The Poetry Thread

Discussion in 'SG Players Lounge' started by Sir Calumn, Jan 25, 2006.


    INFESTA Official

    Nov 20, 2001
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    Antiga, Mui Nobre, Sempre Leal e Invicta Cidade do
    No, I don't trust you. :p [Read my answer to Dragan.]

    Hey, any dumbass can scratch a story, or a drawing, or a sculpture, and make it sound reasonable, but it takes a lot of effort and genius to make it actually good.

    Besides I think it is way harder to write a 250 page novel with interesting three-dimensional characters, compelling story and fresh writing style than a couple pages of semi-pretentious vague crap that happens to rhyme (or not...). You can easily go wrong, and even what sells massively may be not much better than my toilet paper.
    Example: is the 'Da Vinci Code' good or bad? In my opinion its key factor is the subject, which matters to everybody and draws a lot of attention to it, especially if you throw in a couple 'facts' which were obscure to most readers and will certainly generate controversy. But, as a literary work, it is pretty average, filled with cliches, an average story told a 1000 times before, all wrapped up in an easy-reading fashion and you got yourself a best-seller. Eh, Ashley Simpson also tops the charts, right?

    Sir_Didier_Drogba may have a point, though. 'Os Lusíadas' is very good, and I'm sure there is also great works out there, but not much and quite frankly it is not my cup of tea nor I am bothered to go through hundreds of bad pieces of poetry to find one satisfying poem...

    INFESTA Official

    Nov 20, 2001
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    Antiga, Mui Nobre, Sempre Leal e Invicta Cidade do
    In this case two important forms of art combine: poetry and music, so there is a lot of other factors that come to play. Still, most lyrics I hear aren't even 'poetic', to be honest. They are just sentences that rhyme.
    I can sum up in my hands the number of good lyrics I've ever heard.
    Bottom line: do I rate the poetry in songs above a good book? No.

    Personally, I've written a lot of songs and don't consider any of them to be poetic. They just happen to rhyme because it sounds better when I sing. Some were good, some were not. Needed effort to write them, of course, but not too much, you know?
    The short-novels I've written or the novel I'm currently involved in, on the other hand, are far more difficult to finish. You need a lot of discipline and hard work. I felt really inspired to come up with the story but telling it is a totally different matter. Don't even know if I'll ever finish it. :|
  3. Jambo Den

    Jambo Den Fan Favourite

    Jan 2, 2001
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    Hugo, if you're dedicating anything less than 100% to a novel, you're cheating both yourself and the novel. Novels deserve all of your resources, and good ones tend to have that enthusiasm and commitment shine through in the pages.
  4. Sir Calumn

    Sir Calumn Guest

    I'm not sure that's absolutely true - I think that, if you force yourself to write for long periods and focus utterly on getting your novel finished, then the overall quality suffers. Much better to write when you're in a creative and positive mood, then the ideas just flow. I have never tried writing a novel, or much poetry, but I have written a couple of film screenplays and I find the overall standard is so much better if I do it in parts, only writing when I'm really prepared to make it as good as possible. It also allows large gaps to think back on what you've written and therefore go back to make revisions. Of course you have to be dedicated to the idea and your story, and to making it as pleasing to yourself as possible, but you shouldnt be totally dedicated to getting it all down on paper as quickly as possible.

    That's the idea of this thread, we can recommend our favourite poems and best finds to each other and save them that long, unnecessary trawl.
  5. Jambo Den

    Jambo Den Fan Favourite

    Jan 2, 2001
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    I agree, I worded that post pretty poorly, but I would advise against making alterations as much as possible. Ideas just seem to have that raw edge when they're conveyed the first time.
  6. Sir Calumn

    Sir Calumn Guest

    I guess it's different with screenplays than novels. When I'm writing a screenplay I often find that I have to write in some comparatively mundane linking dialogue between my, in my opinion, great ideas, and because I am in such a rush to get the ideas down while they are still formed in my mind, I often rush these linking bits and it sounds terrible, however I can later go back and revise them and make them either good in their own right or atleast easier to digest.
  7. Run DMB

    Run DMB MVP

    Aug 12, 2002
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    Champaign, IL
    Have to agree with that. I just finished my first screenplay. Took me half a year to write it, because I only wrote when I felt like it. That extra time gave me an opportunity to really think about how some scenes would work best.

