Chants of the Bone Singer

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Astaroth, Nov 11, 2011.

  1. I've been reading Staci's poems and thinking a bit about my own, and I figured, why not? I should share. Of course, I don't think I've written a poem since I was sixteen, with the exception of the Pokemon Haiku Challenge I just contributed to. But for what it's worth...

    Angsty teen poetry incoming!

    If you have any feedback, I'm all ears. Feel free to comment here or to PM me.
  2. So let's start off with a bang, shall we? Here's the poem I admittedly posted to Myspace when I was fifteen (also the same age I stopped using Myspace) and had several people message me asking if I was okay. >__>

    A Note to Juliet, the Prince, the Baron, the Huntress, and His Grace

    I hate you
    I want to touch you, I want to taste you; I want it to hurt, I want you to burn
    I want you to feel the past third of this life
    Do you have any clue how much the dirt is choking me?
    You buried me alive and I’m still clawing my way out
    They’ll see my scrabbling and call me an actress
    They’ll tell me what to do like a little wind-up toy
    Because you made me your little wind-up toy
    And you wound me and wound me
    And then you let me go
    But I don’t know where to go
    Because I’m just a toy
    That didn’t come with instructions
    And all I want is to be wound up again
    Even though I know
    That if you ever did, if I let you wind me up
    You’d just let me go again
    And then where would I be?
    I can’t even see my face anymore
    Because the dirt eroded it away
    And I try and I try
    And I try and I try
    To fix my face
    To fix your face
    To fix her face
    To fix the world’s face
    And all I do is shatter things
    Because I’m a clumsy little toy
    You probably think I’m an actress
    Looking at this scrabbling
    But really all I want to say to you
    Is I’m sorry; I love you
    I hate you; I miss you
    I want you
    It’s not your fault, really
    And I’m winding down

    • Like Like x 1
  3. Lessons

    Good little boys and good little girls
    Grow up shattered by the big bad world
    They wait to be rescued all night and all day
    The monsters who bore them never going away

    It doesn’t matter, shadow or light
    The bad things can get you without a fight
    Your castle’s a lonely and desolate place
    No fairies or sprites to brighten the space

    Your horses are plastic, your friends make-believe
    The one real magician has tricks up his sleeve
    Mommy and daddy can’t save you, why?
    Because they are the ones from which you hide

    When being a kid’s no longer carefree and fun
    There’s still one solution, one place to run
    Try very hard, and join the cult
    Of those who believe that they are adult

    • Like Like x 2
  4. This is something I wrote for my Creative Writing class in high school during the poetry section. The assignment was to write a poem in the style of a famous poet, but I actually can't remember for the life of me who this is modeled after. It's not someone I specifically chose; I had to pick from a selection of sample poems. If anyone has an idea, I'd love to know.

    The Spinners

    We are the spinners
    The weavers
    Perched above and lurking
    Hands busy at work
    Spinning with care
    As we sit here lurking
    Plotting and planning
    With ever such care
    You cannot see us there
    Behind our boarded walls

    Eyes that are closed, mind that is busy
    Hands that have purpose, hearts that are cold

    You know what we are
    But you cannot conceive it
    You know we are there
    But you know not where
    All that you know is that
    We are the spinners
    The weavers of threads

    Do not be smitten
    By your mind’s gentle words
    These are the curtains
    Produced by our labors
    Trust not your eyes
    But neither trust the box walls
    What keeps you safe is shutting you in
    There is no evidence
    No confirmation, from beginning to end
    But the small child’s voice in the back of your head

    You dance and you laugh
    In the bright morning fields
    With backdrops of curtains
    And roses without thorns
    It cannot be so
    But never do you think
    That the spinners do lurk
    And so slowly you sink
    To the depths of the grave
    Never do you glance
    Behind the curtains

    You know that it’s there
    The ones who lie there
    The spinners, the weavers
    Won’t knock when they call
    Will ring no cry of warning
    No bells shall toll

    It is ever so
    That the shadows writhe
    But you don’t wish to see them
    You don’t want to know
    So in shadows you hide
    And in shadows you fade

    The shape of it is
    That mockery is
    A river when it comes to the work
    Of the purposed hands
    Who spin the shadows
    And weave the curtains

    You cower together
    In your castles of velvet
    And tell tales that encourage
    The spinners to spin

    You only draw it out
    By living in the river
    Cross the threshold
    And the shadows will go
    The curtains will draw back

    The shadows spin faster and faster and faster
    Drawing you into the little doll world
    Faster and faster and faster and faster
    Bringing you into the little black world

    You must atone
    For all of the trouble
    Give up your roses
    And face the true face
    Be born again
    Pull back the curtain
    Banish the shadows
    Follow the rough path

    The curtains must go

    You know deep inside
    That this you must do
    It has to be
    Do it now

    This is the time

    You know
    And we know
    That you must
    For your sake
    And theirs
    And ours
    The flames must rise

    The curtains must go

    The curtains
    This is
    The curtains must

    This is the spinner’s work
    This is the spinner’s work
    This is the spinner’s work
    And for it you must answer.

