Post your Poems and Get Reviews!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Captain Pike

T'was just about then, that the Princess walked in.
Her fine garments were ragged and bloody.
Her perception was one,
of ghastly atrocities done;
there was plenty of Scarlet to study.

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Hi Capt'n!

I must say you left a few things to the imagination. Is this on purpose? For example, the when or what time is “then”? What exactly were the “ghastly atrocities”? These mysteries go so well with the scene. You leave me wondering if the scene that unfolded actually led to murder. And the “twas” throws this scene back to the time even before Shakespeare. I think what you might be doing is, as the scene unfolds, leave hints for the reader to pick up on to try and resolve the scene. I also think that is why you have the rhyme pattern: to connect different ideas into one uninterrupted scene. That’s actually a neat idea to work with.

But this poem is way too short for me to be sure of anything. I would definitely expand on the plot of the poem to reinforce these ideas.

The cast of nations performs its` illusions,
A show that is spiced with riddled confusions.
Presenting its` latest act - the creation of a much debated confederation.
Could well be the preparation for a super-state formation.
To a new beginning - to brotherly ties,
Raise your glasses, " Mud in your eyes ".

Plans are proposed in halls of power,
Signatures, treaties ignored every hour
Symbolic handshakes- ` Europe shall rise !`
To nations united in half truths and lies,
Let us drink,
A toast ! - " Mud in your eyes "

The phoenix is re-born from the fire,
Transformed to an eagle soaring higher and higher,
To unlock the future we must turn to the past,
When a prophet spoke,
"Rome shall not last,
your lots have been cast."

To The New World Order, " The Beast " soon to rise,
To control our alls` fates until Yeshua arrives,
I say dear chaps,
"Fill the cup"
"Bottoms up"
"Mud in your eyes.

If I walked with you
Amidst the blaze of beautiful flowers,
I would ask them to bow to you
For you are my Queen.

If I could affect the light of the moon that`s full, at will,
I would command it to change its` color
To the one that is your favorite,
for you are my Queen.

If this my poor attempt at painting words for you,
Can bring home to your understanding
Only some of the deep feelings, that I hold for you,
I would have achieved something.

And if I could speak my words with a voice that does not break up
For all the emotions that swell up inside of me,
I would try whilst you listen, to convey to your mind
All the things, that I always wanted to say to you,
But that can not be easily expressed in common speech -
Such as my deep devotion, that I would be prepared
To take all the pain and unhappiness that ever may come your way,
Gladly upon myself, to suffer in your stead,
So you may be happy,
For you are my Queen.

If all the music that has ever been written, could be put together
As one composition of immortal sound,
I would get the greatest masters to work on it
And present it from me to you
As a confession of my everlasting love,
For you are my Queen.

If it were at all possible for me
To form the stars of a nightly summers` sky
Into an orchestra, I would do so -
Then tell them to play just for you, whilst I myself would conduct
This concerto of a million harmonies and magnificent beauty,
For you are a very precious gift -
My strength , my friend, my life,
you are my world, my beloved wife,
You are my Queen.

"We belong to the clan of Neanderthal-man,
Clear proof of evolution.
God is dead, creation a myth", so the ` Know it all ` said -
And " Let science be your solution. "
But now it has come out that after all,
He wasn't our original father at all,
That today`s knowledge has shown,
From the DNA in his bones,
We must be related to totally different species.
Perhaps to prehistoric garden-gnomes,
Or the long extinct tribe of highland-trolls,
Therefore, I am convinced that the blighters can see,
Our advancement is continually.
So, naturally from garden gnomes, from highland-trolls,
From our present stage of existence,
We have already started our next gradual change,
Into the next specie -
Of cabbage-patch dolls.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Sigvard

The cast of nations performs its` illusions,
A show that is spiced with riddled confusions.
Presenting its` latest act - the creation of a much debated confederation.
Could well be the preparation for a super-state formation.
To a new beginning - to brotherly ties,
Raise your glasses, " Mud in your eyes ".

Plans are proposed in halls of power,
Signatures, treaties ignored every hour
Symbolic handshakes- ` Europe shall rise !`
To nations united in half truths and lies,
Let us drink,
A toast ! - " Mud in your eyes "

The phoenix is re-born from the fire,
Transformed to an eagle soaring higher and higher,
To unlock the future we must turn to the past,
When a prophet spoke,
"Rome shall not last,
your lots have been cast."

