Theres nothing to be scared about, Pen. These are someone else's mindset that you have conveyed.
Theres nothing to be scared about, Pen. These are someone else's mindset that you have conveyed.
forsure, sometimes the darker side of the human psyche has to be shown, but lets not only write about that, sometimes a nice cheerful bubbly poem can be in order.
here is a slightly more uplifting echo (is it just me, or is this not one of the greatest words, it really speaks to its meaning)
Echoes from the Edge: Love of Life
Tiptoes dance ever onward
Flickers of light, thought, love
Free eagles wings carry on
Leaving the heavy heart, alone
With its desperate loathing
Heartbeats in the dunes of Eden
Leave the guilt of past behind
Back with the sin of now, far away
Their presence demands answers
But weighted queries fade
Questions remain as mere whispers
To be dashed, on the lilting rocks
Of heavens bright chorus
Triskle, you have the touch for these poems, indeed. Even with the more uplifting, you manage to walk that emotional edge:Originally Posted by Triskele
A true Echo From the Edge!Leaving the heavy heart, alone
With its desperate loathing
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
Just to prove a point about how long I've been writing these sonnets...
Echoes From the Edge: Territory
It has been proven that those guilty of the worst crimes—
Armed robbery, murder, arson, and rape—
Follow definite patterns. Time after time
Police have watch in anguish this vicious cycle take place.
They hang out in pool halls, games rooms, bowling alleys—
Losers—loners with too much time on their hands.
Check it out for yourself sometime. The figures will tally.
What goes on in their twisted minds no one ever understands.
Hunters—creatures of the night, like vampires they prey
On those that are helpless, separated from the crowd.
Cold blood—reptilian, snake-like predators are they—
Their depravity seems something of which they are proud.
The feral looks in their eyes can fill even a brave man with dread:
And their territory is marked with the bones of the dead…
D.L. Harris
© 10/25/96
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
which pale by the crimes of a new hour
these sad remains sprawl across their concience
mere stains, which they clean with a new depravity
ever trudging on, rags dirtied, minds... filth
the simple sound of wrent flesh drives men mad
and yet in love with insanity, a terrible addiction
the drug of cowards, their dark eyes flash with each fix
and yet, each kill, each rape, dampens a spark of life
until all that remains is the pits of bleak despair
the desperate hole, where the soul once was
sorry if this offends you, but the poem felt like it needed a bit more, so i added it, my apologies please if you found this intrusive...
Offfend? No. But it's hard to add free-verse to a sonnet... what you wrote makes a good stand-alone poem!
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
echoes from the edge: descent
hurling down the dark, empty roadway
in a vehicle hung in high gear;
the horn blares only silently,
the brakes failed long ago,
the steering forever locked into a reckless course
leading towards a hairpin curve
that traverses the edge of a two-hundred foot drop
into the smoke-filled abyss…
D.L. Harris
© 6/18/96
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
that one i like ^ ^.
echoes from the edge: alone #2
alone
no matter where I am
in a crowed room
on a busy tram.
two thousand people—
or only four—
my loneliness
just doesn’t keep score.
a myriad voices
may constantly drone—
but that can never stop me
from feeling so alone…
D.L. Harris
© 3/21/96
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
This poem makes me think of a Kryptonite-dependent creature who's gone totally ballistic over his life and wants a different direction from hereon out.
the steering forever locked into a reckless course
leading towards a hairpin curve
Wow. This has got to be a former feeling of mine that's unexplained and for me now you gave meaning to it. It's just so beautiful, Uncle Pen.
*sighs sadly, deeply*
I would've wanted to write or compose a poem a la Echoes From The Edge but I can't decipher my feelings and put them all to paper; more likely difficult for me to process these things and think about it. It's when someone pours it into my conscience that I realize that that is exactly how I'm feeling.
"You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life."
To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's" - Dostoevksy
Echoes From the Edge: CHAOS
This is an average human mind.
Shall we open Pandora’s Box, to see what’s inside?
Da-da-da-da-dum-dum. Da-da-da-da-dum-dum. “Tonto get horses, Kemo Sabe.”
“…and who, disguised as Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper…”
“The heartbeat of America! Today’s Chevrolet!”
“Me Tarzan! You Jane!”
“The weed of crime bears bitter fruit. Crime does not pay. Only The Shadow knows…”
“Now, yew best be outa Dodge ‘fore sundown, stranger!”
“Try-y-y-y-y Chef’s Blend! Meow! “
“And may The Force be with you..”
“Subtract the amount on line 32 from the amount on line 16 …”
“The Devil made me do it!”
“Beep! You have mail!”
“Be very quite! I’m hunting wabbits! HAHAHAHA!”
“Manning drops straight back for the pass…”
“Attention Wal-Mart shoppers!”
“This year there is only one logical choice for President…”
“Tylenol: Recommended by more doctors for relief of…”
“…everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels…”
“George, George, George of the Jungle, strong as he can be! Watch out for that tree!”
“Elementary, my dear Watson!”
“You got to ask yourself a question. Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?”
“You’re in good hands with Allstate…”
“Flintstones! Meet the Flintstones!”
“Beam me up, Scotty. There’s no intelligent life down here.”
“Attention all employees: There will be a mandatory meeting to discuss wasting time…”
“Wild thang! You make my heart sang! You make everythang—groovy…"
”Bah, humbug!”
The mind seems a churning cauldron of misuse!
Small wonder then, that mine blew a fuse…
D.L. Harris
© 1/12/99
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
i understand, but i disagree, the human mind is chaotic, but the chaos is a fine blend of emotions, desires, instincts and wishful thinking methinks, not of decades worth of catchphrases
Yeah, maybe. But let me give you a scenario. You see a police road check ahead. You get ready for it by getting out driver's license, registration, proof of insurance, etc. The policeman walks up whistling the theme from, say, The Beverly Hillbillies . You are libel to tell him your name is Jed, because you are attuned to the song: "Come and listen to my story 'bout a man named Jed, a poor mountaineer barely kept his family fed." This is how these things feel up the mind to pop up when you don't need them!
Last edited by Pendragon; 12-30-2006 at 01:51 PM.
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
“Hope Is the Thing With Feathers”
I really don’t care what people say—
Their advice shatters; broken stone tablets beneath Sinai.
I’d love to return to Yesterday…
“Tomorrow things will be different.” Indeed. So they may.
But in all likelihood I’d search but the path I’ll never find.
I really don’t CARE what people say—
Day after dismal, gloomy day—
I HAVE tried to face up to these difficulties in my life.
I’d love to return to Yesterday—
Before this accursed illness came creeping my way,
Battered down the doorways to my mind and crept inside!
I really don’t care WHAT people say—
All I can do is long, hope, and pray
To the One whom alone can (if He desires) send help from on High.
I’d love to return to Yesterday—
But the pressure continues to build and fear holds sway.
Have the walls been breached so that to win is to die?
I really DON’T CARE WHAT people say—
I’d love to return to yesterday…
D.L. Harris
© 9.21.97
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
Posting Permissions
Reply With Quote