Now, I've got a number of poems ready to be posted (30+), but they're already uploaded to deviantART.
I'll upload them here as well as leave a link for my page (if you're so interested), but I ask that any comments unrelated to the poetry remain to yourself.
To make things easier to see any comments I have about the works themselves, I've linked them to their respective pages.
Oh, yes... some poems are Semi-NSFW. Nothing too bad, really, but better a cautious warning than none.
'Twas black as coal in the mid of night,
The air as still as the dead.
The morning sun would fill with fright
The poor soul who would lose his head.
The man had said that he'd stollen naught,
Nor lied, or cheated, or robbed.
But the town had said that he'd been caught.
With these words, again his head throbbed.
"But gents," he said, "ye know me well,
You know I've done no ill!"
The townsfolk replied, "You'll go to hell!"
And carted him up the hill.
"Gents," he said, "again I implore
That you cast naught a stone!"
But his captors would say not a thing more,
This chilled him to the bone.
The sun now shines upon the mound.
The night had gone too fast.
He held dear each sight and sound.
He knew they would be his last.
The hooded man held his axe high,
Showing the crowd his might.
The blade shone brightly in the sky
As it caught the morning light.
To make the body
Of a fragile new life
Borne from the still-glowing embers
Of what was once a blazing inferno
That burned so bright with blue-white flame
The fire's scorching heat threatened to consume the world
Instead, leaving a flickering spark to start the cycle again.
A man, sharp and thin,
Forged of pure sin,
Haunts Shattered Mountain at night.
His eyes are pitch black,
For a soul he does lack,
And his skin a cold, deathly white.
Neither living, nor dead,
Fates abandoned his thread,
When signed he an unholy deed.
The contract was filled
When his blood was spilled
So that a demon might feed.
Crimson essence was gone,
Yet stilll he lived on,
WIth heart empty and veins left bare.
But, lo! His heart beat!
A grim, ghastly feat,
For through vessels moved only air.
They pitched and they whined,
Sounds warping his mind,
Laying havoc on what wits he had.
Until the foul lich,
That son-of-a-bitch,
Had turned irreversably mad.
Now, child, you know
Why you never must go
To seek out those wicked moans.
Even brave men who dare
Chance upon his lair
Find death by hand of Whistlebones.
Distraught, am I over the
Enigma that is love, for
Although it is the greatest soother of hearts,
Never does one's thirst quench,
Nor their hunger sated, by the
Ambrosia produced within.
Zealous are those who try to tame it, for
In vain are their efforts,
Losing more than companionship.
Luckily, mortal man has been given the
Means to share his heart and soul,
Accepting any woes and pain of hers,
Needing only her love in return.
Lamenting the lack
Of food for his pack,
The Alpha hides a soft whine.
He hopes for the best
And gives them a rest
Sheltered beneath a broad pine.
He's old, yet so wise
Behind amber eyes
And sees that his time draws near.
With pups grown so fast
His reign cannot last.
He doubts he'll survive the year.
But still, the wolf knows
That as his strength goes
Family will carry on.
With flick of the tail,
Up stands the proud male
His maw open wide with a yawn.
He faces his kin,
They all seem so thin,
And noses awake his mate.
The day's rest now done,
The hunt has begun.
For them, hunger will not wait.
not knowing your personal education/experience with art critique, I'll say that I'm not attacking your work right here up front. I am a published poet, have performed internationally, bla bla bla. I rarely do critiques anymore because people tend to only want to hear how awesome they are, and that's utterly worthless as a writer. You may not even be looking for critique, so I've put it in spoilers.
SPOILER:
I looked at a bunch of the deviantart pages and I am not sure if it is just a tenet of that community or something, but it would appear that you only receive positive comments. If that's all you ever get, you'll never grow as an artist (whether it is writing or any other kind of art). You need to have constructive criticism that could be considered negative as well.
I think some of your rhymes are labored. I was glad to see that In Mourning you didn't even try to rhyme. If I hadn't seen a non-rhyming poem I wouldn't have even responded. Again, I didn't look at everything (mostly because of the inconvenience of how to look at everything), it just seems that you rely on rhyming. Poems are often diminished by the 'required' rhyming words and meter. Give me an example of one of your pieces with meter but not rhyme, if you don't have one, try it out, you might enjoy the freedom.
