RPF Poetry Club

Friendly conversation on a variety of topics! Pruned daily for neatness.
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UmbraSight
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Re: RPF Poetry Club

Post by UmbraSight » Wed May 30, 2018 8:38 pm

- //i\\

shall we pretend
then
That i Was True
? that it was not in
my mind only which
Made me Loose?

i Loved Her Then;
of course! (of course!)
why then am
i To Blame When
she stood upon
that lonesome stretch
waiting for lights
to come.

What Was i To
have done?
shall we pretend
then
That i Was True
? that it was my
heart that beat me
Cruel?

i Am Not Pretty
i Am Not Sold
i Am Not Uncertain
i Am Unwoven
has this made me cold?

words never were
her favored gifts so
i Kept Them All
hidden in the air
until we could all
pretend that
i Was
fair.
//… and it was there, and her blade flicked out catching only air. She backed from the door, worn floorboards shivering with each misplaced step...// Fall of the Aelir Isles, Vol. III

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UmbraSight
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Re: RPF Poetry Club

Post by UmbraSight » Wed May 30, 2018 8:46 pm

- \\tell//

be it so wrong that
I upon this lonesome
stretch
Watch -- the bend
waiting for lights to come?

He;
uneven smiles and uncertain --
Step
said to me this:
I, that is, me will
one day be made
Free
and does that make it so wrong? (no. No!)

Still he speaks
and seasons change and I
-- is that light ?
Watch the bend
feel each pothole in my
Teeth
and the drumming-beat in my --
Breast.

is it mine to --
Is it his to --
another winter with no snow
-- or -- summer without
the sun

But is that light 'round
the bend --
Or have my eyes
fall'n for a trickster's
Shine
?
//… and it was there, and her blade flicked out catching only air. She backed from the door, worn floorboards shivering with each misplaced step...// Fall of the Aelir Isles, Vol. III

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EricRP
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Re: RPF Poetry Club

Post by EricRP » Wed May 30, 2018 8:49 pm

The Stream.

Your waters trickle overground,
Collecting leaves from shedding trees
The peace and tranquil flowing sound
That aims to soothe. That aims to please.

The birds that gather by your bank
And light that fragments ‘pon your flow
Within; a thousand dreams are sank:
A thousand secrets thou dost know.

I met her sitting by your shore
My footfalls muffled by your song
And in your shallows, mourned her more
A life cut short. A grief so strong.

That ceaseless flow stopped short
My desire come to nought.

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EricRP
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Re: RPF Poetry Club

Post by EricRP » Wed May 30, 2018 8:53 pm

UmbraSight wrote:
Wed May 30, 2018 8:46 pm
- \\tell//

be it so wrong that
I upon this lonesome
stretch
Watch -- the bend
waiting for lights to come?

He;
uneven smiles and uncertain --
Step
said to me this:
I, that is, me will
one day be made
Free
and does that make it so wrong? (no. No!)

Still he speaks
and seasons change and I
-- is that light ?
Watch the bend
feel each pothole in my
Teeth
and the drumming-beat in my --
Breast.

is it mine to --
Is it his to --
another winter with no snow
-- or -- summer without
the sun

But is that light 'round
the bend --
Or have my eyes
fall'n for a trickster's
Shine
?
This is excellent, the manipulation brought about by clever use of medial and terminal caesura is superb. I like the play upon the seasons coming together in the penultimate stanza and standalone lexemes like 'breast' and 'teeth' which is simultaneously intimate and reductive in the same stroke. The broken grammar echoes sentiments of a broken relationship or a frustration of failed communication which really speaks to me.

Great job. i like very much :)

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Zavier Antiguar
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Re: RPF Poetry Club

Post by Zavier Antiguar » Wed May 30, 2018 9:51 pm

A Poem of My Brother's Life


If I could,
I would.
But I can't,
So I won't
May your blade be ever sharp, and your will never broken. Image

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Annasiel
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Re: RPF Poetry Club

Post by Annasiel » Wed May 30, 2018 11:02 pm

EricRP wrote:
Wed May 30, 2018 8:49 pm
The Stream.

Your waters trickle overground,
Collecting leaves from shedding trees
The peace and tranquil flowing sound
That aims to soothe. That aims to please.

The birds that gather by your bank
And light that fragments ‘pon your flow
Within; a thousand dreams are sank:
A thousand secrets thou dost know.

I met her sitting by your shore
My footfalls muffled by your song
And in your shallows, mourned her more
A life cut short. A grief so strong.

That ceaseless flow stopped short
My desire come to nought.
While I don't have your level of poetry vocabulary to describe this, I want to say I adore what you did here. The internal rhymes tying in to the overall theme give it this soft, flowing feel. The focus on the stream, and - if I'm reading this right - the switch from describing its own flow to the flow of the narrator's relationship is a gorgeous metaphor, and the abruptness of the end lends very well to establishing that mood.

