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  • Poetry

    There is a thread for poetry in the sandbox, but it seems like it may be more appropriate here in the general forum. Besides, I don't have posting privileges in the sandbox. Feel free to post up your poetry as well.

    Boys with boards

    Too long since the last wave.
    Alone out there with the groove.
    Convinced there was a higher purpose
    To the waves.

    Taking part in it,
    Being a god
    walking on water,
    I thought the summer would be endless.

    Boys with boards
    Become men with mowers
    Riding waves of green.
    We all aspire to greatness
    In the shadows of greater things.

    Sexy Women
    So fragile is life,
    Looking for patterns -
    Longing for love, but not knowing

    I search for the answer now
    Out of habit,
    Driven by circumstance,
    Longing for self and
    Missing a center.
    I am a shell
    Waiting for the worms.

    An altered mind is no place for
    Sober thoughts
    Yet here I am,
    Searching for answers to
    Ill posed questions
    That will never satisfy

    I don’t want to know the truth
    I know. I want a truth that does not

    I want passing smiles,
    Wind swept mountain tops,
    And sexy women.

    “Up, sluggard, and waste not life; in the grave will be sleeping enough!” Benjamin Franklin

  • #2
    Re: Poetry

    Join us in the sandbox then!


    • #3
      Re: Poetry

      Not sure why, but I did not see the option to join. Still, I suggest that a poetry thread is more appropriate in the general forum. :)

      “Up, sluggard, and waste not life; in the grave will be sleeping enough!” Benjamin Franklin


      • #4
        Re: Poetry

        Great thread, Science!
        How about a poem on poems? I began this one when I was a pre-teen, but found and finished it just a few months ago.

        A poem expresses the poet’s thoughts
        Yet can never tell the half of them
        That is why when the poem’s done
        The poet feels he’s just begun

        Creating new, exciting plots
        Is not less hard than finding a gem
        Of course there is less sweat and grime
        In choosing the most useful rhyme

        A working mind that calls the shots
        Might the tide of woe effectually stem:
        Humanity and individuals mend:
        Stem that supposed downward trend

        Elusively, a new idea trots
        Many times around what I am
        It wants to mock, yet to be a friend
        And is doubly successful in the end

        Generations may glean the afterthoughts
        And by their interest they’ll not condemn
        Themselves to follow our own ways
        But help them to their own way blaze

        "The true genius shudders at incompleteness - and usually prefers silence to saying
        something which is not everything it should be." — Edgar Allan Poe


        • #5
          Re: Poetry

          I am a prose writer myself; I write short stories and essays. So instead, I share one of my favorites by Robert Frost:

          Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

          Whose woods these are I think I know.
          His house is in the village though;
          He will not see me stopping here
          To watch his woods fill up with snow.

          My little horse must think it queer
          To stop without a farmhouse near
          Between the woods and frozen lake
          The darkest evening of the year.

          He gives his harness bells a shake
          To ask if there is some mistake.
          The only other sound's the sweep
          Of easy wind and downy flake.

          The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
          But I have promises to keep,
          And miles to go before I sleep,
          And miles to go before I sleep.


          • #6
            Re: Poetry

            And I will share a choral work which was inspired by the aforementioned work by Frost. This piece of music (Sleep, by Eric Whitacre) was originally set to the words of "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening," but due to copyright issues, the estate of Frost would not allow the poem to be set to song. Instead Whitacre enlisted the help of a friend who wrote the following poem, without changing any of the rhythmic structure since the piece of music was already written.


            The evening hangs beneath the moon
            A silver thread on darkened dune
            With closing eyes and resting head
            I know that sleep is coming soon

            Upon my pillow, safe in bed
            A thousand pictures fill my head
            I cannot sleep my minds a flight
            And yet my limbs seem made of lead

            If there are noises in the night
            A frighting shadow, flickering light
            Then I surrender unto sleep

            Where clouds of dreams give second sight

            What dreams may come both dark and deep

            Of flying wings and soaring leap

            As I surrender unto sleep
            As I surrender unto sleep

            "Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds. " - Albert Einstein


            • #7
              Re: Poetry

              Recon, anyone who knows of Whitacre is a friend of mine. :)


              • #8
                Re: Poetry

                I'm a music major, if I didn't know Whitacre, I'd be an idiot.

                "Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds. " - Albert Einstein




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