Not very good stuff.

I like to write poems.
But I don't write poems that I like.
No, they're not very good, but for your enjoyment or torment, here is a selection of my finest.
Or worst.

The first two I have posted before, but what the hell.



PEACE POEM

Heavens and stars have all been passed by,
The moon and the sea lost in a cry.
To see within the air, with the wings to break free,
The kingdom of paradise for all eternity.
The souls of the few will go free, arm in arm,
Carried by the will that is grasped in each palm.
As white doves, bringers of peace and of love,
Open the Gates for the souls above.


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 by history
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 fly 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 extinguished forver?
Will no spark light at the heart, the core?
And reveal once more some secret
a whisper of something forgotton:
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.
And when 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 white-feathered doves
singing and swaying on the creeping bony fingers
and on the wing,
sailing like ships through the dawnlight
with the ease of a child.


THE END

Harmonies played to awaken him
And the wisping mist came to carry him,
So he opened up the light from his heart
Dispearsing the darkness from around him
And he was released.
The weight of his pain was lifted away
His long suffering had at last ceased
And he was now pure and free
And forever to be and peace.



SUMMER'S END

Golden fingers swaying in the breeze
by the lonely tree with leaves weeping
and a turtle dove upon a branch calls out
to a young girl sleeping.
Her eyes turned to the ending day
where the last summer's sun slipped away
and there upon the wind in flight
were swallows flying to the west
where the falling sun shone red as their breast.
And the fields that swayed, and the tree that wept
and the dove that sung as a young girl slept
and the swallows flying as the summer was done
all then belonged to the setting sun.


WHERE WOULD THE POET BE?

If not for
scarlet flames at autumn sunset
wispering of the wind to the trees,
dew upon the grass on a winters morning
scent of musk in a greenwood forest,
alpine heather on far distant mountains
empty tracks where thoughts run free,
a thuder storm on a hot summer's day
the faces of people, friends and foe,
the colour of love contrasted by hate
the sting of hate quashed by love,
the essence of fear: light versus dark
and the questions of death searched for in life.
If not for these
where would a poet be?


FULL CIRCLE

Night slowly drifts over a sleeping land.
At the stroke of midnight Love awakes
and She rises upwards to the treetops to meet with woeful Hate,
for in the brightness of Her heart, She knows
that She must share with Him what She posseses: Eternal Light
and in time to immerse Herself into the Burning Flame
that surrounds Woeful Hate.
Their meeting brightened the drifting Night
who continued on His journey from Day, taking the Moon and Stars with Him.
Soom the Realm of the Sky will be passed back onto the shoulders
of Day once more, as their Wheel turns ever-round Gentle Earth.
Near and far alike, Death walks the glowering land
although never far from His sullen form is Life
who carries a Torch, that burns ever brighter when
Death is at hand.

Night gives way for Day, Day passes through the Gate'
Hate burns Love, while Love quenches Hate.
Winter travels through to Spring, Summer becomes first Leaf-fall;
Life fades away to Death, and Death finds his way to all.



NO TITLE (yet)

Your heart came from the empty seas
your body from the earth
and is the torch to light the way
down the hidden roads, and warm
the long lonely winter nights.
Your strength lifts the sorrow clouds
high and far away, and calms raging rivers of anger
easing fears, keeping them at bay.
You are our garden of solitude
the light of home
the embers of peace.
From inwards a glow shines from your face
your gentle eyes, your flowing locks of hair.
Your touch is felt from afar
and when close your courage and humantiy
are like pilliows to lie upon, easing hollowness
unlocking the world from a cage of shadows.
When you move you sail upon the wind
and run like deer in forest glades.
When you speak you sing,
crossing bridges and divides with you voice.


Hope you liked them, and didn't cause you too much pain.
Please feel free to tell me how bad they are.

Andy.

Bloodyhell.

Sir, you are talented!

Thanks very much!

Um...

I'm still reading looking for the "NOT very good stuff..."

Are you sure you put it up here?

mighty impressive...

Cheers!

GeeDub#1
<...hmmm...>

Thank you, nice people.
You're very generous.

Andy : Stop being so hard on yourself. With idiots like me around, you never need fear! I liked the one about (your) mother a lot. And "Where would a poet be". I feel you are giving too little credit for "Summer's End". Everything has a place in a poem, or a piece of work/art. It's all about perceptions.

Thanks for the poems...

Honestly, Andy, if you feel the need to explain your poems, there must be something missing from them. They should stand by themselves without exposition or tips.

Granted that poems should stand on their own, he really only tells more the origin and what inspired them. It's not our place to say that there's something missing in them we didn't write them so we wouldn't know, would we? Even so I do agree that you shouldn't have explained them it leaves little to the readers' imagination, ya know? Very impressive work to say the least. Bravo.

Illuvatar-- What do you hope to get out of posting your poetry here? Do you merely want obsequious congratulations, or do you want honest critique? You mentioned that we should feel free to express what we disliked about your work; were you in earnest? If you'd like feedback, I'd be happy to help, but if not, then I'll merely shut up.

I posted them for you to enjoy if you like poetry and to criticise also if you'd like to. I would like you to. I'm not looking for congratulations. I just want to share what I enjoy doing, although I don't believe I do it very well. So I'd be intrested to hear different views. The only other people who have read my poems are my close family; and being my family have, unsurpisingly, always said they are very good. I'd like to hear unbyast (I can't spell I know) veiws.
Maybe it was a mistake to explain the poems. But I don't think I explained them too much. There's still a lot of interpretation left. I felt it neccesary, or I wanted I should say, to point out some things like 'The End' being about my Grandad, and the last one about my Mum. Also the first could be misinterpreted as a religious poem, which it's not.
But please say whatever you feel. I don't rate myself highly as a poet, but I love poetry. I really would treasure all your thoughts and opinons.

I'd say this : Gerald has trully helped me... and I'm not being sarcastic.

He has? In that case, I wait in anticapation for his reply. (That is not sarcasm by the way.)
Hmm, I've just re-read my original post, and thinking about it, you're right, I don't know why I gave an explanation to each one. It seemed the right thing to do at the time; but looking at it now, I think I would be disapointed to know exactly what they're about. Never mind.
If I ever post some more poems, I will make sure not to make the same mistake.

Ok, I've made amends. Sort of.
I deleted all the explanations. Fingers crossed that you all suffer from short-term memory loss.