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RE: Mistermafio's Poetry

 
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2/15/2009 11:52:42   
Mistermafio
Member

Ascent into madness

Colors flash past me,
as I fall,
upwards towards the sky.

Purple invites me over for dinner,
as I see people live,
and people die.

I suffocate in hysteria,
cough in
and breath out.

I scream as hard as I can,
as in the distance,
I hear myself shout.

Red and black,
flashes of pink.
As I fall evermore.

Life and death,
flashes of immortality
as I am where I never was before.

Watch out!
Beware the worm,
crawling through the dirt.

Attack him,
but do not kill it,
as she keeps track of the earth.

Eternal wisdom,
the moon and the water and the sky.
And I just figure it out as I go,
on the fly.

My descent into madness.
My ascend into heaven.
Love,
and all of the above.
AQ  Post #: 176
2/18/2009 10:53:24   
Mistermafio
Member

Apologies to a friend

I’m sorry, my friend
it seems you are too late.
Our ship has sailed,
and sealed is our fate.

My apologies, my friend,
whom I don’t know.
I’m sure we could get to like each other,
but tell me now,
why would I bother?

My apologies, my friend
who looks quite pissed.
I’m sure things could’ve been better,
but this boat, you have missed.

Maybe next time, my friend,
who seems pretty mad.
I know, you’re not even that late,
It almost makes you wish you knew.
Knew about bout the time, and all that.

You’re simply too late, my friend,
but that’s not my fault at all.
Compared to me,
you’re simply too small.
AQ  Post #: 177
2/24/2009 17:13:57   
Mistermafio
Member

Time

there was a time,
long ago,
when this tree was but a small rank,
sprouting from the ground.

A time where you and I were still close,
where I trusted you,
and you trusted me.

A time were I know that whatever happens in this life
I could fall back on you.
You, my friend,
were like family.

But as that rank grew taller,
we grew apart
the summer of our friendship,
began slowly chipping away at our hearts.

There was a time,
long ago,
when this here tree still sprouted fruit

a time where you and I still called eachother friend
though we both knew,
the friendship we once had,
had long since come to an end.

We'd talk from time to time,
we'd smile as we met eachoter on the street
and if we had the time,
and the extra dime
promissed to go out and eat

but even as we parted
after those brief meetings
in the autumn's rain

I felt that my heart,
still carried that stain
that anger,
that sadness,
that gaping empty hole,
that feeling you left there,
so long ago.

Because,
as the fruits of that tree got a little more sour,
every passing year.

So did our friendship
and just as the fruits,
this tree no longer carries,
I fear,
I no longer carry the feelings, I once carried for you.

There was a time,
no so long ago,
where this tree was still alive.

But as I look upon its grey bark,
at its empty branches,
in the middle of spring.

I know this too,
now has been.

It was a fun life we had,
my friend and I.

And as I think back to my childhood,
some eighty-odd years ago,
I can only grin at my naive mind,
for ever thinking time moves slow.

I remember, as I grab my cane,
how we planted this tree,
right here,
thinking it would, like our friendship, always remain.

I sigh one last time,
and get up from the cold metal bench,
I tremble on my knees,
struggling to remain standing,
even with my cane.

“heh”
I cough, more then I speak,
“who could've thought back then our lives would end up like this,
me old, slow and loosing all the hair on my head,
making my way to the funeral of a long lost friend.
And you...
Well, you're that friend.”

A tear rolls down a wrinkly cheek.

As the lonely appletree,
sheds its final leaf.
AQ  Post #: 178
3/3/2009 13:24:24   
Mistermafio
Member

The hurdle runner

I'm a hurdle runner,
that's what I do.
And by the looks of it,
you are one too.

I spend my time jumping
every hurdle, and obstacle,
this life throws at me.
And I do so,
if I might say so myself,
quite rapidly.

Sure,
when you jump as many hurdles as I do,
and I really jumped a lot,
you are bound to fall once or twice.
But I've never let that take my eyes,
off that final prize.

When I fall I just get up,
and start running again,
hoping I can still make it,
first in line.

But instead of most hurdle runners,
you'd see,
on a race track, or tv,
I run my race alone.

