Poetry Thread - Tribe Writers

Discussion in 'TRIBE Main Forum' started by Temper Tantrum, Feb 1, 2002.

  1. Temper Tantrum

    Temper Tantrum TRIBE Member

    I always love these threads because there's some amazing writers out there *cough*DAN*cough* and reading people's stuff is awesome. So post your poetry and/or writing here.

    Some random one from a while back:

    Broken


    Shards of glass
    Glitter
    in the warming sun
    Pieces of my identity
    Scattered to the four corners of the earth

    Love
    Hate
    Deception
    Illusion
    Friend
    Lover

    How can you rebuild yourself
    When you realize
    there was nothing their to begin?


    The current drags me down
    A speckle upon
    an endless ocean
    No lifejacket
    Nobody to hear my cries

    I will eventually drown
    in the depths of my illusion


    The shattered glass
    was a mirror
    reflecting a conception of identity
    No more tangible
    then a fading dream
    whispers of moonlight
    whisked away by dawn


    7 years bad luck
    I think
    Jagged edges
    once formed something whole


    The sun glitters harshly
    As I see the pieces of my soul
    in the shattered mirror
    It is the same as me

    Broken
     
  2. pr0nstar

    pr0nstar TRIBE Member

    Roses are red
    Violets are blue
    This Thread Sucks
    And so do YOU!

    [​IMG]
     
  3. Guest

    Guest Guest

    Worker bees can leave
    Even drones can fly away
    The queen is their slave
     
  4. graham

    graham Well-Known Member

    Camel Tode

    salmon swim upstream
    like yon toe-jam it would seem
    canal gatekeeper.
     
  5. graham

    graham Well-Known Member

    Peel back the layers!
    like an onion in season,
    you were born goatse
     
  6. French Disco Girl

    French Disco Girl TRIBE Member

    wow - the contributions in this thread are .... enlightening! [​IMG]

    i love dan's stuff too - hopefully he has some new pieces to share [​IMG]

    im not much of a poetry writer - i do write poetry but i find it falls too far out of the conventional methods used. and i often get lost while writing it myself. but i
    love writing short stories, or insightful pieces of 'text'.

    this one's kinda long, but its my favourite piece, written for (and about) a true friend who's changed my life forever.

    i was once but a seed planted in the soil, much anticipating my growth and full blossom. within my petit garden, sowed and fed by our nurturing mother, i was surrounded by many fellow seeds. all of us indifferent to each other, mother always told us that it is the difference between us that makes us unique to life and that what we give to our garden we will receive two-fold upon the coming days of the end. to my immediate left there was the seed of dispair. he was a lonely seed and seemed to only seek refuge in his wants. mother always told him that getting what you need, the basic fundaments of life, were what was important, and that greed for what one wanted would only bring disappointment and frustration. this seed did not show concern though, and blindfolded his ears to her words of wisdom. he stole from the rich offerings of the earth, taking whatever he could. this seed only wanted to become something that everyone around him would love, would want...no matter what that price was. eventually, after the winter came and went and the spring sprung upon our garden green....this seed became a weed. though he tried hard to appear pleasing to the eye, sprouting a yellow flower upon his green shaft ... everyone around him knew that he was just a weed.

