Poems about a girl (And other subjects, but mostly a girl)

[Wensleydale]

Do you know them or merely know of them?
If you've been hurt before, you don't really want anything to do with it again.  Until you fall in love again.  Then it's like a drug; you can't get enough.

The thing that seems strange but wonderful to me is that, while she does not seem to want anything to do with me, and she has in one form or another broken my heart a total of three times, I love her still.  In a different way than I used to, but I love her nonetheless.  

This is weird, talking about this to people I only know through the internet.  

Hah, I know what you mean...

[SA]

But surprisingly, the CBG is a nice place for it.  A very receptive, compassionate, intuitive community.  It's a place where we're received not only as gamers, but as humans.  That's the main reason I'm over here rather than Wizards: where else can I talk about... oh, just about anything, and have an audience?

[Seraph]

Yeah, it's a lot better here.  I don't think there's even anywhere on Wizards where you could discuss these sorts of things, much less anyone I'd want to discuss them with.

as to the assholeness, I know about that too.  I once made a total jerk out of myself to a girl after she broke up with me.  (This is a different girl, she inspired me to write too-but not poetry)  Then I found out that her friend was having suicidal thoughts and her parents were divorcing among numerous other conditions.  Yeah . . . I felt like a total ass.  

[Seraph]

Another poem.  Not my best work, just something I made up playing with words and word endings

Gibberish

I pine
At thine
Sign
Which in truth â,¬Ëtis mine;
Resign!
Entwine
Design
Divine
To govern swine.
Dine
With them you malign
Brine
That hath no shine
Of your own.  Fine
Day to whine
For nine
Hours straight the vines
Donâ,¬,,¢t climb
The way that you incline.

Untruth!
Nay, forsooth
A tooth
Was lost by idiot most uncouth:
A youth
Bit open a bottle of vermouth.

Valorâ,¬,,¢s
Color
Fades with dolor,
Solar
Dignity; controller.
 
My happiness
May soon regress
To mend the mess
Of my excess.
It doth depress
The smooth caress
Of stiff compress
That my wounds dress;
So press,
Duress,
And stress,
Princess.
Please bless
Me with your loveliness
But I digress
And see now less,
Oh my curse to be reckless
My vision fades to nothingness.
My jealousness
And avarice
That I express;
My clumsy guess
Should not impress;
Death has finesse.

[So-Keher]

i think im gonna cry...
your form and structure is very unique, it doesn't necessarily rhyme, but it isnt hard on the tongue or chppy either, like a stream of consciousness almost. really excellent. i wish i had the courage to post stuff like that :(

god school ruins everything! i know where you're coming from dude....
you've inspired me
everyone says im a good writer maybe i should try my hand at fiction or poetry....;)

[beejazz]

Har... "very unique." I still flinch on hearing that.

A thing is either one of a kind or it isn't... being more one of a kind, what are you then? Two of a kind? Eight of a kind? Come to think of it, they should have a word for that:OCTIQUE!

Win.

Yeah.

Uh...

What was I talking about?

[SA]

I must admit I didn't really like that one. The second half is good, but not so much the first.  Your ability to string sequences of rhyming words is to be commended, however.

[So-Keher]

Uh...

What was I talking about?

i would ask the same question. fine, in your sense of the word, his prose is quite distinctive, a plaintitive cry to the hearts and minds of us, the young souls of this bereaved world, lost through the death of a thousand blooming and yet wilting relationships, antiquities of our mortal souls.


Erm...i don't know where that came from hehe

[Seraph]

I must admit I didn't really like that one. The second half is good, but not so much the first.  Your ability to string sequences of rhyming words is to be commended, however.

I don't care for it as much either.  It was more to excercise my creative mind than anything else.  It lacks meaning.  The only inspiration was a whim after going through a similar activity orally.  The middle is crap.  The beginning is ok.  The end is probably as good as it could be, lacking a purpose.

I would actually hesitate to call Gibberish poetry.  It's more just strings of clever verbage.

[Seraph]

A Poem for Poetryâ,¬,,¢s Sake

Devoid of mind I try again to write
And struggle on to find the proper term
My task, illusionâ,¬'only to my sight
For no one else is looking, all are firm
In their removal from myself
And hold me with contempt upon a shelf.

I rage and fume and wonder why my poems
Should not deserve the same respect as theirs;
I write nigh twice as many in my tome
As those donâ,¬,,¢t read mine with any care.
And yet refusal to acknowledge gift
They have for me and thus create this rift.

It makes me mad!  I try again to write,
My struggle all the more unfeasible
Why do no words come to my vision bright,
To pierce the darkness impenetrable?
Words, come to me!  Approach and bow your head
To my unbounded will, thereâ,¬,,¢s something to me said.

