Poems

[Zerow]

I've developed a new-found love for poetry, so I thought I'd share my interest with you guys.

To kick things off, below are two poems which I wrote and originally submitted over on the Wooden Dice community. Apart from a name change for the first one (it was originally called Flawlessness), the poems are completely unaltered from when I originally wrote them. Let me know what you think of them, and feel free to submit any poems you've written yourself here. :)

Perfection

Perfection lurks behind every corner I approach,
and when I turn the corner, it's behind the next one;
mocking me, teasing me,
daring me to get as close to it as I can.

Many say perfection is unattainable,
but I believe it is, in some cases;
and I swear on my life, one day, I will turn a corner,
and perfection will be there, beaming to me in welcome.

----

Taxi Driver

It's a living,
though not much, admittedly;
the journeys and the passengers take you to all places,
places you might never have gone to otherwise.

I've been here, I've been there,
no need to know where I'm going, just to know where I've been;
but what I'd give for a change one day,
for a passenger to jump in and shout, "Follow that car!"

[andy]

very good :) I'd write a poem but I'm rubbish.


A poem by Hans moleman, I fear I will never see, my cateracts are blinding me

:+

[Lance]

I think that I shall never see
Another pilot as old as me.

;)

and nothing to do with Wipeout or other videogames, but:



we walked in wind, free like waves in the grass of the plains as far as we could see.

hand in hand, skin to skin, skin to sky, saying no words, and none to say words against us.

two in one soul, one wind, one world.



-- Lancelot Price, written 2006, February, 10, about 1:00 AM

[Zerow]

I really like that second one Lance! :+

Here's a new one I've just finished writing. It's a fair bit longer than the other two I've submitted here:

A World In Motion

It's nearly four A.M.,
but I'm wide awake;
I cannot sleep,
and all is still around here.

They call this the slumber hour,
where all becomes immobile;
regathering their strength and refreshing their minds,
for another new day of joy, or grief, or frustration.

Yet not everybody is in an unavoidable stupor at the same time,
for the nature of this world does now allow it;
never is the entire world embraced as one by the morning glory,
or drowned by the shadow of midnight with the stars maintaining the twilight.

In fact, not everybody slumbers under the pale and gentle gaze of the Moon,
whether they wish things to be that way or not;
night creatures such as owls and bats, swooping through the ocean of darkness,
night-shift workers, who's tedious and strenuous jobs push them to their limits.

For every person who's getting out of bed,
there's another who's getting into their's;
for every clock that strikes two A.M.,
there's another that strikes two P.M.

Breakfasts are eaten, suppers are prepared;
children depart for school, children depart for home;
wars are fought, tears are cried;
life springs forth here, landscapes pass on there.

This world is a forever revolving wheel of life,
never is it fully, absolutely still and silent;
the only chance of this occuring is if all life on this planet is eradicated,
yet life always finds a way, it is an invincible miracle that will continue to bow down to nothing untill the end of time.

[Lance]

Thanks. Several people have told me they like that one. Probably my best.

----------

Now I'm gonna do something for which you'll probably want to harm me, namely, rewrite your poem in my style, even changing the title a bit. It's probably not plagiarism, more of an imitation inspired by your original, but just say the word and I'll delete it. My variation turned out shorter and faster running than your original; I have very little attention span sometimes. ;)

'Motional World

Stillness
4 A.M. and wide awake.

They call it the slumber hour.
The sleepers refresh
Gather their strength.
A new day comes
A day of joy or grief
Success or sheer frustration.

Yet not all fall prey to one blankness.
Some will never see a morning glory
Some will never see the Evening Star.

To each his time of going
To school
To church
To marriage bed
To play or work
All depends on who you are

And where.

All round the day
All round the world
Through life and death
And love and war
The wheel keeps turning
Never still
Ever living till the end of time.

[Zerow]

I like it! A nice alternative of the original. :)

Here's a new one I wrote today during a free period at college:

Trees

They're among the most fashion conscious individuals,
their look changing along with the seasons;
a vibrant dress of green for the Summer,
a long coat of gold and red for Autumn.

Their patterns change along with the times,
and the people who live alongside them with them;
soaking up the rays during Summer,
becoming dormant and sleepy during Winter.

There is much the same between trees and us,
yet there is always one big difference;
the body of a tree remains strong and healthy for centuries, milleniums even,
compared with the pitifully fragile shell of a human being.

[Zerow]

Here's another one. I wrote this way back in August:

Kill Or Be Killed

The eye of Death,
black, empty, endless;
regarding you silently,
it's wielder bent on blowing your brains out.

In the opposite direction,
Death's other eye regards your foe;
waiting for your command,
one stroke shall sweep away his life.

Death regards you and your foe,
murder courses through both your veins;
who shall it be then,
you or him?

[Medusa]

Passion for Whatever

Carefully senses attune to the forces at play,
Holding impatiently while the power grows
Until at last it is released away,
And bursting forth, it goes.

Blue heat scalds the air as shaking from the speed it flies,
The ground is rarely seen and buildings are a blur…
Numbers pour forth as curves benumb the eyes,
As velocity increases the guidance must be sure.

There is a moment of insane calm beforehand,
Pushing forward, lifting off into the cloudy realm.
For a time one can forget about the land,
Forget the shock, the reflexes, and gauges at the helm.

Back down to earth and all around again,
And then dragged out of the dream into reality and its lions’ den.

[lunar]

Nice use of sonnet form, I like it. 8)

[Zerow]

Very cool, Isadora! :+

I'm still writing poems. In fact, I'm about to start looking into getting mine published. :)

[Medusa]

Thanks guys!

Hope you find a good publisher Zerow! I am just finishing the final draft of a sad and pathetic novel that I am hoping will be published by a low-class pocket novel publisher - the sort of book where you can tell the author is just cutting their teeth on novels...but I don't care. I just want to see if it's publishable:D

I was trying to get across the transferable emotions that Wipeout conveys in the above poem...easier said than done though:frown: I don't really write poetry for others to read usually.

Love your poem "Perfection"...what wipeout fans are really all about!

[q_dmc12]

I have been browsing this thread for awhile now, haven't concentrated much on making poems (though I may soon to relieve stress). I'd like to throw one out here and obviously its not mine but I like the way it reads, flame me if you must (last statement aimed at the mods;)) - I love the Moody Blues:


In Search Of The Last Chord (Departure)

Be it sight, sound, smell, or touch,
There's something inside, that we need so much.
The sight of a touch, or the scent of a sound,
Or the strength of an oak, with roots, deep in the ground.
The wonder of flowers, to be covered, and then to burst up,
Through tarmac, to the sun again, or to fly to the sun,
Without burning a wing, to lie in a meadow,
And hear the grass sing. To have all these things,
In our memories hoard, and to use them,
To help us, to find the lost chord...

-- The Moody Blues - "Ride My Seesaw"
(Graeme Edge)

[Lance]

Don't forget to pick up the side-project album, Blue Jays, done by Justin Hayward and John Lodge. Without looking it up, I'd say it was released in 1975. I think. Beautiful album; I only have it on LP, though.

I saw the MBs' in Lakeland, Florida, on their first new tour after keyboardist Patrick Moraz had replaced Mike Pinder, who couldn't or wouldn't tour anymore.