    to my immediate right there was another seed. what i like to call a gentle seed. he went through his seed life listening to mothers words, respecting mothers words, and living by mothers words. i soon fell in love with the gentle seed and eventually turned my being towards him. it was through this gentle seed that our garden grew.... he grew, he changed, he prospered and finally he bloomed into the most beautiful flower amongst our garden. mother was proud of him and said he had much to offer her earth. people who walked by our garden would always stop to admire his beauty. many referred to this gentle seed as the ultimate offering of mother nature. no one ever dared to pluck him from the roots of our garden, as everyone knew this would kill his very being. it was much more pleasureful for those to be able to bask in his presence even if but for a short while. meanwhile, the weed, looking wilted and brown through his frustrations of disappointment, eventually died. he died without ever experiencing the beauty of giving and receiving. the weed only took from mother .... and he became a product of greed and selfishness. i felt pity for the weed, and befriended him throughout his lifetime. i felt sorrow for him ... as mother once said it is our differences that matter and which need to be accepted, no matter how fatal they may prove to be. i thought love would make the dispaired seed change. mother told me that this seed would be given another chance, next spring, inwhich to change his ways ... but that he must be willing to learn from his past life errs and make the changes necessary to bring him to the ultimate. i bloomed next to the weed ... whispering thoughts of love, of acceptance, of tenderness. i never shunned the weed for what he was, but rather accepted him for what he could have offered to our garden. he never thanked me before he shrivelled back into the rich soil of our mother earth, he never expressed gratitude for the shelter i gave him. but that is okay, i have learned....because the beautiful gentle seed, to my immediate right, has shared enough of his prosperity with me that i am able to flourish into a flower. it was through my friend, the gentle seed, that i saw we all belong to each other. my friend, the gentle seed, gathered the pieces of my petals which were distorted and taken from me by the wind and gave them back to me all in the right order. it is good you know, when you have a seed who is a friend of your mind. and it is good you know, when you have a seed planted in the mind of love.
     
  7. The Watcher

    The Watcher TRIBE Member

    I wrote this a little while back,

    I had named it "Girls Suck", but I think I'm going to call it "It's hard to let go sometimes"

    I cannot explain the way I feel
    The sharp pain in me is very real
    My heart is going to stop any day
    If thoughs of her dont go so far away

    When I'm feeling way to low down and weak
    A Friends good advice I will try to seek
    This sometimes makes me feel so much better
    I go outside and enjoy the weather

    Seing couples meet makes me so damn aware
    Being alone always gives me a scare
    Never again, No! Will I feel this way
    To Love is to hurt, is all I can say

    Thanks Much
    Nick
     
  8. tella

    tella TRIBE Member

    inhale

    burgularize the emptiness
    that settles inside
    break the silence
    of unending stares
    that start as innocent exchanges
    but end in corruption

    virtuous characters
    cast temptuous decrees

    crucified to your being

    i no longer recognize
    the person
    you have become
     
  9. Hi i'm God

    Hi i'm God TRIBE Member

    Beans, Beans the magical fruit, the more you eat the more you toot.
    or
    Beans, beans they're good for your heart the more you eat the more your fart.
     
  10. PosTMOd

    PosTMOd Well-Known Member

    Okay, this one is called,"Numpty Dumpty":

    Turds
    plip plop
    smear smell
    wipe well
    plip plop
     
  11. Decepta-Kyle

    Decepta-Kyle TRIBE Member

    Haven't done this for awhile...oh well.

    -Virtuous Gifts-

    Try being pretty sometime
    Try it because you can
    With its fragile, crysal
    Glass confinements

    Strive to be emotional
    Tune into that side
    Be it with all its intense
    Confounding vulnerability

    Attempt to be independent
    Stand out for something
    Embody the lonely
    Distancing isolation

    Find your inner self
    Swan dive into your mind
    Flounder in the crest and
    Trough inconstant

    to Try and Attempt to Find the Embodiment
    of something is to live.

    -Crows on a Fence-

    We are the total of our longings
    And the fighting of our fears
    The heights of our elations
    And the dampness of our tears
    I walk through noon-time shadows
    And spotlights after dark
    I trip on shiny pebbles
    And rise without a mark
    We look for what is lacking
    And detract from all things dear
    We look for inspiration
    In cheap and cloudy beer

    It's found in someplace local
    It's found under our toes
    It's found when least expected
    It's found in flights of crows

    -Thoughts from the Sandbox-

    I said hi to you in pre-school
    Where we shared names and pies of mud
    We traded lunch time goodies
    Cheering Bugs and booing Mr. Fudd

    You had the neatest Barbie raincoat
    And thought my He-Man bag was cool
    We played house all day long
    And splashed in the kiddie pool

    If I wax reminiscent
    On fun filled days gone by
    Does that mean you join me there
    In light refracted from your eye

    Sometimes I pull that bag out
    It makes me chuckle, snort and smile
    I hope you kept that rain coat
    In a messy, closet bottom pile

    Even if I never see you
    Or you don't recall my name
    We'll always have pre-school
    Where you found your Barbie fame


    Not very good but that's what's supposed to characterize amateurs, right?....hehe


    Kyle
     
  12. LivingRoomPornstar

    LivingRoomPornstar TRIBE Member

    Kyle, I think the second one is brilliant!

    good job, mate!

