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Tarix Conny's picture

Ok, i am not much of a poet myself but i just brainstormed this poem last night. Tell me what you think of it, guys. Some of the peopl i showed it to went: :?.

A heart is not a heart,
A soul is not a soul,
The heart is the soul,
And the soul the heart.

An evil has a heart,
But that of a black one,
A soul,
But that of a hollow dark one.

A good has not a heart,
But a hole,
Not a soul,
But a sense of being lost.

The evil uses its heart and its soul,
Together to be more dark,
More shallow,
More deceiving.

The good only uses the heart,
Or only uses the soul,
And with one of them,
Aims to find the other.

I thought i'd end it there as after that my mind was blank. Sometimes my haed gets invaded with meaningless words which i have to put down. So wat do you think :?:

Soul and heart

Meredith Bell's picture

I know that feeling Saadia, when you have a bunch of words and emotions running around in your head, so much so that you can't think unless you write them down. I suppose I can understand why some people might go :? hehe, only in the aspect that it seems kind of confused, but maybe that was the effect you were going for? I like the part about deception and darkness, and also the part about good using one to find the other. All in all I think you have expressed some interesting ideas, but poetry is more than just writing words on a page and hoping they sound right straight away.

Poetry IS about revision, about reforming those emotions into something that evokes the same reaction in the reader (well that is my impression anyway). Keep going with it, and as my tutors keep telling me, READ, READ and READ, learn from others, and take no shame in learning from the mistakes of others :)

Inspired by all our Mariah strangeness I actually wrote a poem a few months ago, ahem, and I will share... :?

Spirits, slow, crawl up my sleeve
And climb into my eyes
While I in sleep phantasms see
And hear their trembling cries

Spectres start to trip again
I lay so calm and breathe
Until the morning sun-rays dance
And tempt them all to leave

There's my two-cents worth, I'll leave it for others to judge...

Soul and heart

Tarix Conny's picture

Lou, i really like your poem. I read it about five times.

It's like all our emmotions, including fear and anxiety coming together on a page in front of the eyes.

I really like the way you presented the spirits and the "scary monsters" we may dream about at night.

Soul and heart

Mantheana's picture

OOoooh, poet peeps. Howdy! I lurve to write poetry! my most rhymy stuff is usually inspired but my best stuff is written when i feel depressed.

Saadia, your poem rocks. i like that kinda genre for poem writing. Angels are my fave subject for poems. Lou, your one is sooo cool. Mkae me think of when i've watched summing really freaky and i'm all alone at night and its all freaky....


Where Angels Fear to Tread

If I whisper...

Can They Hear me?

If I call...

Will They reply?

And If I rush in Quickly...

Will I fall and Will I die?

If you touch Them...

Will you shiver?

Feel Their wings...

Are you afraid?

If secrecy you promise...

Is my trust in You mislaid?

If I am strong...

Will they be stronger?

If I strike Them...

Will They bleed?

In a battle never ending...

Are you the one I need?

If I beckon...

Will You follow?

If it's dark...

You feel no dread?

And will you walk on, softly

Where Angels fear to tread?

hmmhmmhmm.. yes.. for my of my 'poetry' go to my poetry bit site
not that I would ever advertise and not that I haven't already put the link up on website recommendations... ahem.... give me feed back

oh and p.s. Saadia sorry fro attempting to steal your lime light. Much with the wow on your poem.

Soul and heart

Tarix Conny's picture

okay, heres another poem, not by me, but i really love it and wanted to share. Its by William Blake.

Never seek to tell thy love:

Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be,
For the gentle wind does move,
Silently invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart,
Trembling cold in ghastly wind,
Ah, she doth depart.

As soon as she was gone from me,
A traveller came by,
Silently invisibly,
He took her with a sigh.

Soul and heart

Soulless Zombie's picture

Here's one of Siddy's poetry things, though I don't know squat about poetry. I just write when I feel glad, sad, or just plain bad.

Good morning to you
Good morning to you
We're all in our places with bright shiny faces
And learning is what we do-ooo

Elementary School
We know we are here
We all see so clear
So why must you give all this busywork to us?
Daydreaming is what we do-ooo

Junior High School
We're not small or big
This awkward age is
So very degrading that learning is fading
And crying is what we do-ooo

High School
Drugs, sports, dating
We don't learn a thing
The teachers won't fail us so they can transer us
Getting by is what we do-ooo

We have arrived
God help us get by
We're scared of the future; we're so immature
And stressing is what we do-ooo

So different out here--help us
So hard out here--help us
They never took the time to teach you that life goes on without you




Boo-hoo-hoo-hoos :cry:

Good night to you
Oh good night to you
Life's been quite absurd and that's all we've learned
And resting is what we do-ooo

And resting is what we do

Soul and heart

Meredith Bell's picture

Here are a couple of poems that I wrote a few years ago -

We Vanished Heavily

We vanished heavily into the night,
Buried under a sky full of stars.
Entombed beneath a vast andromeda
Of whorled, swirling balls of burning vapours.

Even more, they seemed to me,
A barrage of effervescent luminosity.
A spry metropolis in the sky, a light for every life,
Every life that was passed.

My sister and I searched all night
For a shooting star,
To make a wish upon;
But none.

The sky that night mocked
Our whimsical wishes. Pasted beyond the reach
Of our outstretched hopeful hands;
A pall for our dreams.

Moon Gazer

Heavenly gazer, she watches at night
Infusing the darkness with maternal light

Her home is a pearl, a spectral sight
Her face is the curse of a pock marked blight

An orb so awashed with uncoloured white
Encircled and blanched by your lustrous might!

Soul and heart

Tarix Conny's picture

okay here's one thats short and sweet. It took me some time to figure out what it meant. Hope you like it. I have forgotten the writer of the peom so forgive me.

Station in the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd,
petals on a dry black bough.

Soul and heart

Meredith Bell's picture

That poem's by Ezra Pound, Saadia and the full title is "In a Station of the Metro" and yes, the imagery is very powerful it's one of my favourite imagist poems.

Soul and heart

Tarix Conny's picture

oh yeah, thanks for reminding me :). I keep forgetting the poet, as i took this in english lit' four years ago. But i still really like this peom.

and oh ooops, i forgot, the last line is "petals on a wetblack bough"

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