And all it takes for me to finish first,
is not to quit,
but just to keep running along.
AQ  Post #: 179
3/8/2009 18:26:23   
Mistermafio
Member

Spouse

I'm a sinner,
I'm a idiot,
I am scum.

I lie,
and cheat,
and disgrace everything moving under this sun.

I am a demon,
an anti-Christ,
I'm not worth the dirt I set my feet upon.

You hate me,
you'd kill me right here and now,
if you had a gun.

All you can really do
to get rid of me,
is getting up and run.

But I will follow,
everywhere you go.
That's what children do,
don't you know?
AQ  Post #: 180
3/8/2009 18:27:47   
Mistermafio
Member

Dreams?

“What have I done?”
I looked at my hands,
covered in blood.

I looked at the gun on the ground,
and at the poor woman,
who I suppose I'd shot.

I shook my head in disbelieve,
“it can't be.
This can't be happening,
not to me.”

I remembered nothing,
not my name,
not were I lived.
I didn't even know if I had a wife,
or kids.

I got up on my feet,
and looked around the room.
From the closed curtains in front of the windows,
to the place I just sat.

I saw pictures,
lots of pictures,
of people whom I didn't know.

I saw a heavy wooden door,
leading outside.
It didn't appear forced open,
so I figured I probably knew this woman...
Or just lied.

As I tried to step towards the door,
still dizzy,
still very much confused.
I looked around for something,
anything,
my brain could've used.

I noticed a clock,
a pendulum,
large, brown, and apparently quite old.

Defiantly an heirloom,
otherwise it had long since been sold
as it didn't fit into the room at all.

Everything around is was so minimalistic,
so clean, modern, and small.

I mumbled something,
even I wasn't sure what.
Probably something about design,
or something trivial like that.

I turned around,
still looking for anything that made sense.

When I realised I hadn't looked at the body,
I had barely even glanced.

I looked at the woman a few steps before my feet.
Expecting at least a sense of recognition,
but nothing appeared.

Her dress looked new,
apart from the deep-red bloodstains.
She wore high heels,
the kind that looked fancy,
but were probably bought on a series of cheap deals.

I looked at her blond hair,
obviously dyed.
I looked into her eyes,
and I cried.

I didn't remember,
but her eyes did.
Even beyond the grave,
in that deep, lifeless stare,
she clearly loved me.

I saw her care,
I saw her surprise
I saw she was scared
I saw it all in those eyes.

Tears streamed down my cheeks
as I struggled to remember,
something,
anything would do.

But I could only mumble,
“I'm sorry,
strange woman,
I just do not remember you.”

I stood up,
on my feet,
and walked away
from my horrible deed.

I entered the bathroom,
though I had no clue I even knew where it was,
I got the water running,
and I cried while I washed.

Something happened though,
I wasn't sure what.
Suddenly it was as if my body was taken over,
I could watch,
but not do squat.

I got what I needed,
but I had no clue what I needed it for.
Plastic bags,
washing supplies,
things of those sorts.

Then I walked into the garage,
I had no clue why.
Until I grabbed a saw
and realised,
what I was about to do.

I cried,
and yelled,
and struggled,
but the force that was controlling me just grew and grew.

I sat besides you,
tears streaming down my face.
I felt horrible,
but my body was still in a daze.

I tried to stop myself,
screaming loud.
But when that cold steel first pierced your flesh,
I just blacked out.




I wake up in my bed,
still tired,
but relaxed.

“Strange”
I mumble to myself,
thinking back to the night before.

“I just cannot remember what happened after that party,
heh,
I never got that drunk before.”

As I step out of my bed
I notice I'm still wearing my suit.
“Heh,”
I laugh again,
“imagine how much fun I must've had.”

As I take off my vest,
I get overpowered by the smell of smoke entrenched in the cloth.
I try to toss it away,
but I notice something odd.

In my pocket I find a photo,
with me, the night before.
Besides me is a woman,
blond-dyed hair, with high heels and a white dress.

I smirk.
“Heh, Ingrid, she always was the best.
Without her I'd still be in that institution,
I'd still be in that dark, smelly jail.

