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6/25/2008 20:16:48   
Coyote
Member

Note that it's Poet's, singular. =P

Comments thread: http://forums2.battleon.com/f/tm.asp?m=14063543

Table of Contents:
Against the Tide
A Broken Flower
Carry Me Home
City of Masks
A Copper
Dance, Butterfly, Dance
FREE BIRD!!!
Gonna Make Me a Rock Band
Here's That Rainy Day Again
I Wonder Why
A Man's Best Friend
The Man who Wore All Black
Night Music
Not Afraid to Dream
Parasite
Perfection
Seven Seconds
shape-changer
Soaring
Sometimes
Story of my Life
Tale of a Dragonslayer
Tomorrow
What is Humanity?

< Message edited by Coyote -- 3/19/2009 0:02:34 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 1
6/25/2008 20:33:39   
Coyote
Member

Old Poetry:
Pre-2007

This is the /old/ stuff, that's at least a couple years old. "Tale of a Dragonslayer" was written so long ago, I don't even remember much about it. "What is Humanity?" was the start of my 'What's with this world' rambles and my start into darker works. "Against the Tide" was inspired by one of Stephen King's short stories; I forget which. It was the one where the kids go swimming and are attacked by the slime-monster. "I Wonder Why" was written for a school contest. A contest that I got a pretty high ranking in, despite the fact that I thought I would flop and fail miserably. I didn't show up for the banquet, and found out from an English teacher that it got pretty high up there. >_>


Tale of a Dragonslayer

Refuge was what the man sought,
From door to door, but all for naught.
For every man had turned him down,
No matter what he wore; rags or crown,
In his journey for truth and justice.

From village to town to city he would travel,
On roads of brick, of stone, of gravel.
Seeking justice for a great wrong,
For just that moment he traveled long,
In his goal of mad revenge.

As a child, his home was broken,
Painful memories were his only token
Of his loving parents, lost in dragon's fire.
So dragons he killed in his ire,
In his journey of wrath and darkness.

Finally, his troubles were paid,
For he reached the mountain his dragon had made,
For only his home, and nothing more,
Though gold and jewels scattered the floor.
He had reached his lifelong dream.

In the cave, the dragon slept.
And with a war-cry, the slayer leaped,
Into the battle that was his last,
As it dragged on; nothing fast.
It seemed their skill was matched.

Finally, the man knelt down,
Having wounded the one who killed his town.
But heavily wounded, the slayer prayed,
That before he died, his vengeance was repaid
And they lay dying, together.

Now that monument stands
Vacant, with more treasure than the land.
But nobody would ever go near,
For the treasure is now their greatest fear,
As the blood of man and dragon stained it red.

Dragons may die, man may kill.
But in killing, the emptiness will never fill,
Rather, the emptiness will grow greater,
And the spirit killed sometime later.
Many have not understood the lesson.

And some, who have understood peace,
Built a village, where battle will cease.
Children laugh, hatchlings play,
In that village of eternal day,
Where man and dragon work, together.


What is Humanity?

What is happiness, but hormones coursing through your brain?
What is despair but a simple absence of it?
What is love, but great liking
And what is hate, but dislike, only stronger by a bit?

What is order, but a simple idea
And what is chaos, but a lack of order?
What is anger, but a very bad fit
That happens when someone crosses your border?

A friend is someone you like
And an enemy is one you hate.
But a single experience can make friends enemies
And make enemies your closest mate.

A brother can be your worst enemy
And somebody else your best friend.
A father can be the most uncaring
But around others, that wound can mend.

Humanity is but a multitude of ideas
That cause order, love, and lack of pain.
Then what of those like Hitler:
They are human, yet inhumane?

Why is chaos considered bad?
Why is helping considered good?
Why is murder a class one felony
But murdering a tyrant, you should?

Humanity is a question that puzzled the greatest scholars
When it was they who thought of it.
It is us that follows its code
But we are losing it, bit by bit.

Against the Tide

As I walk down Night's peaceful shore
Shallow waves pacify my very core.
It is a great night for an evening walk
Just a nightly stroll and nothing more.

A raven hearkens the approach of the moon
For the sun will now be departing soon.
Above my head flies an eagle in its splendor
And in the distance is the cry of the loon.

The moon; she lightens up the night
Sending wraiths scattering about in fright
The moon is full, the night is clear
But clouds now block her from our sight.

High tide approaches and the waves draw in
As if to swallow the world for ungrateful sin.
The waves lap at my heels like a hungry dog
As I stumble through dark of Satan's kin.

I quicken my pace to overcome the sea
In a maddening race for victory.
Fright overcomes my dulling senses
As the loon calls out mournfully.

I scarcely feel the spray on my face
As I slowly begin to lose the race.
I suddenly realize its sheer futility
As the wave hold me in their cold embrace.

The tide drags me in with its iron grip
And frantically, I wait for its hold to slip.
Just one minor fault is all I need
But hope is lost in this desperate rip.

