someone who is crying

[NikolaiI]

Just some old poems I've dug up. I think they're all from last December. I hope you like them.

All of them are supposed to have alternating indentions line by line, which doesn't show up here, oh and I tried to change the title of the thread to some old poems, as someone who is crying is the title of the first poem, but I guess that didn't take, except on this first screen. Anyway, thanks for reading.

I know some of it is weak, but some of it I really like, and any thoughts are welcome.

[NikolaiI]

That wellspring of particular hate and despair..
When you are insulted and your whole body collapses,
When you are shut down in such a personal way,
Though you are tired, and you feel...

And you only want to cry.

But there is hope! Yes, there is always hope.
A raven cawing in the night, of eternal peace.
When everyone is your friend, all,
Extensions, when ego boundaries are let down,

And only want to cry.

And there is joy and exaltation in the future.
For there is only light in this heart,
That dispels darkness, and in the drowning
I have felt for all, I now feel for God,

And there is only joy.

[NikolaiI]

And now I'm flying high,
High above the world.
All my cares have flown,
And left me as lightness as they.
It's all about attitude really.

On this world I no longer depend.
And I am not ruled by lust.
And I am not ruled by attraction.
Value has become something real to me,
When comparison's left behind.

Responsibility's real.
But what's the use of working,
When everyone loves you.
When hate is left behind,
The world will be a better day.

[NikolaiI]

I found a place of wind and flowers,
Where the sun, with an energetic smile,
Shone, through high leafy boughs, unbound,
That cast their shadows on the ground,
And I saw you there, all in my beautiful mind.

Underneath a towering New Zealand Kauri,
An Agathis tree, of old,
You had a silken white dress on, and
In your hair blue ribbons.
You lay on a bed coloured rose and gold.

I saw you there, last night, but you could not answer.
Dreams work only one way, you know.
You were lonely in this lovely dream,
I was so excited to see you,
So beautiful in white.

Tom Petty played on the radio in my room,
When I fell asleep and went backwards in time.
I dreamed we were in some city apartment,
You were so happy to see me, and your
Compliments filled me with such love.

[NikolaiI]

Finding creative channels
To the pathways of love,
Fighting metaphyiscal,
'Cause concepts are just too easy.
"What is metaphysical, m'love?

[NikolaiI]

(1) a mystery
See? He's ceasing his creation-
Glowing smiling he is pleased.
Don't console him, though.
It's not worth caring about, either.
Sad, lamenting now,
Please feel to express yourself,
As he dries his eyes, breathless
(He's been running through the city).

He is finished with his creation-
But there is no depth there.
There was no time to perfect,
But don't get too involved.
It's not worth caring about, anyway.

And he's no good at chasing.
He is drained and used.

Don't feel bad for me, though.
Don't call me brilliant, or lame.
Selfish, call me selfish.
Yes, I'm unattractive.
But I wouldn't want you to, either.
Don't call me tense, or lazy,
In fact, it's not worth caring about, either.

There is no reason.
It's better the joy.
You'd have to tell me
If we're there still-
If you really want to marry,
Meet me in the orchard.

And joy and health exclaim!

(2) there is no negativity in my thoughts
Joy and health celebrate!
Joy and health exclaim!
Openness, like that of the sky
Formless, and yet in form,
Metaphysical, a culminating song.

Be merciful, and find yourself pleasant.
The wind, keep quiet, let us find our inner light.
This is a song, this is a whisper,
This is a calling you to good,
Perhaps it is beyond the meaning,

But winds should help to bring it across.
While here, there are no cheap shots,
And I have not "it might seem so bad,"
There is no negativity in my thoughts.

(3) relaxed, the perfect tense!
Relaxed, the perfect tense!
Timing and metaphorical true form,

Radiance, unending true radiance,
Helps to bring the meaning about.

As well as breathing thoughts,
Concentrated well on glory,
Believing they have power,
Cathecting the violence, and power,
Consecrate, always.