    I'll have to take a look into what i've written lately and post

    Dan
     
  13. LivingRoomPornstar

    LivingRoomPornstar TRIBE Member

    Well here's a short story i wrote a little while ago...Its a little fictional look into the fragility of family bonds.


    Time Never Spent
    -----------------
    She looked over his bruises, his cuts, his bumps, and smiled widely. Her blue eyes were tight in their corners, her dimples obvious, as she focused on one eye and then the other, and then back again. The tears were coming fast now, and he tried everything in his power to fight them off. His cheeks moist, his face flush, his lips began to part, only to have her fingertips bring them together again. She leaned forward, her weathered hands grasping his shoulders, and pulled him closer. Their cheeks touched gently, as she whispered in his ear. He began to weep, then harder, into a sob, and finally he began to wail. He raised his clenched fists to his eyes to quell this charade of weakness. He screamed so loud and hard it felt as though his chest had turned inside out, so loud, that she thought she could feel the bedroom windows shake.

    She remembered back to a time when the air was sweet with fresh cut grass, and the lawn shavings charismatically danced on the warm air of a summer breeze. When the sunlight kissed her forehead as a grandmother would when she felt you “just plain needed it”. But what she remembered most was his smile. It was a smile unburdened by worry, unburdened by memories of hurt and loneliness. It was so genuine, once-upon-a-time. His wide-eyed inquisitive gaze and open hands gave her warmth and comfort, with the notion that life really didn’t get better than this.

    He remembered her pulling all of the good dishes out of the cupboard above the sink and packing them in a box. The way she wouldn’t look him in the eye for more than three seconds at a time. It was cold, but not the type of cold that a parka and pair of wool mittens would challenge. It was the type of cold that you felt from in your bones, the type that made the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. You knew that if you closed your hands and blew hard enough into them that eventually they would warm up, but they never stayed that way. He remembered his hands being so painful from clenching, that it hurt to open them. His eyes were so red and sore that he kept them closed too. Most of all, it was those moments she wasn’t there that he remembered.

    She remembered the cards he gave her in May. The time of year when small green buds appeared on the gnarled fingers of the trees in front of her house. The cards were always made by hand, with hearts and stars and rhyming poems that in her eyes, were the most loving words she had ever read. She remembered his laugh when her dog knocked him over and licked his face. She missed the hockey games, the highschool fashion shows and being a part of his life. What she missed most was the bellowing of “MOM!” when he needed her.

    He remembered the time he spent folding his hands on the long trips to her house. He remembered the days he visited only to be left alone during the nights. The time he spent looking at his watch, wondering why she never called, or refused to pick him up. He remembered sitting behind a closed door with his fists covering his ears while she argued with her boyfriends. Most of all, he remembered the time she never spent.


    They remembered the last day they really spoke to each other, every last word. The argument in her kitchen that destroyed something that written word and wisdom argue the feasibility of being destroyed. Her blood ran cold, and with 7 fierce words, one sentence, she broke something that was supposed to be unbreakable. She severed the bond between a mother and a son.

    “I’m not raising you, your father is.”

    The room was silent. The windows no longer shook. His chest moved in and out slowly and steadily. He pulled her closer, drying her tears with his palms. He took her hands in his, and whispered, “These bonds can only be mended using the tools that broke them. Choose your words wisely, and remember that a gesture to show someone you love them isn’t always tangible. It is often just a phone call, a kind word or a good deed. These gestures are often reciprocated; especially when both involved have recognized that time is in short supply. I love you.”
     
  14. LivingRoomPornstar

    LivingRoomPornstar TRIBE Member

    by the way, the above is not exactly polished, but you can all let me know what you think.

