River's Attic - Jessie's Poems.
| Author | Message |
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| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime  Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 |  ______________________________________________________Hello : ) ____________________________________I'm Jessie, and I like to write poems and stuff : ) ______________________I'm going to build this up gradually, probably throw a few old ones in here and there, __________________________________________Comment, have a nice time : ) Contents Page One - Little River | Prism | Winter of 1977 |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Little River [not my best, I know] The night is vibrating through the ground And growing cracked veins from the stars Into your swelling, marble pupils Veins that pulse like your heels on the road Tapping out a crazy, st-st-staccato rhythm The air is burning down your throat And your skin is snaking its way up And down, from the bruises on your heels To the grit tangled in your hair, Assisted by the hands of your sister Who pulls love from your scalp Hoping and crying above your head Swaying and screaming amongst the velvet As your stomach ties its own hopeful knots Clinging to your soul as the month turns over November arrives and the knots… Snap, and your sister, she cries into the tarmac Watching the sharpness of the sirens Slice the melting California horizon While you curl and you cry like a captured alien November chokes and she kicks at the drains The swan white of that pure-dirty powder Clings to the dampness of the grate Falling with the weight of the morning dew And as it hits, echoing in dark of the sewers Her eyes close, and the echo turns to a trickle Of the stream beside the window His face, like sad lonely honey peers from the frame “Now what you doin’ outta bed little brother? You know full well it’s getting late . . . Close up that window and go to sleep Little River We’re expectin’ the last of the October rain.” |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Prism Someone took a picture of you in your casket Strange how the light should have captured you Illuminated you, remembered you, seen you Just as I always have I’d like to remember you in the beginning Not in the end, not in that final flash That would have turned your eyelids translucent I’d like to remember your eyes And all the dimensions that flickered in them Prisms of nature that looked out from the morning And pierced the infinite night time in the evening I’d like you to smile again Surrounded by all that handsome sorrow All that painful love, so furiously gentle Like the winds that toyed with the leaves Outside the Oregon cabin where you were born Someone took a picture of you in your casket And it’s like the stars imploded and the rain put out the sun It’s like everything went awry and it distorted you with its light I hope the camera choked on your death And understood that it was all its own fault For trying in vain to capture death When it was created To capture your life. |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Winter of 1977 [about the plane crash killing a majority of Lynyrd Skynyrd - the 'He' reffered to is singer Ronnie Van Zant] The winter of 1977 lingers, stale around the Mississippi swamps It’s warm and close this time of year and the heat buzzes in the bull rushes Swarms around the forest and through the thick, forgotten waters The type of heat that coats your skin and makes your steps Slow and heavy, until, like patches of cold ocean on a summer’s day, The warmth flakes and peels away, and you’re left cold and lonesome Night seems to draw quicker and the months rush from August Through to October, which wilts on towards its end Turns its winds to harsh November, that lingers, waiting to dawn Back in 1977 The air seems entwined with guitar tunes from the country Once warm and laced with whisky notes of freedom blues on the porch Here, they rattle through the day, echoing the spirit of the dead That walk the plains, thinking maybe it better to leave the road behind Leave the blood and alcohol in the empty shell of a 70’s airplane and play Those teary melodies from behind the backs of their mothers and wives They say they see him wandering alone, his head under his arm Kicked in the graves and the casket, just to smell the searing tragedy But his mama say they just got their heads all wrong, she say she seen him Wandering toward the waters with a fishing rod under his arm, stuck Back in 1977. |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Bump. tbh. |
| purveyors of dreams. Salute You in Your Grave  Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 2253 | Aw hell, Jessie. You haven't lost your touch, babe, what are you on?! Thinking such atrocity. Winter of 1977, is pure jessiestyle to me. A poem chock full with descriptions, bringing the reader's mind into the setting of the poem itself. Your words emote so much, and have this sense of realism and intimacy, it's always refreshing to read your work. I like how it starts of with like pure details of time setting and everything, setting the mood of the whole poem. And then the tone just becomes so sad, and sympathetic. Perfectly impactful ending, Back in 1977. I love how you get inspiration from seemingly everywhere. And how you, like Nab, can create whole stories in your poems. <3 proper bril, jessie. |