Experiencing the wisdom of...
Nature.
And the wisdom of the
The wild.

[NikolaiI]

Close to yourself,
Finding love and money,
Well satisfied,
Knowing well what you're worth,
Stay together.

[NikolaiI]

Why do I sometimes feel unloved?
-Unnurtured-
You can analyze yourself.
It's necessary to grow.

It's gone quiet as we enter the pain
-Who do we spend the time with?-
With money for your love,
We are at last released.

Release from thoughts that discomfit you,
-and the voice that doesn't matter-
and release from the weight of the world,
Child of light.

Life is a glad, culminating song,
-Just listen to Whitman's words-
Where everyone gives you money,
And everyone gives you love.

[NikolaiI]

the day is new, and remember,
we are always building to something.
for a respect of words,
we leave them alone for now.

join us in our departure,
we are leaving for silence,
this wordy world is left behind,
and we are in the silence of the heart.

and focus is slowly regained,
concentration is made right.
the way of the heart always leads me there,
to light.

[Pendragon]

Do you write with music, usually? These are very lovey, and there is a cadence about them almost songlike. I think they are very good indeed!

Pen

http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/Smilies/PuppyLove.gif

[NikolaiI]

(1) introduction

Write me how you're doing, darling,
As you lie down in Bree.
As you lie down in England, please,
Think of me and write.

Tell me all about
The things that mind you well,
And all the things let you be,
In your letter, do tell.

Pen for me two poems,
That tell me how you've been,
All your fears and cares,
Lay down with your pen.

Tell me, how are the cats
That in England mind you well?
Your sweetheart, here, is curious,
So in your letter tell.

(2) all atop these hills

All atop these hills,
Where it's just God and me,
And all of God's creation,
I'm lost in a world of dreams.

I stand amid the blowing rushes,
I stand against the wind
That whistles and it tells me
God's face and beauty
Lies in the wind, the rocks, and trees.

I pray for all creation,
I pray, "May all things be,"
I pray for mom and dad,
And all my friends.

My final prayer, atop these hills,
I pray that He'll bless me,
All atop these hills, I ask not
For wealth, or love, or grace.
I only ask for creativity,
From which all things spring.

(3) a fantasy, (entranced)

I'm caught in the hills of a fantasy --
I'm pinned against a tree --
I was only here for a moment, but then,
I'm caught!
It's branches wove about me.

I wept all night --
And courted the sunrise,
Until it heard my call.

And there, before my bright blue eyes,
As on my knees I fell,
It rose, above that earthen curve,
That shining, silver ball.

I cannot help it if I didn't come home sooner,
I was trapped and could not escape,
As if by the light of the moon, I
Was entranced and could not get away.

(4) a girl

I was a child of hope and fear,
Though I was a child that flew.
Always I kept the face of God near,
And always God I knew.

I was a girl lost in derision,
Though now I'm a girl that knows
That when hope and fear meet in collision,
It's fear that always blows.

(5) final poem

I've written five poems,
To tell you how I feel.
They're written for you,
So I hope you like them.

Enclosed is my letter,
Though nothing is happening.
In it I tell you I'm on a train,
And nothing is happening.

I pray you'll say you're well,
When you write me back.
And I'll pray you are kept well,
'Til your letter reaches me.

Enclosed are five short poems
with the letter I've written.
I want for you to know --
I love you only.

[NikolaiI]

Do you write with music, usually? These are very lovey, and there is a cadence about them almost songlike. I think they are very good indeed!

Pen



No, nothing yet. I quit playing guitar a few years ago, and actually I haven't written anything poetry in a while, either.

Thank you so much for your very kind praise. :)

[NikolaiI]

Reaching --
For the sky
Or just a bit of air --
In the desert,
A flower blooms and blushes.

Stretching
And yawning --
Thinking beautiful thoughts --
Each morning,
She settles in for a day of excitement --
She has the sun, all day, to watch.