She was the only one that believed I didn't kill that woman,
she realised too, that I was clearly set up.
I do hope they find the killer,
just to clear my name once and for all.

Heh, the thought alone of me killing,
I'm not some kind of animal.”
AQ  Post #: 181
3/14/2009 13:14:05   
Mistermafio
Member

Reasoning

I reason that I am,
therefore,
-in my reasoning-
I clearly am.

But what am I then,
but the reasoning of a delusional brain?

How can I trust,
what I tell me I am,
when my brain lies to me,
time and time again.

How can I be sure,
a touch is really a touch.
And not just the illusion,
of the memory,
of a lie.

How can I trust my senses,
trust the eyes that tell me I’m blind when I move them.
Trust the ears that tell me there is nothing to hear when there is.
Trust the smell that smells a phantom smell,
Trust a taste that tells me all tastes well,
trust the touch I cannot trust.

Why should I trust my brain?
Simply because I must.
AQ  Post #: 182
3/20/2009 15:04:55   
Mistermafio
Member

Diaries of a boring life

I once tried keeping a diary,
as I wanted some more drama in my life.
'cause if there's one thing books have taught me,
its that diaries are a drama device.

Packed to the brim with tales of heroes,
monsters and the like.
With self-reflection
and epiphanies,
brought in a shocking manner,
first person style.

I'd describe everything around me,
as my examples did too.
Then I'd go on to describe my actions,
my contributions to what I just described to you,
quickly followed by that epiphany
the moment of reflection that summarises exactly what I always knew.

But instead of something epic,
something witty or the like,
all i could put down there
was “what the hell am I doing with my life?”
AQ  Post #: 183
3/20/2009 15:29:56   
Mistermafio
Member

Mystery

Cracking from the sky,
thunder,
on a heaven clear.

An energy fills the world,
creatures run in fear.
From the mighty lion,
to the nimble deer.

The air thick with tension,
hearts beating,
in rapid unison.

The expectation of the unknown,
more unnerving than the possibility of discomfort
of any shape or form.

A mystery strikes,
but we don't want it solved,
nor do we want it to remain.

We just want to forget.
AQ  Post #: 184
3/21/2009 7:39:48   
Mistermafio
Member

Silently Sitting

I've been here for hours,
not a word has left my mouth.
I've just sat here,
and quietly thought.

I've watched birds fly by,
I've followed the sun,
and the clouds
on their journey through the sky.

I've been inspired,
I've had an idea,
and I've worked it out.

I've solved the mysteries of life.
I've played a game,
and I've walked through a forest.

I've been deaf and I've been blind.

All while sitting here quietly,
all within my mind.

< Message edited by mistermafio -- 4/5/2009 6:07:29 >
AQ  Post #: 185
3/23/2009 13:34:23   
Mistermafio
Member

The chapters of my life

With pen in hand,
I walk about.

Living,

observing.

I look around,
and see the world ablaze.
Pausing every step along the way
to stare through the deep gray haze.
Smoke obscuring my sight,
but not my rationality.

I pen down what I see,
describe how I feel,
what I do and what I say.

I am scribbling within that mist,
every night,
and every day.

That is how I spend my time.
Not with a smile,
a frown or a sigh.
But just patiently writing down
the chapters of my life.
AQ  Post #: 186
4/9/2009 16:41:41   
Mistermafio
Member

The night that once was

“Isn't it laughable?”
she asked me,
her high childlike voice
ringing ever so beautifully.

“Isn't it something,
isn't it funny?
Isn't it wonderful?
Mommy?”

Her smile-
I'll always remember it,
for as long as I live.

That smile that screamed;
I'm not here to take, only to give.

It shone today,
as bright as ever.
Bringing happiness to the world
and a sometime,
to never.

“Yes my honey,”
-I didn't want to smile in return,
as I'd never be able to outshine her.-
“It really is funny.

The way they look at you,
the way they smile with fear,
the way they act,
and what they do
whenever they are here.”

I couldn't say anything more,
my voice broken by a tear.

I wiped it off
as it traveled down my cheek,
my hand trembling in fear.

She looked at me,
worried.

