And the word is...

Perhaps this has already been done, but I was wondering if any of you would like to write a poem about the same word. I don't really consider this a game, but rather, a way for us to 'see' each other.

So, if it is okay to proceed, I will choose the first word. Lucky me. :D Tomorrow, being a special holiday for the U.S.A., I have chosen the word Independence, not necessarily for the red white and blue, but for you.

I am working on mine but PLEASE post yours as soon as you have it!

SPECIAL NOTE TO LATECOMERS: If you come late to the party and you see a word that we have already done, but you would still like to use that word for your poem, go ahead but let us know which word. Thank you.

Independence

Threw off those binding chains—
Got tired of those apron strings—
Look out, world, I gotta be free.

Tired of just moving with the flow—
Others telling me when to stop and when to go—
There’s more to life out there for me…

Packed up just the basic things I’d need—
Set out looking for my destiny—
Tires screeching as I drove away into the sunset…

Now I will probably feel the longing and the pain—
When I go to sleep under a bridge in this pouring rain—
But just look at it this way I have finally found the nerve to gain
My independence…

Pendragon
© 7/3/07

i feel like posting a poetry (by me of course) that's been already posted earlier in the picture poetry contest. dunno if i should proceed... may be its too far-fetched from the given word-of-inspiration...may be there's no room for repeatation.
well...?

idpendencne

who am i to you?
and what do i mean.
obviously im not important
because you stole my heart and soul
i never needed you to stand on my own to feet
but you knocked me over just so you could help me up
i guess that kiss was just a trick
to capture the free spirit inside of me
and lock me in a cage
you took away my freedom
and tried to controll my life
you took away my hope and dreams
and you almost suceseded in keeping me down
you took away my controll
and you almost got controll of me
but even after you
and that pain staked journey
i still remain true to myself
and i still am a free spirit to yourney
alone and without hesitation.
~sickly in love with sucide~

i hope its ok that it doesnt rhyme...and i hope this is kinda what you where looking for.

symphony and steph, the only 'rule' here is that you post a poem about Independence...whatever that word might mean to you personally...no rules about rhyme or meter or any of that.

Independence...not a problem for me!
The problem's with those who would rather see...
Me happily married...or at least receiving alimony!
Though that would put their minds to rest...
Such conventions I do protest!
Besides... I haven't been so blessed.
But Freedom always has it's price...
I traded it all...and never thought twice...
Independence sure feels nice!

I am in-dependence
on food and shelter
and on my daily,
sometimes twice-daily espressos.

I am in-dependence
on communication with my
fellow men and women,
on breath, on thought.

But most of all
I am in-dependence
on love...

Independence:
The right to smile
whenever the
hell i want. :)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by jon1jt

Independence:
The right to smile
whenever the
hell i want. :)

---

You get an Amen! and a Hallelujah! from the choir on that one! :)

These are all wonderful.
I love the twisty turn with 'in-dependence'.
So far, we have the feelings of breaking the chains that bind us or no matter how down and out we are, we can still remain true to ourselves, and how others may be envious of our independence or how a simple gesture is all the freedom in the world.

Wow. "More please?"

-for Carol


What fear hides in our skin has no faith in steel or design.

Through years it moves like water colors in rain,
mingles itself in moonlight, and gravity has its way,
pulling us into the dream where we have no wings.

And then there is the retrofit crew, the rusted plates
that bark like some ancient dog as the car passes over them,
a blessing in a way, drowning the Pacific waves
that sound so much like rushing air or the last whispers
of the day as we fall into sleep, hiding in the ear
like the ocean in a shell, the dark closet of falling.

Below the magnificence of the coast is a postcard,
but strength does not come from the book of splendor,
it is the breath of independence that takes in the world
and floats the blue palette of the sea in your open eyes.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by firefangled

-for Carol


What fear hides in our skin has no faith in steel or design.

Through years it moves like water colors in rain,
mingles itself in moonlight, and gravity has its way,
pulling us into the dream where we have no wings.

