A Conversation for Poetry

My Own Poem (The man who cried,)

Post 1

*Princess*of*Hearts*

I stood and watched the man who cried,
his face awash his mouth wide
his head beating against the tree his shoulder's heaving like hill's set free from the body of the earth and i felt his anguish take birth in my being, and there i knew i would abide and eat into my days and guide my ways and be the judge of my mortal sins,
my father's tears were a key which opened the world to me,
its ecstasy and its misery.


My Own Poem (The man who cried,)

Post 2

Gardener


From Moscow.

I stood and watched the man who smiled
in woods before the deepest mine
and crawled inside and deep inside behold what seemed to be an anodyne
That was the grace and gazing down flung back his will to stars perturbed.
The goodwill bliss of blossomed lotos
The Righteous rose's smile philosoph
He grappled with those rambling waves
We passing us off as morbid slaves.


The goodwill clause in mind I bore
be it that he wash himself ashore
And snorting , puffing , huffing gully
down he rode in starry rally.

Amid the seething foam of roaring milkyway
With whiff of wind he blew temultesneous away
And deep below his conscious mind's locomotion
I know happy he was as placid as the ocean.
Thanks for reading.


My Own Poem (The man who cried,)/( The peaceful hour!

Post 3

*Princess*of*Hearts*

The sky was musky red
the Sun was going down the bird's were still awake and the moon was starting to apear the sound of the car's where echo'ing throught the air the darkness started to come down and then the cloud's where growning darker and darker then a all mighty Bang the thunder and rain came down like big drop's upon the window the rain stopped then it was just so peaceful no one around no one out the whole city went in hush as we all fell asleep in a peaceful Dream.

smiley - rose


My Own Poem (The man who cried,)/( The peaceful hour!

Post 4

Gardener

The sky was murky brown

Perigrinating fumes rising high above
had anyone known what flames make me frown
One couldn't help but laugh

They flow on and up
Dead crispy air giving way
Gravity pressing down
They coming up anyway

The fleecy texture like a padding
Weaves around azure sky
Vaporous stuff and carbon gases flooding
my eyes as time goes by

Yet their sight is so dear
Cloud raging,clouds near
Rushing cauldrons of boiling water
Well below earth surface to make us hotter.

Every winter,every spring
their volume makes me swing
But as summer tops the year
this occurance is but rare


(Do what you will, but it is common sense
(And the common issue) that a city
needs boiling water and electricity).


My Own Poem (The man who cried,)/( The peaceful hour!

Post 5

Jaevairny

Your poem reminds me of someone I knew years ago. We went to the same high school.

His name was Dima, and he was from Russia too, although I think it was still called the U.S.S.R. then. He was born in the country of Georgia, and came to the U.S. when he was very young. He wrote the most beautiful, melancholy poetry. That stunned me because I was the editor of our school's poetry magazine and most of the submissions I got were deplorable. I had to talk him into submitting, and even then he refused to let me print them with his name on them. Here is one of his.

D'apr├Ęs Verlaine, mon Dieu m'a dit

God said: "How many recurring times have
I told you? You see (once again)
My tarnished gold, my heart pierced by a
few small nips.
My injured limb bathed but crawling
Like a spider's wastes.
My arms, then, ache under your concealed
sinful flesh, the organ
and inflamed,
under a cross broken by evil's haste!

But it's flesh and blood, and solely those!
Parole and voice become shadowed ambiguity.
And muted whisper.

I have loved, sister in a damned Mary (excuse the blasphemy)
As it was written and burned,
The pillaged soul rests on a blanket of agony.
On shears of few small woes.
Ruins of the night are my sweat.
O my dear son, who can hear or listen?
With the oragious clouds whistling and laughing a fou rire outside.
But will it be let?
All is safe, until my dooming.

* * *

He dropped out of school in 11th grade and I saw him only once since. Your poem, even if only a "ping-pong", "travesty", is beautiful and made me remember.

~ Jae


My Own Poem (The man who cried,)/( The peaceful hour!

Post 6

Mystic Martin

Before that autumn, bronzed and berried
In triumph shed October's tears,
We who had our habits carried
Like the scars of former years;
Saw not that often love in laughter
Hides its most decaying form,
And stays so hidden even after
We may sense the canker's worm.


My Own Poem (The man who cried,)/( The peaceful hour!

Post 7

*Princess*of*Hearts*

That was a very lovely poem smiley - love my Grandfather use to stand up each sunday after Mass and shout poetry around the Room
My Late Father said to me 4 years ago that's who I take after.

