While I Sleep, Book Shelves Dream

The way of kings crossed
cold magic, the Magician.
In the forests of the Night
the Candidates matched
the power of six new moons,
the watchers breaking dawn.


so I thought I'd try creating a poem from some titles of books on my bookshelves.  This is just a start. I might keep working on it and see how long and how many titles I can include in it.  I think the only rules I'll keep is that I can only add conjunction words and (s) or (ed) at the ends of words to make them work.  I think I'll randomly capitalize some of the words that are actually capitalized in titles to break up the fluency of it so it stands out more that those were once capitalized. 
~T

Teenage Freedom

The long nights of teenage freedom did slip
through my out stretched hand as I tried to hold
all I was supposed to be and believe.
Still, I smile when I see a Lumina.
The full front seat left blushing memories.
The parking lots and dirt roads were witness
as my innocence slowly slipped away
on those long nights of teenage freedom.


I've been trying to get into writing more poetry lately since I haven't been doing as much since the semester ended.  I have another poetry writing class this coming semester so I'm trying to get back into a writing state of mind.  It's been difficult because I haven't had inspiration.  Tonight however my mind traveled back to my days as a teenager as I fell in love for the first time.  This is definitely not a poem I want my parents to read. lol.  Hope you enjoy though. =)
~T

Loneliness of Perfection

Cross the worn path and fall
Into the deep woods of alone
Where unbroken crisp snow
Is still pristine and deer gaze silently.
Dip your fingers into the iciness
Of alone and perfect
Feel them go numb,
See them go red,
 like the swollen eyes
Of the girl you left behind
The night you decided
She followed the worn path too far.



Hey! Brand spankin' new poem!  Just wrote it minutes ago.  I really like it. =)  That's why I'm sharing it.  Enjoy. ~T

Enter Autumn

Enter Autumn 

Bad News

The crinkled paper blew
edge over edge over edge over...
--discarded refuse
crunched beneath hot rubber
stuck to flattened double bubble
upon the searing black.
The crinkled paper blew
edge over edge over edge over...
--discarded words
crunched beneath angry feet
stuck helplessly, unyeilding
searing into the mind of the girl.
The crinkled paper blew
edge over edge over edge over...
--discarded message
crunched in fear and pain
stuck in time as real
as the searing black pavement.
The crinkled paper blew.


Just wrote this poem today.  I imagined how I could creatively put how I felt about the bad news I received today.  There wasn't actually a paper but I imagined if there was a paper with the words that this is what would play out.  I know many people can associate bad news with something similar to this. ~T

Pen and Paper: A Love Story

Like magnets, we meet again.
I shall caress you, making you blush.
I love leaving something of myself
with you, an impression, a vibe...
You know I'm yours and you're mine.
Destined to be together, our worlds collide.
Your pale, crisp, clean skin
the earthy musk draws me.
You, I must touch.
You forgive my blunders, though
they still exist
and yes
this is our first and last kiss
of the moment.



Just wrote this tonight.  My mind just started to drift and I said, I need to write.  So I did.  My pen and paper needed to touch.  This is what we got. :)  Enjoy. ~T

Silent Words

The beat drives my heart
as my soul is wracked with pain.
Each hint of pity and sneers, echo
in a bloody chamber driving me insane.
Rip me from crown to toe,
the teases, giggles and taunts unheard.
Inside I'll hold tight, my pain won't show.
I know what you think you see.
I hear what you think I couldn't.
You don't know what it is to be me.
Your heartless thoughts.....Shouldn't
be.

Unsolved

I am a piece
from a different puzzle
some how I was lost
here,
surrounded by pieces
I don't fit...with.
Oh! How the heart
of my cardboard soul
cries for my pieces
of the,puzzle
unsolved.

A Painted World

A striver, with purpose,

travels the unyielding

Vertical desert,

is unrewarded.

A listless mind

Grows numb,

Complacent to the

Droning fluorescents.

A zombie wasteland

Assigned to be

an eternal prison,

Noise free.

A still placard

Represents worth

A name tag

A right to birth.

An echoed silence

Of the worn path

Sings of determination

And reasons worn scales.

A flicking tongue

Smells the poison

Of false,

Stale, free air.

A room of walls,

The world’s,

Screams down

In endless plight.

A latex glare,

Full of illusions

that say,

Come…come…come away.

Had to write this poem for my poetry class. I observed a live snake in a cage at a museum on the campus where I attend college. ~T

Success is counted sweetest by Emily Dickinson

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory,

As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear.



Thought I would post a poem that wasn't mine. The great Emily Dickinson. She has such wonderful rhythm to her poetry. We are studying Emily Dickinson's poetry in my poetry class currently. That's also why I picked another poem of hers to share. =) ~T

Study

The books sing to me in longing.
The games whine, covered in dust.
The music from my lappy distracts.
The invisible web of communication calls.
The movies beg to be rediscovered.
The bed taunts with tempting dreams.
The television invites hours of drone.
The family prods with conversation.
The friends offer nights of fun.
Yet here I sit.
The textbook before me laughs.

