Poetry Thread - Tribe Writers

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

  1. HMP

    HMP TRIBE Member

    i know what's it's like to kiss a truth
    and it tastes a lot like you.

    tell me all, i'd say, dear lamb
    if only i really gave a damn.
  2. skyparty

    skyparty TRIBE Member

    omg. that sent shivers through my entire body.

    you're awesome

    narissa [​IMG]
  3. HMP

    HMP TRIBE Member

    depends of how much your prose reonates,
    as the right word aflames, or dissipates,
    passions, reason, or merely baits.

    but if it flows too easily, it's probably not poetry.
    i know what's it is to kiss a truth,
    because it tastes a lot like you.

    please tell me all, dear lamb
    and i'll pretend to give a damn.
  4. Temper Tantrum

    Temper Tantrum TRIBE Member

    The Beautiful

    The languid snow falling chokingly against the ground
    dresses her in lace of silver,
    ribbons of white around the lily
    garroting even it.

    Beneath a layer of bleak white
    lies the seed of life.

    Blood to earth and earth to blood.
    From soil you came, to soil you shall return.

    Crystalline flood frozen
    reflects the bluish skin.

    Frozen lies the flesh.

    The little girl of sunshine smiles
    and tomboyish games
    knew to smile and knew to laugh.

    Where hides the little girl?

    Frozen lies the lake.
    sharpened skates scar the surface.
    In the depths
    the little girl smiles.

    Blood to water and water to blood.
    Blood is thicker than water.

    The swan callously attacks the other.
    Even beauty is debauched.

    Even in beauty lies iniquity.

    She smiles a frozen smile.
    It's more of a smirk than a smile.
    More of a frown than a smirk.
    It's not a frown, but she's sulking.
    She's not so much sulking as thinking.
    Not so much thinking as feeling.
    One grows in the cold shadow of another;
    flourishes scarlet in wintry weather.

    Even in beauty lies iniquity
  5. noisy

    noisy TRIBE Member

    I think that's a little harsh. Many people write poetry, and we can't expect all of them to be literary geniuses. Poetry, and creative writing more generally, is more than that. People write for cartharsis, to figure out their feelings, to log a stage in their lives, and myriad other reasons. When people share their writings with others, it's like they're sharing a little piece of their soul. Who are we to mock it?

    Not all the poems I've seen posted in threads like this one are publishable, but they have all been deeply personal, and beautiful in that they offer a glimpse into the mind of a unique individual.

    If you think it's cheesy, or that they're trying too hard, why not offer some constructive criticism instead of a blanket insult?
  6. mingster

    mingster TRIBE Member

    Here's something I wrote in July of 2000.
    It's not poetry, just how I feeling back then.


    It's 3 in the morning. And I can't sleep.

    I was lying in my bed, on my front...
    My breasts flat on the mattress.

    And I was thinking.
    I was thinking about what the future holds for me.
    What I'll be doing when the summer's over.
    And I was thinking about Bill.
    My heart would beat a little harder.
    And I would keep thinking.

    My rights and my wrongs seem confused, my goods and my bads. My pluses and minuses, my negatives and positives.

    And I feel scared. Scared to make the changes than are seeming more and more necessary.
    Big changes, scary ones.
    That I should make now, ones that if I don't make, I might never.
    Ones that if I do make, I will know that I'm still me, not dead.
    Once that might re-light the fire I once had.
    A fire that I'm afraid of, and at the same time, excited over.

    I've forgotten what a big world it is.
    And how much of it, I have yet to see.
    A fire that belongs to me...
    And one that I must find, alone.

  7. BigBadBaldy

    BigBadBaldy TRIBE Member

    Uh, here's a little something I whipped off this morning for a.. friend.

    With a big shout-out to TaCk OnE? :p

    Time, the Phoenix, Love and Other Great Myths
    Now and Forever

    what can be done
    with a heart in pieces?

    time heals all wounds
    time heals all wounds
    time heals all wounds
    is it time?

