Cursed

Your face is a curse to me.
It draws me in and binds me to you,
You tempt me ever closer, and I am trapped,
I am held in your snare.
Your face is a curse.

Your face is a curse to me.
An enchantment cast upon my mind.
My senses lost as I marvel in your thrall.
And I am helpless to avail it.
Your face is a curse.

Your face is a curse to me.
For my thoughts dwell on nothing else.
The sole heart of my cares and greatest desires,
Your face everywhere like some haunting dream.
Your face is a curse.

Your face is a curse to me.
For would that I had all of eternity to live,
I would be pained to have so little time in your light,
Your beauty deserving of more than infinity.
Your face is a curse.

And yet...
If your beauty is a blight, I would have no cure.
If your love is a wound, I would love that sore,
If your voice is my peril, I would face the worst,
And if your face is a curse to me, then let me be cursed.
For I would suffer this torment, and I would face any test.
For if your beauty is my curse, then there are none who are blessed.

Uh oh...

Cover your ears, everyone!

On a more serious note, I look forward to seeing what random poetry you might have for us. May the Muses fill your head with ideas!

EDIT: You must have posted seconds before me. If that one above was a sample of what the rest will be like, I'll hang around in this thread.

[This message has been edited by Edorix (edited 09-06-2009 @ 12:08 PM).]

Excellent Andalus. I wish I had your talent.
I'll be sure to check on this thread at every opportunity.

Wow Andalus, seems like that's the kind of poem that only comes from experience, did you get your heart broken by someone? Really good poem, I'll be sure to check out any forthcoming work.

Thank you all.


Nightfall

From the death of day is born darkest night,
At dawn the light wakes; at dusk it dies,
Yet throughout, the solemn stars shine white,
Sleeping 'neath the moon's disguise.

Though hidden by the vaunted clouds,
Seated high in deep blue skies,
In shadow of darkness they rise once more,
To gaze upon all with unblinking eyes.

In shadow of darkness, a star may rise,
In darkness of fire, a bright star dies.
In silent night rush mournful cries,
Quiet echoes of weeping widows' sighs.

In death we end what we have begun,
Forever unfinished, unclaimed the prize.
To age, or plague, or invaders come,
One day each man in the soft earth lies.

Broken, we bow and bend the knee,
Bend the will our heart supplies,
In death what can be gained but naught,
Sleeping 'neath the moon's disguise?

[This message has been edited by Andalus (edited 04-16-2010 @ 02:07 PM).]

That poem somehow reminds me of something from Catullus...

soles occidere et redire possunt:
nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux,
nox est perpetua una dormienda.

"Suns may fall and rise,
But when so soon that brief life for us goes out,
One long night lasts forever."

How do you like my translation?

Pessimistic, heartrending, tragic... Beautiful, Andalus. If I were you, I'd publish some of these before they get plagiarized.

The masochistic part of me begs you not to stop. *Howls at the moon*

[This message has been edited by Edorix (edited 09-08-2009 @ 12:35 PM).]

Wow...
That was amazing Andalus! I can't wait for another.
No pressure.

I have my own share of poetry I've written, but I'm not sure if I want to hijack his thread, or if I should make my own. I vote for a general poems topic.

As for your poems, nice vocabulary. You clearly have some sort of experience, but I find the "Broken Heart" poems to be incredibly cliche, so I don't write them.

I'm not sure if I want to hijack his thread, or if I should make my own.

I'd be interested to read some of your poems, but make your own thread, hijacker!

I find the "Broken Heart" poems to be incredibly cliche, so I don't write them.

You make a fair point, but personally I don't have a problem with cliches. They exist for a reason.

[This message has been edited by Andalus (edited 09-08-2009 @ 01:40 PM).]

You have the complexity and art of a true sphinx, Andalus. Jolly good!

The Vogons Byron has a new rival I see.

Seriously though, not bad. Good imagery.
I like the idea of this forum being for general writing as well as TW-related tales.

[This message has been edited by Gaius Colinius (edited 09-08-2009 @ 09:03 PM).]

This one I wrote specifically for a close friend of mine.

A Reason For Tears

Without loss, there could be no relief;
Joy would be hollow, if there were no grief;
Could we know how to mourn, if we could not be glad?
So rejoice, that you have a cause to be sad.

From waking hours to the depths of night,
We face our sorrows as we take delight.
We must take our hopes as we take our fears,
And rejoice, that we have a reason for tears.

[This message has been edited by Andalus (edited 02-10-2011 @ 06:00 AM).]

Ahh...

Every line counts.

Ahh...

No no, that is a happy poem. For consolation. It is like a big hug.

I would say hopeful, not happy - as a reader obviously, not the poet. Reading it back through again, it still makes me pretty depressed. For a poem about happiness, there are an awful lot of references to misfortune.

So I maintain that is an aah... -type poem.

I would say hopeful, not happy

Hm, perhaps. Fair point. But then of course you are reading it from (presumably) a fairly happy mood, so it brings you down. The friend in question was very emotional and crying, so for her it was more of a comfort. So yeah, a poem of comfort, not joy (comfort, not joy, O tidings of comfort, not joy).

Alright, you want a happy poem? Fine, have one.


Morning Snow

As I wake from my sleeping haze,
What do I see through this window?
I draw the curtains and outwards gaze,
Upon a silent world of falling snow,
Snow is pleasure I cannot tell.
This snow is happy, sweet and soft.
Breaking the winter's icy spell,
Of cold and rain, of ice and frost.

Snow, so pristine, white and clean,
Virgin snow in drifts, untouched.
There the snow white dream lives on,
Across the fields, where the snow has brushed.
Not like rain, so harsh and blank,
Which squalls in torrents from the sky,
Snow but softly strokes the ground,
Where gentle snowflakes gently lie.