The clouds leave and bright is the moon,
The sea is peaceful and the sun rises soon.
The world is as normal as it can be
And in the distance is the cry the loon.

I Wonder Why

When I look up at the evening sky
See the stars twinkling in the night
See the pale moon shining bright
And I stop to think, and to wonder,
I wonder why.

The ocean in its vengeful glory
Dragging ships down to the deeps below
Its brilliant life setting the seas aglow
In flame, brighter than the brightest sun,
Telling its own watery story.

As a child, I was flung open wide
To the mysteries surrounding my very being.
I thought, “Why do we exist?” and began seeing
Of all possibilities in the world around me.
But the meaning of life lies deep inside.

Of all the things in the whole wide world
Only some are open to our knowing.
Others have only just begun showing
Answers to the very world around us
But yet the answers have not unfurled.

Life and the world, in all its mystery
Revealing little, demanding tons.
Most of what we see are simple illusions
Yet we still think, “I wonder why”
As it gets written in the great novel History.

I wonder why the nightly stars shine
Why there is pain and why we all must die
Why everyone here must eventually say goodbye
To all of our friends and family around us
And to those Destiny will later intertwine.

What is Destiny? What is Fate?
Is there really a set path in life?
Can it all end by a murderer’s knife?
All hopes, all dreams, all yet to unfold
Are all destroyed by a petty hate?

The world’s mysteries surround us
Why the moon shines, why the wolf howls
If we’ll ever travel to the Earth’s very bowels
And so I stop, and to think, and to wonder,
I wonder why.


< Message edited by Coyote -- 5/28/2010 14:50:29 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 2
6/25/2008 20:36:25   
Coyote
Member

Sometimes
Jan. 25, 2007

My parents tell me that when I was little, I used to be really nice to my little sister. If you look at me now, that sadly isn't the case. I don't abuse her or anything. She's just incredibly annoying at times (meaning, almost all the time).

It began as an angst-filled ramble to a friend of mine. I later added lines and called it a poem, but that's what it began as. A ramble.



Sometimes, I wonder.
What happened to that innocent child?
Innocent, but happy and caring.

What happened to that older brother
Who would hold his sister's hand across the street
Down the slide
Up the stairs
To the end of the world and back?

Surely not the selfish brat
That thinks for self-gain. Surely not
The social idiot
Who quite possibly has lost another friend
Today.

Sometimes, I get an answer to that question.

Sometimes, that bright and smiling child
Lets me know he's still there,
Lets me know that he still
Can make a difference.

Sometimes, I see the light.

< Message edited by Versilaryan -- 6/25/2008 21:11:30 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 3
6/25/2008 20:39:58   
Coyote
Member

Tomorrow
Feb. 6, 2007

There are a lot of conflicting views on what'll happen in the future, y'know? You have the dreamers, the pessimists, the people that have faith in technology, the people that don't believe that anything good can come of this world. But it's best if we just focus on what we can focus on and push ahead.


A faraway place
A source of dreams
Incubator of nightmares
A gnawing uncertainty
Of events to unfold.

Tomorrow holds suprise
Just around the corner
Just over the hill.
A wedding ring
A Christmas gift
The lucky number of a lottery ticket.
Tomorrow holds surprise.

Tomorrow is just a dream
Procrastinator's motto
An unreachable goal.
A loose rock on a cliff face
A failing support for a faraway dream.

A fear of the unknown
Of wraiths lurking in the shadows cast by time.
You never know what may happen
Goals turn to naught
Deflected and turned aside
Or cast out ahead
Like the carrot in front of a draft horse's eyes.

Tomorrow is grey
No definite yes or no
No definite black or white
No definite answer.

But yes, the sun will come out
Tomorrow.

< Message edited by Versilaryan -- 6/25/2008 21:11:59 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 4
6/25/2008 20:50:17   
Coyote
Member

Soaring
Mar. 16, 2007

Inspired by "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings" by Maya Angelou.


Soaring
Flying
Up, higher, above the clouds,
Up towards the shining sun.
Icarus falls not this once.
It is hard not to sail from mourning
When one's limit is the sky.

Soaring
Flying
Gliding through the ocean blue.
Riding from swirling eddies
To powerful mid-ocean currents.
The seas are open
To the end of the world and back.

Soaring
Flying
Dreaming of the ocean blue.
Swirling thoughts of shattered dreams,
Of grandiose goals left unfulfilled.
The beached whale moans one final song
As the end of the world walks by.

I know why the caged bird sings,
Why hyenas laugh behind zoo bars
I know why the caged bird sings
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

< Message edited by Versilaryan -- 6/25/2008 21:12:22 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 5
6/25/2008 20:53:54   
Coyote
Member

Not Afraid to Dream
May 30, 2007

Inspired by a song I heard at a band concert. I should really say, "Inspired by a piece I heard at a concert band performance", but that sounds cooler. >_>


Once upon a time
I dared to dream.
Once upon a time
There was no 'I' in 'Team'.