“Mommy,
is everything alright?
You know what they said,
it's only one more night.

Tomorrow everything will be back the way it was
mommy,
tomorrow I'll be where I will feel good,
tomorrow I will be with daddy.

But tonight I am here with you,
my final day of getting ready.”

She looked at me,
again with that smile.
I knew she was right,
there was no time to cry,
not even a single tear.

Not while you're still here.

“You are right,
I shouldn't be so sad my dear.”

We played a game that night,
-I let her win-
we talked about life that night,
-while I cursed it from within-

To the feeling,
not an hour had passed.
But when I looked outside
the moon had already flown past.

“Mommy...”

Her voice was weak,
tired from the long night.

“Mommy,
it is time.
The doctor-man is coming,
daddy's with him too.
It's time for me to say goodbye to you.”

Tears were streaming down my face,
I wanted to be strong but I wouldn't let me.
I cried so hard,

“I love you,
my baby!”

She looked up,
I saw tears in her face.

She was so young,
yet so wise.
I saw it all
within her eyes.

“Mommy, please don't cry,
please be strong for me.
Mommy, don't ever ask why,
as we both know this is what's supposed to be.

Don't curse god for taking me,
don't be mad at dad for letting me at his side.
We knew I'd wind up there anyway,
from the day he died.

Don't be mad,
don't cry,
don't even ever ask why.

Just be glad it wasn't you,
who had to die.”




The doctor walks into the room,
he nods to the woman,
slowly
and with dignity.

“Hello April,
how are you feeling today?”

The woman looks up to him,
-the nurse had told him she had been staring at that empty bed all night long again-
he saw the tears streaming down her face.

“She has gone,
Frank,
they have taken her to outer space.”

The woman stepped closer,
-tears and snot streaming down her body-
as she takes the doctor in a strong embrace.

He pats her back,
until she calms down.
And lays her down in her bed.
As he injects the medication,
he carefully holds her head.

“Sleep well, April”
he whispers into her ear
as her eyes tremble,
with an unexplained fear.

“Oh, April,
you were so bright before you went insane.
I guess that after losing your husband and your child,
no one stays the same.”
AQ  Post #: 187
4/22/2009 13:30:54   
Mistermafio
Member

Explaining myself

I believe I have some explaining to do,
to everyone that knows me.
Some confessions to make,
really.

I'm not quite sure how to do this,
where I should start,
or what I should say.
I'd like to just start talking,
but I don't want to be blabbering the day away.

First,
let me tell you how I feel.

I think that'd be a good way to start,
without getting too unreal.

Often I am confused,
about who or what I am.
Most of the time,
when something happens in my life,
I don't really feel anything.

Sometimes though,
I feel like laughing,
like screaming out my lungs,
like running around in circles.
Like happy,
really.

Then other times,
for a good reason,
or no reason whatsoever,
I feel like crying.
Like just lying down and slowly dying.
Like doing nothing,
other then being me.
Like sad,
really.

I talk to myself,
more then anyone else.
I often catch myself sunken away in thought so deep,
I know I must've looked like I was falling asleep.

Just being by myself,
listening to music,
and thinking on my own.
It might not sound like very much fun,
I like it better then I like to watch movies,
play games,
or run.

There is not much I really like about myself,
in all honesty.
I'm not beautiful,
or smart,
or funny.

Really,
all I have going for me,
is that I don't exactly suck at poetry.

And even that I can't do properly.

Still, I am not complaining,
I guess I might not be a super-model,
but I'm not that ugly either.
I might not be very smart,
or good at what I do.
I get around,
and without too much trouble too.

Sometimes I get compliments,
people tell me they like this or that.
But I always convince myself that's curtsey.

You can't be disappointed when you don't expect anything,
and I expect very rarely.

I guess what I am saying,
is that even though I really like myself,
I am not entirely sure why.

Am I ignoring the facts of my life?
Is this all the result of an instinct,
just so I don't die?

Or am I missing something,
was I looking wrong at this all along?
Maybe I am seeing something,
and am just interpreting it wrong?

I have my friends to be happy about.
Granted, they are not with many,
and their time may not always abound.
But they are there for me when I need them,
and I can be there for them when they need me.

