Your Favorite Poems from fellow Lit-Netters

[TheFifthElement]

I am, simply put, in awe.

I don't know why I never found this thread before. All of these are incredible!! I've been doing research the last few weeks for an English paper that I have to write on an American author, and have read hundreds of poems by many different poets - but now I just wish that I could choose one of you to write on! Firefangled's poetry, especially, dwarfs any of the writers I've found. I don't suppose you publish anywhere, Fire? Or live in America?

But I wish somebody would delete my poems that have been posted here; they're horrible in comparison I'm really embarassed!

Anywho, here's one I found recently that I loved so much I sent it to my parents back in the US:


She is playing frogs in the long grass,
rippling the reedy sea with a series of
jerky bobs
and dips.
I see her;
bubbling carefree,
her blonde hair splashing a path
that catches the sun like broken water.

If I followed it I would find her hunkered
against the ground, stained
every shade from green to brown,
all knees and jutting elbows,

and I’d watch her, as she watches creatures
weave amongst the grass,
greeting them broadly with a throaty croak:

‘Ribbit’ for bees in their striped pajamas,
‘Ribbit’ for beetles like pebbles dropped in water,
‘Ribbit’ for butterflies skimming the breeze,

remembering how I saw her for the first time.

How nerves, like the ultrasound,
pressed into my belly.
How I stared into the murky screen,
sensing movement
swimming just below the surface.
The nurse pointing out details
vague as smoke,
an arm,
a questioning spinal curl,
crossed legs, splayed fingers
the fast shutter of a heartbeat,
two flooded lungs like wide eyes
staring back at me.

How for days afterwards I breathed more deeply.

Now she cocks a curious eye
towards the pond, still as stone.
A pond skater grapples the surface.

I watch, breathless, as she leaps.

By The Fifth Element

Mir, I've only just spotted this. Thank you so much, I am very honoured

[skasian]

Oh wow, Thefifthelement did you write that? That is such a sweet poem, reminds me of sugar coated cupcakes and toddler's mini dresses!

[Silas Thorne]

This is one of the most beautiful pieces of poetry I have ever read. Bravo, firefangled! Read it aloud. The colour and emotions will run through you:


Still Life by firefangled

I remember saying my last structured prayer,
you dead with the amazing flower sprays,
sunlight through the stained glass, brush strokes
across the white lilies like a canvas of Klee’s.

Man’s time dissolves in ashes, I repeated,
as the sun and clouds conspired to create
the red pulse over the cross of carnations
and through the veins of the marble floor.

No one planned the wild buttercups in that field.
I brought no bouquets, nor did I kneel, but lay
down in your golden days and painted you,
in my mind, relieved of all your hidden colors.

[alakungfu]

qimissung just posted this. It'e how I idealize my own relationship with my daughters.



On the Edge of the Sand


They were so awkward, in this mother daughter dance
One was the hard bright light of the noonday sun
And the wind and the lightening that formed the storm,
The other, the owl and the mouse on a midnight hunt, a dreamer
Who, book in hand, wondered and wandered
Through magic lands, a creature of the nightlit moon

She a raven who cawed fearful premonitions to the full moon
Who lured her love with her large dark eyes and a fearful dance
Who was born in one home, swore fealty to it, never wandered
Or wondered about the world, who left but came home to the sun
The daughter, fated to leave, to never come home, a dreamer
of dreams, yet dreamless, in the dreamtime, in the storm

Each loved the other with a fearful love, within a fearful storm
Each longed to touch, together, the silver rays of the moon
The mother never gave up on her wayward dreamer
And though she pined until she was shadow, she had the dance
She always danced with her lover, content together in the sun
While the other, fearful of the mirror that was her mother, wandered

And her mother, thoughts running this way and that, wandered
Into the land of “what if” and dwelt there long and long through storm,
Sunshine and shadow and wondered; and blinded, never saw the sun
The daughter, fearful of the storm, hid in the midnight moon,
Shut the door against the whirling dervish, and never learned to dance
Knew the contours of her midnight land, and there, a dreamer

Stayed; then one silver night a dreaming dance began, and the dreamer
Gave up the midnight land, and loved the sun and wandered
Nevermore; and the sun and the moon began a lovely dance,
Nevermore to be woebegone and caged within the storm;
Lovely, large, and luminous, she waxed and waned, but never moon
Did waver, she knew she loved the lion’s roar, knew she loved the sun

While setting, still glowing a lovely blushing rose, the sun
Still loved the moon with the passion of a dreamer
Knew she would make her way by the light of the fingernail moon;
Knew, with the fixed purpose of her heart, that she who wandered
Feared neither the importuning of her heart, the mirror, or the storm
But would stay awhile, and with her mother, dance

And so the dreamer stayed the storm
And happily wandered in her land of moon
To happily dance with her mother by the light of the midnight sun

[PrinceMyshkin]

I hadn't come across it yet where it was posted but will go there now to say more fully how marvellous I think it is.

