Sponsor |  stonepoem | Apr 18, 2005 10:21am | This is formally the begining.
Of the longest poem ever written.
It will skip from serious to flippant
From prose to rhyme and back again.
It will change from classic style to free-form wild
It will twist and turn like a twisty, turney thing.
It will do WHATEVER it wants (or your own mood dictates).
Anything goes, but just bear in mind -
This poem must never end. |
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Sponsor | | lovingpoet | Apr 18, 2005 11:24am | Never diminish with the setting sun
Nor rest like tired eyes
But turn on into tomorrow
And twist in with hints of sorrow
The mad writers must coincide
Never or always stoking the fire
Burning now for eturnity
Lighting the page in front of thee |
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Sponsor | | stonepoem | Apr 18, 2005 11:53am | Tiring, but turned
like swanwing against clasp
of winter's fickle wind.
I believe I am resolved
to see this through. |
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| | deze-hier | Apr 18, 2005 2:10pm | Full circle, the ends will never reach.
The billows will keep on roaring
never to reach the shores.
So ride the waves, surf the currents.
Let us drown in living, each
and sing. We will join the chorus. |
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Sponsor | | stonepoem | Apr 18, 2005 3:14pm | For the tired ones,
The ones without ending -
They who know nothing but the fold
Of wings in helpless air.
They ask of us, to say;
We believe we are resolved
to see this through. |
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Sponsor | | lovingpoet | Apr 18, 2005 4:41pm | Sounding out, each in turn
From the lead on back
And to the lead again
From points south moving north
As those before them
Ancient haunts revisted
Year after year
For all generations to come
Life's pleasure is here
Join in and testify
What it is you see
For even in the dark of night
There is beauty |
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Sponsor | | MumZau | Apr 18, 2005 11:11pm | 'Whatever it wants'
ambient thought, quite surreal.
I wonder what it is I really
feel, should I wax the mount
of poetic splendour? .. Go
on and on until you surrender,
screamingly, head in hand.
you'd run away from this
strange, strange land where
poets yearn and poets bleed
and poetry is grown from seed.
we, it seems are an exotic lot,
bring smiles to you from other
flocks. Do you see us as in
such lofty towers, pattering
words for hours and hours?
we suffer the pangs,
the shafts, the arrows,
rejoice in the warmth of
accolade. We know indeed
that we spout a lot but
all in all we're a harmless lot. |
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Sponsor | | stonepoem | Apr 19, 2005 1:07pm | Let us remember this time -
This place within ouselves
The zone of ending's never end
Where sensitives reside
And recognise, the ones
who are resolved
To see this
through. |
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| | deze-hier | Apr 19, 2005 1:44pm | Let us rest and let us be
reflecting, out of context,
on all the moments we embraced
and all the places yet to meet.
We are so close, we almost bleed
of touching life barehandedly. |
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Sponsor | | MumZau | Apr 19, 2005 11:47pm | Oh we don't know where we
might be each journey spells
such mystery and tread we must
but softly so the proffered words
we tend will grow we treat them
with such loving care for these
are the words that scend us there
oh how we love to see the drape
the endless glow of hesitate
and carry on erase repeat an endless
throng of who we are of who we are |
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