I draw more than i write but i usually put poems to my art.
Reminds me of e.e. cummings and his poems. Used them visually as well. I am sure yours is a little more comprehensive than Grasshopper and probably way prettier than a bunch of jumble words!
Okay. In Year 11 (2007) we studied magical realism, and Pablo Neruda was one of the poets we looked at. He wrote a gorgeous poem called "Song of Despair". This is the translation: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-song-of-despair/.
I wrote a "reply" to it (again, 2007, when I was 16, so it was a while ago).
THE SINGER OF YOUR SONG
Called away across the sea
A silent ship in the dusk, away from you.
Oh my abandoned one, I still remember
The last dance of lovers in the night.
But the ship that carried me could not remember,
Could not hear my song, could not turn back.
Then came the storm. The waves grew higher,
Crashing over the sides, stifling song.
I sank beneath the waves
And waited for the kiss.
It did not come from you, lost love,
With lips of warmth and passion.
It came from cold lips, silent lips,
This kiss came from death.
You may never hear the way I cried
For all hope of you remained above the waves
While I sank below into blackness,
The crushing void: no love, no song.
I did not care that I was dying
Only that I was lost and you were gone.
I felt the breath leave my body, the sea crush me
But all my thoughts went to our last velvet night.
My last secret embrace with you, idol of my desires
Stolen joy that blazed with love and glory.
Trapped beneath a sunken ship, I died
A thousand miles away from you, a heartbeat away from our love.
My frozen hands are stroking your hair in ghostly embrace
As you stand lonely on the wharves at dawn.
This is a cold and silent hour, before life stirs
Where death stalks with its converts, and we seek love.
I emerge from the sea, a memory
A sorrowful lament where the river meets the sea.
Once when you had desire and hunger
I was the love and the food.
You cried, “In you everything sank!”
But in the sea, I am the sinking one.
And all previous despair, the desperate hope
Of our last embrace, longing for another hour
Was gone, was nothing to the sorrow of the dead,
Watching the living, the loving, and knowing I am alone.
Tremulously, as a shadow might, I dance in your hands
In what sorrow am I drowned!
The sea keeps her prisoners, and as you walk away
You desert me like the wharves, unknowingly.
The stars fade and the sun taints the river red,
And I fade too. The sea keeps her prisoners.
The only thing she never had, my love,
Is my heart. That was always yours.
It is the hour of departure, my abandoned one,
Abandoning me to the night beneath the sea.
So I return, to the crushing void, the silent embrace,
Which once was your love, your arms.
Now the sea is still, the wharves are crowded,
And you are gone forever, and I die once more.
When next you take a woman in your arms, the seas will roar,
And your prisoner, my heart, will die.
I lie beneath the sea and mourn, further than everything
Ahh wish I could edit my posts. Well here is another poem.
This is a love letter from the North addressed to the South. During a time when you "stayed with your own kind". GAH I can't think of the word, but it is a nod to that.
Radiating with humid heat
Sweet Carolina
Your brave Carolina heel striked me.
I never understood the connection
I never knew our reaction
Purring lips from enticing vines
Wrapping around my sweet Carolina.
Dusky nights under beached laden stars
Racing up towards delaware, devoid of all rushes
Carolina you promised me sweetness tonight.
Carolina you know, against you, goodness brushes
Along the northern border grows a mixed rally
The nesting grounds of known winter's bane
Called to those who would be wrapped in Nunavut's gleaming eyes
Sadness of giving without return allows you Carolina to decide
New York is pushed down against the wave of lakes.
Making mistakes only seemed natural
Letting seas fester in the maidens mist
But my sweet Carolina I still turned.
Carolina find me for you are missed
Deep in the tranquility of cascades;
Washington beckons me life of glory days
Longer than before night won't settle here
Because Carolina the moon isn't far.
I only traveled here for promises
If the day never comes when earth quakes
And fate is not rearranged
Remember the sweetness of Carolina
Is only a border away.
I have a very short story, about a page that is meant for a book. It contains some mild adult content. Should I post? or no?
Last edited by koincidenskis; 02-28-2013 at 05:33 PM.
Okay. In Year 11 (2007) we studied magical realism, and Pablo Neruda was one of the poets we looked at. He wrote a gorgeous poem called "Song of Despair". This is the translation: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-song-of-despair/.
I wrote a "reply" to it (again, 2007, when I was 16, so it was a while ago).
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