~*Ary's Poems*~
Author | Message |
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Kitty Clover Jazz Hands Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 292 | I'm flying down toward twin, Separate, pulling gravities- Competitive forces with an objective. Should I expect the impending crash? Both ways are anticipating to catch my dream, But the granite nailed to their feet seems To cringe at their concept of drifting from it. What if your desire came without trouble? Fantasizing no drought from this? Still pressing further to victory, So you can grasp my glow before The luminous hand can rescue me? The righteous palm should soak the glitter of My landing but can't advise my droplet's choice. Where should I lie? The caked flight, The condemning fall...confounded! The begging recipients plead I absorb their way. Correct if I abstain from my true story And shower myself with hypocrisy and hypnosis. |
Cherokee Banned Age: 30 Gender: Female Posts: 2300 | Outcast or Adored?: I like this poem so much. I love the idea. Though I hae one complain, I think some parts of teh poem weren't connected to each other in a good way. No offence. Other than that, I think your words made it sparkle. |
Kitty Clover Jazz Hands Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 292 | Thanks for the advice and I'm glad you like it! I'm a little confused though about how some parts don't connect. Could you explain it for me? |
Cherokee Banned Age: 30 Gender: Female Posts: 2300 | Well, Jane is always betetr than me at this. But I felt that the ideas were a little bit unconnected. They came randomly. Again, it could be just me. |
Kitty Clover Jazz Hands Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 292 | Oh okay I see what you mean. I'll try to fix that. :] |
Kitty Clover Jazz Hands Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 292 | Spotlight Curse The maggots of bitter irony Keep tearing back my painted flesh And peel away the destiny I sparingly progressed... Every dyne of my misery That clung in a barnacle spade Scuffed my skin with vigor And thrashed vanity’s raid. My steamship rushed about The starlit captured bane And swished between the million-colored Deteriorating chain. Though fame may present succor lights And ferry charismatics, The verified, redeeming reward Assails with fleets of moral heretics. |
Tilly and the Wall Bleeding on the Floor Age: 31 Gender: - Posts: 1850 | Cherokee: hahah, here I am. I actually agree, it's like there are...a lot of ideas there, but here you've mixed them up with the imagery. In a way that it's confusing; the reader can't tell whether you're talking about emotion or describing images. I get it if it's symbolism, but try to isolate each idea so that the lines are not so vague. Each stanza has to be connected to one idea; I do understand some parts but others are up for interpretation. I think there's a bit of a problem with your expression here. Othervise I like your word choice; you seem to have gotten better and I like that. Just work on this one a little bit and it'll be better :] Good luck, I know you can do it. I'm really happy because you have improved :] Spotlight Curse I like better, I can understand it. The words are a little much and I had to reread for meaning. I like it though, but it can do with a little spice. Some italics, more punctuation, maybe? The poem is good, but it doesn't really have a tone. A tone can do wonders you know :] It can make a poem more interesting too. I'd like to see a little bit of that over there, othervise, like I said before, I can see you're getting better and that's great. |
Kitty Clover Jazz Hands Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 292 | Thanks for the advice. I really felt something was missing in the poems and I revised them. I hope they're more understandable now, and I'd really appreciate your advice again. :] |
Cherokee Banned Age: 30 Gender: Female Posts: 2300 | Spotlight Curse: Title: Kick-ass. Love it =D. Favuortie part: Every dyne of my misery That clung in a barnacle spade Scuffed my skin with vigor And thrashed vanity’s raid. Dark, maybe a little bit too much. But in a good way. Agreed with Jane, other than that, the metaphors are gorgeous. Bah, I'm jealous. |
Asiah Scott Joining The Black Parade Age: 31 Gender: Female Posts: 194 | Wow Ary, another fantastic piece. I seriously agree with Cherokee. Your metaphors and symbolism is truly intriguing! Love Spotlight Curse |
Kitty Clover Jazz Hands Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 292 | Thanks so much you guys! It really means a lot to me, and I'm glad you like the poem! :> |
goodbye blue sky Always Born a Crime Age: 29 Gender: Female Posts: 6461 | I liked the title too ^^ Nothing much left to say... you guys have already said all! Good work! |
Kitty Clover Jazz Hands Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 292 | Thanks! ^_^ |
goodbye blue sky Always Born a Crime Age: 29 Gender: Female Posts: 6461 | You´re welcome, and deserved it ^^ |
Kitty Clover Jazz Hands Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 292 | Coin of Appearance Inside, fluttering, amethyst butterflies Cradle a gentle spirit that Is melted into my upbeat heart. Silently, they conduct a rhythmic Presence to taste the nectar of my thoughts. Surely this crust layered on top That I reside in shelters those delicate angels. Those of the sickly addiction to snicker Mock this smock I conceal them with. Crack the codes of the surface, and I express the magnificence Within my protective barrier. I do not blend with mortality And am bitten by devious natures. For you friend, I wake. Capture the image Of the sparkling cream churning in My soul. Don’t choke on the dust of Deceit, but breathe smooth strokes Of my underlying beauty. |