And then there is the retrofit crew, the rusted plates
that bark like some ancient dog as the car passes over them,
a blessing in a way, drowning the Pacific waves
that sound so much like rushing air or the last whispers
of the day as we fall into sleep, hiding in the ear
like the ocean in a shell, the dark closet of falling.

Below the magnificence of the coast is a postcard,
but strength does not come from the book of splendor,
it is the breath of independence that takes in the world
and floats the blue palette of the sea in your open eyes.

---

I wonder if you'd be capable of composing an ordinary post-card from, say, Cape Cod or some more mundane place without expressing yourself in such magnificent poetry?

But I note that you have opted not to receive private messages which saddens me because I would have loved to communicate with and get to know you - with NO ulterior motives!

Independence by Ampoule, July 4, 2007

Look out!
There's another one!
They went flying to the giant rhododendron
and hid there glowing in the night.
The bombs were bursting,
The lights were flashing,
But she, Coleoptera, was too bright
And he, Lampridae, saw it coming,
But it was too late.
Whoosh! Clink!
She was gone.
He followed her captors in the dark of night,
listening to their cruel laughter,
And all that running here and there
Was exhausting, but he waited.
She sat there, dazed, and looked around her prison.
There were others like her,
But they just sat there still and quiet and resting.
Did you not try to escape?
They only looked at her.
She felt a draft from above and reached up
to push against the weight of it.
Nothing.
She flitted all around trying to catch a glimpse
of her lover but saw only the cruel hand
of her captor and fire sparkling in the distance.
She was frantic, closed in, the air so stale.
And then a stillness in the night and she heard a voice.
Her fellow prisoners began to stir.
What's this, she thought.
Julian! Marguerite! It is late. You must come in now.
But mother! Look what we've got?
She looked down at their little glass jars,
You must let them go for tonight.
Protesting all the way,
They went in for their nightly baths.
The prisoners flew out, one by one,
Smiling at her as they found the sky.
She rested at the top and blinked, I'm free!
But he was already there, beside her,
And together they flew off,
Into the night.

May all your jars be opened. Happy independence day, no matter where you are.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by ampoule

Independence by Ampoule, July 4, 2007

Look out!
There's another one!
They went flying to the giant rhododendron
and hid there glowing in the night.
The bombs were bursting,
The lights were flashing,
But she, Coleoptera, was too bright
And he, Lampridae, saw it coming,
But it was too late.
Whoosh! Clink!
She was gone.
He followed her captors in the dark of night,
listening to their cruel laughter,
And all that running here and there
Was exhausting, but he waited.
She sat there, dazed, and looked around her prison.
There were others like her,
But they just sat there still and quiet and resting.
Did you not try to escape?
They only looked at her.
She felt a draft from above and reached up
to push against the weight of it.
Nothing.
She flitted all around trying to catch a glimpse
of her lover but saw only the cruel hand
of her captor and fire sparkling in the distance.
She was frantic, closed in, the air so stale.
And then a stillness in the night and she heard a voice.
Her fellow prisoners began to stir.
What's this, she thought.
Julian! Marguerite! It is late. You must come in now.
But mother! Look what we've got?
She looked down at their little glass jars,
You must let them go for tonight.
Protesting all the way,
They went in for their nightly baths.
The prisoners flew out, one by one,
Smiling at her as they found the sky.
She rested at the top and blinked, I'm free!
But he was already there, beside her,
And together they flew off,
Into the night.

May all your jars be opened. Happy independence day, no matter where you are.

---

How fine! How fine and FREE! Truly worthy in its freedom and soaring elegance of the theme you set for us! What a 1 - 2, #11 above and now this!

Thank you, thank you prince. That was exactly the feeling I was going for. Tell me though, did you know right from the start that I was talking about lightning bugs? I just HAD to use names for them when I saw how close Coleoptera was to Cleopatra. What that has to do with anything I have no idea. :)

Would you like to choose the next word?