[Coat.]

POETRY


Buddha

Poetry 1- Buddha

Cross legged, spine high
Criss cross thoughts
Meaningless, and why?
I crack the system
Control the stimuli
Muscles crench for impact
Pupils dialate
Body hair stands with pride and joy
Awaiting on this trace


Demanding for answers
Cry whose name?
Spending hours in your court
Society has to blame
With this nonesense and lies
No one caught red handed
You tell me why.


My body quivers with delight
Fast motion you cannot track
Bright lights, speed chat, hollow holes
I use my will, my mite
And open the eyes
Knowing I hesitated; coulda, shoulda, woulda
On the ceiling, shimmering with life
Buddha.

This post has been edited by Coat. on Friday, Jul 27 2012, 23:45

[shiva s]

Sorry, Coat. I read it just now. You've did a reall good job with the allignments. It looks perfect. 'Poem 1: Buddha'
^this line is not necessary as you've already entered the title above it. It makes it look kinda uneven. Other than that, you've did a good work. I'm really poor in poems so my feedbacks may be a little short. Anyway, keep your poems coming.
Edit: Sorry, Mokrie. Never realised it. Thanks a lot for correcting.

This post has been edited by shiva s on Tuesday, Jul 31 2012, 15:58

[Mokrie Dela]

i liked reading that. Some typos and a couple of instances where the poem doesnt seem to flow too well in my eyes (I'm too rusty to offer advice on that front), and a couple of times i simply didnt get what was trying to be said, but i liked reading that and look forward to reading more.

@Shiva, there's no need to quote the post, you were first poster so it's clear you're replying to that,

[Coat.]

Down The Straight




The car backfired, debris spits everywhere
Speed gauge on flatout
Cheaper than a bus fair
Faster than a blackout
With my shades hanging from my nose

Stereo on max, burnt tire fills the air
Anything goes
Out, far from the city life
On the country road
Where you are the limit
Ego is the thrill
Wearing my sloppy joh

I hit a far bend
The car turns the exit right
Wheels turn against me
With furious fright
The car makes the bend
accelerates
Down the straight

[cammi]

I love your poems, they bring out an effect that makes me feel like I am at the setting.

[Eminence]

I thought some of the language used in that last one was really interesting; quite vivid imagery that, as cammi says, pulls you into the world. One thing I'd say is that it doesn't really feel too unified - feels like it's at odds with each other, almost.

The main notion I got from it was a sense of freedom, 'out on the country road' where 'anything goes' - but I didn't feel that sense of freedom; I felt quite restricted.

Now, it may be that you wanted to create this sort of tension, in which case I guess you could disregard me, but it could help to try and think about how to use the form to mirror this thematic idea: if you're trying to convey a sense of freedom, allow the lines to be free, unconstrained, instead of tied into a quite rigid structure.

[Coat.]

Beyond

My eyes skim the night sky
Glistening with curiosity
Knowing our creator lied

It lied about space and time
While men in white coats scrath and ask why
They admired the greats, the nobalists too
They tried to squeeze it like a pulp
But nothing could do

I occasionally spark my mind
Far out in the countryside
From the cities lights
Traffic, tangled like kites
Crowds and mobs, some of them fight

But I sit in the countryside,
Where only lions hide
They also seek cover and shelter
But where do I go when my creator lies.
So I simply span my eyes across the night sky
Telling the lions of our tales
Humanitys lies.

[Coat.]

Best Day

The tarmac laid fresh
The weeds pulled deep
From the eerie below

The rotors waved as a go
the fourteen men made their way
with their heads laying low
and their hearts on their sleeve

Crickets stopped chirping
Predators stopped lurking
and the plane was indeed working

Airborne with height
Wind took the lift
The ground turned blue
Below seemed fray
Irrelevant
Seemed the day was irrelevant

Never expecting to return,
Nor hoping for long life,
It didn't matter if it was a good day
As bad
Because their lives were already over
and the best of them got older
Leaning on each others shoulder
Watching the sun die down and the fields grow darker
Further... bolder
As the last of us glimpsed at the best days of our lives.

[mvega0422]

I love where your mind goes and the things you speak of, but I think you should put more effort into your meter, structure, and form. I understand that it's free verse poetry, yes, but it feels like you put very little effort into it when every single line of every single stanza of every single verse is so very differently structured. I'd really like to see what your creative heart could come up with if you follow the rules.