    I would sometimes go as far as skipping certain scenes I wasn't sure how to write and come back to them later, when I had an idea.
  8. Tom

    Tom That Nice Guy

    May 3, 2002
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    In The Shrine of Hantuchova™
    yeah i agree with that style or, thought of mind. If you force yourself to write you wont write properlly, often i find to get me in the mood the best way is to read other things either I have written, or anything just to get my "inteligent" brain going lol.

    Personally though i agree that the best way to write a screenplay is to write everything you can think of, attempting to arculate it decently. Then later (definitely not anywhere near when you wrote it) go back and alter it, fit it into the context of what you wanted to create in the first place.

    Writing stuff first time is terribly hard, and fustrating.
  9. Ubik Valis

    Ubik Valis Croatian Viking

    Nov 1, 2000
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    Copenhagen, Denmark
    You're right and I agree with you on all points I guess, it's just that when you say: Seriously, poetry is just an escape for wannabes who can't write a good story.
    ...My first thought was: (music) songs have a waaaay larger tendency to apply to that comment, when you think about it. I don't remember reading a serious poem (and I've read quite some studying English for two years, though I'm not trying to come off as some sort of expert or whatever) and thinking: "Well, that didn't seem to take a lot of effort to write..." ....but I often think that when I hear songs, and I'm not just talking about commercial pop crap.

    Oh and: Good luck with the book, to qoute Johnny Depp from "Fear and Loathing": "FINISH THE FU*KING STORY!" (H)
  10. Sir Calumn

    Sir Calumn Guest

    There are some poems that seem lazy or pointless, mostly bollocks about sweet little lambs and children, or religious stories-turned-poetry, but those arent proper poems in my opinion. I have to agree that that statement of Hugo's was the one I really took exception to, undoubtably it takes a great amound of effort and commitment to write a good novel, but I think the talent and skill, and patience, required to write good poetry is right up there. Furthermore, a bad book can still be extremely popular and make you rich and famous, but a bad poem is read by no-one but old ladies, primary school teachers and the particularly unpleasant kind of boring middle aged woman.


    INFESTA Official

    Nov 20, 2001
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    Antiga, Mui Nobre, Sempre Leal e Invicta Cidade do
    Hey, thanks guys. I'm working on it (for 2 years).
    I've heard more than one great writer saying that if he only writed when he felt inspired he would have not finished a single book. They take it like a profession, you know, getting up in the morning and seating down in front of a sheet of paper... I agree you can't force the issue, but there has to be some way to put your mind to it. I also just write when my body asks me to put my guts out in a paper sheet, but that isn't very productive, and leads to disappointment, especially if you're wrinting something as long as a novel...

    About my initial remark, it is radical and exaggerated (as all radical opinions are...) and I wrote it more to get a reaction from the poetry-lovers than anything else. Still, my opinion on poetry is that same sentence toned down 25%. Fact is, good poetry is good literature.

    [Learn portuguese]
  12. Ubik Valis

    Ubik Valis Croatian Viking

    Nov 1, 2000
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    Copenhagen, Denmark
    First the mohawk, now're such an attention whore. :lui:

    Learn Croatian/Danish.
  13. Sir Calumn

    Sir Calumn Guest

    I imagine you have to do it like that if writing is your sole occupation, but the truely great books, in my opinion, are the ones which are written out of nothing but passion to write and pure inspiration. Of course, the really great writers have many more moments of pure inspiration tha most people.

    You young hothead, you.
  14. Tom

    Tom That Nice Guy

    May 3, 2002
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    In The Shrine of Hantuchova™
    Thought i'd resurrect the Poetry Thread with a few of my own:


    The Alarm Clock

    Another night I sit here, listening to the same old things,
    The same tired lines, the same excuses.

    Another night of could have been’s, one more reason it didn’t happen,
    More and more I hear about what used to be

    How things have changed, he says
    Irritation drips from his lips, sadness from hers,

    Another day of what they should have done, what he should have done,
    She listens, he doesn’t,

    I sit here, same routine, day in, day out
    The alarm clock of life, ringing by the same tune,

    Same time, every day.
    Another night I sit here.

    See you tomorrow.


    Every night I dream

    Every night I sleep, when I’ve got no more to give.
    and at times I dream about, that place I used to live.

    And once in a while, I dream some more,
    of that place, a land so far.

    Ill dance upon the fields, amongst my favourite haunts,
    with friends lost in the sands of time, all jovial in their jaunt.

    With music that sings so sweetly, and laughter that rings so true,
    I'll lay awake at night, of a place that I once knew.