Your imagery is pretty strong. Coupled with the length of most of the poems it evokes a still photograph or painting, as opposed to a breathing, living, scene. This is not a good/bad thing just my observation. There are certainly amazing poems about paintings/photographs out there.
In all, it's a good collection of page pieces. Don't be tempted by Slam, you'll be demolished as it isn't your style (I am not a slam poet). I am not much of a fantasyphile for poetry. Kudos for sharing.
finally, in the tradition of sharing...
SPOILER:
Sonnet #49 -
*2003
Within the stars I dream at night
ne'ermind the dance we've yet to share,
Your hand in mine we've scattered light
on twisted limbs without a restive care.
and up and up on faerie wings spun of spider silk
we float above the satellites, twirl amongst the stars
this dance takes us to worlds that no man could ever build
a comet’s tail reveals our path, as one we orbit Mars.
Restless in my sleep at night, I feel the solar wind
But as we travel further on to where the Sun dies out
Your soft hands caress my neck, as hers must now rescind
Until at last we are alone. Alone but not without
This love, our love, brought to bloom in time with April’s lilies
Surrounding us on Earth and Moon and all my dream’ed galaxies.
------------------------------------------
The world is ahead of us
*2005
The teachers aren't teaching
and the scientists are scared
The teachers aren't teaching
and the scientists are scared
With an uneducated populace
we stomp combat boots forward
through the present
with an undereducated populace
our leaders must dumb down
their words
to soundbites
Turning language on its head
twisting meaning like battery cables
an uneducated populace
still capable of mob mentality
They can protest clinics
and forget prisons
and they want our youth
want to mold them to their ideology
want to mire them in their inane tastes
of convenient foods
The teachers aren't teaching
and the scientists are scared
The Big Bang is a lie
and time is wasted
The Big Bang is a lie
and all the world came from One
One Word
One great big lie up in the sky
beyond the clouds, the ozone layer
the ionosphere, up there
Life came from up there
and the teachers aren't teaching,
the scientists are scared
'That damnable evolution
is just a theory'
The mob wants you to believe this lie
of omission
and they want your kids to believe it too
Because faith is stronger than science
Because faith is equal to truth
The universe is 10,000 years old
and the dinosaurs are myth
The universe is 10,000 years old
and the writings on the wall are fake.
and if you aren't scared
if you aren't angry
if you don't see the danger
of this purposeful ignorance
what will happen when it comes to you
Because the universe is 10,000 years old,
so astrophysics is a lie
Because the universe is 10,000 years old
and geology is a lie
They harp that evolution is 'just a theory'
though grounded in science
They say 'Intelligent Design is just another theory'
though grounded in faith
-and only some people's faith
This issue is uniquely american
The world is ahead of us
Even the pope, frail, human, Catholic
has issued two edicts stating there is no need
for evolution and faith to be at odds
But in america,
The teachers aren't teaching
and the scientists are scared.
braincandy99: Nah, Slam isn't my thing at all. As for critique, I don't mind it at all. You're right about the DA community being afraid to offer such, and though I'm not looking to have my work torn apart ruthlessly (few artists are), the lack of constructive critique is a bit disappointing.
As for rhyming, actually around a third of my poems don't. I know that poetry doesn't require it, but for the most part it tends to be my preference. I find that it gives the words a lyrical quality, which (depending on the poem) can work to either make it fun and light, or oddly disturbing.
Now, the biggest trap that I find myself falling in is a 6-line stanza where the third and sixth lines rhyme (and sometimes the first and second, and third and fourth line couplings might too). I try to avoid it, but my thoughts keep gravitating towards that particular structure and sometimes I can't help but give in. Overall, though, I try to vary the structure of my work, experimenting with different styles. Sometimes, when I like the style, it gives birth two companion poems, such as "Phoenix" and "Prometheus".
Anyways, now I'm just rambling. Thank you, BC, for the comment. It's definitely appreciated.
