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Elaine P...is for Poetry

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  • Inspired by Rayven and RB I wrote a poem. What do you think of it?

    DESTINATIONS

    by Elaine

    ‘Life is a journey,

    death a destination,’

    says the prayer book.

    ‘Poetry is a destination,

    until the poem becomes you,’

    says the Poet.

    ‘Can we choose

    our destination’,

    asks the foot soldier.

    ‘I am that I am,

    I choose all destinations,’

    says the Creator.

    9 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • What is your opinon of this quotation?

    B.Q. Can you give an expiation why you agree or disagree?

    I posted it in the wrong place so I am also posting it here.

    Subject: Quote for the day.

    "Writing has laws of perspective, of light and shape, just as painting does, and music."

    - Truman Capote

    4 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • Do you agree or disagree with this quote?

    Subject: Quote for the day.

    "Writing has laws of perspective, of light and shape, just as painting does, and music."

    - Truman Capote

    3 AnswersQuotations10 years ago
  • Can the heart remain unchanged though the outside sheds its leaves?

    AUTUMN CHANGE

    by Elaine

    Like the giant oak

    rooted to the ground

    whose ever-changing leaves

    sing with a shining sound,

    like the oak’s small seed

    the acorn, which will grow

    into another giant oak

    as days and years pass slow,

    so do my leaves change,

    turn many a different hue,

    although deep in my core

    I’m what I’ve been to you.

    5 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • Would you read this rhymed dialogue and agree that 'there are no coincidences?

    This morning, Dallas spoke about poets vs. wordsmiths and about the end of hatred. I wrote this one last night before I saw her comments today.

    THE WORDSMITH AND THE BLACKSMITH

    by Elaine

    Wordsmith: Here is my plowshare, forge me a sword

    With blade strong and sharp to cut a thick cord.

    Blacksmith: I cannot do so, my forge has grown old,

    My fire is dying and my hammer is cold.

    Wordsmith: I am tired of planting strange seeds unknown,

    Digging for words that no one has sown.

    Blacksmith: Words can be sharp, as sharp as cold steel

    To cut and to slash, when angry you feel.

    Wordsmith: I cannot untangle the web I have wrought,

    Its knots are too tight; to untie them I’ve sought.

    Blacksmith: No sword can cut the strands of such words,

    Once they are spoken, forever they’re heard.

    Wordsmith: Then I will lie still in the heart of my web,

    Wordless, unmoving, like Ocean at ebb.

    Blacksmith: I fear you will sing the songs of your heart,

    Until the last moment, when the web falls apart.

    Wordsmith: Perhaps you are right; I must continue to sing,

    And hope that some peace the future will bring.

    Blacksmith: Peace is mythology, although you’re afraid,

    Use well your plowshare that for you I’ve made.

    Wordsmith: And as the Night takes me, I’ll think of you,

    Hoping and praying that your words were true.

    7 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • What do you think of my pome, 'Bright Shadow,' dedicated to real people?

    BRIGHT SHADOW

    Can a shadow be bright

    Or does it hide in the night,

    Creeping upon its prey?

    Like a vampire who runs

    From the light of the sun,

    It fades as night turns to day.

    It cannot darken the light

    For it stalks at night,

    And then the morn flips it away.

    9 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • Would you please read my poem to my virtual brother, who calls himself Martian Mud?

    MARTIAN MUD

    by Elaine

    There’s no such thing as ‘Martian Mud,’

    the planet’s made of sand and rock,

    mud is made with sand and water,

    Mars’ ocean is still firmly blocked.

    Perhaps the dude means ‘crud,’ not mud,

    if so, he should visit ‘Mars Auto Parts,’

    there they’ll sell him a huge winch

    with which to bring forth his sunken heart.

    NASA says that in 50 years

    Mars will have a colony,

    until then, we’re stuck on Earth

    where we must write our poetry.

    And speaking of NASA’s colony

    only at a distance will we see Mars’ face,

    for by then we’ll be in Heaven

    or in the other place.

    2 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • Would you read and c/c my edited poem?

    Grannyjill pointed out some redundancies in the first draft and I took her advice:

    PRETENSE

    I whisper to the wind as it soars from the sea,

    I try to spread my words, but they blow back to me,

    I kneel in the surf, aim my words at the sky,

    But they fall to the ground and refuse to fly.

    I sing into the wind, but all my notes fall flat,

    I sit long on the beach where I have often sat,

    I wipe away my tears and vow no more to cry,

    The Ocean comforts me with a salty sigh.

    I stand here on the sand, call the gulls, speaking soft,

    I plead with them to carry my frail words aloft,

    I turn back to the waters waving sad goodbyes,

    Pretend I am happy, tell myself a lie.

    I whistle as I walk, for none must ever know

    I long for his touch because I loved him so,

    I paint my face with smiles, vow I’ll always try

    To believe he’ll be with me with I close my eyes.

    9 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • Can a human being be without sin?

    SINS

    Commission is sin,

    the priest says that’s true,

    but is omission a sin

    when I can’t lie to you?

    We’ll be punished for deeds,

    so we’ve been taught,

    but the mind sows the seeds,

    so we’ll be punished for thoughts.

    How can we control

    the evil within,

    is there no pure soul

    that exists without sin?

