# The Poetry Thread **URL:** \ **Category:** Cafe Society\ **Created:** [September 20, 2002, 6:30am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-thread/128746 "2002-09-20T06:30:48Z")\ **Posts on this page:** 13\ **Page:** 2
**Author:** ![papergirl](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/p/aca169/32.png) [@papergirl](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/papergirl)\ **Post date:** [November 26, 2002, 3:04am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-thread/128746/21 "2002-11-26T03:04:35Z")
May I? Thanks! Poem for a Fourteen Year Old Son That evening, you found your parakeet dead in the corner of his cage, and the force of your grief drove you against me, clutching and mute. I held you and said the motherwords that are natural after fourteen years, and hid that small secret gladness—the joy I couldn’t help at this unexpected chance, perhaps the last time you would come to me for comfort. A month from now, a year, you would begin to hide your bruises and sorrows. You would say it’s fine when your gerbil died, and lock yourself in your room when your girlfriend moved away, and I would begin the unending process of letting go. There in your bright bedroom I cried with you, grieving my own losses, safekeeping each moment and offering unvoiced thanks to poor Crackers silent behind his thin chrome bars, huddled beautiful and calm in his yellows and greens. ---
**Author:** ![Fatwater\_Fewl](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/f/4491bb/32.png) [@Fatwater\_Fewl](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Fatwater_Fewl)\ **Post date:** [November 28, 2002, 4:52pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-thread/128746/22 "2002-11-28T16:52:14Z")
bump ---
**Author:** ![Triskadecamus](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/t/b19c9b/32.png) [@Triskadecamus](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Triskadecamus)\ **Post date:** [November 28, 2002, 7:35pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-thread/128746/23 "2002-11-28T19:35:19Z")
So little time left, And yet she does not know it. She is beautiful. Still a child, for a while, Yet soon to be a woman. Goodbye sweet baby! I cannot hold you back now. These are a fool’s tears. But if your own tears return, I will be waiting for you. ---
**Author:** ![Ludovic](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/l/7ab992/32.png) [@Ludovic](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Ludovic)\ **Post date:** [November 29, 2002, 7:19pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-thread/128746/24 "2002-11-29T19:19:10Z")
Welcome to Disney World, hope you have fun. Now give us all your money and your firstborn son. ---
**Author:** ![AncientHumanoid](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/ancienthumanoid/32/278_2.png) [@AncientHumanoid](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/AncientHumanoid)\ **Post date:** [November 30, 2002, 12:12am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-thread/128746/25 "2002-11-30T00:12:57Z")
**Adam’s Lament** I take the apple given me And procede to take a bite I had to do something with it It was given me by my wife That rib that became a woman Has caused a lot of pain I can’t say having a compliment Is really such a gain You can’t take her fishing She thinks that worms are icky But she’ll stick her tongue on mine And lick warm and sticky Her voice is different Smooth and high Sometimes for no reason She just starts to cry Her shape is different, too (I must admit, _that_ I like) But I wish instead of _Woman_ God had brought to me a bike! Or a boat Or some shoes Or a rotton fig Or splinters under my tongue Or shards of glass in my feet Or… ---
**Author:** ![AncientHumanoid](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/ancienthumanoid/32/278_2.png) [@AncientHumanoid](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/AncientHumanoid)\ **Post date:** [November 30, 2002, 12:23am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-thread/128746/26 "2002-11-30T00:23:41Z")
**The Danaan** Sitting silently in a tree I strive to listen closely Remembering how things used to be When a place like this was holy And people walked the astral plane As far as they could go Enduring vast amounts of pain With lust their eyes did glow Creeping darkly on the ground I catch an earthly scent I flay it madly round and round For fear my life is spent Then I remember who I am The things that I must do For I am living as mortal man And only this tree is true ---
**Author:** ![Anubis](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/a/dfb087/32.png) [@Anubis](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Anubis)\ **Post date:** [November 30, 2002, 1:15am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-thread/128746/27 "2002-11-30T01:15:37Z")
[My site with 8 of my poems on it](http://www.geocities.com/danames42/index.html) (Hey, its on Geocities. Whaddya expect? Quality? Ha!) ---
**Author:** ![Siege](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/dbc845/32.png) [@Siege](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Siege)\ **Post date:** [December 18, 2002, 4:01pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-thread/128746/28 "2002-12-18T16:01:04Z")
**Middle Age** Middle Age I have lost the words. In voyaging, in scrabbling, In years of endless night, In struggling, in scavenging, I have misplaced the light. Fear has drained its power, But moreso life itself, For job and rent and bills to play Replaced it on the shelf. I have misplaced my skill. A silly thing, a faerie’s wing! What good does it do me? It does not toil; it does not spin. It’s just a fantasy. I must see things as they are, Not waste my time in play! It’s what I do that shows my worth, Not what I have to say. I am afraid to try. Though I open heart and open soul To show you all I dream, My words will fade in empty air As I neglect my theme. And no one hears it anyway. It’s not what matters now. And if they did, they’d only ask, And I cannot answer, “How?” I am too old to dream. A prodigy now past her time, It’s not what women do. Silly girls play games with rhyme. Give dignity its due. It’s easy now to