Loving --
Chershing --
The sun and all around her --
The warmth --
The nights are all the same.

[NikolaiI]

Writing to a girl who writes sad songs
About Heaven and the Earth.
She writes about lost little boys,
That die in their mothers' arms.
Little children,
Looking down to Earth from Heav'n,
Sad people, starving in the streets.

Writing to a girl who's merciful and compassionate --
Tends to the sick and to the sick of heart.
Writes in her journal and she writes happy poems,
Loves her nature and god.
Writing to a girl that's devoted to God,
Divided to no two purposes. Devoted only to sacred ones and
Writes poems and songs.

Might be the pretty girl Mrs. Lynn Linton,
A daughter in spirit elect,
That Swinburne writes about.
Or she might be the fair miss Francissa
That Valentine hidden in Gordian knot.
She's not a girl defined in this poem, but this poem describes her --
Everyone should be this girl --
A daughter in spirit elect.

[NikolaiI]

Cry your tears-
The sky is falling!
And then dry your
Tears on the wind.

Don't hide your face-
Let the sun dry your tears.
Who said bloody?
The wind is good for your beautiful eyes.

Health is happy.
And you are too!
Your eyes are so bright and hale,
Child of eight.

[PrinceMyshkin]

That wellspring of particular hate and despair..
When you are insulted and your whole body collapses,
When you are shut down in such a personal way,
Though you are tired, and you feel...

And you only want to cry.

But there is hope! Yes, there is always hope.
A raven cawing in the night, of eternal peace.
When everyone is your friend, all,
Extensions, when ego boundaries are let down,

And only want to cry.

And there is joy and exaltation in the future.
For there is only light in this heart,
That dispels darkness, and in the drowning
I have felt for all, I now feel for God,

And there is only joy.

While I endorse the sentiments of this poem, I think it suffers somewhat from being a series of assertions without enough of the sort of imagery, such as "A raven cawing in the night," that would vivify these assertions. Also "I now feel for God" arrived without ay preparation: in what way, for example, does God merit your empathy?

[PrinceMyshkin]

Why do I sometimes feel unloved?
-Unnurtured-
You can analyze yourself.
It's necessary to grow.

It's gone quiet as we enter the pain
-Who do we spend the time with?-
With money for your love,
We are at last released.

Release from thoughts that discomfit you,
-and the voice that doesn't matter-
and release from the weight of the world,
Child of light.

Life is a glad, culminating song,
-Just listen to Whitman's words-
Where everyone gives you money,
And everyone gives you love.

Here too as in the other one I commented on, I could have used some particulars, some evidence. A statement such as "Life is a glad, culminating song" might bring a nod of assent from those who are congenitally or willfully optimistic, but it falls flat for me, could easily have been one of a dozen other statements beginning with "Life is....."

[NikolaiI]

While I endorse the sentiments of this poem, I think it suffers somewhat from being a series of assertions without enough of the sort of imagery, such as "A raven cawing in the night," that would vivify these assertions. Also "I now feel for God" arrived without ay preparation: in what way, for example, does God merit your empathy?

You're right, and thanks for the critical analysis. All of your points were valid, and I think this one is much weaker than the others. In the end it's nothing more than it is, and what it's saying. And it's not terribly poetic, and the last line does come from nowhere, you are right.


Here too as in the other one I commented on, I could have used some particulars, some evidence. A statement such as "Life is a glad, culminating song" might bring a nod of assent from those who are congenitally or willfully optimistic, but it falls flat for me, could easily have been one of a dozen other statements beginning with "Life is....."

This one I would defend a little more than the other, I like it a little more. It's similar to the first one in that it begins with a person analyzing a powerful emotion, feeling unloved, and trying to come to terms with reality. It says a little more than the first one, i.e. it tells us 'release' before it tells us about hope and God or whatever, but it does come in randomly, you are right. However, I like the way I did that, I like the lines "It's gone quiet as we enter the pain," and "-and the voice that doesn't matter-". The lines about money and love were just inspired by some kindness and generosity I had received that day, and they are weak in this poem, for sure.