What, you ask?  Such insolence, how dare you?
Though now I think, I know not what to say.
So sure was I in my unyielding view
To write, blind to lack of purpose; use,
What reason thus, to write?  To prove I can.
I poem for sake of poems, why, how bland!

No more!
No longer shall I write
To say I did,
Instead I write because I have a reason.
And is not reason better, fuller, stronger
Than mere entropy?
Better than for pride?

I think it is.  I think Iâ,¬,,¢ve come to know
Why others saw my poems with disregard.
For I now seem them with the same disgust
They have no meaning,
Have no heart,
No soul,
Empty.

But I shall fill them yet!
Perhaps these poems are rather beyond help.
I find they have no opening,
No place to fill them, what a shame.

But now I know in any case
The error of the my vanity
That hid the beauty from my sight
That so more than what I wrote deserved my poetry.

And yet a poemâ,¬,,¢s purpose is not beauty
Nor cleverness
Nor description,
But a deeper truth.
I have come to know a deeper truth.
What is it?
Thatâ,¬,,¢s a story for another day;
Another poem.

[SA]

Never stop writing.  Embrace that deeper truth.

That is all I have to say.

[Seraph]

Eternally Affected

In the end, none of it matters.
That you broke my heart,
That I cannot see you;
The effect of your affect long gone
Affects me nonetheless.

The sight of you enthralled me once,
Your slave I was from then on out.
I never have retreated since
Iâ,¬,,¢ve always loved you without doubt.

Iâ,¬,,¢ve never seen an imperfection
Though youâ,¬,,¢ve said youâ,¬,,¢re rife with them.
Any time with your attention
Is a heaven; I am blessed.

My thoughts revolve around you day and night
More than you can possibly know.
I know that you donâ,¬,,¢t see in me
What I canâ,¬,,¢t help but see in you,
But still I love you helplessly,
Lost in the intoxication
Of that first sight,
That first word
All was light
I am a bird.

I fly on wings unseen
Above the clouds that hide you from my sight.
Those clouds are of your making,
Make me plummet ever downward
Still exulted, now I see you
As the clouds I leave behind.

Falling is a kiss.
Itâ,¬,,¢s true; they say endorphins
Work the same with either one.
The thrill is just the same,
Just as my love is just the same.
So as I fall to meet my doom from love of you
I kiss you
And all is wonderment.

I see you there
From far away
And remember what we used to be
I watch you move so gracefully;
Your every step a dance,
And I think of when you used to dance with me.
And in the pain I fall,
I kiss,
I love eternally,
Falling,
Ever falling
Downward in a sky that never ends.
My paradise the very thought of you,
The endless kiss of my love
Enveloping me in a haze where all is pure.

[Seraph]

Venus

Your beauty today
Beyond your perpetual
Inspired me thus to divulge
My admiring wonder.

Ah, exquisite Irony!
What perfect choice of term
That you should look like sunset
On the sunset of our love.

Oh, happy curse!
My thoughts are you.
Your thoughts are anything but me.
I am pain and joy.

Ah, exquisite Irony!
Such is my predicament
That I should love Love herself
And Love should not love back.

[Seraph]

The Mask

Do you wear the mask that grins and lies?
Of course you do.  Deny it not.
Each day is lived out in disguise,
Deceitful at a steady trot.

Though we met some years ago
Iâ,¬,,¢ve never truly known you.
The absurdity of synthetic ego
That permeates our daily view

Itâ,¬,,¢s normal, yet unnatural
How did it become so?
It all comes down to folderol
To exist incognito.

For that is what we really are
When we together tread
Ourself is naught but an elaborate visor
Our honesty is dead.

And how sweet irony reveals
The art of masking most auspicious
To mask the mask unmasks the real
How virtuous to be capricious!

For those unyielding most concealing
Desperately show off consistent.
But those who truly are sufficient
Need no more than truthful feeling

The mask of truth destroys the mask of lies
And leaves no falsehoodâ,¬,,¢s façade to despise.

[Seraph]

Infection

O, Justless and merciless
Merit-lacking, and ruthless
Driving men to madness
Cower, dour, and sour,
It vexes vexation
Destroys destruction
Deceives deception
So massive is its painful, pleasant power.

Senseless, capricious;
Cruelly facetious
Fury and frustration
Are its mere sustention
A will-oâ,¬,,¢-wisp;
Venomous asp
Arduous, torturous
Envious all the same
Pernicious, malicious
Playing itâ,¬,,¢s nigh sadistic game.

Wordless,
It evades description.
Sightless,
It evades recognition.
Why must we be plagued with this coy, dishonest dove
That strength and purpose fall away to brute, oppressive love?