Snow banishes the fear and guilt,
The panicked worry, the busy mind.
Instead, I watch the flurries fall.
As across the sky, white blankets wind.
I could not say just what I see,
That stirs in me this untold joy.
But with this, the snow’s simple beauty,
I am once again a little boy.

[This message has been edited by Andalus (edited 09-11-2009 @ 04:25 PM).]

Echoes

The sound of an echo, in the caverns of my heart;
The deep throbbing pulse, as the beats drift apart;
The depths of my sorrow; the lost light of my soul;
The emptiness so hollow, and emotions untold.
The skeletal husk, where all that remains,
Is the missing face of my love.
And your name.

Alright, you want a happy poem? Fine, have one.

Thank you. But now you're making me sad because it's not snowing here in Waterloo, and probably won't be for a good five months.

I prefer the second one... I think I might be masochistic; I like the sad ones. The Greeks thought that the reason people loved tragedies is because it showed them that however miserable their lives might be, someone else's was always worse. But i think it is deeper than that.

I also just have this thing about love poetry.

But now you're making me sad because it's not snowing here in Waterloo, and probably won't be for a good five months.

Yeah, I wrote that one back in February, when it was snowing. I love waking up and just seeing white outside the window. We got that day off as well - Britain can't cope with 6 inches of snow, while over in places like Canada they'd trudge to work through 3 feet of the stuff.

I prefer the second one... I think I might be masochistic; I like the sad ones. The Greeks thought that the reason people loved tragedies is because it showed them that however miserable their lives might be, someone else's was always worse. But i think it is deeper than that.

I must say I am the same - I prefer poems that reflect the more sorrowful aspects of life. It is these that people most often keep hidden away from the world. People can read sad poetry and connect with it - be it about death, love, loss, or whatever. A happy poem is the voice of the author expressing their own joy. A mournful poem speaks to our own emotions inside.

[This message has been edited by Andalus (edited 09-16-2009 @ 12:16 PM).]

I just clicked on my facebook box to update my status, and somehow ended up typing this instead...

Nuance

There is a difference between obsession and loyalty.
A difference between cliche and truth.
A difference between dalliance and patience.
A difference between me and you.

There is a difference between hatred and objection.
A difference between weakness and grace.
A difference between greed and ambition.
A difference, a time, and a place.

[This message has been edited by Andalus (edited 02-10-2011 @ 06:03 AM).]

Aw, man, why don't rhymes just slide off my tongue like that?

Dream of Beauty

A woven field of red and green,
Bright flowers beneath a sapphire sky.
A cloven path beside a gentle stream,
And on the breeze, a whispered sigh.

A mountain draped with pristine snow,
A silent stillness in the air,
Basking in the alpine glow,
A frozen world without a care.

A rushing ocean in full foam,
Crashing on the rocky shore,
Beneath the surface, monsters roam,
While above the waters, seabirds soar.

An arid desert of shifting sands,
The eternal sun burning from on high.
A calm still there, in the baking lands,
An untamed beauty in that place, so dry.

A woodland dell, in spring's first bloom,
The song of birds drifting through the trees.
Filled with the stem of nature's boon,
A harmony of life, and peace.

From east to west, and north to south,
Dawn chorus to the bright stars' dance
From mountain spring to river's mouth
The world declares its countenance.

The whole of nature on display,
Its glory open to behold.
The wonders of the world through night and day,
A vision of beauty, ages old.

Yet as I stand, on mountains high,
In forest glades, and scenes of bliss,
I know that beneath the crystal sky,
Dwells allure far lovelier than this.

And so I lie beneath a sky of blue,
In woven fields of red and green,
I close my eyes and think of you,
The perfect face of beauty's dream.

Broken Wings

The dragon lay across my path, yet I almost passed him by,
Until I saw the turquoise back, and the wings that would not fly.
The limbs still moved in utter vain, the strength within them spent,
Thrown to the ground by some freak of fate, his lifespan only lent.

Moved was I by the helpless beast, his beauty good for naught,
How could I leave and go on my way, and leave this creature fraught?
That creature, though, could not be moved, by strength of man alone,
I struggled, I strived, and willed him on, yet he lay as still as stone.
A fragile rock had he become, there lying all forlorn,
Afraid to move for fear of death, his soul and body torn.

"Oh dragon," I whispered, kneeling down, beside his battered frame,
"What great sights you must have seen, though now you lie so lame.
What wondrous scenes viewed from the clouds, the world before your eyes,
What marvels of a world unknown, as you soared the graceful skies."

"To feel the wind against your wings, as you soared o'er fields and streams,
How I would love to have lived as you, to dream your dragon's dreams.
Who knows a dragon's mind or heart, do you even dream at all?
Did you ever sleep, and dream of this, of death's ultimate call?
Yet death must come to one and all, to all on this green earth.
I weep but for your beauty, beast, that was doomed to die from birth."

I sat there with him for an age, and for him did I grieve,
But time was pressing ever on, and in time, I had to leave.
I took a last glance back at him, this creature left to die,
And a solemn whisper left my lips; "Farewell, dear dragonfly."

[This message has been edited by Andalus (edited 12-31-2010 @ 10:48 AM).]

Your talents are wasted here, Andalus. You've got to be the best poet I know. You rival even Catullus. And that's one of the biggest compliments I bestow.

Dream of Beauty has got to be your best yet, in my opinion. An absolute masterpiece. cvm magna lavde!(i.e. well done!)

[This message has been edited by Edorix (edited 09-28-2009 @ 11:27 AM).]

Lies

[This message has been edited by Andalus (edited 09-30-2009 @ 10:05 AM).]