    Dan
     
  15. Decepta-Kyle

    Decepta-Kyle TRIBE Member

    Kudos Dan. Kudos.

    Sincerely;

    Kyle
     
  16. KiX

    KiX TRIBE Member

    Omg allie starting a poerty thread? WHO THE FUCK WOULD HAVE THOUGHT!? [​IMG]

    *muah*

    Wow. You guys are good. [​IMG]

    So instead of posting my lame recent stuff (of which i have but one poem... from when i was in one of those "weird" phases), i have dug up, for your pleasure, a poem I wrote when i was but a 15 year old Grade 10 biology student.

    Terra Incognita - An Ode to Archbishop James Ussher

    They laugh at you now
    They pick at the seams
    These "irrational claims"
    Just your sciencey dreams

    They laugh at your thoughts
    Of a God ruling high
    With some dust and one rib
    Life out of the sky

    The jest at your claims
    Of a species so loved
    Its Maker'd forsake
    His only true Son

    You sat and you toiled
    By a candle's dim light
    Cold in your chamber
    All hours at night

    You worked it all out
    Though reduced now to lore
    In the time before Christ
    Four Thousand and Four

    But not just a year!
    No, you took it much farther
    To the start of the night
    The twenty-third of October

    By your very brain
    No divine revelation
    The creation of man
    Into cold calculation

    You thought you had found
    That moment of Glory
    But they boil it down
    To mere allegory

    The apex of species
    Told "Now, multiply!
    I'll grant you dominion,
    Of earth, sea and sky!"

    You unearthed that moment!
    Humanity's start
    How you must have felt!
    (Most likely quite smart)

    As though God himself
    Had opened your eyes
    And granted you power
    Of earth, sea and skies

    Our glorious moment
    Still unscathed by sin
    That moment in time
    Bonding spirit with skin

    The world was amazed!
    You had them convinced
    "6000 years old!" claimed
    Shakespeare's Rosalind

    But echoing now
    In the classrooms at school
    The laughter proclaims
    Not a saint, but a fool

    I'm sure you can hear
    From your place in the ground
    (Quite a far cry from the heaven you'd found)

    Wherever you are
    I want you to know
    Some still appreciate
    The effort you showed

    And though it is clear
    Our birth wasn't so Great
    As we came not from God
    But descended from ape

    You did try your hardest
    And through all the laughter
    The foundation you laid
    Remains ever after


    Hehe i was a nerd.

    =tina=
     
  17. graham

    graham Well-Known Member

    How Now Brown Cow!
    Thou hast more goatse than Sow
    What Tyger burning bright
    Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
     
  18. Taken from the scripture of Tyler Durden

    From the Ministry of Fight Club

    Prime Minister Highsteppa
     
  19. judge wopner

    judge wopner TRIBE Member

    it seems just like yesterday i was playing street hockey behind the
    O'Felisi's supermarket parking lot until dark. a few people on this list,

    a shoddy old tennis ball, frightened of so many hockey sticks, barely
    visible in those cold winter nights.

    sometimes i played goalie.
    you probally remember the routine, the yellow styrafoam tied with rope to your legs, the baseball glove, a blocker and really big stick.

    i used to look over the streets of the city- my home, as the sun would set,
    casting its calming shadow over row upon row of house and home.
    streaks of glare from big apartment buildings made me squint in awkward
    glances. i was so small, in such a big city, my mind was reaching for something too great for its grasp. it still is i guess.

    then the tennis ball, at what seemed like light speed would strike me.
    the face, the chest, the legs, sometimes... my more horricfic places.
    anyone whos ever played street hockey knows it. that biting sting of hard
    green-felt against cold skin- the battels of our youth.

    i could only look with wonder; over friends, over sport and home.
    unsure of what was to come, not just for me but for all of us.
    some of the boys are still around, and sadly some arent.
    some still play from time to time but its never quite the same.

    i never kept score, but i always had fun. we all did.
    we were just kids playing hockey in the streets.
    moving nets to the side when cars raced by.
    Arguing feircely about goals and cherry-picking. The super-stars going up
    to score goals, the fat kids in back holding it down on defense.

    everyone found a place in that game.

    perhaps its true what they say about hockey, the greatest game on earth.