I'm lost on stormy seas
No marks to guide my path
I kept my goals in sight
Once upon a time

I feel so cold,
So all alone
No one to trust
No one to care for.

Just let the leaves grow brown and die
Winter's coming; it's cold all too soon.

Just let me drown so I can breathe
Let me fall so I can fly.
I am sinking ever higher

I'm a hero led astray
I'm a villain led to light
I fall face-first to darkness
But then I see the light...

I'm not afraid to dream
To soar amongst the stars.
Not afraid to dream
No longer behind bars.

Not afraid to dream
To cast aside your cares.
Not afraid to dream
To answer my own prayers

Not afraid to dream
Break free of binding bonds.
I'm soaring ever free
And I'm not afraid
To dream.

< Message edited by Versilaryan -- 6/25/2008 21:12:46 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 6
6/25/2008 20:56:11   
Coyote
Member

Story of my Life
June 17, 2007

One of my darker works, fueled by the uncertainty I felt in where my life was going.


Chapter one. Innocence.
I was happy.
This was the one time I was truly happy.
But I was unaware.
Ignorance is a bliss.
I didn't really know much.
Did I know?
Do I know?
Should I know?

But what can you say?
Story of my life.

This next chapter's titled 'Awareness'.
I'm aware. I'm aware that I am aware.
They say that intelligence is awareness of awareness.
Am I intelligent, then?
There are many much smarter than I am.
Are they more aware than I am?
Are they more aware that they are aware?
Or do they just know more?
Do they know more
Or do they know the right things?
Do I know the wrong things?
Do I know?
Should I know?

But what can you say?
Story of my life.

I call this chapter 'Confusion'.
They say that common sense is learned.
Did I learn it?
From manners and etiquette
To movies and musicals.
Did I read enough? See enough?
Or am I left behind in the dust?
What do I know?
What should I know?
What must I know?
Do I know?
Should I know?

But what can you say?
Story of my life.

After that, I started falling.
No handholds, no footholds.
I had nothing to hold on to.
My mind blurs as I spiral into the darkness.
Memories fade.
Sight blurs.
My possessions are lost to me.
There is no loving caress to guide me down.
Have I hit the bottom yet
Or am I still falling?
Do I know?
Should I know?

But I don't.

Am I ignorant, or am I aware?
Is the confusion worth it?
What should I call this chapter?
What is the title of this book?
How will it end?
Do I know?
Should I know?

But what can you say?
Story of my life.

< Message edited by Versilaryan -- 6/25/2008 21:13:15 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 7
6/25/2008 20:59:08   
Coyote
Member

A Broken Flower
June 19, 2007

This one actually came from a joke. I was mocking someone with flowers. Don't ask how, but it was /really/ amusing until the whole "destruction of beauty" thing caught up to me. Then I wrote this poem.


Petals fall
Drifting in the breeze
Downwards, earthwards
Laid to rest
Left to rot.
Fragrance fills the air.
Perfuming the mudded petals
The dirtied petals
The broken petals.
Such beauty is retained
Is kept
Is lost
As they all fall down.

The green is broken.
Trampled over.
Overrun.
Such beauty is lost
But kept
But lost again.
Visual music reaches a fine
An abrupt cut-off
A broken phrase.
I saw not what happened
What trampled over life so dear.

My seeing eyes, struck blind,
Gazed incoherently into a still puddle of despair.
And I beheld in my eyes
A broken flower.

< Message edited by Versilaryan -- 6/25/2008 21:13:52 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 8
6/25/2008 21:05:03   
Coyote
Member

Carry Me Home
July 28, 2007

This was inspired both by my two-week stay in Michigan along with Barry Manilow's "Weekend in New England". Amazing song, that.
I'm hoping it also helps spur my creativity. I've been in a bit of an art slump lately.

I don't want to spoil it for anyone who likes to figure these poems out, but I do hope that people catch the change of meaning in the last stanza. It's one of the most important elements in the poem, so I think I'll point it out right here, right now.



When I waved goodbye
I left my heart behind
And so I cried out
Carry me home.

I slept for days that seemed like months
For hours that seemed years.
I left behind my heart and soul
I told them all goodbye

I remember:
When I waved goodbye
I left my heart behind
Just leave this wayside soul
Just carry me home.

So I closed the curtains, cut the lines
I shut my windows and doors
But when I denied this wayward stranger
He offered me a hand.

I felt the winds blow
Blowing away the storm
I felt the breath of laughter and cheer
Beneath my wings,
Soaring free.

I left you a memory
I left you a soul
I left you days ago
But when can I see you all
Again?

Now just a memory,
A faint wisp in time
Years felt like days
When time flies

And when I waved goodbye
I left my heart behind
And when the time comes again
Please carry me home.

