?

Log in

Young Poets [entries|friends|calendar]
Young Poets

[ website | Moderator's Journal ]
[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

[14 Dec 2004|05:44pm]

sombre_lumiere
Wake up my little community!! *pokes it*

:P

I'll Take You Away

Come with me,
I'll take you away
To a place
Where children play.

A place where the sick are well,
And the old are young.
To a far away place
Where there's lots of sun.

Come with me,
I'll show you what it's like to fly,
Above the world
And to the sky.

Swim the sea
An ocean so blue,
Mermaids are singing
And splashing too.

Come with me,
I'll take your hand
And fly to that place
Called Neverland
write me a poem

chocolate maker [11 Oct 2004|07:18pm]

spiralated
trying to explain love to someone:

youre a block of chocolate, unsweetened, thinking youre enough for yourself, constantly mocked for having a bitter taste. im not trying to look like a hero, but i have a blowtorch and ten pounds of sugar. im not trying to break you into a new personality. its hard to break big chocolate. melting it is easier. im trying to melt you with my emotions so i can mold you from a boring square block into a curvious figurine, sweet to the taste. if anything, ill smile to see you behave so strongly upon your own emotions, as i, i can only offer you unconditionality with a smile. i'm only here to melt your heart, its your choice if you want to be melted or not, my only flaw: im the chef that has fallen in love with the coholate to sell it after ive sweetened it
write me a poem

randomness of being in the park [07 Oct 2004|01:35pm]

spiralated
footsteps falling in time.
from the shadows a echoing song
bird tells a story
time is a quite time
of

a lush ruffle of leaves belying the fact that we stand in the middle of a urban metropolis.
The area dampened by morning rains hides the stench of garbage and people.

white wings extend as the great egret flies
not far though, for the falcons

reside in the old architecture of the city
a hidden danger:
a predator
a city.
write me a poem

not a poem.. [01 Oct 2004|05:55pm]

spiralated
but comments please? its for a class. i'm suppose to describe my neighborhood sensual and by the random thoughts i think.

As I walked to find a place to sit, I realized that the city here rises and falls like a swell in the ocean from one river to the next. First there is low rise and a climax, the city then falls away to a lull, only to rise again, even higher until it wanes and reaches the next river. After this river, the buildings slowly swell again, but not as high as the first, in a similar fashion to how a following swell never quite reaches the height of the first, until it breaks against the beach. At a break between the buildings, there is usually a gust of wind, which tugs mercilessly at my hair, yet today, there is none. I have to say I am disappointed because it is usually a treat to take out the clips and pins and let my hair dance in the steady breeze coming off the river.
The streets turn from paved to cobblestone and I have to wonder if they have always been that way. Under the highway-bridge, the cars sound like the breaking of waves. For a moment, if you close your eyes you can almost hear the ocean breathing, and ignore the sirens to hear the gulls crying. The smell is intoxicating as you pass under the highway, and away from the assaulting smell of seaweed and fish, to the salty brine of the piers. Today it looks like the tide is changing. The river and the bay are locked in battle as one tries to flow and the other tries to rise. It reminds me of mornings, when my body tries to rise but mind desires to remain in the constant flow of a dream. Today the smell and feel of the sea seems to overcome the river, as people relax on the wooden chairs. They seemed to sense, as do the gulls who fly lower today, looking for bits to eat.
Sitting here I never noticed the small light house across the way, another remnant of what this place once was, a place where the city meets the sea. Yet today, it is just an obstacle to cross, or a place for tourists to gather. The city meets the sea here, but it seems more to scoff at the meeting and choose to pass over, under or alongside it. Only the tourists and diners seem to take some small interest in what's before them. I wonder if the river will ever be again what it once was, be able to recover from what we, as a race, have done to it. I mean, humans aren't forever, but a river is.
3poets| write me a poem

not a poem.. [01 Oct 2004|05:55pm]

spiralated
but comments please?

