Chants of the Bone Singer

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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.
 

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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

 
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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

 

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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.

 

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OZZIE WRITES POETRY ABOUT BOOOOOYS TIME.


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

 
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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


 

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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
 
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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.
 
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Fluffy

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I've enjoyed these poems, Ozzie. <3 You have some awesome rhyming and flow! I'm quite a fan of these pieces.
 
T

The Butterfly

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I am impressed as well. Very good work. I enjoy the flow and rhythm in your writing.
 

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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.


 
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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
 

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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.
 
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Stardust
Starfall
Little bits of star that live in us all
Stardust
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
Stardust
Heart crushed
Don't know what to do when my life turns to rust
Stardust
Starlight
Little bits of star to show I'm alright
 
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Djara

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Your poetry is evocative (which it should be), but more it makes me think on more than the emotional level. Thanks for sharing it.
 

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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.
 
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Fijoli

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Awwwwwwww :( I was so upset when I realized this was the end of the thread. ~rolls around~ <3 I love them.
 
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