http://fuckrobertfrost.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] fuckrobertfrost.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] goshdarnspam2010-12-03 11:18 am

POETRY.

Okay guys, I want you to write some poetry about or by your characters. It can be stupid, short, long, rhyming, haiku, whatthefuckever.

Just this once, I will allow you to choose the wuss out option: you can use poems by other poets.

If you don't want to write poems, then name your favorite poets. Or write a screed about why you hate poetry — quite frankly I sympathize — anything, I don't care. This post is about poetry.

Posting this with the relevant account even though I dropped him. FIRST ONE TO POST ROBERT FROST GETS THEIR EYEBROWS SINGED OFF. no I'm kidding he is a fine poet and I greatly admire his diction sob

[identity profile] pacifisted.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 05:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Writing has never extended to the land of poetry, for me, so I will steal something by some guy named Raymond Foss for the purpose of this thing and pretend it is in some fashion a decent work rather than something that just fits nicely.



In before Ian gets in here and rocks the pants off everyone.

[identity profile] sam-the-redhead.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 05:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Edgar Allan Poe is my all-time favourite poet and NOT BECAUSE HE'S THE ONLY POET I KNOW, NOR IS IT BECAUSE I'M AN EMO WANNABE-DEEP-POET SLASH SONGWRITER CHICK WHO SLITS HER WRISTS WHILE WRITING SAD SAD WOE IS ME POETRY IN MY OWN BLOOD AND DRAW "INSPIRATION" FROM HIS GOTHIC POEMS WHILE LISTENING TO EVANESCENCE.

It's because I genuinely like his shit. Like. A lot. And I would totally write poetry about my characters but I am way, way too lazy. Too lazy to even use poems by other poets.
improvesmorale: (five seven five)

[personal profile] improvesmorale 2010-12-03 05:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh god, I can't even touch poetry. The only poem I've ever written was an intentionally nonsensical rambling thing about a tennis match that was so biazrre that I stumped the entire audience. AWKWARD SILENCES. NEVER FORGET.

People should totally recommend poets and poems to me, though! I know very little about the medium, but I'm sure I would like it if I got a better look.
shiromadoushi: (Fanart: Almost confident)

[personal profile] shiromadoushi 2010-12-03 05:23 pm (UTC)(link)
[Just pretend this is in Japanese :)]


In chaotic times
a brief moment of closeness,
treasured for always

[identity profile] exprophet.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 05:27 pm (UTC)(link)
CONFESSION: I have actually written a poem about an event in DC comics, and I kept that a secret because people actually liked the poem and my teacher said it took risks and then started yelling at me because I was "wasting my life". As such, I am too embarrassed to share it because, uh, well, it DID take risks in the sense that I got all ~emotional~ and shit AND IT'S ABOUT A COMIC AAAAAAAAAAAA I CAN'T GET OVER IT WHY DO I DISINTEGRATE EVERYTHING I TOUCH



This, however, is a poem I wrote on the ic anonmeme once. If you can guess which one of my characters wrote it, and who it is to/what it is about, I shall be very pleased. :3

Pet names, diminutives; I
love you, I always have.
Kissing you implies
the pressure of an ocean,
the darkest trenches where
monsters lie.
Pendulum in a watery prison,
slow, you pass me by.
So self-sufficient, the sound
of returning rings out
into seashell-curving ears,
and where I lie on shore,
eating the salt
of long dead years.
liebe_krieg: (Glowing glasses)

[personal profile] liebe_krieg 2010-12-03 05:45 pm (UTC)(link)
I have no talent for writing poetry and my reading of it has been very limited. That said, I like dark, haunting poems the best, the kind that evoke images of death and nightmare. Poe's 'The Raven' is my favourite, but I also really like parts of 'The Waste Land,' 'The Second Coming' and 'The Hollow Men' for similar reasons. Poetry for me tends to be very good at creating a sense of the incomprehensibly apocalyptic.

I think this bit from Byron's 'Darkness' could apply to the Major:

And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again:—a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no Love was left;
All earth was but one thought—and that was Death

[identity profile] taughttolisten.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 05:50 pm (UTC)(link)
...idk about this guy but i've written multiple dirty haiku about, um, a lot of characters

and a weird prose poem thing that mutated from star wars fanfic into an actual creation myth

[identity profile] taughttolisten.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 05:57 pm (UTC)(link)
for Duck, though:

The world, the dancer,
twist slow as feathers changing:
soft down, hard spine, flight.

[identity profile] loveyourenemy.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 06:05 pm (UTC)(link)
This is not a Matsuka poem - I will try to come up with one for him, but nothing comes to mind at the moment, so in the meantime here is one of my very favorite poems ever.

Sea Canes, Derek Walcott
Half my friends are dead.
I will make you new ones, said earth
No, give me them back, as they were, instead,
with faults and all, I cried.

Tonight I can snatch their talk
from the faint surf's drone
through the canes, but I cannot walk

on the moonlit leaves of ocean
down that white road alone,
or float with the dreaming motion

of owls leaving earth's load.
O earth, the number of friends you keep
exceeds those left to be loved.

