Poetry

The thing about Shakespeare is it's a mistake to even call him a poet when really he is a playwright. He did write some sonnets, but his main work was in the theatre. His plays really need to be seen on stage to judge them best. I've read a lot of his plays and have enjoyed them, but not been overly impressed. But once seen on stage, in the way they were meant to be seen, they really do come to life. The Tempest and A Midsummer Night's Dream are very beautiful. Some of his sonnets were good as well, I think it's sonnet 18 'Shall I compare thee to a summer' rose?' which is a personal favourite.

Ok, I'm going to make a fool of myself and type up two of my very own poems. The second one, for some strange reason, was actually published in an anthology called 'Straight from the Heart'. But you'll probably only find it in the UK, and only if you look very hard.
The first one is called...
THE SILENT DAWN RISES

Little river-lets run thick and stagnant
black as shadows, shadows of blood;
the lifeless heart may beat no sound
but roars with flames imperishable.
A quiet demon is not seen to kill:
the promised friend has bloody hands stained red
but always cleaned and childlike, innocently held open.
Empty.
Why do you avert your eyes from the sun?
Why do you turn from grace?
Why draw the sword and not the olive branch?
Why beat the drum to silence the voice? And
why does the eagle soar while the dove cowers?
The darkness comes, a wave upon the night:
the shadow of a fist like a tormenting master.
If the earth shakes again, splits and bleeds
who will be the healer to stop the poison?
Shall the candle be extinguised forever?
Will no spark light at the heart, the core?
And reveal once more some secret
a whisper of something forgotten:
when the silent dawn rises
weeping weather clouds melt, and a jewl is
revealed in a cloth of blue silk
shining forth crystal blades of lemon and amber hue.
On lowlands, meadows gold and sweet
the burning embers fade in the west;
then will be the time when the dark flames die
and the waters flow clear once again.
The trees blossom richly with the white-feathered doves
singing and swaying on the creeping bony fingers
and on the wing
sailing like ships through the dawn light
with the ease of a child.

This one was published, and is called...
PEACE POEM

Heavens and stars have all been passed by
the moon and sea, lost in their cry
to see, within the air with the wings to break free
the kingdom of paradise for all eterninty.
The souls of the few go free, arm in arm
carried by the will that is grasped in each palm,
as white doves, bringers of peace and love
open the gates for the souls above.

I'm going hide my head in embarrasment now.

No need to be embarrassed, Illuvatar. There is some nice imagery in there...even though some of it is rather 'dark', but, makes a nice contrast to the 'light' elements. Anyway, the 2nd poem is a bit more upbeat, I think--full of hope. You wouldn't care to elaborate a little on what was going through your mind while writing the 1st one, would you? Just curious, I guess.

Don't worry if you don't get a big response, afterall, poetry just isn't everyone's bag, you know. I've had some...er...'training' at it, but consider myself more of a lyricist than a poet.

The first four lines I was thinking of two particular world leaders, mentioning no names of course.
In general though, I was thinking of war and the constant move towards war that always has and still does happen, ('why beat the drum to silence the voice?) And also how violent society is. And how some people/governments seem to get away, literally, with murder, (The promised friend has bloody hands, stained red, but always cleaned and childlike, innocently held open.) Of course, lines like 'Why do you avert your eyes from the sun? Why do you turn from grace?', again referrs to people/governments who choose to move towards war/deaths.
I'm not religious at all, but then I thought what if we all realised how lucky we are to live on Earth that's still beautiful, and decided to return to peace? To re-discover it? That's what I mean by 'some secret, a whisper of something forgotten'. The secret of peace.
The bit at the end, about the doves, representing peace and coming on ships, I think was probably inspired by Tolkien and the Silmarillion. Where the Vala returned to middled-earth to defeat Morgoth.

That makes sense.
I just started reading the silmarillion recently, btw.

Sorry, hope I haven't ruined your reading the Silmarilion by giving away what happens You'll have to erase that from your mind.

Hey, Illuvatar... ever thought about posting in the Poems/Lyrics section? When bigger fools like me can post, I see no reason why you should feel ashamed! The second one is nice. Frankly I had a totally different idea of the first one untill you explained it!

I've thought about it. Maybe I'll summon up the courage and do it.
I've just read your poems btw, very good.
What did you think my first one was about? I'd be intrested to know. It is always up to the reader to make his/her judgement on a poem of course, and many poems do have different meanings for different people. Sometimes, I imagine, quite different from what the author intended, but that's what makes poetry so good. Like Pink Floyd songs, we all probably know what they mean, but take different feelings from them.

Well, the first part of your poem did give the effect of combat/war. The second half (especially those "Why do you?") lines... well, they reminded me a little bit of me. You know? I've always had some sort of identity problem (not the usual teen story, I can assure you...) and I guess it is because of having parents and grandparents from vastly different backgrounds.

Simon

PS : You can comment on my poems too you know!

That's really intresting. Like I said, it's up to the reader to take whatever feeling they want from poetry. Even if what you took from the poem is not what I meant, that doesn't really matter, I think. That's the beauty of poetry. Of course, it is nice if people do know what you mean, but as long as a poem has an effect on someone, then I think you've succeded.

I'm now going to your thred, to give some great litery criticsm of your work.

Shakespeare's fabulous, but if anyone can name this poem (if it was mentioned before, a thousand pardons), I will love you forever. Even better if you can give the next line:

"My first thought was, he lied in every word..."

Oh, here's a crap poem I wrote (I'd put it in the poems/lyrics forum, but this has nothing to do with Floyd, so it goes here, I guess):

Myristica Fragrans

Listen to the laughter of the god
Dancing through the assembly hall
Moving through the garden
Moving through the wood
Hoping for a time when maybe they could
Hold the moon in the palm of their hands
Or swim through the corona



As I said, I suck at poetry, but I've written quite a bit.

No no no, it is ME who sucks at poetry. You on the other hand are talented.

Whoa, a compliment, thank you Illuvatar. One of these days I'll have to drag out one of my really weird ones, like The Minstrel Broke His Mandolin (I was listening to a bit too much Tull at the time).

I've given up.