fight is yours
Welcome to the pack”
The Loner, who was no longer alone
Howled to the bright sun of the once-dark realm

The Golden Alpha joined him,
In another flash of light, they returned
The Pack happily accepts him
And he grows and prospers in their care.

In the hills, the mournful cry of a lone wolf
Rises to the sky
The pack lifts its eyes to the hills
In unison, they lift a call to the moon in reply
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: Professoralstad on June 30, 2009, 03:53:19 PM
Quote from: crustpope on June 30, 2009, 11:18:29 AM
Nope, The refference is in this part:

Just as in ancient days, as the Israelites carried the Ark of the Covenant,
sometimes they were reminded of the fear that should grace their hearts.
On occasion, while walking along in laughter, a smooth catching stone
would fell them, and imminent death of divine magnitude would ride
downward bearing the presence of that Almighty upon them.
In that significant second, when the Holy of Holies met
the Hellion of Hells in fury and righteous rage, they knew the fear of God.
           -in spite of the ignorance their heart had previously entertained-

So if I say who it is, would I get a "hUzzah"?

Anyway, I shall say nice job to all of the poets. I for one am not a poet, nor do I aspire to be a poet, but I applaud those who put forth the effort.
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: crustpope on June 30, 2009, 04:53:19 PM
Quote from: Professoralstad on June 30, 2009, 03:53:19 PM
So if I say who it is, would I get a "hUzzah"?

Yes you would.  ;)

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Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: crustpope on July 09, 2009, 11:12:24 AM
No one has posted on this for awhile.  I thought maybe my cookie was too big and it scared you all off so I made it smaller.
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: Captain Kirk on July 09, 2009, 12:56:56 PM
Pol,

I absolutely loved your poem!  I loved the varied sentence length, it added so much to the work.  Much like crustpope, I definitely felt as if I was the one standing on the dock.  The duplication of the lines "I dream I’m sailing Away to where you are" caused my mind to start to drift off as I read them, much like the beginning of a dream-like state.

Kirk
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: SerpentSlayer on July 09, 2009, 01:03:00 PM
Love Immortal

Love's power has no limits, no space,only immortal embrace.
It's the most precious gift that God and mortal man can give or take.
 And all the powers of Darkness and Evil can't break.
 Its light shines through every crevice in life, touching those beyond its walls.
 Blasting through life's prisons, gates, and dark halls.
All the while catching those who fall. Love is immortal.
Title: Re: Poetry
Post by: Minister Polarius on July 10, 2009, 01:31:43 AM
Good concept, but it's very prosaic. Almost like a verbose dictionary definition, if you know what I mean. I'd say keep the idea, but find a way to make it truly poetic.
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