  15. Mandieta6

    Mandieta6 Staff Member Moderator

    Jul 23, 2006
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    On the red carpet
    I don't write poetry. I used to, but it was too emo so I deleted the lot.

    Don't mind reading poetry, though. I read a lot of Coleridge and Wilde, including Christabel and Rime of the Ancient Mariner, which are very long. Also read a lot of poems from too many authors to remember them all. They're all in Cambridge's anthology of poetry, 'Songs of Ourselves', which is a good one to have for anyone who likes poetry.
  16. Tom

    Tom That Nice Guy

    May 3, 2002
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    In The Shrine of Hantuchova™
    Yeah know what you mean, i just write it whenever my mood suits it!
  17. Keegan

    Keegan Yardie Staff Member Moderator

    Sep 18, 2002
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    Jamaica - The Sprint Factory
    At the Theatre: To the Lady Behind Me

    Dear Madam, you have seen this play;
    I never saw it till today.
    You know the details of the plot,
    But, let me tell you, I do not.
    The author seeks to keep from me
    The murderer's identity,
    And you are not a friend of his
    If you keep shouting who it is.
    The actors in their funny way
    Have several funny things to say,
    But they do not amuse me more
    If you have said them just before;
    The merit of the drama lies,
    I understand, in some surprise;
    But the surprise must now be small
    Since you have just foretold it all.
    The lady you have brought with you
    Is, I infer, a half-wit too,
    But I can understand the piece
    Without assistance from your niece.
    In short, foul woman, it would suit
    Me just as well if you were mute;
    In fact, to make my meaning plain,
    I trust you will not speak again.
    And---may I add one human touch?---
    Don't breathe upon my neck so much.

    -- A. P. Herbert

    INFESTA Official

    Nov 20, 2001
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    Antiga, Mui Nobre, Sempre Leal e Invicta Cidade do
    Haha, don't even know what novel I was talking about back then!

  19. yoyo913

    yoyo913 Team Captain Staff Member Super Moderator

    Nov 9, 2000
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    you here me talk
    but do you really listen?
    you see me in pain
    but do you even care?
    you see i'm falling
    but would you help me up?
    you see i'm being buried alive
    would you dig me up?
    My heart is broken
    But will you fix it?
    I'm so depressed
    will you be depressed with me?
    Rip my brain of every memory of you
    Would you do the same?

    theres nothing to do
    sit in a corner and cry
    please dont disturb me

    It's alright
    I'm OK
    I'm fine
    At least on the outside.
    On the inside I am crying
    I am bleeding
    I am dying
    And I try to cover it up.
    Nobody knows my pain,
    But I dont want them to.
    It would just bring more.

    Pain consumes my mind...
    I suffer all alone.
    Feeling so dark...
    Feeling so emo.

    I'm alone in the world.
    No one... understands...
    My life is consumed with agony...
    Regardless of the fact that no one's hurting me.

    I'm not hungry, JUST SAAAD.
    I'm not homeless, JUST SAAAD.
    I'm not sick, JUST SAAAD.
    I'm under stress... I'm SAAAD.

    I'm so emo... yes I am.
    Even though some say I'm goth...
    I'm so emo... yes I am.
    Even though the emo's are ashamed.

    I'M SO EMO... HA HA HA
    MY NAME IS CHARLIE... [cries]


    Charlie is legit.
    Charlie keeps it feel.
    He's EEEEEMO
    Charlie is a thinker.
    He's emo.
    Charlie keeps it real.
    He's emo.

    My mom is smothering me...
    She says she loves me every day...
    As if she isn't a robot.
    Who does she think she is anyway?

    No one really loves me...
    They're all walking lies.
    This world is consumed by darkness.
    We're nothing but poo poo covered in flies.

    My name is Charlie the emo...
    The other emo's rejected me...
    So I'm taking their little title...
    Now I'm the only emo. ME ME ME!

    People are just bugs...
    Walking through a maze.
    But I'm better than all of them.
    Because I'm such a deep thinker.

    I see it as it is...
    The rest of the world is blind.
    I'm better than everyone else...
    Because I have such a dark mind.

    I'm still afraid of milk...
    I still meditate for hours...
    I still shoot lasers from my eyes...
    And I still have special powers...

    And my mommy doesn't love me...
    My mommy doesn't love me...
    Girls won't date me...