As I walked to find a place to sit, I realized that the city here rises and falls like a swell in the ocean from one river to the next. First there is low rise and a climax, the city then falls away to a lull, only to rise again, even higher until it wanes and reaches the next river. After this river, the buildings slowly swell again, but not as high as the first, in a similar fashion to how a following swell never quite reaches the height of the first, until it breaks against the beach. At a break between the buildings, there is usually a gust of wind, which tugs mercilessly at my hair, yet today, there is none. I have to say I am disappointed because it is usually a treat to take out the clips and pins and let my hair dance in the steady breeze coming off the river.
The streets turn from paved to cobblestone and I have to wonder if they have always been that way. Under the highway-bridge, the cars sound like the breaking of waves. For a moment, if you close your eyes you can almost hear the ocean breathing, and ignore the sirens to hear the gulls crying. The smell is intoxicating as you pass under the highway, and away from the assaulting smell of seaweed and fish, to the salty brine of the piers. Today it looks like the tide is changing. The river and the bay are locked in battle as one tries to flow and the other tries to rise. It reminds me of mornings, when my body tries to rise but mind desires to remain in the constant flow of a dream. Today the smell and feel of the sea seems to overcome the river, as people relax on the wooden chairs. They seemed to sense, as do the gulls who fly lower today, looking for bits to eat.
Sitting here I never noticed the small light house across the way, another remnant of what this place once was, a place where the city meets the sea. Yet today, it is just an obstacle to cross, or a place for tourists to gather. The city meets the sea here, but it seems more to scoff at the meeting and choose to pass over, under or alongside it. Only the tourists and diners seem to take some small interest in what's before them. I wonder if the river will ever be again what it once was, be able to recover from what we, as a race, have done to it. I mean, humans aren't forever, but a river is.
write me a poem

comments please? [28 Sep 2004|11:11pm]

spiralated
a friend wrote this. i'm trying to convince them to study writing in school. they don't believe they are good. i want to know if they are or not. honestly.

My dream: I see myself standing in the blue. feet upon water, looking down at my reflection, distorted by the giant creature lurking beneath. It spreads its jaws, eyes ablaze with fury, maw agap under me to swallow. and then i fly with ebony feathers, the only speck of black amidst a meadow of white. I plummet but i did not die, i was hurt but i cannot cry. only the sunset orange stood in plain view, the red of blood along the horizon and the faded purple as the setting arrows meets a million stars. moon for another night as i lay holding a ring, gazing at the rain of fire above. my mind was gone and emotions eroded, but sight was fortuous and i had a glimpse of my final hour. i died smiling like a man without regrets.
1poet| write me a poem

[27 Sep 2004|07:43pm]

spiralated
[ mood | blank ]

frozen in the lock of your gaze
staring at a reflection
siting and wondering if the words written in haste
were words written in truth

thats all so far..
i'm a bit slow.

3poets| write me a poem

Brother Dearest [27 Sep 2004|01:21pm]

belle_journee
[ mood | crappy ]

Brother Dearest


I'm hiding.
I find shelter in the darkness
Of these shadows.
I'm afraid of you... afraid to leave this place...
You put me here.
I'm scared so much
It's hard to stand on my own two feet.
Your words,
Your anger towards me,
They throw me down and pin me to the ground.
But I will not go down so easily,
I'm taking back the dignity
You stole from me.
Too many days have been
Spent fearing you.
I have my pride,
My head will be high,
Because now you can't hurt me anymore.
Brother dearest,
I love you...
But you've caused me to hate you.

write me a poem

[14 Aug 2004|11:40pm]

spiralated
i figured i'd just say hello to everyone here. i'm not a big writter of poetry myself, more of an editor-type.

i spent four years as editor of a literary/art magazine.. and i hope to continue it in college.

if anyone wants two cents... i'll be willing to give them to you.
1poet| write me a poem

navigation
[ viewing | most recent entries ]