    • Like Like x 1
    • Love Love x 1

    I deal the cards
    And pick up the shards
    Of the bottle that broke
    At the word I spoke
    Jacks, queens, and kings
    Toss away your diamond rings
    The hands touch
    Is your life worth much?
    Close contact
    For full impact
    Being ignored
    They are bored
    King has a queen and I’m the jack

    • Like Like x 1
  6. Finally, my most recent poem. I might have even been seventeen when I wrote this, guys! It's technically not finished, but I almost like it where it is.

    girl sitting still on a park bench
    in a silent garden red as wine
    such a pretty vast wilderness
    but vacant house, street, and sign

    he is not truly a grown man yet
    he has only just left school
    he's walking down dusty roads
    paved with worn-down tools
    he's riding on a rusted train
    in an underground museum
    where the exhibits charge entry
    for you to never quite see them

  7. And now, something new.
    As I was wandering in the dark
    I came across a little spark
    It caught my eye and called to me
    It echoed deep, it turned a key
    But that door led to nowhere good
    Promised things that never would
    And though I know I never should
    I can’t help but wonder if I could
    And now I have to ask it why
    It dared to wink and catch my eye
    When all along, it was a lie
    I told myself to get me by
    I cannot keep that spark alight
    I wish I could, I wish I might
    But that spark rests on different coals
    I am not welcomed in its soul
    • Like Like x 1
  8. I seem to be on a roll...

    It’s like an infection.
    It festers unnoticed as my skin inflames
    Only to suddenly be right there,
    Spilling out of me and bubbling up from within,
    Stinging and swelling,
    Making my blood go hot and my hands turn cold.

    It’s like an infection.
    It lingers in my system
    Despite my body’s attempts to rebuff it,
    Sick and vulnerable and covered in sweat
    I toss and I turn
    But it won’t let me heal.

    You’re like an infection.
    You’re under my skin and inside my veins.
    No measure of water will wash you away.
    I don’t know how to cure you; don’t know which pill to take,
    All I know is,
    I want it this way.
    • Like Like x 1
  9. I've enjoyed these poems, Ozzie. <3 You have some awesome rhyming and flow! I'm quite a fan of these pieces.
  10. I am impressed as well. Very good work. I enjoy the flow and rhythm in your writing.
  11. Osso-san is god.
    * w*
  12. I wrote a haiku for Jack's school project on zombie-related poetry and prose. Enjoy.

    Living, yet not quite
    Always hungry, never full
    Zombie un-life bites.

    • Like Like x 1
  13. Today I told my soft goodbyes
    Smoothed reddened sand specks from my eyes
    I closed the door on homespun lies
    No, I don't want those lullabies

    I wander shellshocked, never blinking
    All the while my heart keeps sinking
    And these words my soul is inking:
    I must revise my way of thinking

    I believe in many things
    In spirits lost, and thorn-crowned kings
    And even far, far stranger things
    Like living ghosts, or fairy wings

    But what I don't know to believe
    When in these woods I sigh and grieve
    If I meander home this eve
    Will sparkling wonders take their leave?

    Tomorrow I offer my timid greeting
    The winds which lift me ever fleeting
    I taste the blood my heart is beating
    Yes, I do want that distant meeting
    • Like Like x 1
    • Love Love x 1
  14. The air sucks out of the room.
    Suddenly suspended in a vacuum, I feel myself flattened out and floating,
    Shaking and scattering like a dust mote,
    And that's all she wrote.
    I don't even know what to say, because today,
    I can feel everything, too many lyrics and yet not enough to sing,
    I'm leaking out of my fingertips.
    The pressure rose and burst as I touched my lips,
    But not to yours.
    I'm opening doors,
    Letting myself pour out despite all the doubt,
    Forcing myself through a metal sieve,
    Flesh through fine mesh as I start to believe that though I find myself in space-
    Generally agreed to be an airless place-
    That I can in fact breathe.
    And I do.
    And I breathe through you.
    • Like Like x 1
  15. Stardust
    Little bits of star that live in us all
    Heart ash
    You know what they say when the worst comes to pass
    And life's just a little bit funny
    And it's just a little bit sad
    And it's just a little bit scary
    And I'm just a little bit mad
    And I'm just a little bit sorry
    And that's just a little too bad
    And that's just a little too late
    And no one's even a little bit glad
    Heart crushed
    Don't know what to do when my life turns to rust
    Little bits of star to show I'm alright
    • Love Love x 1
  16. Your poetry is evocative (which it should be), but more it makes me think on more than the emotional level. Thanks for sharing it.
  17. Play Me False

    If you think that I will break,
    If you should die before I wake,
    Well I have news for you, my dear:
    I've seen far worse and persevered.
    My coffers are empty now, I fear.
    You will not find your succor here.
    When all you do is take and take,
    You should beware the vows you make.

    No gentle caresses shall you find,
    When sweet nothings speak their mind.
    You are mistaken in my soul.
    I cannot make what's hollow, whole.
    In life we each must play a role,
    And yours it seems will take a toll.
    What's yours is yours, what's mine is mine,
    And false pretenses cannot bind.
  18. Awwwwwwww :( I was so upset when I realized this was the end of the thread. ~rolls around~ <3 I love them.
    • Thank Thank x 1