This post has been edited by mvega0422 on Monday, Oct 22 2012, 11:44

[TenEightyOne]

QUOTE (mvega0422 @ Monday, Oct 22 2012, 11:40)

I'd really like to see what your creative heart could come up with if you follow the rules.

Rules, schmools...!

"Down the Straight" didn't do it for me, I have to say, but "Buddha" and "Beyond"... really good stuff.

I'd love to give a deeper critical analysis but it really isn't warranted. Coat, please continue to ignore the rules!!!!!

[Coat.]

Shady Acres

There is a distant light in between two hills
Small but faint
The willow whistles

It's hill both wide and deep
But it's population,
Crammed in a heap

As these souls of the south
Reach out with each vowel
And in each climb
And in each fall
Them barren, wet plains
They wearily call

It's small yet faint
echoed in the summer
the old burry their graves
the younger, the dummer

Yet they sease to exsist
in this bottom abyss
between the crevase of our nation
In our homes foundation.

No homes to fit the weak
No loans to feed those who shreek
No bread for the kids
And no love for them who live

In that we are simply nothing,
without our shelter, loans, kids and love
Because we are our own makers
In this land between two hills
Deep below the soil and artificial skills
It's a place called Shady Acres

[TenEightyOne]

Check your spelling and punctuation!

The content's very enjoyable though

Is it about Sheffield?

[Coat.]

QUOTE (TenEightyOne @ Wednesday, Nov 28 2012, 15:30)

Check your spelling and punctuation! The content's very enjoyable though Is it about Sheffield?

I wrote this out while on GTAForums, on my PS3 - so mind the puncuation.

Why would you think it's about Sheffield - just curious?

[TenEightyOne]

Sheffield kind of looks like it's been poured into a valley, at least to my addled mind it does

[Coat.]

Diabolical

I never understood why cousion Joey killed himself,
He had nothing to loose,
But he had nothing to gain
But sometimes I still hear his faint whisle
It echoes throughout the everglades
War was soon,
Off went a missle
Off I went
To the depths...
...Diabolical...

[Coat.]

Salt Tears

Them ladders and those rules,
I glimpes down at my mule,

We stand high at the crests peak,
Never knowing when you're going to snap,
But you always know when you're going to die,

Yet as the sea breeze touched me,
I had a rush of bright emotions,
Sympathy, ecstaticy, guilt

I found some flint
and carved a knife,
Aphrodite's salt tear washed down my forehead,
My soul become lucid,
I sacraficed the mule and washed my hands

Turning back towards the ocean,
I knew I was judged,
And I threw the bloody flint into the sea
It budged pass the coral and onto the bed
Grinding against ridged rocks and stones,
It's true that object's have fears,

Years passed and I departed,
Leaving a trace to nothing on the human race,
Expect a gift for the stomch of the planet,
The ocean...
It was a carved weapon,
the only that a weak element could use.

It washed and clambered it's way to shore,
Before being picked up by a boy named 'Ned'
He depicted life before the war,
it was raw,
Like an open sore... wound.

Young Ned made a necklass out of it,
Using it as a tool,
Even gave it to his mother to nit.
Young Ned lived beside the sea,
not knowing the story thay would be.

Young Ned grew old,
He knew it was time to give it a goal,
So he gave it to his grandson,
His name was, 'Charles Manson'
And off went Charles into the abyss of the evening light.

City streets were too loud for Manson,
And he rathered the country life
Were people would be barn dancin',
And he'd be up the front on stage,
With two men playing the blues,
While he'd be strumming away to, 'She's got you'
And who be that women looking fine,
It was Pasty Cline.

Charles had seen better days with his necklass,
So he drilled a hole in it and used it for good use,
And he'd know he'd never loose,
Which the flint knife was now a pick.

This little boy was older now,
and he was poor now,
after the days of country had left,
and all he had was his dying dog 'Beth'.
He had to feed her,
but how so when he had no fur
No mollow... no cash,

So little boy Manson robbed a store,
He took the money, the milk
He took more and more,
When the man tried to stop him,
He pulled out his flint pick,
And stabbed him to death
bit by bit...

Some still say the flint is still around,
flowing through the creeks of America,
Ever knowing it's fluresent life,
People never seeing what it's doing,
But it's taking you,
It's taking you back to the crest of the mountain,
To hear you scream in fear,
In what is reality,
To give sympathy to Aphrodite's salt tears.


Whether this made sense to you, I don't really care.