I will be there...
Hopefully.

And my poetry,
while I might not always like it,
allows me to do things like this.
Things that make me feel better,
no matter what is amiss.

I am doing ok in school,
that is always good.
I am warm,
and have plenty of food.

So, ok, my life isn't as bad as it sometimes feels,
it might be confusing
it might be filled with bad compromises,
and stupid deals,

it is my life.

And well,

I like it.
AQ  Post #: 188
4/23/2009 16:43:43   
Mistermafio
Member

friendship is eternal,
eternity is quickly forgotten


Friends,
I’ve had plenty of them over the course of time.

Some good friends,
with whom I was extremely close.
Some friends who weren’t really friends,
but more people I knew quite well.
-I’ve had more then my fair share of those-

But when I think back now,
over the course of my -still short- life.
There are so many people I’ve once befriended.
But with whom,
-somehow unnoticed-
that friendship ended.

People I once would give my life for,
I now can’t even remember when I spoke to them the last time.

People who I once spend every single day with,
I now have trouble remembering,
where they even lived.

Its not that I wanted to lose them,
or that they wanted to get rid of me.
It just happened…
Unnoticed,
but suddenly.

We chose a different path on our lives,
I went left where they went right.
Maybe one day those paths will meet each other again,
maybe just brush by the side.

I hope that day will come soon,
while those friends are still in my head.
As I fear that if that is not the case,
I might just forget.
AQ  Post #: 189
4/27/2009 17:07:37   
Mistermafio
Member

Am I so selfish?

Often I post a poem,
much like I posted this.
Feeling very confident,
after reading it,
someone will find something amiss.

Yet when I show it to people,
much like I show it to you,
somehow,
that suddenly seems untrue.

People tell me that they like it,
that they felt it touch them near.
At best they point out a typo.
But that's not what I wanna hear.

I want to hear
'I hate it',
or;
'this could be much better',
at least.

I don't even need a reason why,
to be honest.



Is that really so selfish of me?
To wanna hear I'm not as good
as some people make me out to be.
I want to be held to standards,
I cannot possibly achieve.

Just to give my mind,
my ego,
a bit of relieve.

I strive to become better,
to get at least somewhat good,
at what I do.
I don't write to hear how good I am,
I write to hear I'm worse then you.

It gives me pleasure to try and prove you wrong,
it gives me peace,
to know I was right all along.
It gives me hope,
that your hate will one day pass along.

But not before replaced,
by a hate at least twice as strong.

Now get me right,
I don't ask to be ridiculed,
made fun of,
'hated',
or the like.

Just to be held,
against a slightly brighter light.

Please?
Or is that just selfish of me?

< Message edited by mistermafio -- 4/27/2009 17:10:28 >
AQ  Post #: 190
5/22/2009 21:27:13   
Mistermafio
Member



< Message edited by mistermafio -- 5/24/2009 9:31:40 >
AQ  Post #: 191
5/30/2009 22:31:58   
Mistermafio
Member

He

He sat at home,
in front of the tv.
It was late,
too late for him to sit there,
at least.

He wanted to go to bed,
he saw no reason to still be sitting there
not much was on,
and he was still dazed in his head

But his mind wouldn't stop screaming
for him to do something
to write,
to paint,
to sculpture,
to play the guitar.

To do something out of the regular.

He didn't want to listen,
really not.
But yeah,
he forgot.
AQ  Post #: 192
5/30/2009 22:40:20   
Mistermafio
Member

Mystery

Here is a little mystery.

Take a guess.

The answer is pretty simple,

but the question's quite messy.

Good luck,

do your best.
AQ  Post #: 193
5/30/2009 22:44:44   
Mistermafio
Member

A lot of nonsense can pass for art.



Just present it with an obnoxious enough attitude.
AQ  Post #: 194
5/30/2009 23:10:48   
Mistermafio
Member

No rhyming in this one, no-sir-ree


I have too,
but do not want too.
Rhyme?
Make sense?

I won't let me,
just be random.
Already I find it hard to do this.
So wish me good luck.



