Iris' Poetry

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Iris' Poetry

Postby Iris » Tue Mar 11, 2008 9:22 pm

Freedom calls

Unsheathed blades sing praise
Of eternal longing and desire
Like birds fly free and circle their surroundings
And cut free the ropes binding them
Across distant forests and vast plains
They weep and cry for release
And call of days of peace
Quietly sunsets drift down
Like leaves at summer’s end
Freely floating on gentle breezes
Until set upon the rough ground
Resting ‘til daybreak’s rise
And fly free once more
All the while the mourning star
Smiles kindly, waiting for the sun
To embrace those it touches
Last edited by Iris on Thu Aug 20, 2009 8:40 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Iris's Poetry

Postby tomaszavenger » Wed Mar 12, 2008 3:25 pm

A mediocre poem. Not good, not bad.
Nice use of alliteration, but rythym is not constant (syllables are in random pattern). Nice use of metaphors and similies.

(That's as analytical as I'm going to get.)
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Re: Iris's Poetry

Postby Iris » Mon Mar 24, 2008 7:24 pm

Prophecy.

I move through shadows unseen.
Leaving no trace of where I’ve been
My steps tread the path of the righteous.
But my soul is trapped, lost and forever damned

None can see my path nor the walkway that is presented
For this I shall be resented
The guiding hand of my father’s light
Is lost to the darkness within my heart

The lords of shadows haunt my dreams
Taunted, tortured, the endless screams
Of empty promises and hopes
But I see their lies, their fears

My life of vengeance is a passive test
Until my fall, I cannot rest
Their blackened souls call for redemption
And I’m their release of madness

As angels cry, my soul shall shatter
But I know it does not matter
For my spirit shall remain unbroken
And unto the hell I’ve fallen into

My blade shall call the lion, the demon’s bane
For it shall bring the lost to the sane
Faith in hand, courage in mind
I’ll walk my path, alone

Added after 48 minutes:

The vow

Upon the hearth glen, I stand
My hands remain unhindered
Guarded by the ruin of a once fair land

My armor torn and ravaged
The helm lay broken, as the shield unbuckles
From raining blows dealt by the savage

The tales of duty and honor, of love in vain
Echo across the vaults of knowledge, hidden within
Imprint on my hallow mind, like a rusted copper stain

Upon the hearth glen, we stand
Protect by the shadow of time
From distant lands, we watch from shores and sand

United and equal
Bound to those we love, we defend
We are the eternal

Upon this hearth glen, I shall stand
‘til the end of days
I vow to protect my love and this fair land
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Postby Nekoman » Mon Mar 24, 2008 7:45 pm

Usually I cant stand reading long poetry, But you got me stuck on it! I like it, wish I could do poems like you.
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Postby Iris » Mon Mar 24, 2008 9:01 pm

The trick is to find something that can inspire you to write until you've finished the poem.
My best advise is to look at family, surroundings, etc.
Anything close to the heart, that's the best place to start, in my opinion.
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Re: Iris's Poetry

Postby tomaszavenger » Tue Mar 25, 2008 1:38 pm

Iris the next poems were quite good.

I normally hate poetry.

Masterful, Iris, just masterful.
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Postby Iris » Tue Mar 25, 2008 4:22 pm

This is a freestyle poem so it might not follow any 'real' rhythm. Also i haven't figured out a title for it, anyone have any ideas?

Together

I hear the waves crash on the empty beach
They seep into the sand, as family they embrace
I hear the earth sigh in relief, as the bittersweet essence flows freely through her.

They intertwine with each other, earth and sea
Together they are one, and eternally they dance across this endless plain.
I hear the grass bend to the winds whim

Joyfully they play; their rustling music matches the gentle rhythm
Of the shore that seems so close to my heart
I hear the leafs of nearby trees cluster together

Slowly they press against each other, and as one
They separate, caught in the playful wind’s arms
They spiral around each other like children

I hear the steady melody of the girl I hold
Her warmth surrounds me and I am thankful
That, though I can not see, I can still hear her voice

I can no longer see this beautiful world
But I’m still thankful that I can still hear
The sounds that make my life bliss.

Edit: thanks go to Cybella for helping me figure out the title of this poem
Last edited by Iris on Wed Apr 23, 2008 11:05 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Postby Iris » Sat Mar 29, 2008 10:59 pm

Echoes and Trumpets

The trumpets of victors cry like crows
Above the echoing silence it flows
I hear the footsteps of marching men
In unison they march, from beyond the fen
My brethren lay vanquished below the castle walls

As one we stood for what we believed in
But now we verge defeat by the hands of our kin
Our honor in question, justifications denied
My blade lays dormient and unsatisfied
For upon the courtyard I shall rest

I hear a swallow sing its morning chime
And I realize that it is time
To savour these final notes, a final farewell
For I remember what an old man did tell
“In the moment of death, there is only silence”
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Postby percyfan » Fri Apr 11, 2008 12:34 pm

I like the untitled poem, but I don't have any title suggestions!
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Postby Iris » Mon Apr 28, 2008 6:08 am

Another free style poem
Of Raindrops and Roses

The morning sun rises, he moves with purpose
To awaken the world and bathe the earth with warming light
As the brilliant gift shines through the clouds
It reflects off the dew of a new white rose

Gently it blooms into life, breathing in the new day
It watches the sun rise into its domain, slowly but surely
He ascends into the heavens but all the while grooming clouds
Paint the sky with dark grey colors

As the sun passes by the clouds close and break open
Releasing their gift upon the world,
Droplets fall like tears from a beloved heart
To begin a new in the next day
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Postby Iris » Tue May 13, 2008 10:14 pm

Distant Rain

The musky smell of distant rain
filled my mind with sweet serenity
Weight of clouds burden my shoulders
perpetually they drift across,
skies once blue, now clothed in grey

The air is filled with dancing booms
the cackled laughter of lighting.
They shatter silence with withering
light, all the while dark shapes do haunt,
like wolves who howl, in the moon light.
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Re: Iris's Poetry

Postby Iris » Thu Oct 16, 2008 6:51 am

Buds of life

The buds of life bloom in the grey light of May
Like rain that touches the crackled and broken land
They restore that what was missing for an eternity
And washes away the past

As time passes the sun brings its judgements and blessings
Letting the world see the wonder of the flower
Before it withers and dies, caking the ground
With petals of the fallen, yet hiding the gift that will someday come

The leaves once lush and lively glide with the gentle breeze
Of August, dancing downwards in a breath taking waltz
And like many before and after them,
They will become one with the earth that painted them

The bitterness of the first touch of frost, the smell of cold
Bites hard on the trunks of old as white clothes them in an evening gown
That radiates the warmth of its beauty, long since forgotten
For soon it will all fade and be reborn anew.
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Re: Iris's Poetry

Postby Nox » Sat Oct 18, 2008 9:31 pm

Guess this shows that poetry doesn't have to necessarily rhyme to sound good.

Great job as usual <3
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Re: Iris's Poetry

Postby Iris » Wed Oct 22, 2008 7:15 am

Thank Nox, I made this poem during todays rain storm.

Blistering weather.

That blistering weather gathers up speed
It festers at night and in your dreams
Those days where the wind howls like wolves
And in the moonlight it shimmers
This familiar stench which dulls our senses
Clothes our eyes to the distant skies,
Branches of light sketch the world
In black, grey and white
The windows rattle in the pale shadow light
As the earth itself sways with fright
The haze of sleet blankets the dawn
So that the sun refuses to rise
But as that blistering weather whispers one last night
It vanishes from sight.
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Re: Iris's Poetry

Postby nightwalker » Wed Oct 22, 2008 10:59 am

Death Fall

Standing on top of a
Building.
Looking up in the sky,
Asking god why,
Turning around and feel the breeze,
lending back,
closing my eyes
with a tear coming out.

Feeling nothing but air.
I wish this could happen to me
earlier.

falling, falling.
Looking up at the sky before I hit the ground.
I wish could change thing,
But I don't have that power.

It ends here.
Leaving this world behind.
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Re: Ignatius' Poetry

Postby Iris » Fri Dec 12, 2008 7:34 am

Reflections
Reflections

Tick tock
The sound of the clock echoes at night
And the turning of hands awaken my mind
A cold bitter wind circulates within my room
And yet the ceiling fan does not spin.

Tick tock
The only sound I can hear is that of the clock,
There I sit in my bed, waiting
I feel the eyes of others, though I know I am alone
And I stand, following my instinct to these eyes.

Tick tock
Nothing else can be heard, not the night nor rain
Can take my attention, for it solely looks for my watcher
My eyes catch a glimmer of movement ahead
And as I draw near I see the reflection of the mirror.

Tick tock
The mirror’s touch is cool and hostile,
The reflection empty, hollow and indifferent
I know within my mirror my reflection should stand
But in this pale light, nothing but an outsider looks back at me.

Tick tock
The light of street lamp outside steadily seeps in,
My hand once more reaches out and the reflection obeys
Yet its eyes draw mine, I feel its inhuman touch
And as I leave, I know the reflection smiles.

Faces

Within each of us
An inner face sneers in secret
And hides its nature
This face reflects our darkest day
It awakes our hate
Made from thoughts, we long since hidden
Critical and cruel
It is the truth we make each day
To twist the words heard
Satisfyingly,
It wallows in malice and
Laughs in spitefulness

And all we can do
Is to accept this other face,
For it will never
Leave.
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Re: Ignatius' Poetry

Postby DrakkenWasHere » Fri Dec 12, 2008 3:59 pm

Wonderful, simply wonderful! You put a lot of heart and passion into your work, and I respect that. You manipulate the readers into believing what you wish. (As all artist and writers want to do) Have you considered publishing?