To The New World Order, " The Beast " soon to rise,
To control our alls` fates until Yeshua arrives,
I say dear chaps,
"Fill the cup"
"Bottoms up"
"Mud in your eyes.

---

Hi Sigvard,

How are you? Good I hope.

This is a scene acted out on a world stage, in consideration of other nations. The way each nation behaves is phony, and the storyline is phony. You have a concrete idea about the way people behave in front of the public is not how they really behave in private. I wish I would have gotten more of a dialogue between actual characters, so as to play with the illusion and what’s real. Also I had hoped for a more detailed scene played out, but all I got were generalized characterizations, which are not fine; you run the risk of your work being considered superficial in its idea. If being phony in this context is all show, then shouldn’t what is revealed, what is truthful, be more insightful?

Friends, Romans and countrymen - lend me your ears.
Hallo everyone I think it is about time that I introduced myself to you.
As I am a newcomer to these shores, I do not know if this is actually the
right way. However let us see what happens. I hope to get some communications in return.
My name is Sigvard von Brevern. I am of German nationality, but have for
some 40 years lived in the United Kingdom, my abode is "sunny " Brighton.
Since a young age already I have been interested in writing some form of
poetry, mostly the rhyming type. Well, as you probably gathered, I am quite
an old " biddy " I am of the tender age of 70.
Besides of writing poetry, I also like the composing of music in various styles,
some of which has been performed to live audiences at different venues,
such as stately homes, ships, hotels/restaurants, music bars etc.etc.
I hope to hear from some of you, especially some comments and constructive
criticism to my poetic contributions.
For now, Roger and out, arrivederci, ta-ta and so forth.

Spring brought warmer days,
Melted the ice on the lake,
Found the willows still asleep
And kissed them awake.
Countless hours and more
Have I searched our haunts of yesterday,
Where were you when the song-birds flew back
From their far-off hideaway?

Summer came with those
warm nights in soft shades of blue,
Gave a new lease of life
To my memories of you.
I recalled how we hand in hand chased the wind
Like children play,
Where were you when the wild geese returned
From a cold and distant bay?

Autumn changed summers` brightness
To new color-schemes,
Leaves fell, drowned in the lake,
Sadness lived in my dreams.
Once more winter winds
Drifted the snow across a moody sea,
Where were you when a cruel, frosty morning
Froze every hope in me?
where were you when I thought of you,
longed for you,
wanted you with me?

Spring brought warmer days,
Melted the ice on the lake,
Found the willows still asleep,
Then kissed them awake.
Countless hours and more
Have I searched our " haunts of yesterday ",
Where were you when the song-birds flew back
From their far-off hideaway?

Summer came with those
Warm nights in soft shades of blue,
Gave a new lease of life
To my memories of you.
I recalled how we hand in hand chased the wind
Just like children play,
Where were you when the wild geese returned
From a cold and distant bay?

Autumn changed summers` brightness
To new color schemes,
Leaves fell, drowned in the lake,
Sadness lived in my dreams,
Once more winter-winds
Drifted the snow across a moody sea,
Where were you when a cruel, frosty morning
Froze every hope in me?

Yes, where were you when I thought of you,
longed for you,
wanted you with me?

This is the poem I have wrote..
I walked into that hollow room,
I looked and looked to find you.

There you were, sitting and stairing at me like you were guilty. Why not smile at me?

I wanted to run into your arms, but can't because I felt like I would get trapped.

Just keep waiting, and you will have me all to yourself forever and always.

I mean that because here you were. I saw you the first time after all of this. There you were.

There you were sitting and stairing at me.

Another poem I have written: Why
All the days have passed by and thinking of you. Why not think about me?

You have the key to my heart, why not use the key?

You play our song, Why not dance to our song?

I dream of you, why not dream of me too?

Why,
Why,
Why?

Spring brought warmer days,
Melted the ice on the lake,
Found the willows still asleep
Then kissed them awake.
Countless hours and more
Have I searched our " haunts of yesterday ",
Where were you when the song-birds flew back
From their far-off hideaway?