< Message edited by Versilaryan -- 6/25/2008 22:07:56 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 9
6/25/2008 21:14:43   
Coyote
Member

Gonna Make me a Rock Band
Oct. 22, 2007

A bit of silliness that turned itself into an actual song. I just have to write the parts for it. XP


One hot summer evening,
I was givin' in to heat.
A guitar just sittin' on my lap,
Had an amp right by my feet.

An idea popped right into my head:
An idea you cannot beat
Gonna start myself a rockin' band
Make my summer break complete.

Gonna make me a rock band
Gonna rock all night
Hear us go
Hear us play
Gonna rock the evening away.

Gonna start me a rock band
Gonna get me some fame.
See us rock
See us roll
Gonna get the crowd under control.

We put on our first performance
Anxious for the crowd's consent
But to our surprise, they loved us
Made us rock until we're spent.

We're gettin' crowds a-cheering every show
We're gettin' swept right off the floor
And I was thinkin' to myself
This is the life I'm lookin' for.

Gonna make me a rock band
Gonna rock all night
Hear us go
Hear us play
Gonna rock the evening away.

Gonna start me a rock band
Gonna hook in some girls
Let 'em go
Let 'em be
There are lots of fish in the sea.

Gonna make myself a rock band,
Gonna get me lots of cash.
Gonna play and play and play all night
And just hope it doesn't crash.

But 'till I take some action for myself,
Get my arse up and in gear
I'll fantasize all I like;
I might start the band next year.

Gonna make me a rock band
Gonna rock all night
Hear us go
Hear us play
Gonna rock the evening away.

Gonna start me a rock band
Gonna start one someday.
Get it set
Get it planned
Gonna start myself a rock band...

< Message edited by Versilaryan -- 6/25/2008 23:17:49 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 10
6/25/2008 21:33:13   
Coyote
Member

Parasite
Nov. 27, 2007

Inspired by the song "Vicarious" by Tool. Awesome song, that. Actually, it inspired a song that sounded like a cheap ripoff with emo lyrics, so that project got scrapped and I wrote this, instead.


I walk alone on others peoples' roads
Comforted by figures that aren't there
I'm alone but never lonely
Starved but ever full.

I live the lives of a thousand men
I bask in the suns of other worlds,
But I'm as pale as death itself
And as frail as a glass figurine.

I need to watch time fly around me
I need to watch things pass me by.
I watch things suffer
I watch things die
I need to watch happy endings
And only then do I feel alive.

A thief in the moonlight,
A king in the light of day.
I am worshipped, I am shunned
And I feel a vicarious pleasure
But live none at all

Surround me with thrills and romance
With fiction and fantasy.
Surround me with the fruit of others' labor
And I will never be hungry again.

I need to watch time fly around me
I need to watch things pass me by.
I watch things suffer
I watch things die
I need to watch happy endings
And only then do I feel alive.

Always alert, ever watching
Unmoving, as cold as stone
I live in thrill but in thrall
I feel pleasure in an pleasureless world.

I live in an empty shell of a life
But at least I still live.

< Message edited by Versilaryan -- 6/25/2008 23:20:05 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 11
6/25/2008 21:44:10   
Coyote
Member

A Man's Best Friend
Dec. 12, 2007

Experimenting with new poetic styles. I don't like this one as much; not much to do in the way of symbolism and stuff like that. But I thought it fit the poem pretty well. This one was inspired by something my dad said-- this time, not a bad thing. He commented about how much our dog loves us and depends on us for pretty much everything.

I /really/ wouldn't wish this fate upon anyone or their dog. But it's something I needed to let out. >_>



A dog lived with its kind, gentle owner
Always and forever loyal.
It was treated very well, in kind,
For the owner loved the dog
As much as the dog loved the owner.

Every morning, there was a bowl of food
And the dog would eat happily.
Every evening, the dog waited for its meal
And the owner always gave it its supper.
There was always a biscuit on top
And the dog was happy.

Sometimes, the owner would leave the dog
And the dog would wait by the window.
But always, the owner came back
And the dog greeted him with licks and nuzzles.
The owner always smiled
At his loyal companion's joy.

As the owner left the house
The dog, once again, waited by the window,
Waited for his owner to return
To return with love and affection
With food and new, exotic smells.

There was a crash
The dog was startled from its afternoon nap.
Scrap metal littered the highway
And the dog barked at the ringing phone.
The fires burned
The phone rang.
The sirens wailed
It remained unanswered.

A voice spoke from the answering machine
It was an unfamiliar voice.
The dog heard its owner's name--
Its tail wagged at its mention.
The fast lane led to death that day
But the dog did not know of such things.
Its owner was still on his way home.
He would still scratch it behind the ears
And it would still have a biscuit on top of its supper.

The man never returned.
The dishes remained unwashed.
Weeds sprouted in the garden.
Dust coated the tabletops.
The night came and went.
When the morning came, he was still missing,
In the afternoon, still gone,
And in the evening, he wasn't there.