No matter how hard I try, my poesy ends up being nonsense. (Either that, or commical) Could this reflect my innocent out look on life? Hmmm...even after all my plight, I still feel very optimistic. I'm sorry, I seem to be rambling; but your work caused me to do so. Anywho, I'll be looking out for some more from you.
Daffy Duck to Elmer Fudd: "Shoot me again, I enjoy it! I love the smell of burnt feathers, and gunpowder, and carnight. I'm an elk, shoot me! Go on, it's elk season! I'm a fiddler crab. Why don't you shoot me?! It's fiddlercrab season!" ~from "Duck, Rabbit, DucK"
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Re: Ignatius' Poetry

Postby nightwalker » Mon Dec 15, 2008 12:23 pm

Ignatius wrote:Reflections
Reflections

Tick tock
The sound of the clock echoes at night
And the turning of hands awaken my mind
A cold bitter wind circulates within my room
And yet the ceiling fan does not spin.

Tick tock
The only sound I can hear is that of the clock,
There I sit in my bed, waiting
I feel the eyes of others, though I know I am alone
And I stand, following my instinct to these eyes.

Tick tock
Nothing else can be heard, not the night nor rain
Can take my attention, for it solely looks for my watcher
My eyes catch a glimmer of movement ahead
And as I draw near I see the reflection of the mirror.

Tick tock
The mirror’s touch is cool and hostile,
The reflection empty, hollow and indifferent
I know within my mirror my reflection should stand
But in this pale light, nothing but an outsider looks back at me.

Tick tock
The light of street lamp outside steadily seeps in,
My hand once more reaches out and the reflection obeys
Yet its eyes draw mine, I feel its inhuman touch
And as I leave, I know the reflection smiles.

Faces

Within each of us
An inner face sneers in secret
And hides its nature
This face reflects our darkest day
It awakes our hate
Made from thoughts, we long since hidden
Critical and cruel
It is the truth we make each day
To twist the words heard
Satisfyingly,
It wallows in malice and
Laughs in spitefulness

And all we can do
Is to accept this other face,
For it will never
Leave.


ingatius poets is really creative

i try making one i dont no its good but i try

im looking forward to read ur poets
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Re: Ignatius' Poetry

Postby Iris » Tue Dec 16, 2008 4:02 am

Thank you guys, I write my poems at the moment I'm inspired.
That said I do tend to have them at times when I can't actually write them so most of them are lost to my memory.
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Re: Ignatius' Poetry

Postby DrakkenWasHere » Tue Dec 16, 2008 10:29 am

Ignatius wrote:Thank you guys, I write my poems at the moment I'm inspired.
That said I do tend to have them at times when I can't actually write them so most of them are lost to my memory.


Just to ask, have you ever been asleep when a poem came to you?

I am curious, because this has happened many times to me. I would be having a random dream when I hear this man's voice start talking. (It has reminded me of the narrator from the old Winnie the Pooh movies) And he would say: "Take pen and ink and write this down!" Then I would wake up for a moment, jot it down, then go back to having another random dream. *is rambling*
Last edited by DrakkenWasHere on Tue Dec 16, 2008 4:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Daffy Duck to Elmer Fudd: "Shoot me again, I enjoy it! I love the smell of burnt feathers, and gunpowder, and carnight. I'm an elk, shoot me! Go on, it's elk season! I'm a fiddler crab. Why don't you shoot me?! It's fiddlercrab season!" ~from "Duck, Rabbit, DucK"
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Re: Ignatius' Poetry

Postby nightwalker » Tue Dec 16, 2008 12:44 pm

DrakkenWasHere wrote:
Ignatius wrote:Thank you guys, I write my poems at the moment I'm inspired.
That said I do tend to have them at times when I can't actually write them so most of them are lost to my memory.


Just to ask, have you ever been asleep when a poem just came to you?

I am curious, because this has happened many times to me. I would be having a random dream when I hear this man's voice start talking. (It has reminded me of the narrator from the old Winnie the Pooh movies) And he would say: "Take pen and ink and write this down!" Then I would wake up for a moment, jot it down, then go back to having another random dream. *is rambling*


yea that comes to me sometimes is like my dream are like poems
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Re: Ignatius' Poetry

Postby Iris » Wed Dec 17, 2008 5:47 am

It happens at times, but not as a dream. When I dream I can be inspired to write something.

I need to be motivated to write a poem and dreams can be a good motivator.... same with nightmares.
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Re: Ignatius' Poetry

Postby nightwalker » Wed Dec 17, 2008 11:55 am

yea definity nightmares

and also im trying to put my poems to be like music and i play electric guiltar so i try but it does not sound that good but alright
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Re: Iris' Poetry

Postby Iris » Thu Aug 20, 2009 8:40 am

"Inspired while in Spain"

As I stare unto the evening sky
I witness a painter's master piece
of once white clouds turn crimson
by a fiery sun, sinking below the horizon
Just out of sight but not forgotten
as its glow was sketched between shades of blue,
caught in contrast by moonlight's transition
And as the crimson faded
so too did the shades of blue
Until the sky was bathed in mankind's glow

And in that moment I was left to wonder;
when our time comes to fade beyond that horizon
will our glow paint a blank canvas,
to mark our journey into the heavens.
Yet even as I thought, the moon's light shone
and washed away my wonder
in a portrait of black and white,
with clouds alight in shades of grey.
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