Any Prose, Poetry written lately?

here's something I came up with....


I travel the roads again
The cold smog of night fills me
Lost to any emotion
I let the longing die

The desert of concrete
The forests of steel
All is required
And I give it

I travel the roads again
The oceans of shallow light engulf me
Lost to any concern
I let the future die

I am conquered

hot bolts and screeching steel
All is required
And I give it

Unit 6 wrote:here's something I came up with....


I travel the roads again
The cold smog of night fills me
Lost to any emotion
I let the longing die

The desert of concrete
The forests of steel
All is required
And I give it

I travel the roads again
The oceans of shallow light engulf me
Lost to any concern
I let the future die

I am conquered

hot bolts and screeching steel
All is required
And I give it

I like this - it's really kind of disguised in a way, like you can generally gather a dark atmosphere to it, but I can't quite work out what it really is meant to be about. I'm thinking that things like 'desert of concrete', 'forests of steel', 'hot bolts and screeching steel' are reffering to the modern day world, urbanisation, man made things etc?

Anyway, this is one of my recent ones...

Once upon a time, beneath the tall pines of dawn,
There lived a lost boy and his orphaned fawn.
"Duan, I love you,"she whispered each and every day.
He adored her so and wished she would never retire away,
But, come Hallows Eve he dismissed his beloved grace.
As she was struck dead, a tear christened his beautiful face.
"Farewell," he wept as he buried his dreams in the dark meadow,
His dreams and hopes of one day, returning home.

That is pretty somber, kind of like my little piece.

And yea, you understand what I meant by it, it seems, for the most part. It's also about working hard and getting no where... and about spending all of your energy to just barely survive. " All is required, and I give it."

I haven't written anything. But I should some time.

i tend to grow to hate everything i write, mostly because they are a mirror of what i feelt like. so i stack them up on a shelf, then i take down the oldest ones and read them now and then, if i don't like them anymore i throw them in the trashes. almost all of them end up in the trashes eventually.
i wrote some last night but all of that was in swedish. if i come up with something new in English i guess i'll post it.

hmm.. you should still post it in swedish, Jonas and Grailknight view these boards too form to time.

somehow i don't see jonas as a poetry dude but thats just me

ecthelion of the fountain wrote:somehow i don't see jonas as a poetry dude but thats just me

maybe if it's written in fish entrails?

ok so i'm trying to teach myself how to write poetry in English, it is after all a language far superior to most. this is something i just wrote, feedback would be appreciated, since i want to get better. also note that it is in teh middle of the night here in Scandinavia


he woke up from the sound of distant church bells
only to find himself naked in the wet summer grass
time to sleep the last bell yells
he had slept far past mass
the sky was ever so gray
the color seemed there to stay
he began his journey back, back to the concrete that to him had given birth
there had never been any crib, no gold, no mirth
there was only yesterdays morning paper withering on the door step
its still read like all present and past
god is dead
the sky was still so gray
the color seemed there to stay

I like the bit about the morning paper withering on the door step. Very visceral.

I wrote this songtext about 5 years ago when I was working in daycare for disabled children. This is about a 5 year old mentally and physically disabled boy that was in constant pain and probably beaten by his parents:

Frozen minds in shivering bodies
Learning to live in this void
Emptiness in my soul
As I watch in tears
My heart now scattered by your eyes

If I only could lift you up
But your burden and tears are alone
Claws stretching against the sky
Distorted hands in pain
A bruised being existing in vain

Those who walk are limb
Those who think are insane
The crying are the lucky
Why all the pain

You see right through me
Unable to understand
The world of mortals
That we're falling without an end
If I could keep from you
All the hate and bitterness
Your tears like blood
Falling to the floor with you

The pain is already flowing
Through all your being
Twisted in the shadow
Inside the foreign mind
You are the crushed dream
You are the body of a desire
Bitterness thy name

They see thorns
When they look at you
My crying rose

Working with *mostly abused/neglicated* young children in our church, I feel every bit of that pain and frustration and anger.
I also find myself writing about my kids *they all call me 'mom'* in various forms, though I would not want to share those writings, at least not anytime soon.
Thank you for sharing that.