    BOSA
     
  20. Plato

    Plato TRIBE Member

    CLOTH

    tonight you will be the last thought on my mind
    tommorow you will be the first
    and i wish you werent
    because my body cannot handle so many tears


    p[l]a+0
     
  21. louie

    louie TRIBE Member

    I'm doing this from the top of my head so if it no good too bad....

    Be Thankful for all the little things in life, like walking and talking.
    Be thankful to your family, cause without them you wouldn't be here.
    Be thankful to your friends, cause when your down they are there to pick you right up.
    Be thankful for the person standing next to you, cause it might be the last person you ever see.
    Be thankful for food and water, cause there are people all around the world who are starving to death this very second.
    Be thankful to things you normally take for granted, like playing sports or going to Canada's Wonderland.
    Be thankful for being able to shower on your own, cause one day you might need someone to help you.
    Be thankful to your brothers and sisters, cause although sibling rivalry may exist, they are your best friend in the long run.
    Be thankful for material things, cause although they are material you still wasted your hard earned money on them.
    Be thankful to your employer who dosen't hassle you everyday although you are the best worker in the yard.
    Be thankful for your Grandparents, cause there are some people that never get to see them.
    Be thanful for your older brother, cause when he is hurt you are dying inside.
    But most of all be thankful for Life, cause its too short and too precious to take for granted.


    This was inspired by my older brother Dre. Get well soon and I love you, and remember: Whatever dosen't kill you will only make you stronger, with what you've been through in life you must be the strongest person in the world, but keep fighting cause its worth it.

    Love your younger brother, Louie......
     
  22. Boo

    Boo TRIBE Member

    Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrasment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life.

    [​IMG]
     
  23. ~~Brandi~~

    ~~Brandi~~ TRIBE Member

    These poems are a bit on the dark side as I've been battling depression for a few years, but thought I would post regardless [​IMG]


    Left alone
    Where is this place?
    Somewhere in the whirlwind
    Between fantasy and reality
    Hear subtle voices whispering
    Who's there?
    My imagination or actuality?
    See moving shadows
    Is it real?
    Illusion or visuality....
    As my mind hears what it wants
    Sees what it wants
    Wanders as it may......
    Existence becomes a mere illusion
    of what I perceive it to be.
    What is this place?
    Nothing but an ongoing rat race.


    Empty

    Alone...
    Dark and dismal
    A trance like state


    Broken...
    Illusions of reality, not real
    Desperately seeking to see the light
    Warmth exists, but not within me
    Cold and shivering

    I am alive yet feel lifeless
    Misunderstood, what's going on?
    Unable to communicate.

    Empty.
    ------------------------------------------
    This one I wrote during a really turbulent relationship ....

    I feel a connection
    So strong I cannot break free

    An ongoing saga
    Turbulent, extreme, unpredictable

    You are so special to me
    But more often then not
    I don't feel quite as special to thee

    Feelings of inequity, distress, confusion
    Closure is all I seek

    Complications; charades are like blindfolds
    Barriers in the way of communication

    What can't it be simple?
    Where you are you and I am me?
    For it is this simplicity that shall set
    Us both free.......

    will post more later

    [​IMG] Brandi
     
  24. TaCk OnE?

    TaCk OnE? TRIBE Member

    people do the funniest shit when the try and write poetry.
     
  25. TaCk OnE?

    TaCk OnE? TRIBE Member

    here is an example entitled,

    I'm trying TOO hard

    I look through hollow eye sockets
    towards the shattered emptyness indide.
    I am greeted by millions of nobodys, the fragments of the characters I've been.

    I am alone among millions
    yet I feel at home.
    movement staggered by the strings I've tied around my fingers to remember.
    but I do not remember.
    I only recolect what I'm trying to say.

    Poetry flows easily through my fingers and into my pen.
    but what the hell does it mean to anybody.
    in the end?


    HAHAHA... [​IMG]

    lets have a reading...lol
     

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