Thanks for posting it, Alakungfu.

[PrinceMyshkin]

a_little_wisp;674272]

I am a Myth


Once upon a time, I lived.
Not just survived,
(As 'just surviving' is
Living off fried squirrels
Living in trees
And sh!tting under bushes),
Not only existed-
I lived.
I can tell you, first, that they elaborate
- “The multiple facets of your essence sparkle and glow with every turn.“ -
The battles were glossed over.
I cried, I bled, I held my beaten friends in my arms,
They held me-
Our armor clanking against
One another's awkwardly,
As we tried to stitch each other's
Wounds closed -
Truth be told,
I had no idea what side I was fighting on,
If there were sides,
If there are sides -
Or maybe we're all just fools
Slipping and sliding
Clumsily
Over one great, wet sphere-
(Those smooth roll-y things that people
Have in their front yard?)

The rare moments of sunshine,
The golden days –
There were never Golden Years,
No, they were lower-cased and
Played within a twenty-four hour,
Or less,
Period of time -
Were stolen or borrowed and never returned-
And in that, I must say,
I was a bit of a klepto.
But I existed,
And they were my battles,
And they were my victories
… And they were my losses –
And the embarrassing moments
Where I was unseated from my high horse
And had tomatoes smashed in my face -
I claim those too.


As I fade away,
And I will, because I must
For a time-
Because I must regroup,
Because I've lost my horse (I don't even have a kingdom
To trade it for
Go figure),
My sword,
My banner,
My wits,
And look like an idiot
Without them -
Remember me.
I leave no physical evidence behind-
I leave no sword,
I leave no sceptre,
No lock of hair,
No one Converse sneaker
Or comic book,
Or verse posted on the forum -
I leave nothing of any worth.
You may think me weak
For needing this,
For asking this of you,
For needing you--
Yes, I can be alone
Without feeling lonely,
But I am not worth much-
My worth cannot be determined-
Without people.

You thought I would be the best of them,
Lady-
Don’t give up on me yet,
Because I haven't.
You’re the only one who ever
Held my hands-
My sage, you were,
Your gnarled fingers soft
Against my long, ink-smattered
ones-
And looked me dead in eye-
Your gaze causing my
Bashful soul (poor thing,
It suffers from stage fright) to briefly panic
Before realizing that there
Was nothing to be afraid of -
And believed.

She cried out, "Why me?
I didn't ask for this,
I didn't ask for you to believe in me.
When I fall, I will fall that much harder,
And it will hurt that much more."

"Then keep your feet on the ground,
And your head just below the clouds -
Close enough to touch the stars,
And yet keep your wits about you."

"You ask a bird,
To become a giant,
And don't even offer the proper
Magic beans to make it happen."

I slip away now, into the mists -
Quite undignified,
As my boat has several leaks,
And creaks with every
Swell of a wave -
Wounded and battle-weary,
Conceding to the fact
That this battle-
Not the war,
The war ceases
For no man-
Has been lost.
I beg of you, though,
Remember me
The me of the golden days–
Immortalized by our laughter
And our pride.

At the heart of all,
In the cave,
On the green,
By the sea -
Waiting for the unicorns,
Most likely -
I existed,
The smallest of evidence remaining,
Kept to life by the hope
In your heart
That though we are but
Human,
Mortal,
And prone to burping,
And lying,
And dying,
Fighting our battles out,
Day-by-day-
At the end of it all,
We are remembered,

That at the center
Of a myth
There is truth,
And there I lie,
And from it,
Will rise again

If only you
Believe in me.
--And so every myth
Begs to be believed in.

"The point, gentlemen,
Is that they lived."
-Ever After.

[a_little_wisp]

Prince, I teared up, I'm not gonna lie.

I can't express to you the depth of how honored I feel. I really can't. I'm so pleasantly stunned. I'll write something to you in a moment.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Pending Approval

There is a church I pass on the way to town. 

Hoping to hit a red light (annoying the drivers
behind me) I break, lost in the sheer
esotericism of the cut glass pyramid 

atop the pitched roof. Not a wooden
cross with bloodstained skewers 

but a crystal volcano I swear hurls the
innocent, the forgiven and the virtuous
directly to heaven.

