The Life of a Poet discussion

Yes, the genres this month ended with a tie. Oh well, I have so little sanity there will be 3 genres.
Storms
Fantasy
History
Good luck you guys and the winner polls shall start on the 25th!!!!
Looking forward to reading these poems!

This one may be debatable, but I figured it would work for History.



Speaking in the Past


We have our friends to turn to
whenever times are hard.
Each of us shares our troubles
and then encouragement.

But I have friends of a different kind.
I always hear from them,
yet I must go to a different one,
for them to hear from me.

When I moaned of my past heartbreak
I turned to hear from Donne,
to hear the pain that taunted him
so long as he grew old.

When my life seemed all but lost,
I reached for Eliot
to follow him in that escape
from this world and myself.

When I was fighting with mistakes,
I sought to find Milton
to read of man’s most fatal error
then remember what fixed it.

When searching for another dream,
I journeyed next to Poe
then his darkest nooks and crannies
brought me sleep faster.

When I was unsure what I needed,
I searched through lines of Lewis
to find that one I was searching for
which seemed to reflect me.

Yet, when I come to where I must respond,
none of these five will hear me.
I will find I must write down all my heart
so new poets will find a friend.

That was really cool! And...I'd say it's perfect for the categories. Inner turmoil a's the storm. History is obvious. Fantasy a's the works of the individual authors and the way that the subject took and portrayed them for and of themselves. Very nice, thank you. :)

Perhaps I'll use all three....

Ready for memories

The rain echoes throughout an empty house
One I plan to make a future in
But i cant help think
That this house was once a part of someone's past
A place where memories, both lovely and harmful, were made

I look out the window, through the rain, and see an old tree swing.
I know that someone played there years ago
Created their own fantasy world around that swing
So they could play all day
Breaking only for lunch and dinner

Looking away, I walk through the house
Up and down the stairs
Imagining the family that once lived here
How they spent their days
Whether they were truly happy together
How much they loved each other
I can't seem to shake the feeling that I'm an outsider here
encroaching on someone else's life

I keep forgetting about my own family though
I keep forgetting that my daughter
Will take to that swing and create her own world as well
And that my life and memories will fill the cracks
Between the floor boards

With a new resolve
I walk out into the rain
Towards the large truck I call my own
And grab the first box
Finally ready to unpack

((I have no idea where this came from, because I am DEFINITELY not old enough to have a daughter...))

Seething

He walks off,
Into the night,
Cold,
Harsh,
Shrinking.

It seems as though
He causes the snow
Cold,
Harsh,
Blowing.

It tells the story
Of what had happened,
Cold,
Harsh,
Un-relenting.

Lays it on the table,
Every card in perfect synchronization,
Clear,
Concise,
Un-relenting.

One may recognize
The signs of failure,
Love,
Life,
Caring,

Or those of what
Could save us,
Destruction,
Disposition,
Ignoring.

They will save us
Rescue our souls,
From ourselves,
From our love,
From loving.

From floating away,
Into a daydream,
Free,
Light,
Fleeting.

And the wings will
Carry us off,
Soft,
Down,
Beating.

Before that snow,
Billowing as he exits,
Cold,
Damp,
Refusing.

Drowns us into what
We tried to hide from,
Dirt,
Sorrow,
Hating.

Throws us around
Like rag dolls,
From the sky,
From the air,
From breathing.

And now he’s gone,
And there is no tether,
Floating,
Flying,
Prison.

I sing out in contempt at my waking dream.

Oddly enough, I think I actually, in part, liked some small part of this...don't know what....??

Wow. I really liked this poem. It hits too close to home.

Thank you....

I love the repitive-ness! Its a beautiful poem.

Thank you....:)

:3