Basically a thread for you to post poetry that YOU created and discuss with others. Please leave the emo poetry or teenage romance poetry out, thanks. Here's mine:
[quote]--Waves Unnoticed--
Steaming under
Clouds of rain, clouds of thunder
Flipping and floating along
An ocean away from land forces so strong
Impacted, compacted
But never contacted
Cooling with heat
Where snows and fires meet
A neutral speck, trying to free the others
While small ones attack their brothers and mothers
A one never scoped
We won't ever elope
We won't ever see
Another being
And approach nervously
While spinning quickly and vastly
Dealing with suicidal catastrophe
In a chaotic bubble
While still fixing shuttles
That have only met one journey
A journey, to the stars
Why must it be so far? [/quote]
[QUOTE=Dextro;31082230]--Waves Unnoticed--
Steaming under
Clouds of rain, clouds of thunder
Flipping and floating along
An ocean away from land forces so strong
Impacted, compacted
But never contacted
Cooling with heat
Where snows and fires meet
A neutral speck, trying to free the others
While small ones attack their brothers and mothers
A one never scoped
We won't ever elope
We won't ever see
Another being
And approach nervously
While spinning quickly and vastly
Dealing with suicidal catastrophe
In a chaotic bubble
While still fixing shuttles
That have only met one journey
A journey, to the stars
Why must it be so far?[/QUOTE]
This poetry was just so deep, that I felt I had to analyze is even further.
[quote]Steaming under[/quote]
It's amazing how this begins, immediately setting the feel and tone for further insight into the deep metaphor of homosexual relations and their prevalence in the speaker's life. The "clouds of rain [...][and] of thunder [...] floating along" is imagery for the ever approaching lust and desire for male genitalia (2-3).
Just by the fourth line, amazingly vivid imagery of the intensity that is a homosexual relationship is depicted through the continued metaphor of the "forces so strong / [i]mpacted, compacted," the latter portion obviously referring to the forbidden act of 'fudge packing.' Shortly after this compelling and explicit depiction of gay sex, the feelings are ever more illustrated through the metaphorical storm, how after the initial moments of tension and throes of passion, there is a "[c]ooling with heat / [w]here snow and fires meet" (7-8).
The next portion of this poem is rather interesting, as it refers to a "neutral speck, trying to free the others," which a rather deep and philosophical social commentary on the idea that gay men, specifically the narrator in this case, is constantly trying to "free the others / [w]hile the small ones attack their brothers and mothers" (9-10). The reference to "the small ones" in this case refers to all others who refuse to accept homosexuality as a natural thing, hence the "attack [on] their brothers and mothers" (10).
Nearing the middle portion of the poem, the speaker continues to elaborate on the taboo of gay relations, as he continues to further the secrecy that comes with a homosexual relationship, as shown in the lines of "[w]e won't ever elope / [w]e won't ever see" (12-13). In lines 14-18, the speaker continues to express his feelings on the chaotic and suicidal tendencies that come naturally with coming out of the closet, as with anyone who accepts homosexuality as their lifestyle, the moral struggle and conflict with that of society naturally follows.
The final portion of the poem, a particularly favorite portion of mine, refers to the dream that all homosexual males feel. The metaphor of the shuttle making "[a] journey, to the stars [...][which] must be so far" refers to the idea that the acceptance of gays within society is a far fetched one, thanks to the various taboos and influences of modern society.
Yet this dream appears all too close, and this poem, I say, has done a great job of depicting this increasingly importance issue of society.
Thanks Dextro, for enlightening me so!
i sympathize with your homosexual desires and i wish to be with you in the future
your words are deep and inspiring to all gay men on facepunch
hunk green on friday night hell be dressed to kill
down at dongblast mcshaftlick's bar, and ready to grill
hunk will drink, and will flow, and blood will spill from the bum
if the hunk green want to fight, youd better give him his might
[editline]12th July 2011[/editline]
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
In west philadelphia
born and raised,
the playground is where i spent most of my days,
chillin out maxin relaxing all cool and shooting some b-ball
outside of the school.
you're moving with your auntie and uncle in bel air
i whistled for a cab.
and when it came near the licenseplate said fresh
if anything i could say this cab was rare
but i thought now forget it,
yo homes to the place where the sidewalk ends.
i pulled up to a house about seven or eight
And i yelled to the cabby, yo homes smell you later
Looked at my kingdom I was finally there
At the place where the sidewalk ends.
:words:, up in this bitch.
[B]
'Sentenced III, The Ocean'[/B] [Part of an ongoing series that you can find here:[URL]http://zacharyhogan.deviantart.com/gallery/31230095[/URL]]
[I]A brittle soup,
cool, foul;
stinging, slithering.
Coughing, retching,
swallowing more;
necessarily.
The sun rose over a distant ocean.
[/I]
[B]'Dew'[/B]
[I]Dew-drops bulge
and collect themselves,
breath by breath,
from a damp morning sky.
Sitting,
waiting.
A light blossoms,
golden blue,
lithe and clear.
Sitting,
waiting.
She dances
through fields,
chasing shadows
across valley,
and ridge,
laughing as they flee
into little rabbit-holes.
Sitting,
waiting.
And she returns,
just as she promised;
not too late,
not forgotten,
never too busy.
Sitting,
waiting.
And she smiles,
and kneels;
lips
brushing cold, empty
water-spots,
on every leaf,
and every blade.
Sitting.
With every kiss
a speck;
a golden life,
shining out.
They bulge,
one last time;
just a little.
And they roll,
one by one.
Crawling across the green.
Heavier,
just.
And the edge comes
and goes,
and the world below pulls.
A silent struggle,
and they stretch.
And soon they fall,
bodies gently tumbling,
through the ageing air.
And soon,
in a golden burst,
of one thousand specks
of warm, ageless light,
they break.
And begin to wait
for tomorrow.
[/I]
[B]'The Well[/B]' [inspired by this [URL="http://lakandiwa.deviantart.com/art/The-Well-of-Souls-208318602"]http://lakandiwa.deviantart.com/art/...ouls-208318602[/URL] work by another artist]
[I]He lifts another bucket
from his well of souls,
white hands working
as the formless figures
rise once more.
No sweat falls
from his ageless brow,
no breath draws
through his open mouth,
as he pulls
pulls the lives closer
a Master of destiny.[/I]
[B]'Swans'[/B]
[I]One million shards
of planet,
darting outwards,
into the black;
piercing
the eternal night,
beginning
their eternal flight,
a swan song.
The last one.
[/I]
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