But the dog sat by its food dish
Smiling, panting,
Tail wagging in hope,
Always and forever loyal.
And it waited
For its loving master to feed it.

< Message edited by Versilaryan -- 9/6/2008 23:59:06 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 12
6/25/2008 21:55:59   
Coyote
Member

Seven Seconds
Dec. 24, 2007

This is possibly my greatest work, and one of the darkest poems I've ever written. It's both a happy and a sad poem, depending on how you see it, and if you see it the way I wrote it, it's that much sadder. It's one of the few things I've written that has a definite structure.


Tentatively,
Hesitantly.
I remain anchored
On steady ground
On steady, boring ground.
What left is there
In lands already traversed?
With a deep breath
But without confidence
I plunge forward.

Seven.

I give myself to the wind.
I wonder to myself
I worry
I ponder,
Unsure of myself.
Did I do the right thing?
I gulp
But I keep my eyes open.
Wide open.

Six.

The exhilaration,
The thrills,
The lingering doubt.
My eyes begin to water
But I keep them open.
I want to see through
The whole ride,
The entire experience.

Five.

There is no looking back.
No looking back
To the life I left behind.
Onwards I go,
Always progressing forwards.
Onwards I go,
Seeking peace.

Four.

The wind in my face
The gust, blowing
My hair, billowing backwards.
Time flies by
But the world
Stands perfectly still.

Three.

There is a smile on my face.
I know where I am going.
I let myself go.
I soar onwards,
My fate without a doubt.

Two.

My fate is sealed.
There is only one direction
That my life can go.
I plunge forward.

One.

I close my eyes.
Now I know what it truly means
To fly.

< Message edited by Coyote -- 5/28/2010 15:35:28 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 13
6/26/2008 0:06:36   
Coyote
Member

City of Masks
Feb. 21, 2008

After writing my Hydrohydroxic Acid paper, my dad yelled at me. I was struck by inspiration in the middle of his lecture. Shows how much I pay attention.


People dance
People cry
People laugh in sorrow
The dead walk among the living
In a city of masks.

Loving hate, joyful sorrow
Tiny giants amidst handsome ogres
Fools can be kings
And kings can be fools
In a city of masks.

Hidden, concealed
A thief in broad daylight
Hidden in plain view
Fool's gold abounds
Sold for millions.
A sob is a laugh
And a frown is a smile
In a city of masks.

There are faces
Each and every one a different color
Each and every one a different shape
The faces smile
The faces frown
The faces all look alike.

There is royalty among beggars
Empty saints of pointless things
People walk in desert gardens
And exist in voids
Talking, babbling
Of what isn't on their minds.

Like zombies, they roam
Slaves in a masterless world
The faces carry invisible burdens
Are tortured by invisible whips
Remain unblemished
Polished
Unscathed.

There is a face that looks different.
A face that stands out.
Smiles frown at that face
And empty visages glare in anger.

The face is battered
And the wounds covered
So that the face is no longer ugly.
The face frowns
But it smiles
And cries out in rage
But laughs in joy.
The face is covered
Crushed, defeated
In a city of masks.
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 14
6/26/2008 0:29:02   
Coyote
Member

shape-changer
Mar. 24, 2008

Highly experimental poem. I'm happy with the way it turned out, but I'm not really happy with it itself. It's /really/ rough and far too "emo" for my liking. My failure at allusion didn't really help, either.

Definitely not one of my better works. At all.



i am Coyote
searching
scavenging
ever hungry.
roaming the desert
taking life
to sustain my own
i am the Warrior
i am the Rogue
i am the Hero
famed, revered
known by all
ignored by all

i am Raven
searching
scavenging
ever watchful.
soaring above the forests
callously mocking
harsh cries belittling all
belittling the earthbound
as i soar higher
an infinitesimal speck
in an infinite sky

i taste the sky
the oceans
the land
Fire, Water, Earth, Air
belonging to all
belonging to none
i dance the greatest dances
i sing the loudest songs
i wear masks made of stone
made of wispy smoke

i am famed
but i am unknown
i am remembered
but i am forgotten
story becomes legend
becomes myth

I am divine
I am bestial.
I am Trickster
I am skin-walker
I am all but I am none.
I am.
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 15
6/26/2008 0:30:17   
Coyote
Member

Dance, Butterfly, Dance
Mar. 24, 2008

*gasp* At long last! A happier poem!

This one kinda came up as a spur-of-the-moment creation, where I thought that the repeating phrase, "Dance, Butterfly, Dance" would sound nice in a poem. Of course, it then blossomed to this. I'm not perfectly content with it. But I'm reasonably satisfied.



Dance, Butterfly, dance
Dance your wayward ballet.
The clouds cover the sky
Choke off your light.
I cannot see you, Butterfly
But you keep dancing.
You keep dancing.