Thank you again for your comments.

[NikolaiI]

I stand amid the drizzle,
That soon will turn to rain.
Naked in the forest,
I call her name again.

I think on all I've lost,
The hearts that I had won,
Or at least the turning point,
Where I changed from young and fair
To a monster to behold.

Lost within the leaves,
A million instants enveloped in one,
I cannot help comparing this scene,
So beautiful and serene,
To the loving face of the girl I loved,
The shining face in my mind.

And since, to grace, a moment,
An instant is it only takes,
Like the mythological Celtic Stag,
To return, to that self-same spot,
Reflected here, by Mr. Poe,
Like a circle that ever returneth in,
Is grace that's all I have.

And though from grace I often fall,
I have the gift the gods--
One god, anyway, or a fairy--
That she gave me with a kiss.
The calm leaves crowining the lady immortal
Is now my coronal.

A star, a bell, that one I loved,
Who ever returned my thoughts,
I call to her, softly now,
Across the land and sea,
To where she sleeps at ease.

And to angelic host,
I beg she is kept well,
My gaze, heaven bound,
Looking at endless slate sky,

Sealed to you, who knows my heart is thine,
I place all things yours,
And all things mine.

Exiled.

[NikolaiI]

we arise, with unsteady feet,
and humble eyes,
how long we've been outside!
all plans have long been deterred-
simple things, of substance-
they've all been swept away!
and the heroes now
have bloody eyes
our mythical things have all swept away-
this night is one horrible night,
and my minds rhythm plays a dark beat,
whatever power there is becomes tremulous,
as something there is in the stars
strips me of all energy.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I stand amid the drizzle,
That soon will turn to rain.
Naked in the forest,
I call her name again.

I think on all I've lost,
The hearts that I had won,
Or at least the turning point,
Where I changed from young and fair
To a monster to behold.

Lost within the leaves,
A million instants enveloped in one,
I cannot help comparing this scene,
So beautiful and serene,
To the loving face of the girl I loved,
The shining face in my mind.

And since, to grace, a moment,
An instant is it only takes,
Like the mythological Celtic Stag,
To return, to that self-same spot,
Reflected here, by Mr. Poe,
Like a circle that ever returneth in,
Is grace that's all I have.

And though from grace I often fall,
I have the gift the gods--
One god, anyway, or a fairy--
That she gave me with a kiss.
The calm leaves crowining the lady immortal
Is now my coronal.

A star, a bell, that one I loved,
Who ever returned my thoughts,
I call to her, softly now,
Across the land and sea,
To where she sleeps at ease.

And to angelic host,
I beg she is kept well,
My gaze, heaven bound,
Looking at endless slate sky,

Sealed to you, who knows my heart is thine,
I place all things yours,
And all things mine.

Exiled.

THis is by far my favourite of those of your poems that I've read thus far. For the most part the structure and cobntent work so gracefully together that, however, his verse


And since, to grace, a moment,
An instant is it only takes,
Like the mythological Celtic Stag,
To return, to that self-same spot,
Reflected here, by Mr. Poe,
Like a circle that ever returneth in,
Is grace that's all I have.

sticks out for me as being somewhat congested, overthought, maybe somewhat obscure.

[NikolaiI]

THis is by far my favourite of those of your poems that I've read thus far. For the most part the structure and cobntent work so gracefully together that, however, his verse


And since, to grace, a moment,
An instant is it only takes,
Like the mythological Celtic Stag,
To return, to that self-same spot,
Reflected here, by Mr. Poe,
Like a circle that ever returneth in,
Is grace that's all I have.

sticks out for me as being somewhat congested, overthought, maybe somewhat obscure.

Lol, yeah, you're right. :) And thanks for the comment.