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(OT) Any poets out there?


PASabreFan

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Anybody write poetry? I've become inspired recently after hearing former poet laureate Billy Collins read some of his stuff on "Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me!" (I listen to NPR, but I'm not smart.) His work is so accessible and funny, you don't feel like it's even poetry. So I wrote a few. They're throwaways, really, certainly nothing that I would put up against a serious poet's work.

 

Anyone want to share? I sure as hell am not going first.

 

 

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There once was a lady from Nantucket...

 

EDIT: Now that I think about it, this thread should only allow replies that include poems. Ideally, all replies would be in poems.

 

 

In poems, all replies

Filter through my digital window on the world.

Bring joy, frustration, and comtemplation

to a dreary, rainy day.

 

Some of the people in the machine

are closer than my family.

Maybe there's a sadness in that.

Maybe I should log out.

Edited by MattPie
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I had a dream while on probation.  All of SabreSpace was there.

We filled a hall at the Arena, smoking joints, and drinking beer.

A little smurf said, Let's go in, I must remind you how to cheer,

Thus we ate brownies, and got refills, then proceeded to our chairs.

 

In the Arena, in the center, where the spotlight shines so brightly,

Holy Mecca, where we've watched the Sabres grip their sticks so tightly,

That lovely logo that we cherish, was covered by a cage!

And in it, three men.  By now I think you know their names:

Owner (clapping)

GM (cheering)

Coach (standing o)

So this is why we're here? - But it was just a dream,

And you wouldn't believe what dream-state owner tastes like!

Ruff (gone)

Regier (gone)

Pegula (roasting)

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I'd try to intimidate you with some of my extempore stuff, but I recently broke my right arm, which shut down my left brain.  I'm handicapped, friend,  The only thing that keeps me interested in living is reading poetry.   :(   You and I know that that last poem was 3 years old, and I can't republish BJW in the current literary climate.  I'm your fluffer.

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I used to write a ton, and a fair amount of poetry. Nothing astounding or maybe even good, but there was one piece I was proud of that got good reviews. Maybe I'll get drunk some night and find the balls to post it, but not tonight. 

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Anybody write poetry? I've become inspired recently after hearing former poet laureate Billy Collins read some of his stuff on "Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me!" (I listen to NPR, but I'm not smart.) His work is so accessible and funny, you don't feel like it's even poetry. So I wrote a few. They're throwaways, really, certainly nothing that I would put up against a serious poet's work.

 

Anyone want to share? I sure as hell am not going first.

This is why we can't have anything nice around here.

Well now that Eleven, er... showed you his....

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Yuri is what I strive to be someday

Someday.  

 

Yuri now?  Work in progress.  

 

Sabrespace has been a big part of my feeling comfortable.  Going forward, I'll do my best to keep it up.  

 

We need to apply ourselves in someway.  I feel talented, but I'm not hooked up at all towards a writing profession.  

 

I totally enjoy writing pro bono.

 

This is good practice, doing what we enjoy.  

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What have we here, laddie? Mysterious scribblings, a secret code? No. Poeems, no less, poeeeemmms, everybody. The laddie reckons himself a poet.

 

Money, get back, I'm alright Jack, keep your hands off my stack.

 

New car, caviar, 4 star daydream, think I'll buy me a football team.

 

Absolute rubbish, laddie.

 

Whack.

 

Get on with your work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

:p

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excellent.

It took me a minute to get fully up to speed on that one. Indeed, excellent.

The light of day sometimes strips away my fear

 

I'm here and I'm the same as I always was, but different

 

The old fuss burned into a new stint

 

Another way I can say I'm fine and never know if I'm walking the line or on either side

Cool.

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Anyone want to share? I sure as hell am not going first.

 

I have written about 2 dozen poems and about a dozen songs. I started playing piano a few years ago so I pen stuff when I get the muse

 

This is a poem I wrote about 15years ago. Its my best one IMO

 

DARK CORNERS

 

 

 Sitting in the corner

sipping strong black coffee

I watch you frolic

with a malevolent awe

 

Youthful exhilaration

spins you frivolously

Giddy laughter betrays

your feeble innocence

Joy comes easy

amid callow years

 

I am the Prince of Pleasure

Patience is my strategy

Planting flowers down diablerie paths

Inviting you

Feeding your hunger for happiness

Shielding you from life’s stinging rein

 

I'm always there

never manifesting far

In the darkest corners

waiting

preying

for pain to pierce

for hope to languish

 

 

Daryl  Pienta

I had a dream while on probation.  All of SabreSpace was there.

We filled a hall at the Arena, smoking joints, and drinking beer.

A little smurf said, Let's go in, I must remind you how to cheer,

Thus we ate brownies, and got refills, then proceeded to our chairs.

 

In the Arena, in the center, where the spotlight shines so brightly,

Holy Mecca, where we've watched the Sabres grip their sticks so tightly,

That lovely logo that we cherish, was covered by a cage!

And in it, three men.  By now I think you know their names:

Owner (clapping)

GM (cheering)

Coach (standing o)

So this is why we're here? - But it was just a dream,

And you wouldn't believe what dream-state owner tastes like!

Ruff (gone)

Regier (gone)

Pegula (roasting)

 

 

not to shabby. I assume it was an on the spot creation

Edited by ddaryl
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Wrote this one a while ago; I came up with the first few lines and the rest sort of flowed out. I like the sentiment at the end, but it gets a little weak. I change it a bit every once in a while, but I like it over all. 

 

 

 

In the dying firelight,

As you stare thoughtless into the night,

I watch the flames dance on your cheeks,

And the wind toss you hair.

 

None come for us for days nor weeks,

We've walked the valleys and kissed the peaks,

So many miles have drifted passed,

We soldier on at dawn.

 

Over your eyes, a sheet of glass,

And jaded too turn mine, at last,

Why go on when we can stop, 

And rest our legs for once.

 

But its not the journey, not the walk,

Not the end of which we talk.

In that end what will be will be,

I am simply with you, and you simply with me,

And that is all we need.

Edited by sabills
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Good stuff, all. I admire everyone for posting. It definitely opens you up in a way that some stupid hockey comment doesn't.

 

 

 

"Shiloh"

 

I was up all night

 

Drinking coffee, eating pie

 

Eating pie, drinking coffee

 

Tearing at napkins

 

Pressing on that lifted seam of wallpaper

 

Doodling

 

What's your angle, Bob?

 

What. Is. Your. Angle.

 

Bob.

 

Finally

 

At the crack of Dawn

 

Eureka!

 

I got it!

 

I have some bad news for you

 

He's a Civil War re-enactor

 

Of course he is

 

And if he has his way

 

Three weekends a month

 

You'll be his Mary Todd Lincoln

 

They're held down south

 

In the summertime

 

And the dress Bob has in mind for you,

 

Mary,

 

Is 100 percent wool

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  • 2 months later...

crickets

no words
can't sleep

dad, come get me
special treat

just want to hear the crickets

give me your hand
i'll lead you to the window
hear them?

crickets

oh, the joy
wait, we're going outside?
oh, the joy

tapping my thumb and middle finger
see, i know

crickets

pick me up
i need to be closer to the crickets

and you

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