Dance, Butterfly, dance
Dance your fragile ballet
So delicate
So frail
Disturbed by the slightest breeze.
So easily crushed underfoot
But you keep dancing, Butterfly.
You keep dancing.

Dance, Butterfly, dance
Dance your peaceful ballet.
The calm before the storm
Thunder rumbles
But the air is still.
The air is deathly still.
But you keep dancing, Butterfly.
You keep dancing.

Dance, Butterfly, dance
Dance your unrelenting ballet.
The thunder rolls
And the drops fall
Pitter-patter, splitter-splatter
And you keep dancing, Butterfly.
You keep dancing.

Dance, Butterfly, dance
Dance your spirited ballet
The clouds part
And the sun shines again
A ray of hope descends
Upon opening flower petals
And you keep dancing, Butterfly.
You keep dancing.

Dance, Butterfly, dance
Dance your colorful ballet.
Flit amongst the flowers
The beautiful flowers
The delicate, ornate flowers.
Play amongst the oranges and reds
The blues and violets
The shades of green.
You keep dancing, Butterfly.
Just keep on dancing.
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 16
6/26/2008 0:34:36   
Coyote
Member

Perfection
April 17, 2008

It's a longer one. Not quite as long or quite as complicated as Eliot, but I'm inching my way closer. XP

But, yeah. It's still not the happiest poem, but it's not the most miserable, either. In fact, I believe this is among the best I've done with separating the literal meaning from the metaphorical.



A blinding white light
I cannot see
The light blinds me
But I cannot see the light.
I see white.
Then I see shades of gray.
I am tantalized
And keep going
Keep following the white light
The bright light
The blinding light.

Colors appear around me
Motes, wisps,
Flowers in bloom.
White, yellow, orange, green
I see more as the white light recedes
Red, brown, violet, blue
The colors become clearer
Black.

I push onwards.
I see the light grow bigger
Bolder
Brighter.
I walk onwards towards the rising sun
Closer, closer.
I see the shadows grow bigger
Bolder
Darker.
I walk onwards towards the setting sun
Further, further.

I am better
But I am worse
The further I go
The further I have to go.
The closer I get
The further away the light becomes.

Two miles, twenty gone
Four miles, forty left
Spring Summer Autumn Winter
The future is now
The future is now out of reach.

I look back.
I see others.
Others who don't follow the light
Others who deviate from the path
Others who follow not even their own path.
They are further behind
They are closer to the light.
I am further ahead
I am closer to the light
I am closer to the dark.
I forge onwards
They wallow onwards
And the light, ever fleeting
Evades me
Tricks me
Stands directly in front of them.
They can touch the light
I cannot see it.

I will never touch the light
But I continue onwards.
Ahead, it teases me
Promising me
But I
And I
So I
...

All-knowing, I am perfect.
But I am the least perfect of them all.

< Message edited by Versilaryan -- 6/26/2008 15:32:52 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 17
6/26/2008 0:40:24   
Coyote
Member

FREE BIRD!!!
April 23, 2008

A collaboration with Clyde E. This is the product of two bored poets on IRC, /really/ late at night. Honestly, I don't know if we knew what we were writing at the time. XP


I'm rockin' out onstage
An' I got nothin' to fear
Guitar in hand, pick in the other
Drunken spirits boldened by beer

I hear the crowd yelling,
begging, and rocking in cheer.
The more they rock on,
the closer the end nears.

And finally, it ends with a bang
The crowd's roarin' an' throwin' a fit
But someone shouts, "FREE BIRD!"
An' I think to m'self, "Oh, crud."

The drums are beating faster
The crowd's caving in
The riffs go a bit higher
the fun's ready to begin

The volume drops to two
And I strum the sweetest chord
I want the openin' to last forever
It's the best we can afford.

The money's rolling,
but our pockets aren't so steep.
So the more we play,
the more we want our keep.

The minutes drag on
Two, then four, then five
The tempo starts speedin'
I'll be lucky to survive!

Keep rocking the stage,
as long as your rock our hearts.
Now we'll finish off smoothly,
and flow through our last parts.

With a grimace and a moan,
I continue to shred
Faster and faster and faster I go
In the end, m' fingers'll be dead.

With an arrogance in my smile,
and a pace in my drumming step.
Quicker and heavier I go,
In the end, I don't regret

One more pattern, one more lick
The end is almost in sight!
I grit my teeth and forge onwards
Through the fire and flames, I'll find the light.

Look mommy no hands!
Watch as the beat goes on.
And within the last rhythm,
I'll still find nothing wrong.

I play yet another riff and I smile
This torment will soon reach an end
Though m' arms hurt and m' fingers ache
Petty injuries will mend.

It's all in the effort,
but in pain I still prevail.
Just wait 'till next time,
and my rhythm still won't fail.

