Cool Jam

[zarriel]

Nocturnal Rainbow


In dusk
of motionless clouds and rainless skies, I watched love die
gasping.


How shall I revive my heart –
Prying my chest open and wringing it repeatedly to life?
Is it Love,
this act of killing myself to save myself?


I shall reveal to you the despondent reverie of a morning dewdrop slumbering in the petals of a desert cactus. On its emaciated thorns crawls an unhurried caterpillar, chrysalising its dream into feeble wings of butterflies.
Flutter,
flutter,
flutter
past the endless scorching sand dunes,
against the tempestuous desert storms,
across the generation chasms,
over the peaks of time, back to the valley of innocence, so as
with one final flap of its sapping wings,
to die
at the root of the tree of memory,
under the branches of remembrance, and
amidst of the paradise of youth. There,
through songs of the cicadas, I’ll tell you of the raptures blossoming on parched lips that have learned to smile
once more.


But now, I am the night.
I shall never be able to explain to you the anguish of a lifeless star
whose radiance of a million years ago still sparkles in your hopeful eyes.
I believe there are those of us who will sit silently in the darkness of the night, exalting the luminous solar dawning in their hearts – For they are few who know that
Love and Death
are the last two certainties.
One is absolutely not ours.
One is absolutely ours when we completely belong to someone else.


Once,
I watched the funeral procession of the sun setting
behind drift-less dark clouds in sprinkle-less skies. I knew
love is a nocturnal rainbow
forming as the condensed air cascading the moonlight
on insomniac nights.


Night is I.
You know?


Zarriel

[The Eristic]

Quite good, Zarriel, and welcome to HC.

Anyone want to discuss poetry? Influences? Structure and form?

[zarriel]

Monotonous Nocturne


night
heart ascertained
sleepless

in utter silence, seated solitude
lexes foliated
logic cogitated
hand and pen dialogued

in trance, the poet
seanced the spirits
chanted poems incomprehensible
words miscarried
died fetal deaths
under gestated
within vaginal rhymes

the poet watched his child -
cries, when sad
laugh, if happy
uncomplicated
how to express in totality such simple harmonies
(wisdom polluted his hellish soul)

living, a verse of love in teenage years
a sonnet of perspicacity in adulthood
a limerick of abandonment in mid-life

now, in evaporating maturity, beholding
his wife breastfeeding his child
the poet, alas, eulogizes his innocence
in a language that is pure

where as time constricts into nights
deeper, darker
more immense with each passing instant
the poet reflects upon
the asymmetrical shadows of his traitorous thoughts
to find his heart in equilibrium

gazing at a sheet of paper
that is blank


Zarriel

[The Eristic]

Experiments with basic French (if you speak French well, please help with grammar, etc...):

Vous parlez plus fort,
Mais je prefere tous les jours
Plus de vos vetements noirs.
C'est le dernier.
Il s'habille avec Eris,
Avec elle,
Une soeur que n'aime pas
Les Enfants que s'adorent.
Vous criez silencieusement,
Mais je prefere les vieux
Plus de vous, parce que vous dormez.

[The Eristic]

More:

Les chapelure,
Je n'ai pas pas plus.
Nous sommes minuscule
En les yeux de tout le monde
Souf nous.
Tu vas avec tes cheveux;
Il te retent.
C'est un poids,
Une plume que te faire tombe.
Je n'appelle pas moins.
La barriere, c'est faible.

[babybatter]

I dont recall seeing this thread before. But i havent been in a real writing mood for ages. Maybe my memory is more selective than Id like to admit. :eek: trippy.

Any how, Im now going to sit and think of something. Ill report back, either way.

Cool!

[babybatter]

And so far I blow at lovey-dovey poetry.

EW! I was writing mushy love-poems! :eek: :eek: :eek:





Guess I'll have to call her soon.



(ahem) Ill try to control myself and get focussed on the task at hand.

[babybatter]

Richard was annoyed
scissors in hand, his flamed face in the other
never cut outside the lines

thowing his mistake into the corner
he rest upon elbows on knees
pursing his lip brow and mind

Licking off a sweaty lip -
hiding his dirty perspiration
scouting for his elevation......

....guessing one of them so called 'doc-ters' would have been a better idea.

[ETH_Meldody Man]

.My Dying Faith
More and More my faith keeps dying
Don't know why...I feel like crying
My heart hardens
hidden in the depths of sorrow
Broken inside
Killing the pain in my mind
wishing for death
hoping for life
but even though I try
My faith continues to die

[The Eristic]

Originally posted by babybatter
Richard was annoyed
scissors in hand, his flamed face in the other
never cut outside the lines

thowing his mistake into the corner
he rest upon elbows on knees
pursing his lip brow and mind

Licking off a sweaty lip -
hiding his dirty perspiration
scouting for his elevation......

....guessing one of them so called 'doc-ters' would have been a better idea.

I think this may be the most disturbing thing I've ever read (and I've been reading for 16 of my 18 years on the planet). :eek:

[The Eristic]

Bump, 'cause I'm getting the urge to write..... :cool:

[The Eristic]

Written, words that hold nothing more than what one should have said. To wit, what was spoken was once what all believed, held dear, yet let go while clutching the perception of the brevity, the ephemeral. Were something inevitable, would that we try to change it.

[The Eristic]

Fell free, first falls the phrase "Flattering trees is the easiest way to climb them" upon the ears of a vagrant businessman, who washed his face in the reflective skin of a glass pool table. The pockets are deep, but typically empty.

[chuckw/atruck]

Thankless Jobs abound.
Mine is one.
There are others for other people.
Some are happy
Lucky Haberdasher.

[The Eristic]

I can't believe this thread is still here. :eek:

[Fred5]

Originally posted by The Eristic
I can't believe this thread is still here. :eek:

History is important.

[The Eristic]

Originally posted by Fred5


History is important.

I know, I'm a History major.

[Fred5]

Originally posted by The Eristic


I know, I'm a History major.

Kewl. It would be even more important if we could learn more from it.

Btw, wouldn't it be cool to have all posts
ever made available for searching? I wonder if they are all gone to file heaven
or if they are stored somewhere?

Maybe the tall one knows?

[whamtone]

An old one of mine, any comments appreciated.

I remember golden days
The sunlight breaks the morning haze
And sends a few undaunted rays
Shining down your hair
God, I wish that I was there
God, I wish that I was there
'Cause then I still would be with you
But now I know our sweet love is through

I remember walking miles
Just to see one of your smiles
And we'ld just sit and talk a while
Until the day was done
God, that was so much fun
God, that was so much fun
That I could only have with you
But now I know our sweet love is through

I don't know where I found the power
Of faith that helped me through that hour
When I found out our love turned sour
With nothing left me in its place
God, the tears run down my face
God, the tears run down my face
But there was nothing I could do
Because you'd proved our sweet love was through

Now maybe somewhere in L.A.
Or in New Yok or by the 'Frisco bay
There's still a couple who can say
That their love still flows on strong
God, I cannot say they're wrong
God, I cannot say they're wrong
I only say good luck to you
And I hope your sweet love is true.

[The Eristic]

Originally posted by whamtone
.

It has a rather wistful, positive vibe to it. It would make a good folk/rock song, I think. :cool: