MiscellaneousHave a poetic style of your own? Have poems that defies all conventional categories? Share them here please. (i.e. dark & bitter, political, revolutionary, abstract, etcetera...) will know at the end
impromptu writing
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So i look back from the edge,
and find lessons needed
are now becoming lessons learned.
A precipice walked does not a man make,
but the reason for which he passed that way,
ah, now there is a question.
But men would have none of that.
For in those terms, their lot and place in life
are little more than incidental.
Yet in the end, even they are necessary.
Not guilty is my plea
to things for which I took blame;
for in the moment,
my thought was not for me, but for you.
Awakened now, in fields of green,
regal glow of my mantle shining;
a white tear beneath one eye;
a prayer for the loved and lost.
This be the only mark on me
save the fire in my eyes.
Beyond the shadows, the calls of fathers come before
echo down the canyons of my dreams.
Like dew not yet settled on the forest floor,
these silent eyes watch and wait within the mist.
For my time has come.
No more words would do it justice.
My time has come.
I have waited far too long.
I am the grey wolf;
first and only lover of the moon;
royal coat and a forest's worth of wisdom
gleaming in the light-weary evening;
with burning hazel eyes
that speak volumes
but utter not a word.
Look deep within them,
past the threshold
to a soul strong and willful.
See the cunning.
sense the power,
and know that whatever
I may hunt,
it will not long run free.
Tall in the shoulder and strong,
I know my place in this world.
And now you will see
all the things you should have seen.
For behind the teacher, and the muse
past the foolish spirit I was
i am more than an example,
who took the falls i teach others to avoid
I am a master of disguise...
a singular creation.
the grey wolf,
a shadowed lover with a full moon's voice.
Last edited by zaac; 09-16-2007 at 05:34 AM.
Reason: somethin didnt seem right...why else?
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zaac, I haven't seen Spider's reply on this thread, but I heard your words loud and clear. Always taught by life lessons to devour before being devoured...whatever it takes. On again and off again...analytical beings...switching our skins as the moment calls for...hanging on for another meal...tempored by what love we have been taught...just enough to keep us afloat in the world and hang on for another day...fantastic mental muse. Thanks for the write, my friend.
Biography: Teachers, like candles; consume a little of ourselves everyday, so our students can shine bright.
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For me, right now, more important is the message in this piece, than what I think this poem means, or what a particular means. However, later I will try to go over the poem by lines. This will mean different things to different people and is the beauty of writing. Overall, the message is quite clear and life lessons learned are the foundation before the house is built so to speak.