The drums play a final kick
An' m' amp showers sparks
I end m' solo with a bang
Though the flame'll leave some marks.
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 18
6/26/2008 0:42:47   
Coyote
Member

The Man who Wore All Black
June 18, 2008

Inspired while mowing the lawn on a hot, sunny, summer day while wearing black shoes, pants, and a shirt. Not a very smart thing to do, mind you. It isn't exactly what I had in mind originally, but given the circumstances, I'd be /really/ scared if it was.

Lots of symbolism, here. You're going to have to think if you want to find out what really happens to the man.



There was a man who wore all black.
He wore black pants, a black shirt
Black socks, shoes, and a hat.
He dyed his hair black
And his eyes were cloaked in shadow.
But his face was pale--
Gaunt, bony, and white.

The man went on an afternoon stroll
He walked through the local park.
He wore all his blacks
And paid no attention to the daylight.
But the daylight paid attention to him.

He walked in broad daylight,
The vampyric heat leeching his strength
He stumbled
He continued onwards without a thought.

The man took of his black hat
And wiped his brow with a black sleeve.
The wind ceased blowing
And the sun gazed on with its relentless eye.
Each step was labored
Every breath a burden
Thoughts flurried
And crimson stained his pale skin.

The man trudged through the afternoon,
Hellhounds nipping his ankles.
He stumbled
He fell
He died and was made anew--
The dreaded heat had not touched his soul.

There was a man who wore all black--
There was such a man no longer.
For the man, having learned his lesson,
Now wore only the purest of whites.
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 19
8/24/2008 23:28:31   
Coyote
Member

Drifting Away
August 24, 2008

Inspiration came from song lyrics, but not in the way you would think. As I recall (It was /really/ early in the morning, so it's quite hazy), I glanced through the lyrics of a Porcupine Tree song and it mentioned something about a beach. And then the gears started turning and I came up with this.

I could /very/ easily turn this into a song, but it would probably end up as a pop punk tune and I would despise it for the rest of my life.



The soft caress of sand on my feet
The warmth of the sun on my back
The water's cold,
Cool, refreshing
The sun is hot
Warm, invigorating.

I see the crashing blue
The wake of a passing vessel
White sand turns brown
At the meeting of life and rebirth
The water beckons to me

Drifting away
Sailing from the dawn
Flying away
I feel the waves carry me on.

I walk along the rocks
Among dancers trapped in tiny prisons
I see my reflection in the glass
Clear and unbroken

The colors
Like archived flowers
Remain brilliant, vibrant
Patiently waiting to drown again
To douse themselves and escape the heat.

The day passes
And I look to the west
The reds and gold accent the blues below.
I take a photo
And keep it close
'cause the water beckons to me
The water calls my name.

Drifting away
Sailing from the dawn
Flying away
I feel the waves carry me on.

< Message edited by Versilaryan -- 8/24/2008 23:30:38 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 20
11/17/2008 23:43:25   
Coyote
Member

Night Music
November 17, 2008

Inspiration struck in the middle of reading some random thing I found online. I tried my best to capture the feeling I get when I attend a good concert. The sort of feeling that I get when I subconsciously start waving my arms up in the air in an effort to express what I'm feeling.

I hope I did a good job of it.



Crickets chirp,
mosquitoes buzz,
bullfrogs croak in the distance.
Footsteps sound--
The crunch of grass
The rustle of leaves.

I stride over the shaded green,
silent,
gliding across the meadow.
Shadows conceal my face
from the full moon,
but I have nothing to hide.
I come,
my soul laid bare
under the night sky,
beneath the stars' unbiased judgment.

I raise my arm and beckon
The crickets cease their cacophony.
And when I lower it
their sound begins anew.

I let the night music flow around me
Let my nocturne drift up to the sky.
I direct my song upwards, set it free,
Hold it up so it can fly.

Violins and cellos
sound through the night breeze,
a steady, chirping ostinato.
Beautiful, ornate,
exquisite, resplendent
Colors of melody flow and ebb
like the ocean tide.

A percussive buzz cuts through the night
A splash of sunlight
on the moonwashed leaves.
A flare of sound
Bold fanfares thunder--
Boom!

The wind ruffles my hair
and the moon illuminates my eyes.
They shine hazel
with the spark of life
and then they're concealed again.

I reach over and grab my baton,
its rough bark slick with the night dew.
Its tip sways to the beat
Fluid,
with expression
that human words do not know.

I let the night music flow around me
Let my nocturne drift up to the sky.
I direct my song upwards, set it free,
Hold it up so it can fly.

I let the music take me
I let it carry me forwards,
let it pull me to new worlds.
Strange worlds, different worlds
Odd, yet familiar.

I sing my soul under blue skies
Under alien suns,
up into the night.
I dance through a field of colors,
Wave my arms,
waltz with the one I love
My true and only love.

We embrace.

I live on majestic seas
in ferocious jungles
In romance
in tragedy.
I live happily ever after
time and time again
as the beats wash over me
as the rhythms dance down my spine.

