This short poem is "Ocean of Lives" which I wrote as I saw the reasons behind this dead site.
I see forward a large ocean. a deep see of cares and wonders. All the people in this world and the next floating in this dark ended nexus. Without cause, without purpose wandering, wavering between hope and despair. All living lives of their own, drowning in this sea with nothing to unite them.
Walls, brown,red, and strong. Tall walls, inpenetrable, Thick, Invulnerable. A house, a castle, A Gleaming incarnation of chaos, Evil in it's purest form. A stronghold for all the things of darkness, a place of horrible, twisting paths. Silver and Wiry, what wonderful cages we make. unscorched or scathed, By the flames of our madness. Untouched by strength to bend steel. A sparkling palace, a living hell, this strongest trap, our mind.
Thanks. It is good to hear from someone here again.
This one is entitled "Song of the river"
Sing of the springtime, the many growing things Sing of the paridise lost to time. Sing of the trees as they march along our shores Hear the life in everything, the golden voice of light. Traveling to the ocean, running through forests and fields. We continue the great hope, the great renewal.
Thanks. It is difficult to find time to post here.
This one is entitled "The song of the mad minstrel" and is mostly a lot of nonsense shoved together.
Simple simon went a rhyming, caught a loaf of bread, it hit the bead of the butcher Bagel and ate the dog counts only child, went across blue bluff street, died to the cows home children and went inside the mirror. The mirror showed a brown muffin in sunney streets of clay, hopping horses, purple flowers, magic users unfathomed powers, hopeless heartless monsters of madness and chaos, comes away and grabs us, hokey hearty red hot town, met the maddend murdering clown, tripping up this chaos race, crossing donkey the raging line, flipping through the pages of time eating, scarfing, yellow marshmellows, modern ditties, corprate nightmares, followed bread through a cavernous stair,sitting in a quit garden, reading poems to aunt Marvin, who snored and snoozed the day away, couldn't find his only head, mastered tricking planet punky, found a rolled up junk heap, spelt a living fire legend, went to winter in mount heaven, wondered far and swam so near, found an oreo underwear, huffed and puffed and blew his house down, turned a smile into a frown, cleave, clanking , and boiling water, ripped his door off high missing sister, his car, his wife, his farmers daughter ate a world for lunch, and breakfast nasty ghosties, now for lunch and for supper, nightly depending hordes of orcs and goblins(friendly) hoping, waiting, contemplating, change of venue near escaping, running through that final hall, screaming pirates, kill them all, yelling shouting, breaking free, see me wild now, can't catch me. shadows dying, mage combing hills and forests and deserts, building trashes under a barrel, fighting fishes with hands in the air, hording gold in a lamp lit room, see our bending cleaning spoon. fishy fishy where is fishy out to see to find no more. hunting, waiting, wailing, please breeze, going fast make this time only last. always missing beating eyes, knives, and pens and great blue skies, bells whistles two hoping, hating, what to do? fan soaring up so high, dragon swimming beneath the sky, space, stars, wild, free me please. can graff griff mean miffed? iron, steel, stolen life, return quicksilver, metal bars, cages, horn, tad toad, small load, hiccup comes, world reruns, madman singing, hear my song.
Twisting, turning, down the many paths of the maze. Following the mind through an endless chain. Possibility, probability, Self Illiusion. Narrowing the flame blazed trails of questions and answers. Following the hope of a final solution. Running from thoughts you hope that are wrong. Glowing response, burning white. The perfect, absolute truth.
As in the opposite of the deepest night. As in the waking day. As in the opposite of deepest sleep. The bright sunlight. As in the opposite of the shadowed world. The living version of death's undead. Power of the spirit growing. The great brightness of all human knowledge. The opposite of despair that lurks beneath.
Silent, Watching, In the darkness creeping. A mist, A shadow, a silent wind. Stalking, following, hunting the predator. Quietly signaling his companions. With a rush and a victorious howl they run to their prey. The table is laden, the food is fresh, in seconds the feast is underway. The hunter devoured by the hunters, blood bled to the bone. The fighter a match against any one, no match for them all. Today the pack of wolves feed on a tiger.
Bracing self against the fire. Hoping vainly for release. An image of despair incarnate. A mirror of hopes and dreams. Valiently fighting a desperate battle. A chance for expression and revolution. Knowning already all is lost. Soon suppressed this mass of energy. This living thought that we do hold in image of ourselves. Never to be released except in greatest strain. The shadow self that brings down ruin.
Sitting in darkness, waiting in silence, Hearing the echoes of empty halls. AWAKE, REVIVE, RECALL.
Bring strength to weary limb. Come health to dying branches. Ye scattered spirits come again. Revive the soul of this dusty place. Arise oh sunshine, give the trees food. Rivers of laughter clean away this mucky swamp that has gathered here. Disperse the fog of gloom. Let speech again enable the hearing of crowds. Let game and Tournaments and Riddles abound. Revive You Ghostly Grave the Quickbeam and The Barrow Wight together Could Speak. The Wind Rider, The Elves, The Ents, The Dwarves, and The Hobbits. Come now again to this place.
Long, Tiring, Draining, every step a greater challenge. A grey unchanging land, hazed with sound. Shouting, arguments sending red hot needles shooting at me. A large plane, moving always faster and faster. Spinning, Draining my strength, my energy, my mind, myself.
Set against a pack, every second a war for dominion, domination. A battle against impossible odds. A war of one against thousands, millions, 6.4 billion. No one can stand against such odds. I am not alone, my darker self is with me. A tempest to be unleashed, a coming all consuming storm. An avatar of power to destroy all enemies, but at the price of a soul.
Post by quickbeam on Sept 24, 2008 14:07:27 GMT -5
This is titled Years of Dreaming
Singing, shaping towers of blue stone A flutelike melody, the wind blows over a field of blue fire. stars sighing, a trembling, rraw is our power. We grow, a soft red moss spreads over trees of diamonds and emeralds. Black night approaches, a deep inky darkness, Where have we gone. Is our sight so dim with age we cannot see the page we write on. 450,000 years of dreams we have had. Only one year in the waking world has passed.