    As I stood there, in that desolate place, observing
    the minions of life, she appeared from nowhere, her
    eyes, fixed on me, as if with evil intent. She
    approached me and took my hand, but with no words. We
    admired each other from so close, yet, it felt as if
    she was worlds away. Her hair shone in the evening
    light as if it were sewn from stands of diamonds, her
    skin was smooth as silk, it was as if she was an
    angel. I had never seen anyone like her in my entire
    life. We stood there for what felt like an eternity.
    She smiled at me, the temptation was too great, I
    pulled her close to me and kissed her. It was a
    passionate yet unruly kiss, it was so meaningful, yet,
    it meant nothing.

    The clouds gathered and soft rain began to fall from
    the darkend skys. We ran underneath a tree, its old,
    twisting branches covered with green, lush, leaves
    shielding us both from the rain. We sat, and watched
    the rain fall, as if they were tears being cried by a
    god. She slowly opened her mouth and said to me in a
    quiet, yet seductive voice, "If I die, will you mourn
    my death?". I did not want to think about this, I did
    not want this moment to end. I forced myself to say
    "Yes, i would". She sighed and looked up at the tree,
    looked past its braches, into the sky beyond, then,
    she stood up and turned to me and said "I must leave
    you, you will not see me again". She started to walk
    away, but I caught up with her. "Why?", I asked, "Why
    must you leave me?". She simply turned and smiled at
    me, and quietly said, "We are not meant be, we are
    different, we are not the same". I replied, "But our
    love is strong, it has the power of an army, we can
    defeat anything together, please, stay, don't leave
    me." I fell to the ground, silent tears streaming from
    my eyes. "Don't cry", she said, "life will go on, you
    will forget about me and find another". "No !" i said,
    "There will be no other, you are the one I love, only
    you hold the key to my heart, without you, i am
    lifeless, i am but a shadow of my former self, you
    make me complete". She looked at me, and said "I will
    always be with you, where ever you go, I will follow."
    And with those final words, she left me. And as she
    walked furthur and furthur away, I realised how lucky
    I had been, to have an angel as my lover. And as the
    sun set in the horizon, I got back up onto my feet,
    and walked back to the tree. I sat there and longed
    for her. I longed for her touch, her voice to break
    the silence. But I was alone. I looked to the skys and
    watched the clouds go by. I eventually got up and
    began to walk away from the old tree that sheltered us
    from the rain, when i saw a rose. It was blood red in
    color, and stood out from the rest of the world. I
    picked it up and looked at it, then I saw the blood. I
    looked at my hand and realised that a thorn had pieced
    my fingertip. I watched the blood slowly leave my body
    and drip down my hand and onto the rose, splashing
    over its wide petals. The blood reminded me of her. I
    threw the rose into the distance, watching it fall to
    the ground and settle in amongst some grass. I walked
    back to the old tree and once again, sat down. I sat
    there and thought. I thought about what my life would
    be like without her.
    I suddenly felt a cold object in my hand, I looked
    down and there, in my right hand, the one the rose
    thorn had pierced, was a dagger. Its blade was silver,
    and sharp, the hilt was encrusted with jewels. The
    handle was black, like the night, and at the end of
    the handle was a silk scarf tied around it. It draped
    itself around my hand, as if caressing me. I looked
    long and hard at the dagger, thinking about everything
    I had lost, and everything i would lose in the future.
    I could no longer bare the lonelyness. I plunged the
    dagger deep into my heart with all my might. The blade
    piercing my skin and forcing its way through me. And
    as I sat under the wise old tree, my lifeblood flowed
    out of me like a raging river, its red color staining
    the grass and all it touched. And as I died, I finally
    realised, this is what its like to be alone....
  20. LoraHup

    LoraHup Club Supporter

    Nov 29, 2009
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    The Poetry T

    Hello all poets, the thread name probably caught your attention. If you love writing poetry and want to put it out there, here is your chance. Poetry of any kind is allowed

    To start this thread, I am going to post one of my poems. This is called Dreamer.

    Can you picture the last time you fell asleep?
    The second your eyes shut into a temporary unconciousness?
    There you prepare for the next day - an early mornings start.
    The night grabs your heart and prepares it for an overnight rollercoaster ride.
    This brings you through an adventure of various themes.
    Good, bad.
    Funny, sad.
    Might make you happy or make you mad.
    Jealousy, confusion and all the rest.
    You wake to the charming voice of mother - waking you up for school.
    Now there is a day ahead of you.
    Shrug the nights excitement off and ready yourself for tonight.
    A whole new scavenger of lifes recollections.

    I would love to see some poetry from other W.F. users.

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