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Poetry Please

Trojina

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Could even write hexagram related poems

I think hex 2 would give a pleasing poem

I guess the hexagram itself would dictate the style , length, punctuation of the poem...and all the proper words one is meant to use in poetry such as 'meters' ? have i got that right ? :rofl: I don't know much about the technical poetry words.

I mean i would think 38 would be a choppy changy sort of poem, a brittle sort of poem, like twigs snapping, whereas hex 2 would have more of a monotone chant feel to it.

Everyone will have their own associations. Perhaps its only me who feels 38 would make a choppy changy twig snapping poem.
 

Trojina

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Its not quite 38 andit isn't mine but anyway

Different

Not to say what everyone else was saying
not to believe what everyone else believed
not to do what everybody did,
then to refute what everyone else was saying
then to disprove what everyone else believed
then to deprecate what everybody did,


was his way to come by understanding



how everyone was saying the same as he was saying
believing what he believed
and did what doing


by Clere Parsons
 

Trojina

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I think everyone should write poems

even short stupid ones

mine would generally be of that ilk


what i mean is not that everyone must write a poem here because that would be plain bossy but that it would be really nice if noone felt embarrassed and just threw in anything of their own as well even if they didn't think it was good


That way I think the Muse could visit the thread
 

rodaki

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I love the idea Trojan -and glad that 'notes' spread around in a good way :)

I had written a poem loosely based on hexagram 11 for Rosada's Book of Merit, thread (I hope Rosada is doing ok, btw . . dear R, if you read this, lots of wishes to you!!) . . anyway, I thought to re-post this here, to make a start

hx11: chop wood, carry water

11.1:
Movements flow and play tugalong,
all tied up together with
some sheer threads of will and wish
Like the muscle to the tendon to the bone,
like each morning's risen world all fresh, all novel
and still
fitting seamlessly
Each gesture to its own end while
all ends to same gesture

11.2:
centered means;
chopping gently clean your woodwork,
splitting point what least resists
bucket neatly full to take one to the point of easy gait
setting out on a crisp view, broadly spread on the horizon-
keeping strong and clear your measures thru the muddle of the ways

11.3:
coming thru the steep side of the sideway
losing time, spending water to the grass
stopping short only to linger
and shoot smiles up in the air

11.4:
Brooklets, blades of grass and antwrens flow along one
rhyming now beside your step
-whispers turn ajar and prosper to proportions of a feast-
each their turn and side and ballad
balance off the weight you lift

11.5:
Time be here to show and weather
underbellies of intent
making great a fragile laughter
making festive all that waits
Clouds of rain that smell and shiver
and friends gather round to meet

11.6:
Time that goes and shows and withers
moats of laughs that stream and dry
People sitting on the patio
watching everything go by
Lot's of stories to remember
lot's of labor that awaits
lot's of chores to keep on swaying
wood to carry, water chop


I hope more will come to post, this could be a great thread!
 

bamboo

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It was too late to go back
And too soon to go forward
Muddled and sleepless, I wept.
Indecisive, impatient
and tired of the struggle,
Bleery-eyed, I hung a sign on my door:
"Gone Fishin"
Maybe I'll catch the sunrise.. peace.. a new beginning.

hexagram 5
 

rodaki

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. . truly beautiful Barbara , thanks you so much for sharing this :hug:

:bows:
 
G

goddessliss

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Laughter She Can Hear
Her hair is full of salt from the sea
As she dreams of the mermaid she would love to be
Dancing gently through the waves
In this new life she has craved
Her own laughter she can hear
Cause there's no longer any fear
Her broken heart
Is in the past
And she wears flowers in her hair…
 

RindaR

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Sweet on the tongue of the mind​
words rise​
Condensing like dew on​
spider silk,​
Revealing order and beauty​
where none was seen before.​
 

RindaR

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Where?

Thunder’s rumble and
Lightning’s staccato
Leap across the rim
of the otherwise unlit sky.

Wind gusts through
lashing branches-
brief respite from the
breathless air.

First drops of water
Cold and stinging
Send me running
For shelter.

I stand by the screen
and fly with the
clouds and rain-
Wishing I was there.
 

bamboo

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Sweet on the tongue of the mind​



words rise​



Condensing like dew on​



spider silk,​



Revealing order and beauty​



where none was seen before.​

Lovely. is this 57?
 

bamboo

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Safe and snug
like a baby in swaddling clothes
You can't stop dreaming even if you tried.
Now, The world will only try to pull you loose from your cacoon.
Do not go back.
Instead
Play your trumpet
Let your paintbrushes sing
and lavish yourself in the bath of still sweet calm.
laughing
You have everything you need.

hexagram 33
 
G

goddessliss

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Wow these poems are awesome - thks for starting the thread trojan x
 

pocossin

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57 (double Wind)

Ninety two and full of pain
Hannah Sutton died two weeks
Before the storm of her name
Shook pine cones and hidden
birds' nests from the trees.

Life will be no longer seasoned
By her wit. One day she offered
Me a cat. "I can't," I said.
"I have bitties." Hannah smiled,
"Your bitties won't hurt my cat."
 
S

sooo

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Nice, y'all. :)

Not sure, but I think it was Rinda, long while back here, who suggested I make this diddy a song. It did become one, but the singer of our band moved away, and it ain't been sung since. Too bad, cuz we did it in rip snortin' style.

