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Author Topic: Poetry thread~~~>  (Read 31648 times)


Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #20 on: April 06, 2006, 02:48:30 pm »
Oh well, since I have this emo thing I will let you have some more:

Icicle love

Frozen solid by a world of cold
no trace of life in the fallen snow

The morning mist has frozen
and hung icicles from your fingers
still reaching for the god of sun
from the time he turned you his back

I hold my breath in all my fear
to shatter you and all that's near

You lay your body next to mine
all I inhale is your broken beauty
It's poison both to soul and mind
But I can't breathe out

Where your eyes meet mine a flower grows
a frozen, black, forgotten rose

Fleeing from the northern wind
my hand seeks warmth from your smile
I lay my finger on your chin
and left are I and a rose

Some Random Ock

Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #21 on: April 07, 2006, 07:29:53 am »
                                ~ ROBERT BROWNING

My first thought was, he lied in every word,
    That hoary cripple, with malicious eye
    Askance to watch the working of his lie
On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford
Suppression of the glee that pursed and scored
    Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.

What else should he be set for, with his staff?
    What, save to waylay with his lies, ensnare
    All travellers who might find him posted there,
And ask the road? I guessed what skull-like laugh
Would break, what crutch 'gin write my epitaph
    For pastime in the dusty thoroughfare,

If at his counsel I should turn aside
    Into that ominous tract which, all agree,
    Hides the Dark Tower. Yet acquiescingly
I did turn as he pointed: neither pride
Nor hope rekindling at the end descried,
    So much as gladness that some end might be.

For, what with my whole world-wide wandering,
    What with my search drawn out thro' years, my hope
    Dwindled into a ghost not fit to cope
With that obstreperous joy success would bring,
I hardly tried now to rebuke the spring
   My heart made, finding failure in its scope.

As when a sick man very near to death
    Seems dead indeed, and feels begin and end
    The tears and takes the farewell of each friend,
And hears one bid the other go, draw breath
Freelier outside ("since all is o'er," he saith,
    "And the blow fallen no grieving can amend;")

While some discuss if near the other graves
    Be room enough for this, and when a day
    Suits best for carrying the corpse away,
With care about the banners, scarves and staves:
And still the man hears all, and only craves
    He may not shame such tender love and stay.

Thus, I had so long suffered in this quest,
    Heard failure prophesied so oft, been writ
    So many times among "The Band" - to wit,
The knights who to the Dark Tower's search addressed
Their steps - that just to fail as they, seemed best,
    And all the doubt was now--should I be fit?

So, quiet as despair, I turned from him,
    That hateful cripple, out of his highway
    Into the path he pointed. All the day
Had been a dreary one at best, and dim
Was settling to its close, yet shot one grim
    Red leer to see the plain catch its estray.

For mark! no sooner was I fairly found
    Pledged to the plain, after a pace or two,
    Than, pausing to throw backward a last view
O'er the safe road, 'twas gone; grey plain all round:
Nothing but plain to the horizon's bound.
    I might go on; nought else remained to do.

So, on I went. I think I never saw
    Such starved ignoble nature; nothing throve:
    For flowers - as well expect a cedar grove!
But ****le, spurge, according to their law
Might propagate their kind, with none to awe,
    You'd think; a burr had been a treasure trove.

No! penury, inertness and grimace,
    In some strange sort, were the land's portion. "See
   Or shut your eyes," said Nature peevishly,
"It nothing skills: I cannot help my case:
'Tis the Last Judgment's fire must cure this place,
    Calcine its clods and set my prisoners free."

If there pushed any ragged thistle-stalk
    Above its mates, the head was chopped; the bents
    Were jealous else. What made those holes and rents
In the dock's harsh swarth leaves, bruised as to baulk
All hope of greenness? 'tis a brute must walk
    Pashing their life out, with a brute's intents.

As for the grass, it grew as scant as hair
    In leprosy; thin dry blades pricked the mud
    Which underneath looked kneaded up with blood.
One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare,
Stood stupefied, however he came there:
    Thrust out past service from the devil's stud!

Alive? he might be dead for aught I know,
    With that red gaunt and colloped neck a-strain,
    And shut eyes underneath the rusty mane;
Seldom went such grotesqueness with such woe;
I never saw a brute I hated so;
    He must be wicked to deserve such pain.

I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart.
    As a man calls for wine before he fights,
    I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights,
Ere fitly I could hope to play my part.
Think first, fight afterwards - the soldier's art:
    One taste of the old time sets all to rights.