Nice poem there You got lots talentsmiley - rose


My Own Poem (The man who cried,)/( The peaceful hour!

Post 8

Gardener

Simplifying sinking stare
Darkness moves through fields
And beasts of forest skywise glare
Intriquing eye gaze never wilts

Propelling brawlishness through hole
creeping critters down crawl
And plugging sharp edge of the cork
Shyly walks away my stork

Through the rustling folliage dives
Sleazy silencer of fog
Through grasshoper's rattle strives
Bring to me the doom of croak

Vies with raven silly frog
Loony moon appears
Silvery rays his belly stroke
Lull away our fears

Sleepy are the granting owls
Chill and vigour reins the night
Dreamy mist through dozing minds howls
Like petty thoughts when day was bright

Breaking of the day invades
Dark kingdom of night's crown
Morning light my fief invades
Bringing that darkest hour after down




My Own Poem (The man who cried,)/( The peaceful hour!

Post 9

Gardener

Simplifying sinking stare
Darkness moves through fields
And beasts of forest skywise glare
Intriquing eye gaze never wilts

Propelling brawlishness through hole
creeping critters down crawl
And plugging sharp edge of the cork
Shyly walks away my stork

Through the rustling folliage dives
Sleazy silencer of fog
Through grasshoper's rattle strives
Bring to me the doom of croak

Vies with raven silly frog
Loony moon appears
Silvery rays his belly stroke
Lull away our fears

Sleepy are the granting owls
Chill and vigour reins the night
Dreamy mist through dozing minds howls
Like petty thoughts when day was bright

Breaking of the day invades
Dark kingdom of night's crown
Morning light my fief invades
Bringing that darkest hour after dawn




My Own Poem (The man who cried,)/( The peaceful hour!

Post 10

Gardener

Simplifying sinking stare
Darkness moves through fields
And beasts of forest skywise glare
Intriquing eye gaze never wilts

Propelling brawlishness through hole
creeping critters down crawl
And plugging sharp edge of the cork
Shyly walks away my stork

Through the rustling folliage dives
Sleazy silencer of fog
Through grasshoper's rattle strives
Bring to me the doom of croak

Vies with raven silly frog
Loony moon appears
Silvery rays his belly stroke
Lull away our fears

Sleepy are the granting owls
Chill and vigour reins the night
Dreamy mist through dozing minds howls
Like petty thoughts when day was bright

Breaking of the day invades
Dark kingdom of night's crown
Morning light my fief invades
Bringing that darkest hour after dawn




My Own Poem (The man who cried,)/( The peaceful hour!

Post 11

*Princess*of*Hearts*

That was Beautiful poem and that make's you a beautiful Toosmiley - blush

The Dark side of anger.
By hilaryMarie

From the seed all sorrow
All rage
all pain
all malice
Greed
all ill~gotten gain
all spite
Revenge
and Lust
From that grain
Begat
Through habit love
or urge
all that Deals Death
to body and mind
and would strangle
as if with a rope
except it holds
in it's fibre
A purge
Called Hope.

smiley - rose


My Own Poem (The man who cried,)/( The peaceful hour!

Post 12

Gardener

This is my favourite poem, I wrote it about 13 month ago.

Quicksilver-like and rapid, light
And hugged by blaze
With sparks that fly
Embrace Thee rhyme of the pace

In fleeting moment stiff and limber
Weave around threads through spindle
Rolling laces of the space
Through the nexus of the grace

Globe revolving do evolve
Morphing with six channels of perception
Beaming effervescence do dissolve
Into the spirit of luminescent conception

You are the whirlwind born to give rebirth
Within imminglings packed of the calender
Joyfulness of life-abounding splendor
Befalls to creatures of the earth





My Own Poem (The man who cried,)

Post 13

froogly

Have you thought of submitting your poetry to the "Hall of Shame" Vogon poetry corner on the Hitchhiker's Guide site of the BBC?


My Own Poem (The man who cried,)

Post 14

froogly

PS the last posting referred to all poetry on this page.


My Own Poem (The man who cried,)

Post 15

cereusopus

I would like to know if this piece is open to review, as I think I may be able to
assist with this well-paced piece. your friend in poetry Cereus Opus smiley - smiley


My Own Poem (The man who cried,)

Post 16

Gardener

As in years pace forgotten
My piece emerges, dead or rotten
Why is this, I am forced to think,
Is an issue for your ink?
As your gentle verse does by far beat
All that arises from my wit,
Having my lines patched and stitched
I am greatly privilidged.


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