Love on a roll

there's no rest in love
pedal hard and fast!
keep up, careful not to pass
'cause love has wheels
spin out of control
love on a roll
brake your wheels and it passes you by

gotta keep up
maintain the flow
don't let her go
better not let her know

downhill is easy
leads to the sleazy
touchy pleasey
drunk then queasy

there's no rest in love
pedal hard and fast!
keep up, careful not to pass
'cause love has wheels
spin out of control
love on a roll
brake your wheels and it passes you by.
 
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Trojina

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57 (double Wind)

Ninety two and full of pain
Hannah Sutton died two weeks
Before the storm of her name
Shook pine cones and hidden
birds' nests from the trees.

Life will be no longer seasoned
By her wit. One day she offered
Me a cat. "I can't," I said.
"I have bitties." Hannah smiled,
"Your bitties won't hurt my cat."

is that your poem Tom and what are 'bitties' ?
 

chingching

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Jenga

Jenga

Birth is the river crossed
expansion on arrival
a nine long month's project's completion
new home's front door just opened

well done
carve a notch on an unmarked belt
but the only way we're ever going back
to the all one all love soup
is the dying that we call living

cant climb back in
flame's got no law to return to a spark
but it's got steady eyed audience
for a wild-dance-wick-cling

the bank behind is known
four-squared glossy postcard in a draw
eighties night
both
wrinkled hoarders and youth's bright newold ideas

running chest out to a plastic tape
there is a gunshot and flag drop instead
guess I'll pull one from the bottom
and find a good pair of shoes for chaos

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Jenga.gif


I have 63 on the brain and cant sleep so wrote my first poem in ages. thanks trojan (and rodaki the muse) for this thread, so much fun to read.
 
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anemos

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61.2

When you sing a crane's song
don't give up when not heard.

This is how a crane's song is.

when not heard, take heart
and keep singing.

Cranes just sing.

Keep singing, from your heart
Alone or with company.

Thats the beauty of crane's song.

With company, wine tastes better
so take heart and keep singing.

That's what cranes do.

" I have a good goblet.
I will share it with you" *

That's the cranes song

Don't quit. Keep singing
Perhaps someone will come.
 

anemos

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38.6

where are you and where am I
when those two battle
in the dark alley?

where is the moon, where is the sun
to shed some light
in that misty night?

This broken lamppost flickers
and draws strange shadows
on the walls

In defense ,with bow and arrows
against those ghosts
I shoot them down .

Thunders and lightening
illuminate the illusion
and in your heart my arrow.

Amidst the storm, shock and numbness
whispering "my fault"
and prayers to the rain.
 

suzie43

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Members poetry

I would like to suggest that members and published poetry have separate threads. Just a thought
 

Trojina

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I would like to suggest that members and published poetry have separate threads. Just a thought

i kinda like it jumbled up...like a cottage garden, flowers and vegetables growing together :D

Though its good to reference others writing of course
 

Trojina

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This isn't a poem just some prose I liked the feel of in a book about trees, 'out of the woods' by Will Cohu...and i read it like a poem

maybe 34>57 or 57>34 ?





A big oak is a safe tree because its wood is stronger. The wood has been subjected to massive stress from the weight of the limbs bearing down on it. When these limbs catch the wind and sway, they pull huge forces into the heart of the tree. In building its resistance to these, the oak creates the sinews that will keep it standing while centuries of concrete and steel rot away. It literally captures this elemental energy and locks it up. Hence the strength of the wood depends upon its experiences, upon the countless adjustments and compromises made to circumstance.
 
S

sooo

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Dreams of a Crazy Man
by sooo

If all the dreams of a crazy man seem far away,
then I say to listen to the wind
as it begins to tell you of life and what it means
to be a crazy man,
to understand a dream.

If to love me will make you cry
and if you don’t know the reason why,
just whistle through the storm,
it will be warm,
the clouds can’t hide the sun forever.
Be happy child,
don’t worry about the weather.

Night is night and the day is bright.
In-between may seem to last forever.
Well then forever it may be,
though to me it’s almost morning,
and morning comes only once a day.
 
S

sooo

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hard or impossible to say
what a different decision might have made,
on another starry night in LA
when my character got in the way of my dreams
that was a deal changer too, that night
of a different kind.
 
S

sooo

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Four Leaf Clover
by sooo

A four leaf clover came across my way; I didn’t ask it for a favor.
It said that chance just had to come my way; it said my days are far from over.

Many fields have not felt my feet,
and the sky has not yet felt my wings.
I see a reflection on every rain drop,
and think, it’s all a reason that I don’t understand.

I sit alone and watch the children play, I do not ask them to give,
And yet the feeling that they give to me, shows me a reason to live.

Many fields have not felt my feet,
and the sky has not yet felt my wings.
I see my reflection on every rain drop,
and think: it’s all a reason that I don’t understand.

Last night I watched the sunset just for me, although I know it sets for no one.
I had to cry out, sun, I love you so! I love you though you’ll never know.”

Many fields have not felt my feet,
and the sky has not yet felt my wings.
And I see a strange reflection on every rain drop,
and think, it’s all a reason that I don’t understand.
 

Sparhawk

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You are on a roll, Bruce!
 

rodaki

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9.1,

hey . .
uh huh
. . naah . .
hmm

well

it is what it is
flicking a lightswitch on
nothink happening
I'm being​
 

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