I like the implication of the stream as some sort of unconscious observer, a constant and a source of comfort for the narrator.

I'm fond of Romantic Era poetry, and this honestly feels like something that could have been written then. It gives me strong Wordsworth vibes.
Alone she drifts from ancient mists
Nary a candle, nary a wish
But in the wont of wandering paths
Through wooded knolls, and windworn crags
She seeks a face she thought as friend
But now -- she thinks as judgement's end

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Annasiel
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Re: RPF Poetry Club

Post by Annasiel » Wed May 30, 2018 11:03 pm

The fervent hate that compliments
The sated taste of bitter sweat
And prickled needle-points of fear
Where peers all jeer for veins unbled,

“The Devil’s mark!”

The heathens wail,
(not lost in mind, but heart instead)
Skin as pale as mountain-ash
That piles high in woven tent
And pillar bent, a crooked shaft
Buried half in soil rent.

Around it, grass already bows
Under the weight of bated breaths.

“What say you?” choked bilious man,
A man of God whom God would spite,
A crooked statue of a pastor
Pledged to fester by his right.

“I am not what you say I am.”
They have it not, their minds are made.
No way to circumvent the plots
That knotted thoughts are taught to say.

“Liar!” comes expected shouts,
Spat from mouths of yellowed teeth,
“Conspirer! Build her pyre higher,
Burn her, fry her til she bleats!
Let the ones who shun the light
Be blast in light from blighted blaze!
Have this traveler of the night
Attempt to fight the Spirit’s gaze!”

Nothing more escapes my throat
But pants and hissing rants of rage.

Faceless hands reach where I stand
To steal my cloth, no less to wear.

“Bare before the Lord,” they say,
“For in the Lord all sins are bared.”

I lose my breath. They push me down,
I lose my nerve, my spirit pounds
An animal in body bound,
Unripe for passing,
Voices loud all screaming, jesting

The hemp winds tight, the cotton blinds,
Stale rags to gag my wordless lips,
Certainly not any worse
Than curs-ed taste of the Devil’s kiss,
Nothing more befitting for
A consort of the loveless husks
That dance in crimson ecstasy
Below the earth, unbirthed in blood.

Unmoving.
Stake stills spine and spirit,
Still I strain, afraid to hear if
Something strikes the pile’s grain,
I hear the scratch,
And then comes pain.

Soft at first.
A little prick,
The air grows thin,
My feet grow slick,
Then hotter
Hotter
Hotter still
I try to move,
I try to free
My hands won’t break
The ropes hold still
I cannot see
My will can’t break
I’ve had my fill
God, damn this place!
I know no Hell
But this is Hell
God this is Hell

The steeple knells.
Alone she drifts from ancient mists
Nary a candle, nary a wish
But in the wont of wandering paths
Through wooded knolls, and windworn crags
She seeks a face she thought as friend
But now -- she thinks as judgement's end

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EricRP
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Re: RPF Poetry Club

Post by EricRP » Wed May 30, 2018 11:28 pm

Annasiel wrote:
Wed May 30, 2018 11:02 pm


While I don't have your level of poetry vocabulary to describe this, I want to say I adore what you did here. The internal rhymes tying in to the overall theme give it this soft, flowing feel. The focus on the stream, and - if I'm reading this right - the switch from describing its own flow to the flow of the narrator's relationship is a gorgeous metaphor, and the abruptness of the end lends very well to establishing that mood.

I like the implication of the stream as some sort of unconscious observer, a constant and a source of comfort for the narrator.

I'm fond of Romantic Era poetry, and this honestly feels like something that could have been written then. It gives me strong Wordsworth vibes.
Thank you so much!

This was a poem I wrote to encourage my Year 10 class to try some Romantic Poetry; I tried to write a traditional English sonnet (therein I failed as I wrote in iambic tetrameter rather than pentameter) But the 8 syllable lines (rather than 10) gives a swifter flow which, for me, evokes the eponymous stream. I wanted to show how there are thousands of stories and lifetimes but the stream is constant and its flow is ceaseless whereas the flow of the life of the anonymous love interest stops short like the shorter syllable lines in the final couplet.

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Annasiel
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Re: RPF Poetry Club

Post by Annasiel » Wed May 30, 2018 11:55 pm

Rules are made to be bent for the sake of symbolism!
Alone she drifts from ancient mists
Nary a candle, nary a wish
But in the wont of wandering paths
Through wooded knolls, and windworn crags
She seeks a face she thought as friend
But now -- she thinks as judgement's end

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Shinigami
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Re: RPF Poetry Club

Post by Shinigami » Thu May 31, 2018 1:42 am

TBH, I'd like to learn poetry.
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