Poets' Corner (Serious Poems)
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23-01-2013, 08:35 PM
RE: Poets' Corner
Untitled
-by- Wig Didely

Faced with knowing
while not understanding
putting pieces together
to understand the whole.

Previously bridled
of my own volition
or so I thought
'till I learned to see.

The swaying pendulum
the ticking clock
clogged cogs of the mind
they groan and they creak.

Never answered questions
but satisfied from knowing
what a great achievement
it was to ask.

Facing the world
as I face myself
living for the minute
not giving up.

Time will take me
but it won't consume me
forced to let my carbon
be stolen when I'm gone.

Hoping some day
the ones two stole them
have a better chance
at accomplishing my goals.

Faced with knowing
while not understanding
putting pieces together
to understand the whole.

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23-01-2013, 09:13 PM
RE: Poets' Corner
(23-01-2013 08:35 PM)cheapthrillseaker Wrote:  ...
forced to let my carbon
be stolen...
...

Nice!

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23-01-2013, 09:39 PM
RE: Poets' Corner
(23-01-2013 09:13 PM)DLJ Wrote:  
(23-01-2013 08:35 PM)cheapthrillseaker Wrote:  ...
forced to let my carbon
be stolen...
...

Nice!
Thanks man! Big Grin

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23-01-2013, 10:26 PM (This post was last modified: 23-01-2013 10:29 PM by Peterkin.)
RE: Poets' Corner
To the caregivers

Four am is the longest hour

waiting
for a fever to break
wheezing to quiet
shivering to subside
the soft breath of restful sleep

waiting
for a lucid interval
the correct name,
a spark of memory,
however brief, before life fades away

waiting
for the eyelid to flutter
the fingers to grasp
the lips to form a word
evidence of reviving consciousness

waiting
for the drug to work
the retching to stop
the pain to let up
any sign of remission.

For those who watch at a bedside,
apply cool cloth to forehead
and soothing words to unresponsive ear,
who hold a parched or clammy hand,
four am lasts forever.
Yet they stay.

It's not the mean god I have trouble with - it's the people who worship a mean god.
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23-01-2013, 10:40 PM
RE: Poets' Corner
(14-01-2013 04:20 PM)Zat Wrote:  Humanity

We are not equipped to reason
about our mind…
…when it comes to us:
we are functionally blind.
...

I like this one a lot old man.

Breathing - it's more art than science.
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24-01-2013, 05:50 AM
RE: Poets' Corner
I struggle with life everyday.
I have to push the grey clouds away.
Carpe diem-To seize the day.
Holding on though is slippery.

Its up to me on how I feel.
I can call what I want as real.
If I want I can give myself the chance to heal.
If I could would I call that victory?

Victory over life?
Victory over the day?
Yet how can you "win"
Over things that have shaped you this way?

If I could go back.
Would I change the things I have done.
And if I did, who would I become?

For no matter how much I use these symbols, to describe symptoms of my existence.
You are your own emphasis.
So I say nothing.

-Bemore.
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24-01-2013, 06:55 AM
RE: Poets' Corner
A victim of life.
Another statistic.
Can I believe that its all fatalistic?

The problems I claim as mine.
Just merely intertwine
A side of humanity that isn't benign.

There is no good, their is no evil.
yet these concepts shape people.
Into something "meaningful"

For no matter how much I use these symbols, to describe symptoms of my existence.
You are your own emphasis.
So I say nothing.

-Bemore.
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24-01-2013, 07:33 AM
RE: Poets' Corner
(24-01-2013 07:17 AM)morondog Wrote:  'There' is no good, 'their' is evil,
'They're' out to get me,
Grammar nazis are also people Hobo

Like a jackhammer.
I smash english grammar.
I really am quite lazy.

I cant think of anything else that rhymes with grammar.
As I stammer and clamor without much glamour.
Making the definition of allready inert words more Hazy.

Big Grin

For no matter how much I use these symbols, to describe symptoms of my existence.
You are your own emphasis.
So I say nothing.

-Bemore.
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25-01-2013, 08:28 AM (This post was last modified: 25-01-2013 09:28 AM by Zat.)
RE: Poets' Corner
On the other hand, my thoughts this morning are somewhat less than funny:

The prospector

The prospector is old,
dim eyes searching for elusive glitter,
his gnarled fingers still look for the gold,
but all he finds is useless litter.

He thinks he will give it up soon,
abandon this futile obsession,
stop humming this haunting tune,
extinguish a life-long passion.

It’s hard to know what new role
he might find in a now hopeless life,
not looking for gold in their soul,
accepting the dullness and strife.
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25-01-2013, 09:46 AM
RE: Poets' Corner
Delay the Dawn

As dark fades to light
and the sun rises on all we held so dear
your perfect purity
.... becomes you no longer
and my love for you wanes with the coming day.

The lines grow heavy on my page
.... but heavier on your face

No more do I desire to wake
.... entwined in your embrace

I feel to have loved you an age
but moving on, am moved no more.

DLJ

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