Poetry

I LOVE poetry and enjoy reading/writing every chance I get.

I’d love response on some of my poetry! http://pic2.piczo.com/theatersaurus/?g=21808923&cr=2

POEM -“Perfection”

The drive for perfection exhausts me, The drive to insanity ever closer. The speed of thought slower and in decay. Why must this body fail me? Why tease me with unfulfilling potential.

The dreamer brings me a wine, And I gather my thoughts again. Perfection is beautiful when you see so much ugliness within a tortured soul.

You can dream as I, to live but not to fulfill deep passions buried. Life is funny and tragic, You’re given with two hands, then taken with one. But the hand is bigger, so don’t be fooled by numbers. One can get caught on such little observations.

Dare not judge my failings, For I would have given if I could. This body and mind limited, maybe for a reason, But a cruel way to serve my life this way. Yet maybe perfection, is in the flaws it gives us, That the flaws, are a greater lesson, One can, I suppose, feel content in being delirious, Believing all is well and meant to be.

One can live with others who show their flaws, In eyes that see everything.

kevin saunders December 2006

“Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.”-T. S. Eliot

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I have many favorite poets . They include the wistful and delicate lines of Emily Dickinson. I love Gerard Manly Hopkins, Robert Frost and Wallace Berry. I love as well T. S. Eliot. It is these poets who truly make my life worth while. They express, what I cannot, in exqusite ways and with perfection that I do not find in my life.

Rudyard Kipling is one of my favorites. “If” gathers more wisdom than any other poem and gives parents a way to think to their children. It’s something like: If you want your troubled teens to keep their feet on the ground, put some responsibilities on their shoulders. Boys Ranch

the best things are exemplified in poems :D

A fragment of Lady Lazarus, by Sylvia Plath

” These are my hands My knees. I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else,
I do it exceptionally well.

Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.”

The bold, raw, morbidity of the poem captures me again and again.

i sometimes write poetry, mainly about love i have one on my profile

i'm a slow dying flower

of the frost killing hour

but the sweet sound makes me untouchable

xxxxxxxx mwah!

i've got a new one up on my page

read! xD

I like reading it.

trisan writes the most amazing poetry ever

Poe. Demented, horrifying, breathtaking. love.

poetry is amazing because it is like a fusion of music and more common communication somethings

Well, now, I dabble in poetry and was lucky enough to have what I consider the one really good poem I have written published in my Junior College Literary Magazine, and I took a couple of Creative Writing classes in college, focusing mostly on short stories – and I do scribble a lot!

W.B. Yeats Forever!!

Written by Poof.               The Lord of Infinity.

This tale is told, after many years of silent despair, the many roads i wandered upon, blind and crippled, in mind, body and spirit, not knowing what it was that i sought, and as it is with all evil deeds, eventually this trail to came to an end, and i became one of the many lost souls walking the streets of the living dead, searching outside of myself for some purpose, some reason to live, and i found it naught, until the night came down and i found myself nailed to my self erected cross, with no one to give a thought for me, all my bridges burned down to the ashes behind me, so came the time, when my feet crossed over the final threshold, and i entered deaths door.

But my Lord remembered me, though i had forgotten him, and he sent an angel to rescue me, for he knew my hopes, my fears, my dreams, so much more than i, and that it was not my time to die, for i had not yet realized my destiny, so he watered that seed within my soul, struck the shackles that bound my feet and provided soil for the seed to root, to flower free in all its glory, underneath the sun, the moon and the stars above.

For this absolute forgiveness, i possess not the words to say, except that i love him and shall do so until the end or eternity, my first and greatest love, that comes before all others, my Lord, The Lord of Infinity.

Poetry is one of my only forms of amusement/expression. I am actually pretty anti-social. Through poetry, I can "be who I am yet be anonymous to others".