WRITERS' CORNER discussion

A BLANK PICTURE

The hall lined with pictures,
All represent something.
The world at war.
The world at peace.
The trials,
Tragedies,
Tribulations.

Pictures of experiments,
Technology,
Machines,
Forests and parks,
Cities,
Towns.

Then, one picture,
A blank picture.
No worlds at war.
No worlds at peace.
No trials,
Tragedies,
Tribulations.

No pictures of experiments,
No technology,
Machines,
Forests or parks,
No Cities,
No Towns.

NO WORLD.
JUST A BLANK PICTURE.

HANDS

My hands are not like theirs,
Mine are bigger,
Usually stronger,
But never like theirs.

Hands are used to touch.
They touch women who do not want to be touched,
I touch the body of the one that loves me.

Hands are used to create.
They create violence with their slapping and punching,
I create stories, pictures, and other masterpieces.

My hands are not like theirs,
Mine are bigger,
Usually stronger,
But can be like theirs.

Hands are used to touch.
If they touch the one that I love,
They will know my hands can be like theirs –
They will feel my angry touch all over their bodies.

Hands are used to create.
If they create violence with anything I create,
They will know my hands can be like theirs –
They will feel their heads turning into one of my masterpieces.

My hands are not like theirs,
Mine are bigger,
Usually stronger,
But you do not want to see them become like theirs.

THE LECTURE THEATRE

Murmurs, Laughter, More Murmurs.
And I sit and listen.
Groups here, Groups there.
And I sit and watch.

This is a lecture theatre,
Structured for learning.
I am learning a lot,
But the lecturer isn’t here.

MIDNIGHT HOWL

For many years we wandered,
Prowling the great unknown.
Through forests and over mountains,
But still we were alone.

Some time later, we found a pack,
For many months we ran.
They helped us. Made us.
And our Midnight Howl began.

As moons went by, we grew restless,
The nights were cold and long.
The pack was nearly disbanded,
But still we both held strong.

Abandoned by the others,
We took on all that came.
But we did not abandon each other;
Two wolves without a name.

And though at times,
We may have lost our way,
We always found each other’s scent,
Before the end of day.

We may believe at times,
That our journey will soon end,
But the Midnight Howl continues,
With the haunting song we send.

We have already come so far,
And our faith has kept us strong.
Certain we will find,
A place where we belong.

Until then we will persist,
Keeping watch each day.
Making sure the other is safe,
From harm that comes our way.

Together we will fight,
With wisdom of the Owl.
Together we will stand,
Until the final Midnight Howl.

I love The Blank Picture and The Lecture Theater!

Thank you, Emmeline. I really like The Blank Picture too. I wrote that during a little competition my fiancée and I had going, where we came up with about 7 titles for poems each week for about 10 weeks. I was trying to get her to get back into writing. It worked quite well.

PHOTOS OF LIFE

A darkroom;
The smell of chemicals
Waft sickly through the air,
The paper is ready…
… The developer…

… A boy just born,
A curious boy,
A mischievous boy,
A little boy with a big imagination.

… A boy laughs with his brother,
A boy cries with his father,
A boy becomes a teenager.

… A boy learns well at school,
A boy with plenty of friends,
Then why the tears?

… A nervous boy,
He doesn’t enjoy science,
He hates maths too,
A boy that wants to write and draw.

… An angry boy,
He’s told he’s a dreamer,
He’s told he’ll be nothing,
He does it now to piss them off.

… A sad boy,
He’s told money is necessary,
He sees the world as it is,
A helpless boy.

… A boy portraying a man,
Finishes school,
Goes back to school,
A boy does Accounting for the money.

… A happy boy,
Friends that support him,
Friends that look up to him,
The best friends a boy could have.

… A boy realising that this is crap,
He must do what he wants,
A boy who will follow his dreams,
A boy who won’t listen to their cries.

… A lonely boy,
Finds a real job,
Finds real friends,
How fake can it be?

… An eager boy,
Becomes a man,
But was it worth it?
Not just yet!

… A boy finds truth,
This isn’t love,
This isn’t even friendship anymore.

… A boy finds love,
It is with a loner,
One that his friends cast aside,
A boy follows his heart.

… A boy trusts and learns,
The loner has shown him much,
His friends have nothing on her,
A boy walks out on his pain.

… A boy in love,
He has a wonderful girl,
Has a great time with kids,
A boy goes to school to stay in school.

… Time for the stopper and fixer,
The pain is stopped,
The past is fixed…

… But that boy,
His girl,
Their dreams…

… Possibly on other photos of life.

TERROR OF LIVING

There are times when you will feel

That the rains will never cease.
That the floodgates will open
And you’ll regret their release.

That the fires will continue to rage.
That the flames will surround you
And you’ll be forever caged.

That the hurricane won’t pass.
That the wild winds will beat you
And you’ll never last.

That the earth will fall apart.
That the darkness will engulf you
And you won’t know where to start.

When you’re in these times
That seem so unforgiving,
You begin to face a fear
Known as the Terror of Living.

But when you’re in these times
And you feel that you want to go.
There’s something that should hold you back
Something you should know.