| kid from yesterday. Bleeding on the Floor  Age: 34 Gender: Female Posts: 1265 | I hope the camera choked on your death And understood that it was all its own fault For trying in vain to capture death When it was created To capture your life. I swear, I had MAJOR shivers reading that poem, and that ending. Still having it now I think. Prism is definitely one of your bestbestbest. <3 |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Thankyou so much Jane, Nab, its much appreciated <3 |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Covent Garden Showman London in the Summer time We all got time to waste again While the month’s burn on in the city And the girls wear psychedelic dresses Caught by the spray of the fountain Dousing Trafalgar Square We’ve been playing with cigarettes In another backstreet record store Twisting old vinyl in the smoke Dreaming of summer ‘69 When your daddy had apartments Down in Knightsbridge town Sold ‘em all up in the 70’s Had to move along to other parts Wandered where the streets were blacker Put up your mother out in Acton Town Way too far down the district line And every once in another hard while He’d leave you 50’s under the doormat With a crumpled, drunken letter or two And you knew what daddy never made off music Daddy never spent on crack But there weren’t much your old man couldn’t sell Ridin’ with a guitar slung on his back Now it’s summer time in London again And young folk saunter in Leicester Square While behind deep eyes, you remember When he was just another Covent Garden showman You watched from behind your mothers back Snake like slender and onyx eyed They ain’t never seen nothing quite like him Until he was living between their lips And the speakers in their cars When he was yellow skinned and powder boned Took no more than money and music To kill your old man dead And you never saw another man Like that Covent Garden Showman Again. |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Rent Boy [This is one I wrote a while a go but I kind of liked it so thought you lot may aswell see it : )] If time were to collapse There would be nothing left but you And your heart and your head And that lonely wind that plays through your hair Like a broken cassette You imagine it plays the voice of your mother Your house was pale green In the tumble weed desert just outside Portland Somewhere along a road Similar to the one you started on And the one you’ll end on Because in the ends it’s only roads It’s only streets and rooftops And floorboards that you’re left with At your backward city home With the other boys who stand on the stairs Broken cigarettes playing off lips That tell of too many kisses Like children playing houses You sit in your abandoned, wendy-house hotel Painted in plaster and orange Old Jane says they’re gathered by her fireside And tells stories of when businessman trod her boards Now the hustlers play at love under the attic Like Russian dolls they sit Arms wrapped around their knees And in the middle, underneath Beneath the heart Lies quivering children, crying Crying Like you used to And if time were to collapse Your mother’s voice would play in your ears And the pale green house, just outside Portland Would be forever in your eyes And you’d lie, eternally On that same road You started on. |
| living is easy Bleeding on the Floor  Age: 31 Gender: Female Posts: 1951 | You're incredible, do you know that? Rent Boy is such a masterpiece. Seriously. I read it aloud. Twice. And cried. Your gorgeous wording combined with a lack of punctuation and a brilliantly sad, nostalgic style. You blow me away. Really. |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Thankyou very much <3 |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | I've had a bit of a block recently. Well, quite alot of a block but anyway. This is just . . . short really. Like Estuary's In the emerald sky a lonesome star cries midnight As the lanes narrow under blackening canopies The coastline calls out in red and gold While the town sleeps at the feet of the waves Times like these I think I could love you But then I could love a lot of things Like the sound of the tides in the night And the sight of humanity breaking on the horizon And like quiet estuary’s I sit and sway I could love you tomorrow, I could love you today But then I could love a lot of things. |
| goodbye blue sky Always Born a Crime  Age: 29 Gender: Female Posts: 6461 | Like the sound of the tides in the night And the sight of humanity breaking on the horizon Oh my. I read two poem of your, and yeah, I think I´ll stop by more often; I really enjoyed reading (: Keep writing darlin, you got that something people are always talking about |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Thankyou so much : ) __________________________________________ Bottled Up. When you dream, Do you dream of angels? Do you still dream in the colours of the sky, And the sun shining through the morning clouds? When you dream, Do you still dream of Him? I ask, in the dark of the morning, because your eyes Have been flickering and sighing since the sun set Like all those angels have been caught. Kicking around in green tinted bottles False jealously crowning pale faces They do not envy you I noticed you only talk to Jesus when you’re drunk When your eyes become silenced and old In the times when I think maybe You should be heading back home again Back to the old country where your eyes used to speak They told me you weren’t afraid They told me that you dreamt of angels, Free and alive in the distant skies But know when you sleep in the dark of the morning When you dream, When them bottled up angels start kicking and crying You shout and you scream and you tell me, That he don’t love you no more. |