Damn,
I just screwed up.
AQ  Post #: 195
5/30/2009 23:17:48   
Mistermafio
Member

So,
you're alive, eh?
How does that feel,
to,
ya know,
actually be real.

I imagine it'd be fun.
Being able to do what you want,
not being chained to a mind,
where you can't.

I'd like to do that once,
just once.
Really exist.
AQ  Post #: 196
5/30/2009 23:24:30   
Mistermafio
Member

Pie I guess

They are just random words!
Why do they make sense?
Where will this travisty end?
It's not like they are connected.

Random statements,
they are the best,
here, there,
everywhere.

Did you get it?
I don't.
AQ  Post #: 197
6/12/2009 17:35:04   
Mistermafio
Member

May

It was a sunny day,
the sky was clear,
that day in may
that I still fear.

I remember walking through the park,
it was late,
getting dark,
but I was safe,
I knew that.

Shadowy figures traversed the road before me,
keeping to the shadows of the trees around the sandy path,
where there two?
Three?
Four?
Or maybe even more?

I grow nervous as I approach them,
I notice them notice me,
But I'm safe here,
right?
...Right?
Probably.

As I walk even closer
I hear their muffled voices,
too far away to hear what they are saying,
I just see one of them pointing.

They couldn't be talking about me,
whilst scheming a dastardly plan?
No, there is no way,
no way they can.

But as I keep walking,
I feel I'm starting to sweat,
now close enough to see their faces,
I'm pretty sure I'll do something I'm going to regret.

I see them glaring at me,
they somehow seem insecure,
as I pass them I can't help stepping up my pace,
and turning away my scared and angsty face.

I sigh a sigh of relieve
as I start to walk away,
when from behind me,
I hear one of them say:

“Sir, could you please tell me,
what is the time?”

I'm shocked,
frozen in place,
I slowly turn around,
even though I just want to run away.

I see them walking at me,
my mind races to find an escape,
they can't be up to much good,
not now I'm alone, it's dark and it's late.

My eyes turn to the watch on my arm,
clearly visible in plain sight,
no lying around it,
not tonight.

I look at the time,
is it me or are the seconds ticking by more slowly
then they ever have.

“10:30” I said,
trying to control my voice,
I wanted to get out of here,
away from these teenage boys.

I turned around,
thinking,
no,
pretty sure I'd be called after.

“Sir, I really like that watch, by the way”
or something sassy like that.
That's what they'd say.

They'd rob me blind,
stab me,
kill me,
and then kick me.
Probably.

But to my surprise I did not hear a sound,
I left the park safe and sound,
as I crossed the road I was so astound,
I couldn't help but turn around.

That's when it hit me,
the car.

I was paying those kids so much attention,
I forgot about the fact I was standing on a road.

I still hate that day,
that sunny day,
there in the park,
in the middle of may.
AQ  Post #: 198
6/15/2009 7:12:17   
Mistermafio
Member

The four brothers

Once,
not too long ago,
four brothers lived in a mansion,
together.

They had lived their entire lives
in relative harmony.
They respected each other
and each other’s privacy.

Each of the brothers had a room of his own,
and next to that they shared a few rooms they had in common.

Everything went well,
for many, many years.
Until that one faithful day,
that answered all their fears.

One of the brothers had a terrible accident,
for weeks he struggled for his life
in a cold hospital bed.

Until he finally fought no more,
until he found his death.

The three brothers mourned for many weeks,
they complained and cried together.
But as with any great pain,
in time,
this too began to grow better.

One day the oldest brother stood up during dinner,
and begged for the silence of his siblings.

“As we all know,
now our dear brother is dead,
his room has remained empty for quite some time.

I think this is a waste of space,
as, as a room, it does quite fine.

We also know,
as the youngest of us four,
my room always was the smallest.

And now I know I’ve never complained before,
but I feel that,
with our dear brother gone,
he’d want me to move into that room.

It’s what he’d have done.”

The youngest looked upon his dearest siblings,
confident they’d feel the same.
He was quite surprised though,
to hear his oldest sibling complain.

“I’m sorry brother,
But I feel you take this just a little too light.
I don’t think we should disturb that room.
It doesn’t feel right.