The sea-canes by the cliff flash green and silver;
they were the seraph lances of my faith,
but out of what is lost grows something stronger

that has the rational radiance of stone,
enduring moonlight, further than despair,
strong as the wind, that through dividing canes

brings those we love before us, as they were,
with faults and all, not nobler, just there.

[identity profile] 123youreit.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 06:18 pm (UTC)(link)
You and your challenging writing skills... things oh god I haven't written poetry in so long. *CREAKS*

[identity profile] batghoul.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 06:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Exasperated
He explains to the police
"She prefers to watch."
tinybutdeadly: (Depression)

[personal profile] tinybutdeadly 2010-12-03 07:06 pm (UTC)(link)
Hnnngh, I used to write some godawful high school poetry.. and one that got published in an anthology that was sort of a scam at the same time because they wanted you to buy it.

I fail at reading others, though. Fail so hard.

[identity profile] moezilla.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 07:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Hey, let's go metaphorical! Also this is questionable quality.

[identity profile] chipsfalling.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 07:25 pm (UTC)(link)
I will be totally honest, I love poetry sfm. And when I get home from work in...sob ten hours...I will go about finding poems for Tyler, Misty, Yusuke, Steve and Heine.

BUT IF SOMEONE WANTS TO REC THINGS THAT WOULD BE GLORIOUS ALSO.
expletives: (SR: SORRY I THINK YOU'RE A CIA AGENT)

[personal profile] expletives 2010-12-03 07:43 pm (UTC)(link)
I DON'T PLAY HER ANYMORE BUT IF ANYONE REMEMBERS SERA, SHE HAD A SONG WRITTEN ABOUT HER IN CANON
and it was terrible

with your patchwork soul
and your charcoal eyes
when i stare at you
it's no surprise
that i see an angel
the holy screw
a need unspoken writhes inside blue
(one! thou! sand!)

the scarlet aura
burns round your head
and vulgar rabble
burn for your bed
these pinprick dullards
denied the groin
but all your hatreds
light up my loin
(one! thou! sand!)

ONE THOUSAND SORROWS
ONE THOUSAND SORROWS
ONE THOUSAND SORROWS
(hey!)

AND A BLACKENED BUS

nill

[identity profile] chrysophilist.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 08:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Whatif | Shel Silverstein

Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow talle?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!

[identity profile] pullingyourlegs.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 08:10 pm (UTC)(link)
I AM GOING THE EASIEST WAY AND FINDING THE POETRY MEME WE DID FOREVER AGO AND COPYING WHAT I WROTE THERE

ALSO I LIKE MOST OF THE AMURRICAN MODERNISTS BUT WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS CAN EAT ME I JUST HATE HIM SO MUCH

THIS IS JUST TO SAY

[identity profile] pullingyourlegs.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 08:10 pm (UTC)(link)
I have eaten
the guts
that were on
the sidewalk

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and still warm :)

[identity profile] origamiguardian.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 08:18 pm (UTC)(link)
BIG SISTER by Death Quaker, written right now

She flies paper dragons
Catches bullets with cards
Stares death in the eyes with a smile

She sleeps in closets
And sets her face a-fire
Scared to death by threatened smooches

==============

ETA: Also my favorite poets are ee cummings and T.S. Eliot, neither of whose styles I am imitating above.
Edited 2010-12-03 20:20 (UTC)

scathach

[identity profile] chrysophilist.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Forgotten Language | Shel Silverstein

Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?

gemma doyle

[identity profile] chrysophilist.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Where the Sidewalk Ends | Shel Silverstein [in case you didn't figure it out, Shel Silverstein is my favorite poet]

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

rikku

[identity profile] chrysophilist.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 08:21 pm (UTC)(link)
The Unicorn | Shel Silverstein [as sung by The Irish Rovers]

Edited 2010-12-03 20:22 (UTC)
notadartboard: (bow)

[personal profile] notadartboard 2010-12-03 10:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Okay so...I don't consider Sanji's flowery language poetry. He might, but it's so not. But he likes to regale beautiful women with purple prose, something I'm actually terrible at - so I'm saving it for if/when we get Nami, Robin, or any other OP ladies.

I don't like poetry, though. I don't have a screed, I just...don't like it. I don't get it. I lack the aesthetic gene required to understand and appreciate poetry. I get as far as "well yes that rhymes very nicely" and that's about it. I also lack any appreciation for opera or musical theatre despite exposure to and study of both. I blame my practical nature, I just don't understand the point.

[identity profile] easyopentabs.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 10:34 pm (UTC)(link)
I don't like to think of myself as a poet, but the truth is I've somehow managed to write a lot of poetry in the process of not being a poet. That said, I am shit at anything unstructured so here are a few terrible Rue haiku.

a small gasp of pain
smothering it with a kiss
she captures his heart

a dying swan thinks
yes, now I am beautiful
but no one sees her

[identity profile] ingodseye.livejournal.com 2010-12-03 11:42 pm (UTC)(link)
there is a land beyond
numbers & equations
incessant ones and zeros
all patterns
in light, in dark

there is a land beyond
god's voice says
whispering
& his patterns swirl
like petals in the gale of change

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