Not it! I fancied Cuthbert's reddening face
    Beneath its garniture of curly gold,
    Dear fellow, till I almost felt him fold
An arm in mine to fix me to the place
That way he used. Alas, one night's disgrace!
    Out went my heart's new fire and left it cold.

Giles then, the soul of honour - there he stands
    Frank as ten years ago when knighted first.
    What honest men should dare (he said) he durst.
Good - but the scene shifts - faugh! what hangman hands
Pin to his breast a parchment? His own bands
   Read it. Poor traitor, spit upon and curst!

Better this present than a past like that;
    Back therefore to my darkening path again!
    No sound, no sight as far as eye could strain.
Will the night send a howlet or a bat?
I asked: when something on the dismal flat
    Came to arrest my thoughts and change their train.

A sudden little river crossed my path
    As unexpected as a serpent comes.
    No sluggish tide congenial to the glooms;
This, as it frothed by, might have been a bath
For the fiend's glowing hoof - to see the wrath
    Of its black eddy bespate with flakes and spumes.

So petty yet so spiteful! All along
    Low scrubby alders kneeled down over it;
    Drenched willows flung them headlong in a fit
Of mute despair, a suicidal throng:
The river which had done them all the wrong,
    Whate'er that was, rolled by, deterred no whit.

Which, while I forded, - good saints, how I feared
    To set my foot upon a dead man's cheek,
    Each step, or feel the spear I thrust to seek
For hollows, tangled in his hair or beard!
--It may have been a water-rat I speared,
    But, ugh! it sounded like a baby's shriek.

Glad was I when I reached the other bank.
    Now for a better country. Vain presage!
    Who were the strugglers, what war did they wage,
Whose savage trample thus could pad the dank
Soil to a plash? Toads in a poisoned tank,
    Or wild cats in a red-hot iron cage--

The fight must so have seemed in that fell cirque.
    What penned them there, with all the plain to choose?
    No foot-print leading to that horrid mews,
None out of it. Mad brewage set to work
Their brains, no doubt, like galley-slaves the Turk
    Pits for his pastime, Christians against Jews.

And more than that - a furlong on - why, there!
    What bad use was that engine for, that wheel,
    Or brake, not wheel - that harrow fit to reel
Men's bodies out like silk? with all the air
Of Tophet's tool, on earth left unaware,
    Or brought to sharpen its rusty teeth of steel.

Then came a bit of stubbed ground, once a wood,
    Next a marsh, it would seem, and now mere earth
    Desperate and done with; (so a fool finds mirth,
Makes a thing and then mars it, till his mood
Changes and off he goes!) within a rood--
    Bog, clay and rubble, sand and stark black dearth.

Now blotches rankling, coloured straight and grim,
   Now patches where some leanness of the soil's
    Broke into moss or substances like boils;
Then came some palsied oak, a cleft in him
Like a distorted mouth that splits its rim
    Gaping at death, and dies while it recoils.

And just as far as ever from the end!
    Nought in the distance but the evening, nought
    To point my footstep further! At the thought,
A great black bird, Apollyon's bosom-friend,
Sailed past, nor beat his wide wing dragon-penned
    That brushed my cap--perchance the guide I sought.

For, looking up, aware I somehow grew,
    'Spite of the dusk, the plain had given place
    All round to mountains - with such name to grace
Mere ugly heights and heaps now stolen in view.
How thus they had surprised me, - solve it, you!
    How to get from them was no clearer case.

Yet half I seemed to recognise some trick
    Of mischief happened to me, God knows when--
    In a bad dream perhaps. Here ended, then,
Progress this way. When, in the very nick
Of giving up, one time more, came a click
    As when a trap shuts - you're inside the den!

Burningly it came on me all at once,
    This was the place! those two hills on the right,
    Crouched like two bulls locked horn in horn in fight;
While to the left, a tall scalped mountain . . . Dunce,
Dotard, a-dozing at the very nonce,
    After a life spent training for the sight!

What in the midst lay but the Tower itself?
    The round squat turret, blind as the fool's heart
    Built of brown stone, without a counterpart
In the whole world. The tempest's mocking elf
Points to the shipman thus the unseen shelf
    He strikes on, only when the timbers start.

Not see? because of night perhaps? - why, day
    Came back again for that! before it left,
    The dying sunset kindled through a cleft:
The hills, like giants at a hunting, lay
Chin upon hand, to see the game at bay,--
    "Now stab and end the creature - to the heft!"

Not hear? when noise was everywhere! it tolled
    Increasing like a bell. Names in my ears
    Of all the lost adventurers my peers,--
How such a one was strong, and such was bold,
And such was fortunate, yet each of old
    Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.