    ..am I healed?

    in believing in the myth of love
    does it follow that we believe
    in the healing powers of time?
    (another great old myth)

    time obscures all wounds
    time fades the memory
    time heals nothing
    why was it not the right time?

    ..am I healed?

    I remember a girl from the ancient days
    fire between us
    consuming and giving us up
    to tumultuous rebirth

    rebirth leading to redeath?
    the ragged phoenix with broken wings
    crawling to the fire to tear out and fling
    its own smoldering heart

    the heart reborn but wary
    trembling like a colt born on a rainy morning
    when she disappeared so many years ago
    with a sigh and the scent of despair

    ..am I healed?

    time obscured her face
    but my love for her endures
    years and years and years
    crouched in my heart like a hibernating toad

    croaking.. once.. every.. so.. often..

    ..am I healed?


    not now
    not ever

    ..do I bleed?




    I think of you
    look for you through my tears of
    hopeless love
    my loveless hope crippling me

    I see you standing beside her
    in the future of my heart
    down a long and unseen road
    my undying love for you burns

    like a mocking beacon
    leading my leaden steps with
    memories of the joy I felt with you
    the love I feel for you


    the phoenix screams in response
    as its heart burns and caves in
    the ragged hole in my chest waits
    ..nothing comes to fill it

    I think of hunting down my love for you
    but when I find it everywhere around me
    I lack the strength to subdue
    a creature so proud and sure

    Instead I milk from it
    a heart shaped diamond cup full
    of clear, salty tears
    leaving it by your sleeping head

    creeping through your window
    the cold light of reality burns the tears away
    leaving an empty glass
    gilttering dully before your waking eyes

    and you wonder if it was real.

    ..am I healed? Is it time? Will it ever be time?

    No. No. No.

    a small box opens
    and inside I place a burning blue gem
    but the lid will not close
    leaving sadly pulsing blue light spilling through the cracks

    I wedge the box tight within
    the bleeding hole where my heart lingered
    waiting for news of yours
    news of yours..

    why does the news always depress me so?

    news of yours..

    ..am I healed? If healing means losing the love I feel for you

    ..can I be healed?

    I love you.

    Crouched on my shoulder
    a giant crow whipers in my ear
    telling me tales of the failure of the phoenix
    the death of rebirth

    whispering memories of things that never happened
    memories of our love triumphing over
    every obstacle we found
    memories of our growing happiness

    whispering truths of enduring love
    that screams with no tongue
    locked in a box
    that can't close, that I can't let open

    I love you. I wish I didn't, couldn't, wouldn't.

    My tears remind me..

    ..now and forever.

    My tears remind me..

    ..the phoenix cries in the dark distance,
    bathed in slowly pulsing blue light.

    My tears remind me..

    ..now and forever.

    By CKW.
  8. PosTMOd

    PosTMOd Well-Known Member

    Thinking about poutine

    Pure thought is not
    what it seems to not be.

    Yet, it is.

    Simple, complicated, everyday, routine
    Who'd have thunk?

    Fries ("chips" to the Brits) and gravy (gravy train...of...thought)
    and curds of cheese...

    Would taste so good?
  9. JayIsBored

    JayIsBored TRIBE Member

    that was heavy PouTMOd
  10. BigBadBaldy

    BigBadBaldy TRIBE Member

    WoW. It's astounding that people as intelligent and insightful as yourselves can mock personal emotional expression as adroitly as you do.

    You should be proud.


    ..as should your mothers. Good work.
  11. BigBadBaldy

    BigBadBaldy TRIBE Member

    Then again, there is very little left in this world as pure and true as the love of poutine and the quest for spiritual enlightenment regarding this wonderful dish. :D (obligatory smiley to ensure you think I'm kidding)


    Huh? You say I fucked whose mother?
  12. air-bag

    air-bag TRIBE Member

    BBB u rok.
    Pay no attn. to those plebeians... :)

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