I say we let it be,
clean it every now and then,
treat it respectfully.

That’s the least we can do,
in our brother’s memory.”

And so the oldest and the youngest brother
argued for the rest of the day.
The middle brother?
He decided to keep his mouth shut,
and let his siblings play.

After all,
it would stop eventually.
There would be a way for the two of them to figure this out,
at least one common possibility.

But days later,
the siblings argued still.
Emotions going up high,
but neither of them changing their will.

They went on and on,
for days on an end.
Sometimes screaming and yelling,
sometimes sneaky and mean.

But no matter what the other tried,
verbal traps were spotted,
and bad intentions quickly seen.

The middle brother,
during all of this,
tried to keep his siblings calm
and did his best not to let things grow out of hand.
Though he quickly stopped believing,
in a peaceful end.




After a month of what seemed like none-stop fighting,
on a dark and rainy night.
While the only sound outside was that of the wind fighting the lightning,
suddenly the doorbell rang.

What an odd hour
for guests to come by,


the middle brother thought.

Not being the mistrusting kind,
he went to answer the door.

A dark figure greeted the brother,

“hello there,
friend,
I’m so glad you opened up.
I’ve been searching for this for hours on an end.”

The brother found it hard to see,
precisely who this stranger could be,
but he didn’t complain as the stranger waked in,
as he could use the company.

“Excuse the mess,”
he began,
“me and my brothers have had a bit of a dispute,
and cleaning up hasn’t yet fit in their plan..”

The stranger looked around,
not as someone who was new to the place,
but as a guest that hadn’t been around for quite some time.

“Anyway,”
the brother began,
“my siblings aren’t around right now,
I send them out to dinner.
Hoping they’d get civilized again,
or at least settle their dispute somehow.”

The stranger turned to face the brother,
who only now could really,
for the first time,
see his guest’s face.

Though he couldn’t remember ever seeing this strange man,
a sense of similarity found its place.

“Excuse me,
this might seem a little rude to say to someone that just entered your door,
but what was your name again?
And have we met before?”

“Oh, no,”
the stranger said,
“you and I have never met.

My name is David,
I knew your brother,
may god have his soul,

I heard the news of his passing,
and came here as soon as I could.

I wanted to pay my last respects,
I hope it’s not too late for that?”

The brother did not have to think long,
a friend of his brother was a friend of his,
there was but one problem,
his brother was already buried,
and this wasn’t exactly the best kind of weather there is.

“Of course you can pay your last respects to my brother,
David,
though I don’t think right now is the best time.
If you could come back tomorrow,
that would be more then fine.”

The brother told David,
who proceeded to walk down the hall,
as he said:

“You know,
my friend,
that would be fine and all,
if it wasn’t for the slight problem
that I live more then a day’s travel away from here.

You couldn’t possibly ask me to get back into my car
after I’ve just arrived.
Without even offering a single cup of thee,
or some kind of food,
to poor old me.”

The brother followed David through the hall,
getting slightly uncomfortable with the gist of this all.
But, as he was ever the gentleman,
he couldn’t express this concern,
as that would be unexceptionally rude.
And he wasn’t that kind of brute.

“Where are my manners,”
he said,
“of course I’d offer you something to drink,
if I had known that.

Even more so,
since I couldn’t possibly let you sit in that car for another whole day,
why don’t you just stay?

I’m sure we can find a bed for you to sleep on,
somewhere in this house.”

David paused his step upon this invitation,
as he turned towards his host.
“My friend,”
he said,
“you don’t know how unbelievably glad that offer makes me.”

And so the two of them drank,
‘til the evening had passed.




When the youngest and oldest brother
finally came home,
a second pot
was just boiling on the stove.

They walked into the living room,
busy fighting as they now had done for at least a month.
So caught up with their constant bickering
they didn’t even notice a stranger on their very own couch
until the middle brother loudly scraped his throat.
Interrupting the verbal battle for just a second.

Long enough for the oldest brother to notice David,
at least.

“Who is this?
Brother,”

he asked surprised.
Not expecting someone he had never met before,
to sit right before his nose,
while he hadn’t even really realized,
he was already home.