    21 AnswersReligion & Spirituality10 years ago
  • Will you read and c/c my edited Halloween poem?

    A Wish In This Halloween Season

    by Elaine

    May the ghosts that haunt us

    And the ghouls that taunt us

    As they hide from truth and light

    Crawl back to their graves,

    With feeble waves

    As sunrise conquers night,

    And may tomorrow

    Bring joy, not sorrow

    As we open wide our eyes,

    May our hearts’ desires

    Though they burn like fires

    Never be denied.

    14 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • Who is the severest judge of your poetry?

    GUARDIAN OF THE GATE

    by Elaine

    The Guardian is strict,

    demanding perfection,

    accepting no excuses

    for human flaws and failings.

    The Guardian is merciless,

    flinging words like David’s rock

    not at giants, but at those

    who dare to call on Poetry.

    The Guardian holds the key,

    but it is old and rusty;

    it will not turn the lock

    though my fingers ache with trying.

    8 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • Will you read one that isn't fiction?

    UNBOXING THE POEM: A NON-POEM

    by Elaine

    I’ve read the classics, all of them

    over a lifetime of reading poetry

    and then I came upon the photons

    weaving webs of words

    smooth and flowing

    tangled, jumbled

    on a screen too bright

    blinding tired eyes

    before the Sun

    showed his rays

    above the horizon.

    Some of the virtual poets

    opened doors

    others built walls

    cages, boxes

    and sometimes I heard

    new words speaking

    of universal themes.

    And I had the arrogance

    to proclaim myself

    Poet, although

    I knew at my core

    that I would never

    reach the summit

    or soar above

    the stratosphere.

    And now, I sit

    in an autumn kitchen

    thinking of new times

    and new places

    and wondering

    where I have been

    and where I am

    and where the

    horizon ends.

    5 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • Do you prefer rhyme or reason; fact or fiction?

    WONDERING

    by Elaine

    Shall I abandon rhyme

    and write of inner mysteries

    in ways that none else comprehend?

    Shall my poems all be metaphors

    for a life lived in many ways

    and times and places?

    Does rhyme make the poem

    or does it seem contrived

    falsely flowing unlike life?

    And what of the boxed-in days and years

    can I free them in verse unrhymed

    or shall I abandon poetry?

    10 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • What do you think of my flawfully rhymed poem?

    Wielding Words

    by Elaine (10/14/10)

    Wield your words as whip and sling,

    Choose the hardest, roundest rock,

    Aim it at the poet’s heart,

    As of peace and love he sings.

    Use your hatred as your strength,

    All your bitterness unlock,

    Swing the sling with hatred vile,

    Face the giant, come on, start.

    Oh, you missed, now try again,

    Try it with an ink-filled pen,

    Wear it down unto its nub,

    Then go and cry alone.

    8 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • What is your opinion of my poetic Request?

    REQUEST

    by Elaine

    I ask Him to forget me

    only for Him to let me

    face the South and walk

    with impunity until I float

    and then until I sink

    oblivious to Earth

    my body food for fish

    my bones forming a reef

    where the bottom of

    the food chain

    will find shelter in me.

    7 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • Would you please read a Memorial Day, metrically flawed poem?

    I'm not afraid to write flawed poems when I want to express something. What about you? Do you want to put all poetry in a box?

    OCTOBER SUNDAY 10-10-10

    (Repeat after me)

    by Elaine

    Ten…ten…ten…hut!

    The Earth’s become

    A sand-filled rut!

    It’s a Day Memorial,

    Soldiers, step forwardial,

    Remember yesterday!

    We can’t remember yesterday,

    The same thing’s happening today,

    Oh, how I wish war’d go away!

    We all love our dear country,

    Whichever our country may be,

    Marching to our destiny!

    Ten…ten..ten…hut!

    We all die in desert smut,

    The Earth’s become

    A sand-filled rut…

    4 AnswersQuotations10 years ago
  • Would you please read and c/c my autumn poem, posted for HH?

    This is posted for HH, who believes that 'autumn' is 'an overused theme.' What do you think? Should poets stop writing about the seasons?

    AUTUMN CHANGE

    by Elaine

    Like the giant oak

    rooted to the ground

    whose ever-changing leaves

    sing with a shining sound,

    like the oak’s small seed

    the acorn, which will grow

    into another giant oak

    as days and years pass slow,

    so do my leaves change,

    turn many a different hue,

    although deep in my core

    I’m what I’ve been to you.

    12 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • Is it possible to really know someone you have met only on the Internet?

    POEM

    by Elaine

    Sing me a poem

    Of sea breeze and sailboats,

    Anchor at sunset

    When we’re all alone

    Windblown and joyful

    Afloat on the Bay.

    Unlock the cabin,

    Open the door,

    Act out your words

    In gestures of love;

    Sing me a poem

    As I open to you.

    7 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • What do you think of my metrically flawed poem?

    A Wish In This Halloween Season

    by Elaine

    May the ghosts that haunt us

    And the ghouls that taunt us

    As they hide from the full Moon’s light,

    Crawl back to their graves,

    In sad, mournful waves

    As sunrise conquers night,

    And may tomorrow

    Bring joy, not sorrow

    As we open wide our eyes,

    May our hearts’ desires

    Burn like hot fire

    And never be denied.

    6 AnswersPoetry10 years ago
  • Can a poem with perfect rhyme and meter have a fatal flaw?

    If so, what is that flaw? I would be interested in your comments before I post my own answer.

    19 AnswersPoetry10 years ago