I’ll be there to help you
When the floodgates need to mend
When the burning flames extend
I will be your friend.

I’ll be there to help you
When the wild winds are hard to fend
When darkness feels like the end.
I will be your friend.

SO WHAT DOES THAT MAKE ME?

A, B, C, D, E, F…
All this tells me is that they know their alphabet.

I do not need a certificate to tell me if I’m smart or dumb.
I have lived long enough to find that out for myself.

As a baby, I was able to find my way out without a map.
Does that make me smart?

As a child, I wrote things that people didn’t understand.
Does that make me dumb?

As a teenager, I got an E for Maths but I got an A for English.
So what does that make me?

I know my twelve times tables off by heart…
I don’t know how to write an argumentative essay…
So what does that say about their marks?

I do not need a certificate to tell me if I’m smart or dumb.
I have lived long enough to find that out for myself.

Here's one I wrote some time ago about teaching...

WE ARE THE TRAVELLERS

We will venture on a journey,
I will be their leader,
And they will be gatherers:
Gatherers of information,
So they will need something to store it in.

They will come to me with their bags.
Some will have new bags,
Some old and torn,
But each will be relatively empty.
It is my job to fill them.

They will bring some clothes:
An identity.
Each of their clothes will be different,
Some well worn, some fairly new.
So I must make them feel comfortable in their clothes.

They will need a sewing kit:
Resilience and Self-esteem.
During the journey their clothes will be torn,
Both physically and mentally.
I will teach them to repair their clothes.

They will bring hiking boots:
Personality.
Some will be strong and tough,
Others will be flimsy and tattered.
I must attempt to make their boots last the whole journey.

They will need food and drink:
Knowledge.
I will share my food and drink amongst them.
They will get all they want, and hopefully share it with others.
But my canteen is only so full…

I will need to teach them to hunt,
So that they can find their own food and drink.
They will need to know,
As I cannot be there on the rest of their journey.
I must continue mine.

They will need a sleeping bag:
Love and Understanding.
They will need a thick one,
That will keep them safe from the dangers of the journey.
One that lets them sleep well at night.

They will need a compass:
Direction.
I need to help them use their compasses,
I cannot tell them where to go, just guide them to where they are going.
I do not have their maps.

They will bring with them other things:
Things they have experienced,
Things they have learnt,
Things that they feel will help them on their journeys.
These things I know nothing of.

When we have finally started our journey,
There will be some that will lead,
Whilst others fall behind.
I will lead from behind.
They will know leadership is not in position but in action.

And when we come to the mountains,
I will teach them perseverance.
They will make it over those mountain,
And come out with a never-say-die attitude.
There will be none at the base of the mountain.

And when we come to the rivers,
I will teach them creativity and resourcefulness.
They will dig into their bags,
And use anything possible to make it across the rivers.
The more rivers we cross the easier it will be.

There will be good times.
I will teach them to enjoy the world.
We will party under the stars,
And there will not be a soul cast aside,
All will have fun.

But, there will be sad times.
Not all will make it on our journey,
Some will disappear,
Others will take different paths,
But that does not mean that our journey ends.

We are the travellers,
And I will be their leader.
But, only until they are ready to lead themselves.
Then they will forge their own pathway,
To continue their journey of life.

Travis wrote: "
A BLANK PICTURE


The hall lined with pictures,
All represent something.
The world at war.
The world at peace.
The trials,
Tragedies,
Tribulations.

Pictures of experiments,
Technology,
Machines..."

This poem says a lot, Travis. Very powerful imagery!

Travis wrote: "
PHOTOS OF LIFE


A darkroom;
The smell of chemicals
Waft sickly through the air,
The paper is ready…
… The developer…

… A boy just born,
A curious boy,
A mischievous boy,
A little boy with a b..."

I love the way this poem flows, just like developing photographs. There is a tinge of sadness in this poem, I felt that while I read it.

Travis wrote: "Here's one I wrote some time ago about teaching...


WE ARE THE TRAVELLERS


We will venture on a journey,
I will be their leader,
And they will be gatherers:
Gatherers of information,
So they w..."

I love this one! Everything about it shows our own journey through life. I hope this reflects the kind of teacher you are? :)

I'm glad you enjoyed them, Madison. And, I try to live up to the We Are The Travellers poem. Thanks. :)

…THERE STANDS A RAVEN

The reflection gives the ultimate view of oneself.
When I see myself standing there…
…There stands a Raven.
But will they believe me?

There are no feathers.
There are no talons.
There is no bird.
However, there stands a Raven.

With a glint of magic,
In those eyes,
A caw that will never be beaten
By those that try to crush his values.

A scavenger,
For truth and knowledge,
And wings,
That fly him through his imagination.

They may never believe me.
But, the reflection gives the ultimate picture of oneself.
And when I see myself standing there…
…There stands a Raven.

E.M. wrote: "This was a great poem. I enjoyed reading it."

Thanks, E.M. :)

Nice poem, Travis. Made me look in the mirror and try to figure out what I see... I only saw myself. :)

Madison wrote: "Nice poem, Travis. Made me look in the mirror and try to figure out what I see... I only saw myself. :)"

Thanks for your comments and you might need to look harder :D

:)