My personal temptation to put aside my homework. ~T

The Assigned Poem

The twisted words
upon my page
cringed and cried
as my pen
scribbled them,
forced,
from my mind.


~A poem about how I feel when I have to write a poem for an assignment and not just writing words that naturally come to me and fit themselves willingly upon my page. ~T

A Pleasure Read

Sat, forgotten
you, alone
have become
a book stand.
Soda pop
and plates of green
crush your pages
left unseen.
The busy path
of higher education
has forced
you to the side.
Too busy,
so alone,
too busy
to give
you, Within
my mind,
a home.


Just wrote this tonight after realizing that I've left this one new book of mine just sitting on my side table next to my bed. I haven't had time to read it because I've been so busy with homework. Of course, it sat beneath a bottle of powerade and has sat beneath many other things as well as I've sat in bed working on homework instead of reading. ;p ~T

Dear Heart

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

Up those steep mountains

Into the stars

Across those great plains

We traveled afar

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

Into the church

Up top the hill

We traveled there first

A cross stands there still

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

Up the walls

Into the depths

Across that bleak fall

We traveled past death

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

Up past the border

Into the mo

Across we forded

We traveled low

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

Up, up, up, away

Into this place

Across the way

We traveled to chase

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

Up to our home

Into the peace

Across the lines we roamed

We traveled in pieces

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

Up away, I send

Into oblivion, you go

Across the great bend

We do not travel together, no!

Oh where you were

Oh where you’ve been

Oh where you were

I followed you then

But no more.

I found this poem that I wrote last month that I forgot about. I tried to make it a bit like verse for a song. I'm not a song writer and I can't sing but still I like to try to do that occasionally. I don't think I succeeded. I don't like this poem a whole lot but it's ok. What do you think?

~T

The Panther: Poem and essay

The Panther by Rainer Maria Rilke

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.

as he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly--. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.

~Now my Essay about this poem. Please leave me a comment telling me what you think about the poem and if you agree or disagree with anything in my essay. Thanks! ~T

In Rainer Maria Rilke’s poem, The Panther, her imagery about a panther stalking his cage is very evident. Her imagery is clear and concise through the first two stanzas of the three stanza poem. In the third stanza, however, the tone of the poem changes slightly and is hard to understand.

In the first stanza of The Panther, Rilke’s description of a male passing bars and becoming weary and separated from the world is very easy to understand. I enjoyed how she turned the bars into thousands, creating the image of unending imprisonment. This really starts out the poem with the intense image of a caged animal that has given up on freedom.

In the second stanza of The Panther, Rilke builds an image of the panther stalking in circles. This stalking is compared to a ritual dance that is there to contain the panther’s will, “paralyzed”. This image is powerful in communicating how the panther is containing itself in the form of constant movement.

In the third stanza the tone of The Panther changes from the previous two. Rainer Maria Rilke states, “Only at times, the curtain of the pupils / Lifts, quietly--, An image enters in, / Rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles, / Plunges into the heart and is gone” (Gioia 89). I do not understand what this stanza implies, other than that the panther somehow receives some burst of freedom in his mind and it gives his heart some joy for a moment. She talks about pupils but hasn’t spoken of the panther’s eyes before, which I’m assuming she is referring to now. If I could talk to Rainer Maria Rilke, I would ask her, why did you suddenly focus on the panther’s eyes? What image was this that leapt into the panther’s heart? It is quite frustrating to understand the beginning of the poem but not the end. Usually the end is what has the most important message.

I am Sad

echoed silence
questions me
as I try to smile
try to wish
bitter sweetly
the cause is lost
tears can drip
can stain
deeply sad
my heart should be
could be dead
lost tonight
I crumbled
tears dripped and dripped
and dripped.

I Care

They say I care
They say I care
but do they say
who cares for me?

Protesting

Wastrels and beggars

We strive

Torches doused

Forks dulled

Voices rasping

Among the tides

Gulping for air

Full of pollution

We set upon

Our own revolution

This was inspired by the protests going on in The U.S.A. atm. I don't really see the point in the people protesting... Nothing will change.

~T

Epic Storm

The tides in my soul

Roll with the rain

Splish, splash

I feel insane.

The shift in my soul

Shakes my roots

Crumble, crash

Chaos mute.

The storm in my soul

Flashes and hails

Boom, boom

Epic fail.

Attention

She spoke softly, words small.
Ears craned, eager to hear all.
He spoke loudly, words bold.
Eyes drooped, attention,
he could not hold.


Wrote this for a paper I am writing for my English class. =)
~T