| jonas erik altberg. Banned  Age: 102 Gender: Female Posts: 1371 | I had goosebumps when i was reading Prism. I love the emotions in it. |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Thankyou very much : ) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Dead Eye You been spilling beer on the porch And down the necks of your guitars Strumming through the twilight While the boys dance in the studio And curse through the night The southern sun sets soft On your aching chorus notes While you hum and mutter love songs Dreaming of girls who speak like you With all your dead eyed wrongs You never sang your words quite straight You never say quite what you mean It’s never all too hard to tell though, in foreign lands When your necks bending and breaking When your eyes are flooded blue You still missing that home of yours? Still spilling them lonely beers? Well why don’t you go call on your brothers Tell that cousin to play his notes loud Clear as the church bells And sing your heart away, Sing it; sing it right away into the sky So God can here all you have to say to him Tell him you need something Tell him to help you out a little And now don’t you sit afraid under a southern sun Don’t you worry about all those sins Just keep on dancing and dreaming And singing loud and clear Because you know God pardons singers No matter what they do Because He can simply die For a song. |
| kid from yesterday. Bleeding on the Floor Age: 34 Gender: Female Posts: 1265 | I know I haven't been commenting much around here, but I thought I'd let you know that I still read every one of your updates (and love them incredibly). And I'm still very much in love with Prism - I don't think that I'll stop getting goosebumps even if I've read it three thousand times (and I'm close to that number now actually lol). Oh, I pimp it to my friends often - Prism - 'cause it's just that amazing. Hehhh. x) Love your work, always will. Edit: I realize that that wasn't a very useful feedback. xD So okay, let me start. Rent Boy starts out pretty much brilliantly. I love the tone that you adopted from the beginning of the poem and how the whole story is sorta tied up at the end - I always try to do that without sounding like a broken record, but I never manage to do it as effectively as you did. Then again, you're story-telling connoisseur, so. xD Like Estuary's, one of my favorites from you. It may be short, but it says a whole lot. The rhythm in this one is just great, especially the ending. And like quiet estuary’s I sit and sway I could love you tomorrow, I could love you today But then I could love a lot of things. I love it. Dead Eye, oooh, classic Jessie piece! If this wasn't posted in your topic, I'd totally have known you wrote it - it pretty much bleeds your signature style. You never sang your words quite straight You never say quite what you mean It’s never all too hard to tell though, in foreign lands When your necks bending and breaking When your eyes are flooded blue I notice that you have twisted but beautiful imagery in your poems, and I really, really love that to bits (I know, my vocab needs widening). So yeah. I hope I haven't rambled too much. And I'm still in fucking love with Prism. =D |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Thankyou so much Nab <3 It means alot that you still take the time to read this : ) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Love and Mercy Last night I dreamt of the lonely desert The stars were orbiting the planets and the glimmer Became a blaze in the orange sky Mirrored by the burnt earth Everywhere the emptiness filled with ghostly fire And suddenly, the loneliness was not a problem The nothing that played in the sands Did not matter You weren’t there, you’re never there You don’t need to be With your sharp rolling eyes All brown and auburn, your sandy hair Eccentric in its windswept plains Your silent mouth and your silent heart Careless like the desert, about those who inhabit you Indifferent like the planets About those who orbit you And I stood alone in the flames Smothered by the rage of the heat on the dry ground Watching with hard eyes, the stars Exploding like fireworks Against the backdrop of a vicious sunrise Raining torrential glitter of red, blue and gold And the desert silence did not matter The planets, with their empty orbits Do not matter And I am better off in the flames Where love and mercy know my name. |
| guran! Shotgun Sinner  Age: 31 Gender: Female Posts: 9179 | gah. your writing has always been amazing Jessie. <3 i love every bit of it. in love and mercy i love how every stanza ends. especially the first and third, with the 'did not' and 'do not' matter. (: although, in the first stanza, the length of the second line seemed a bit strange to me, although i don't it should be changed, because as soon as the second stanza starts, it sort of falls into place- in my mind at least. Your silent mouth and your silent heart that was my favorite line. awesome job. i love your work. (: |
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