“Yeah, who?”

The youngest brother asked too,
in a similar tone of voice.
Directing it at David,
he said again:

“Who are you?”




David’s intentions were quickly explained,
while the pot of thee was quickly drained.
And even though outside it thundered and rained,
inside,
for once,
all was calm.

The time to go to bed,
quickly grew near.
A time the youngest brother,
already silently began to fear.

Eventually it was David himself
who said what was on his mind;

“You know,
right now all seems good and well.
But in a few hours we should really go to sleep,
and I’d love to see the room I can spend the night.”

The oldest and the youngest brother
looked at each other.
And there,
over the course of one moment,
in the middle of the night,
they set all their differences aside.

“Seeing how you are a good friend of our brother,
we’d like to offer you his room.
It hasn’t really been touched since he died,
though,
don’t worry,
we’ve been through it with a broom.”

David smiled upon hearing this suggestion,

“I’d be more then honored to sleep in my old friend’s bed this night.
Are the three of you sure though,
that it is all right?
You seem to have had trouble in the past,
with setting your differences aside.”

Both brothers nodded,

“if anyone deserves that room,
it is you.”

The youngest brother said,
as the oldest quickly adds;

“really,
It’s true.”




The night flew by quickly,
and when the brothers got up the next day,
they rushed to wake their guest,
and inform if he enjoyed the stay.

Instead of David sleeping sound,
however,
it was a note they found.

Gently placed upon the unused bed,
in their dearest brother’s room,
the note simply read;

Thank your for the hospitality,
I enjoyed tonight so much,
I’ll try to get back again soon.

Thank you,
my brothers.
For not wasting,
or misusing my room.


Since that day the brothers never fought again,
every day they lived in pure and utter harmony,
as they found that whenever they worked well together,
they were truly happy.

And once every now and then,
On a stormy,
rainy day.
A stranger visits for the night,
though he never seems to stay.
AQ  Post #: 199
6/17/2009 3:29:08   
Mistermafio
Member

Author's note. For my 200th poem I decided to go with a suggestion by Firefly to write a poem that works well in both Dutch and English. Beneath is the result. One little note, the two poems are not quite direct translations, and actually contain an extra layer when read both thanks to a few subtle, and one less subtle difference. Therefore I recommend knowledge about both languages when reading the poems, though I do hope the poems are pretty fun to read separately too. For those concerned, I have spoilerd the main difference between the poems beneath them.

Us versus them

It’s us versus them,
by now this should be more than clear.
We: kind and beautiful people,
they: living off hatred and fear.

I hope you realise very well
that you shouldn’t trust them at all.
We just aren’t the same,
they’ve already robbed us of our values,
for they are brutes,
and they are insane.

If you ever see one of them,
just quickly run away.
And most importantly,
don’t ever try to communicate,
before you know it they’ll be attacking,
and then, even the police will be too late.

Those dangerous, crazy people,
in their red and white hats.
Luckily, we blue-hatters,
are much better than that.




Ons tegen hen

Het is ons tegen hen,
dat zou tegen nu wel duidelijk moeten zijn.
Wij; aardige, mooie mensen,
zij; levend van haat en pijn.

Ik hoop dat jij je goed realiseert
dat ze niet te vertrouwen zijn.
We zijn gewoon niet hetzelfde.
Zij hebben ons al van onze normen en waarden beroofd,
zij zijn bruten,
zij zijn niet goed bij hun hoofd.

Als je ooit een van hen ziet,
loop dan maar heel snel weg.
En bovenal,
probeer nooit met ze te praten.
Ze weten donders goed,
waarom wij ze haten.

Die gevaarlijke gekken,
in hun blauwe hoeden.
Het is maar goed,
dat wij roodhoeden het zo goed bedoelen.


spoiler:

While both poems are pretty much the same, the English poem ends with the bluehats accusing the redhats, while the Dutch poem ends just the other way around... Well, it doesn't sound that cool when I have to say it like this... Learn Dutch you! :^P



t

< Message edited by mistermafio -- 6/22/2009 2:10:35 >
AQ  Post #: 200
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