There they stood, ranged along the hillsides, met
    To view the last of me, a living frame
    For one more picture! in a sheet of flame
I saw them and I knew them all. And yet
Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set,
    And blew. "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came."


Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #22 on: April 07, 2006, 08:49:51 pm »
I once met a man whose mission was to make world peace,
Naturally he was named after the great reese
He went to a grocery store and bought himself a treat,
He used his tool and every man fell to their feet.
He yelled, "DIE DIE DIE!! and put them all to their grave.
noone was left except him, then he, his own life gave.
And there was peace.

26 Mars 2007
Belle: woah, is that a neatly snuck in sexproposition? Could I ask you to take of your pants?


Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #23 on: August 10, 2006, 01:59:22 am »


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Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #24 on: August 10, 2006, 03:14:17 am »
lawls, this is what its like when I spz loses a liero match
(btw, i had to read poetry for school, im not a nub... screw you)

..::The Destruction of Sennacherib::..
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

  Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

  For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

  And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

  And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail:
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

  And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

Some Random Ock

Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #25 on: August 15, 2006, 06:38:48 am »
loving, laughing, spawning, killing
brooding, wrapping, breathe keeps stilling
bigger, better, more! we want!
hungry, crazy, crazed, the lot
all the colors, turning gray
the clock ticks faster every day
god grows weaker, i must say
less and less, we shalt not pray
more and more, you know your smarter
fixing problems ; others grow larger
making laws:
2 wrongs equals right
make more laws:
day equals night
it makes no sense
there are no senses
no rhyme or reason
no concensus
natural laws keep slipping still
birth control. cyanide pill.



Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #26 on: August 15, 2006, 07:56:02 am »
Oho, Ocky made a good poem. :P

Very nicely done, I read through it 4 times. I actually thought it was one of the best on here.
Very nice.

Oh, and Anubis, cool :P
I had to use my super wonder english skills from Class and pick apart every stanza :P

Some Random Ock

Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #27 on: August 15, 2006, 08:01:00 am »
fanks  :)

i dont know how i wrote it, i hadnt slept in 2 days when i did. i was literally picking up the words my subconcious was laying for me. i cant rhyme for shat usually....


Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #28 on: August 15, 2006, 08:29:42 am »
In Castle strike, in Lierowood
Every Lieroworm is doomed

Made in 3 minutes
Cee ya later

Some Random Ock

Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #29 on: August 15, 2006, 09:27:28 am »

poem was here

now its not

it was a piece of crap

sorry for posting it
« Last Edit: October 23, 2006, 01:10:03 am by Some Random Ock »


Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #30 on: August 15, 2006, 12:48:08 pm »
Telling stories

Stories is something everyone should tell
it is our fate as human beings
To entertain others and make them smile
But what happends when we refrain from that?
We tell so many stories it is sad.
We need to know what is good and what is bad
Sadly we don't and we will keep it up,
Selling, telling stories that should never have been told
« Last Edit: August 15, 2006, 12:51:39 pm by Hwoarang »
26 Mars 2007
Belle: woah, is that a neatly snuck in sexproposition? Could I ask you to take of your pants?


Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #31 on: August 15, 2006, 07:54:10 pm »
Lierox Is Game Of Owners,
There Is ******* Lot Of Pwners.

There Is No Mean Hackers
If There Are, They Are Just ****ers

Come To Play Lierox And Be Coooooll....
Or Then Dont And Be Threwing Up In To The Pool.

In Playing You Should Use An Tool
Or Being Such An Fool.

(That's It,Srry Abaut The Cursing I Sensored Them My Self,What Is an Good Thing.)


Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #32 on: October 13, 2006, 02:55:13 am »


Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #33 on: October 13, 2006, 02:57:36 am »

yeah, i did a pretty good job on that one. :)


Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #34 on: October 13, 2006, 02:59:24 am »
Aw, cute =D


Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #35 on: October 13, 2006, 03:00:59 am »
« Last Edit: October 13, 2006, 03:04:14 am by purplehaze »


Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #36 on: October 13, 2006, 03:06:43 am »
DAMN, I wanted to get this after what Silver-blaze said, but oh well.



Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #37 on: October 13, 2006, 03:08:44 am »
meh, we have to read some of our own shit infront of the class, so i dont care really


Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #38 on: October 13, 2006, 07:28:12 am »
aaaawww he looks so cute in that picture... all he need now is some lipstick and eye makeup and he is good to go! ;D


Re: Poetry thread~~~>
« Reply #39 on: October 13, 2006, 07:19:08 pm »
aaaawww he looks so cute in that picture... all he need now is some lipstick and eye makeup and he is good to go! ;D
A clown?
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