SH Poetry Corner

hertsguy30s on Tue Mar 22 2005 wrote:

I know this is for our own compositions but I couldn't resist posting this one on the Chuck and Camilla Show:

Dejected Thoughts on the Royal Wedding
By Pam Ayres

My mother said "Say nothing,
If you can't say something nice."
So from my poem you can see
I'm taking her advice.

Fantastic!

Hmmm now for my own feeble ramblings:

Gazing across the rooftops of the village where I live
The sound of dustmen, wheelie bins, cars and shouting kids
My computer here before me, the world a click away
Hoping to draw you near me, to have my wicked way!

romantic eh ??!!

marmalaid on Tue Apr 05 2005 wrote:

Eulogy to Fallen Friends

So, I like arrive at the party
When it's all groovy and kicking and stuff
I'm like fashionably late as usual
No! This can't be happening!
Gunshots break the rhythm & all falls silent
It's like Columbine all over again,
None of my friends left standing
Gone! Taken from me by the actions of one lone madman.

Hear it? The sound of that pin drop?
Eerie silence my only companion
All around me the bodies of the innocents
Voices in my head their only epitaph
Everyone should hear of this massacre, but it's
Now nothing but a footnote on the Backpage.

This is my first piece of poetry I've ever posted or had published, please tell me what you think.

Thanks,
Chris

GenHertsCpl on Wed Apr 06 2005 wrote:

The ramblings of a mad woman......

I would

If I could ease pain, I would
If i could see only good, I would
If I could move forwards, I would
If I could erase hurt, I would
If I could make you smile, I would
If I could stem the tears, I would
If i could help you, I would
If i could change, would I?

Libra+Love on Sun Apr 10 2005 wrote:

I was sent this today together with the track MOTHER EARTH (download it and listen it's beautiful ) and it touched my soul.

AN angel interaction...message on the wind

He said: But do you let me taste you.
pleasure from your pain
softly over poison
lover breaths again

Seeing where you're empty
filling up your soul
bringing you from darkness
every rangers goal.

blithe spirit on Sat Apr 16 2005 wrote:

Twenty six lines between us

I hate you:
The closeness of your being makes me sick.
I loathe you:
Your kindness and your friendship just a trick.
And sweetness from your mouth is
But honey to the trap;
And succour from your soul
Is but bucket loads of crap.
How can you look at me as if butter
Wouldn’t melt?
How can you hold my gaze as if
Pain was never felt?
Unreal.
I’d shoot you:
If serendipity brought war between our clans.
I’d hang you:
If a judge in blackest hat agreed my plans.
I’d escort you to the cart
And urge the horses on
And chime aloud the charge for which
You’d soon be dead and gone.
You are much too much like me
And such mimicry must stop:
I am superior to you
And so you must take the drop;
Appeal?

(A poem I like from A. Goodman.
Blithe)

jason54321 on Tue Apr 19 2005 wrote:

immoral majority

outside seeking the centre
prejudicial thinking and weighty preconceptions
desire gives way to desperation
thank god for for the liberated few
prepared to centre their insides on the outside

rachel-lane on Wed Apr 20 2005 wrote:

this isnt really a poem, just something about me, have been doing alot of thinking lately on where im going, and what i will become. my real life test is almost over, and ill soon have the decision to make about my opps, and, im truly scared for once in my life, but this piece just helps me to remind myself that i am special , no matter what future decisions i take.