I let the night music flow around me
Let my nocturne play up to the sky.
I hardly recognize the sights I see
All is new again,
refreshed in my mind's eye.

. . .

Crickets chirp,
mosquitoes buzz,
bullfrogs croak in the distance.
Footsteps sound,
my footsteps--
The crunch of grass,
The rustle of leaves
fades away to a slow Fine.

And then I bow
to my audience of leaves and trees
Of still ponds and peaceful lilies.
I drop the twig I've been holding all this time,
let it land on the grass without a second thought,
without a sound.
My hair conceals my face
from my judge
and my critics,
the moon and the stars.
A lone firefly lights its lantern in the distance.
All is still.
All is quiet.

Then, without a word,
without verbal command or cue,
my orchestra
plays its night music around me.

< Message edited by Coyote -- 6/1/2009 1:12:22 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 21
11/23/2008 23:29:41   
Coyote
Member

Here's That Rainy Day Again

Inspired by both the title of Sen's new short story and by the song "Here's That Rainy Day" (which I owe the title to). I once again tried to emulate the feeling I got from music, in this case, that said song. I like the effects I'm getting. n_n


All is dulled
in shades of blue
grey, and black
Slight lines
Very slight lines
fall, wetting the sidewalk.
Dew gathers again on garden leaves
Dew, like in the morning
when the very tips of the sun's fingers
gently touch upon them.

The leaves turn a deeper green
A livelier green
while the rest of the world runs,
hides from the rain.
I walk out,
I let the rain wash me away.

Rain pitter-patters again
on the sidewalk,
splashing,
making small ripples in the puddles.
It runs down my face,
wetting my hair
Dampening my clothes
but I don't care.

Rain, don't leave
Don't come again another day
Keep falling,
Keep washing everything away.

Dancing across the lawn
Feeling the rain on my face
the mud on my toes
cleansed,
blissful
and happy
with the simple joy
of being purified
One again, with myself.

Down gutters
Down streets
The rain gathers in pools,
only to be drained away.

I see the sunlight again
peering from between the clouds.
And so I walk inside, towel myself off
And wait for that rainy day again.

< Message edited by Versilaryan -- 12/13/2008 1:21:02 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 22
3/18/2009 23:57:41   
Coyote
Member

A Copper

Based off a true story I remember my Driver's Ed teacher (a former cop) telling me. Inspired by the boredom of math class. Nothing else, really, that I have to say about it. XP


I once knew a cop by the name of Pete
A copper, a copper
His manners were perfect and couldn't be beat
Was proper, was proper
He was a nice guy--
Couldn't hurt a small fly
Without him, the force: incomplete.

This copper was really the nicest I knew
So pleasant, so pleasant
I'd always give Peter the finest I'd brew
A present, a present
He'd flash me a smile,
Make my life worthwhile
We were friends -- best buddies, us two.

But one summer morning, while out on his beat,
Discerning, discerning
An average day, aside from the heat
Was burning! Was burning!
He found a drunk driver
A prison survivor
On bail, but he'd catch this cheat!

And so he tore down the road in high-speed chase
He's speeding! He's speeding!
He pulled the car over and he won the race
Succeeding! Succeeding!
But to his surprise,
Before his own eyes,
That man floored it, sped out of the place.

He found the car crashed a few miles down the road
On fire! On fire!
The driver was dead; he had croaked like a toad
A pyre! A pyre!
But under the rubble
There was yet more trouble:
A girl, trapped under the load.

The girl screamed out shrilly with obvious pain
And fear! And fear!
Unable to help her, though it was a strain
To hear! To hear!
But what could he do?
It's not like he knew
Can't just wait for the weather to rain.

He couldn't approach though he wanted to try
The heat! The heat!
A crowd gathered 'round, watched smoke drift to the sky
Poor Pete! Poor Pete
Stood in front of the mob
But all heard, with a sob
The girl scream that she wanted to die.

He couldn't just kill her: That'd be a crime!
The law, the law
But to let her suffer: Not worth a dime!
A flaw, a flaw
Decisions to make,
Lives to take,
And still the girl screamed all this time.

And so the crowd shouted with no lack of breath,
"Just kill her! Just kill her!"
He stood, indecisive, just like Macbeth
A pillar, a pillar
Didn't know what to do,
And as he thought it through,
She screamed as she burned to her death.

And after what happened in poor Peter's tale
So tragic, so tragic
That cop quit work, disappeared without a trail
Like magic, like magic
Poor Peter's gone
They say he's withdrawn
Some have searched, but to no avail.

But you see the man there who looks like a flop-er?
The drunkie, the drunkie
Who'll drink beer after beer 'till he's out full and proper?
The junkie, the junkie
I knew that man, once
Wasn't always a dunce:
I tell ya, he once was a copper.

< Message edited by Coyote -- 4/25/2009 0:14:17 >
AQ DF MQ AQW  Post #: 23
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