walk in shade, Put childish things away, To hide the gifts I one time prized, Or say now, “Not today.” If I step into the light, Give words a living form, Can I withstand the fire’s touch? Will it burn or merely warm? I remember words inflamed my soul, Flowing faster than my pen! Form and shape and flashing rhyme! I want them once again! And if this is a faerie’s wing, Well faeries still can fly. I think it’s time I claim my place; I think it’s time I try. C. J. Howorth 12/17, finished 12/18, 10:38 am ---
**Author:** ![unwashed\_brain](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/u/a9adbd/32.png) [@unwashed\_brain](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/unwashed_brain)\ **Post date:** [December 18, 2002, 6:45pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-thread/128746/29 "2002-12-18T18:45:28Z")
I paid attention all I had so now there’s nothing left to pay old Charon’s fare back across the river Styx so I’ll just sit on the shore testing the molten river’s mettle tossing shards of what surely must be the bones of some poor soul like my own poor Cerberus he had such a bad reputation he just wanted someone to scratch behind all six of his all-hearing ears and Medusa’s stoney gaze and nest of serpents in her hair sort of hid the fact that she’s as repulsed as we are feet in knee in thigh in waist in chest in head in I begin to swim across the water dyed red and glowing from the spotlights at the bottom of this manmade canal it’s a myth you see proven with belief it’s a myth you see you must surely see ---
**Author:** ![unwashed\_brain](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/u/a9adbd/32.png) [@unwashed\_brain](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/unwashed_brain)\ **Post date:** [December 18, 2002, 6:47pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-thread/128746/30 "2002-12-18T18:47:47Z")
what has become…of me the silence is glassed and glazed thick like the spit in my mouth and I sweat out the only available moisture so dry this desert in my mind give in let go turn back no relapse for an hour at least what thought rules that desperate look in the hollow eyes of the blinded seek the light get it right no patience for the ignorance of innocence tread upon the trampled flesh of the helpless help yourself inside the temple where gods feast on the souls of the dead from ambrosia to cynosure a parasitic illusion of allusions volatile with threats of veracity get out while volition remains an option crawl away under the dust and remain a part of me as if part of me remains unshed my shell is dry peel it back as the old gives in to the new as the excoriation begins each syllable a drop of acid each drop a stagnant regret each regret an affirmation of what…has become of me ---
**Author:** ![Fatwater\_Fewl](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/f/4491bb/32.png) [@Fatwater\_Fewl](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Fatwater_Fewl)\ **Post date:** [December 18, 2002, 7:53pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-thread/128746/31 "2002-12-18T19:53:39Z")
**A Hand (Mindful)** So the indecisive frosts of December have come And you have been walking under bare trees Through the fallen, wet leaves To this; a summons of the body To an unset scene. Here is a hand, mindful of want, caught in the meter of memory. Here is the tongue that hitches mind to language, Language to the sun rising in every cell. Here is the eye that breaks light free of prisms And scatters it into candled flesh; A burning scented with night, distance and mourning. This is a summons of the body of need. This is the onset. _Scene_: This is a mind, a handful of memory Caught in the meter of days. This is a tongue that hitches and stutters, Its language like a sun assaulted by clouds. Here you are, an eye that prisms all light to memory, A distant burning – This is a summons of the body. Here is what may be seen: A hand which neither lights nor extinguishes nothing – Not the sun, not the eye, not memory, not burning, But a hand which opens beyond language, A hand which opens through distance, Beyond the fallen, wet leaves to a tree; Its limbs like a tangle of bare wires twisting dangerously. [Live.] John MacKenzie December, 2002 ---
**Author:** ![Ribo](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/r/e274bd/32.png) [@Ribo](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Ribo)\ **Post date:** [April 26, 2004, 4:54am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-thread/128746/32 "2004-04-26T04:54:58Z")
## When watches change: All that matters Is all that will remain. when watches change, you’re a boy crying. you can change the day, but you’ll never find the day you died. The point is i’ve quit smoking, and then take another, when the watches change. The day will come, when all that matters is all there is. ## 2 across Bad news casts no shadow, good news beats a drum. thin hair and cigarettes. Salery men see the truth from a moving train. Brace yourself to scream with all you’ve got… ready? Ready? Oh, sorry, “Hello?” ---
**Author:** ![Balance](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/b/ccd318/32.png) [@Balance](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Balance)\ **Post date:** [April 26, 2004, 6:09am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-thread/128746/33 "2004-04-26T06:09:50Z")
_Shadow Self_ Can you really see me? Do you know me for what I am? Or do you only see The illusion Of an ordinary man? I weave a web of shadow, My darkness to protect, And I never know where my soul will lie when the candle flickers next. I touch the living realm like fingers trailing in a stream. a flash of fangs in darkness, a sleeper overwhelmed, and a dark and endless dream. Can none see the monster among them? I’m ready for the fall. Let it be war, or a quick, clean end –or are you monsters…all? This is what comes of feeling alienated and reading vampire stories at the same time. You have been warned. I find that a nice cup of hot chocolate and a copy of _The Princess Bride_ often prevent me from writing things like this. [Previous page](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/the-poetry-thread/128746.md?page=1)