Reasons To Cherish Being Transsexual

Because being transsexual is often so hurtful, so filled with sadness and longing, with shame and loss and difficulty, it is easy to come to the conclusion that the whole thing is utterly a curse, perhaps inflicted by arcane and evil ancient gods.
Oh, probably.
But there is an upside too.
Most human lives are utterly mundane, devoid of any real uniqueness, the average person somnambulates through an existence devoted to filling the roles expected of them.
But to be a transsexual is a magical, wondrous thing.
Consider. We are given many gifts in compensation for the terrible loss of our childhood as ourselves, and for the pain we endure. We are by some as yet unknown mechanism statistically far more intelligent, as a class, than perhaps any other kind of people. We are almost universally more creative, and we often possess incredible levels of courage and self determination, demonstrated by our very survival, and ultimate attainment of our goal. We are rare as miracles, and in our own way, as magical, or so has been the belief of all ancient cultures on the earth.
We are given awareness that others would never experience, understanding of gender, of the human condition, of society and the roles and hidden rules unquestioned within it. We are given a window into the lives of both sexes, and cannot help but be, to some degree, beyond either. From this we have a rare opportunity: to choose our own life, outside predetermined and unquestioned definition or role. We can do new things, original things, only because our experience is so unique.
We get to be true shapeshifters, and experience the sheer wonder of melty-wax flesh and a real rebirth into the world. Our brains and bodies gain benefit from having been bathed in and altered by the hormones of both sexes. We appear to retain our visible youthfulness where others wrinkle, and for years longer. We possess neural advantages from both sexes, such as the language advantages of the feminized brain, and the spatial abilities of the masculinized brain both. We are shocked into waking up, if we allow it, to a life we create for ourselves...we are not automatically doomed to sleepwalk through life.
After our transformations, after the full-moon lycanthropic miracle that the modern age affords us, we can live lives of success and love, and genuine specialness, if we choose. If we can get past our upbringing, past the programming, the bigotry, the messages of disgust from the culture around us, if we can stand as ourselves in freedom, then our special gifts grant us a heritage of wondrous power.
We have a proud and marvelous history. In ancient days we were magic incarnate. We were Nadle, Winkte, Two-Souls, Shamans and healers and magical beings to our communities. We possessed the ability to give the blessings of the gods and spirits, and were prized as companions, lovers, and teachers.
We were the prize gift of ancient tribes, entertainers, designers and dreamers. Sometimes we were the -somewhat reluctant- rulers of empires, and the consorts of emperors. We were champions and warriors too, who were feared for our unique gifts turned to inevitable victory.
Know that it is only in recent centuries, with the rise of the single minded, monolithic and monotheistic desert religions, filled with harsh single gods and twisted, narrow morals, that our kind have become reviled, the objects of scorn. Once, we were the kin of the gods.
To be transsexual is not easy, and it is not a birth that could be envied, but neither is it a damnation. It was once considered a rare wonder, if a mixed one; a faery gift that cuts as it blesses.
And in the modern age, of hormones and surgery, we are the first generations of our kind to finally know the joy of complete transformation, of truly gaining our rightful bodies. No other transsexuals in history have been so fortunate.
I say that we are unicorns, rare and wondrous, with still a touch of ancient magic and the kinship of the gods. Though it is agony, beyond the fire we have the opportunity to become alchemic gold.
We have much to add to the world, and to give to ourselves and those who love us.
We have always been, we are still the prize of the tribe, for only the world around us has changed, the desert harshness branding us vile. We are still the same.
Our compensations are real, and our lives are special; we have but to grasp the gifts born of our sufferings.
When I look around me at the mundane lives, there are times I think that maybe I am glad I was born transsexual, for I would never have been what I have become without that curse. I cannot help but be grateful for my uniqueness, so I am brought to a strange revelation:

Deep down, its a fucking shit state of affairs to be honest

Wishmaster on Tue Apr 26 2005 wrote:

Forever And A Day

A soft glow breaches the horizon,
And moves inexorably towards me.
I stand still as though frozen,
And marvel at her mystery.
I know I need to be in love...

She came to me through a dream,
And whispered tenderly:
'I have looked for you, my love'
'You must never leave me'

...Again...

And what harmonies,
Did her voice resound!
It's soft and soothing echo,
My senses kneeling found.

...A passion...

Courage to hold her,
For fear she may let go.
How I wish the words,
Would come to let her know.

...That I feel...

Hearts embraced together,
Slowly we drown our fears,
That have watched us both,
For more than a thousand years.

...Forever...

And a day will come,
When you and I shall sail,
Upon the highest ocean.
Our love will not let us fail.

rachel-lane on Tue Apr 26 2005 wrote:

I know the pieces fit cuz I watched them fall away
Mildewed and smoldering, fundamental differing,
Pure intention juxtaposed will set two lovers souls in motion
Disintegrating as it goes testing our communication
The light that fueled our fire then has burned a hole between us so
We cannot see to reach an end crippling our communication.

I know the pieces fit cuz I watched them tumble down
No fault, none to blame it doesn’t mean I don’t desire to
Point the finger, blame the other, watch the temple topple over.
To bring the pieces back together, rediscover communication.

The poetry that comes from the squaring off between,
And the circling is worth it.
Finding beauty in the dissonance.

There was a time that the pieces fit, but I watched them fall away.
Mildewed and smoldering, strangled by our coveting
I’ve done the the math enough to know the dangers of a second guessing
Doomed to crumble unless we grow, and strengthen our communication

Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion

Between supposed lovers
Between supposed lovers.

And I know the pieces fit.