Turn up "Sweet Jane" for the hundredth time

"The whole world's coming to an end, Mal."
"I see angels, Mickey. They're comin' down
for us from heaven.”

and remember the way you kissed.
Outlaw lips daring the bullet
to holster the gun. Michelangelo’s
revolution on the chapel wall - an
angel posse gathering on the ceiling -

the light turns and I think of you there,

sensibly praying for the crusades to begin.
Waiting for just one sign that today is the day 

you take your place among the chosen
and drive on.

~Sophia~

[Virgil]

I really like this one.

I, Too, Sing of a Maiden
by Qimissung

I sing of a matchless maiden
who sat in a garden of roses
head bent,
quietly reading
when a moonflower vine grew up around her
crept round her feet
curled up her ankles
encircled her waist
twined itself through her arms and hair
a white petal resting on her cheek
at last the maiden sighed
moon and flower bloomed and glowed
and the night was arrayed with its delicate scent
the last page read, the moon set, book and flower closed,
and the maiden slept

http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=41984

[Virgil]

This is truely one of the great lit net poems. I adore this one:

The Poem Was Always Meant To Be Yours
by ~Sophia~

You asked for clarity and I released
a thousand white doves with ribbons
spun from my hair to lasso the sun.
But in the pure rays of streaming light
you saw only the shadows of charred
ravens pecking at your eyes.

You asked for the serenity of clear blue
ocean waters and I built an ark to sail
you around the world. Heaving,
you got seasick in the harbor.

You asked for the wisdom of stones and
I carved a temple in your name on a rocky
mountain top. Standing at the bottom
you said the elevation made you weak.

And when I’d run out of miracles
realized - you were the sorrow
I would never breach.

http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=42457

[~Sophia~]

I am incredibly honored Virgil. Thank you.

[a_little_wisp]

I love a lot of poetry. People will mention 'Alone' by Edgar Allen Poe, and I'll dive off into a recitation. I'll swoon over 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock' and get sappy over Tennyson. I'll backspace out of nervousness dozens times when I'm commenting on Prince's, Qimi's, Firefangled's, or Silas' poems because they're so eloquent. Then, occasionally, I'll find something that touches me - me - that reflects... something about me.

~Sophia~ is an incredible poetess. Never have I read a poem of hers that didn't make me sit still and ponder over it for a good few minutes after it's read. She is brilliant, flexible, and what's more, she's so achingly real. I feel, each time she posts, like I'm taking a peek into those deep places of a person's mind that few people get to see, and maybe the true meaning is lost in the translation from mind to paper (it's all in perception, after all) but not the essence.

And so, without further ado, after serious ponderings:

Canary Monologue

I often have time away from your hands
to sit by the brook and babble to stones
looking back at me with dispassionate
curiosity.

Today the trickle is rather dull.
A stagnating conversation of small
sonar pings between pebbles

pale as the song of this meadow
caught in my throat. Muse, take me
with you when you drift past

ordinary. Show me legends stacked like
firefly colonies thick as the labyrinth above -
black as the graphite that weaves between

green rain and grenades, the erotic left and
the benign right - to where the canto shimmies
and even a bird with weak wings
can pierce the sky.

[~Sophia~]

Dearest Wispy, my fingers are fumbling for the right way to reply. They keep tripping over themselves to write thank you in a thousand different ways while my heart keeps beat but, nothing even comes close to the way I feel. Gratefully, my deepest... thank you.

[Riesa]

I love a lot of poetry. People will mention 'Alone' by Edgar Allen Poe, and I'll dive off into a recitation. I'll swoon over 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock' and get sappy over Tennyson. I'll backspace out of nervousness dozens times when I'm commenting on Prince's, Qimi's, Firefangled's, or Silas' poems because they're so eloquent. Then, occasionally, I'll find something that touches me - me - that reflects... something about me.

~Sophia~ is an incredible poetess. Never have I read a poem of hers that didn't make me sit still and ponder over it for a good few minutes after it's read. She is brilliant, flexible, and what's more, she's so achingly real. I feel, each time she posts, like I'm taking a peek into those deep places of a person's mind that few people get to see, and maybe the true meaning is lost in the translation from mind to paper (it's all in perception, after all) but not the essence.

And so, without further ado, after serious ponderings:

she's definitely got the touch, really beautiful choice.

[~Sophia~]

Riesa, came home from dancing salsa and saw your supportive message. I am floored. Thank you so much!!!!!