Kitty Clover Jazz Hands Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 292 | Presenting the End You’ve taken me in so beautifully. If you wanted to lead, you should’ve Broken the pace. Only one dance Should make me tremble, but I can’t stop questioning your motive. Though the mic is set, My tongue chokes back. We’ve moved fluently to The anticipated beat, but I’m anxious of when the music halts. Will my heart synchronize And haunt this ballroom floor? When the band repeats the tune, My footwork naturally keeps in beat. The rhythm is throttling, The audience in a hush. When they call my name on stage, I think I’ve said it all. |
Kitty Clover Jazz Hands Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 292 | The Reflected Portrait The mansion built of stubborn stone That climbed onto this meadow’s steeple Surrounds my presence and Mixes sounds of whispers and remarks. Its entrance is marked by charcoal bars Seldom removed for strangers’ welcome. The barren maze within tolerates but Acrylic memoirs of the past. One art of a previous, beautiful woman Forcibly stays on the belligerent walls. As I pace in the vision of the painted figure, The tension quickly sets in. The beating burrows drawn for her sight Seem to hover behind my gullible assurance. Whenever my intelligence slips away, I spin ‘round and peer back at The still being, lifeless and bearing fear. The heavenly chandelier bestowing glory Upon this picture lends no protection To the forgotten stairs and vacant halls But to a haunting lady to remember. My mind escapes the image when I Turn away to view the bitter Door, owned by the ticking seconds, That I’ve plotted to free. A trumpeting alarm alerts this place. A visiting voice walks through the area, Admires around, gazes where I am captured by chilling terror, And then wanders a dim passage. I glance back at the woman I’ve pondered over for a fortnight. Perhaps her curiosity is the same as mine. Maybe she mimics my stance to Learn and extract a response. I’ve acquired much knowledge of Her positions and movements, But could it be a possibility That her copying me is just a coincidence? |
Kitty Clover Jazz Hands Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 292 | Reviving The Magic Starburst colors complete a film And flood a realm of numbing uniformity. Transcending faded sound and screen, Their belief is cradling memory. Corrupt cabinets wish the public to stir And file complaints to draw needs for a cure. No flawed intentions positioned. They want the theatre to be petitioned. Consents to demolish aren’t offered instantly, And creativity refused consistently; But when denied, tyranny charged through The fantasy dream we have all come to value. The stains of beautiful artistry Shine through our efforts to unravel The familiar fable tapestry And shun the villainous plot to bleach. We're firing shots of shelved characters And brewing a scene of passion. The keepsake we carry is the victor again And is countering the recent terrified reaction. |
Kitty Clover Jazz Hands Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 292 | A Party, Then A Funeral A lone tear smeared across this face. I’ve surfaced a smile to forget his embrace. Seems the past forgot to erase When we scattered your ashes in that desolate place. One sorrow became flowing melancholy When we left your confetti to float in the sea. So many howls of missing you dearly, Your hand loosened grip far too early. On the fourth, on a national celebration, Your outgoing spirit left this nation And filled a holiday with devastation. Oh why, just why did death follow elation? None suspected when you had to part That after the engine began to start The ride would crash and stop your heart, Internal damage would be the deadly art, And a doctor would give us the news from his chart. Is this a delusion? Please, ease my confusion! I pray that your fatal conclusion Was meant to be, not intrusion. I now dream of your spirit’s star And the placement of where you are. I reach to pass over the galactic bar, And strain to touch you, but you’re far. Wounds from your departure didn’t heal with your scar. Now I’m cornered in by memory’s roar And remembering how you knocked before; But I was too afraid to open the door. I can’t help but cling to the floor. You shouldn’t have died, life had so much in store. Can’t ward off this fearing, And the “I never got to know you” feeling. It seems what remains in this being Is the persisting urge to release this in singing. *This is basically a poem of how I felt after one of my relatives died on July 4th. I only wrote what I felt so if it's not that good, I understand. I just really needed to write and last night I wrote this for him. I met him when I was out of town visiting my older brother's family one day but I didn't get to know him that well because I'm such a shy person around people, and he died when his motorcycle crashed after leaving a July 4th party at my older brother's house.* |
Asiah Scott Joining The Black Parade Age: 31 Gender: Female Posts: 194 | Ohh, may he rest in peace. =) This is really good. I love the emotions, the feel and how you've rhymed it all. I cant choose a favourite. Awesome Ary. =) |
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