Summer came with those
warm nights in soft shades of blue,
Gave a new lease of life
To my memories of you.
I recalled how we hand in hand chased the wind
Just like children play,
Where were you when the wild geese returned
From a cold and distant bay?

Autumn changed summers` brightness
To new color-schemes,
Leaves fell, drowned in the lake,
Sadness lived in my dreams,
Once more winter-winds
Drifted the snow across a moody sea,
Where were you when a cruel, frosty morning
Froze every hope in me?
Yes, where were you when I thought of you,
longed for you,
wanted you with me.

I like your poem Sigvard.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Sigvard

If I walked with you
Amidst the blaze of beautiful flowers,
I would ask them to bow to you
For you are my Queen.

If I could affect the light of the moon that`s full, at will,
I would command it to change its` color
To the one that is your favorite,
for you are my Queen.

If this my poor attempt at painting words for you,
Can bring home to your understanding
Only some of the deep feelings, that I hold for you,
I would have achieved something.

And if I could speak my words with a voice that does not break up
For all the emotions that swell up inside of me,
I would try whilst you listen, to convey to your mind
All the things, that I always wanted to say to you,
But that can not be easily expressed in common speech -
Such as my deep devotion, that I would be prepared
To take all the pain and unhappiness that ever may come your way,
Gladly upon myself, to suffer in your stead,
So you may be happy,
For you are my Queen.

If all the music that has ever been written, could be put together
As one composition of immortal sound,
I would get the greatest masters to work on it
And present it from me to you
As a confession of my everlasting love,
For you are my Queen.

If it were at all possible for me
To form the stars of a nightly summers` sky
Into an orchestra, I would do so -
Then tell them to play just for you, whilst I myself would conduct
This concerto of a million harmonies and magnificent beauty,
For you are a very precious gift -
My strength , my friend, my life,
you are my world, my beloved wife,
You are my Queen.

---

Hi Sigvard,

I really do love the ideas presented in your poems (at least the ideas from two of the poem I’ve read). I do wish you would expand on the depictions presented in each stanza, though; or at least make them more vivid. These feelings that you are expressing to your queen seem impersonal as they stand. I understand that the way the poem starts off possibly is supposed to be impersonal, because you lack the words to express your feelings to her. But I think a more power depiction of an impersonal relationship can be created through colors, gestures, etc. I’m in want of that extra layer for clarity. The last stanza is wonderful because you take a step forward in trying to express yourself to her, by being the conductor of the musical piece and not merely telling them to play a musical piece for you. Although in this last stanza, as in the other stanzas, there are no differences other than what you mean.

Present your thesis, speak up, be bold,
Explain the power from its source of Old,
That you express in kilowatts and volts.
Whence came this energy unseen,
Governed though by definite laws,
so its action can bee seen?
Oh, postulant - hear the mystic voice,
Tease inside that brittle shell,
Just as there is no one who can tell,
Did the sheaf come first,
Or did the grain of corn?
There is not one living soul that knows,
Where or when this power was born
Except -
" I AM ", THE POWER THAT HAS ALWAYS BEEN.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Sigvard

Friends, Romans and countrymen - lend me your ears.
Hallo everyone I think it is about time that I introduced myself to you.
As I am a newcomer to these shores, I do not know if this is actually the
right way. However let us see what happens. I hope to get some communications in return.
My name is Sigvard von Brevern. I am of German nationality, but have for
some 40 years lived in the United Kingdom, my abode is "sunny " Brighton.
Since a young age already I have been interested in writing some form of
poetry, mostly the rhyming type. Well, as you probably gathered, I am quite
an old " biddy " I am of the tender age of 70.
Besides of writing poetry, I also like the composing of music in various styles,
some of which has been performed to live audiences at different venues,
such as stately homes, ships, hotels/restaurants, music bars etc.etc.
I hope to hear from some of you, especially some comments and constructive
criticism to my poetic contributions.
For now, Roger and out, arrivederci, ta-ta and so forth.

---

Hi Sigvard,

I’m glad to know you better. The “gathering” is easy; it is the retaining what’s gathered I have trouble with. It makes sense to me that this would be your natural trajectory: writing poetry from composing music. Aren’t words, when broken down to their syllables, notes on a musical scale? I will try my best to give you some constructive criticism…as you can already gather from my responses to a couple of your written pieces.