Week 115- (March 12th-19th) poems--- Topic: Foreboding DONE

[M]

“Soggy mayhem” is what we drove through yesterday. Sharp images, Alex!

[Stephanie]

Nice job, Al. I really like the lines:

lightning caught between the gray,
twisting the cottony threads,

[Stephanie]

My pleasure. :)

[Mark]

Thanks, yeah it sure is pretty foreboding Alex.

[Mark]

Al wrote: "Downpour
By Al

Foreboding clouds and thunderheads
circling high above,
brooding,
lightning caught between the gray,
twisting the cottony threads,
pulling at the seams
to bring forth a downcast of..."

The images of rain and dark/gray storm clouds certainly catches the mood of foreboding and brooding. Great poem Alex.

[M]

I like the lines “Peering out from a building corner . . . reeking of sulfur . . .” Very nice, Mark!

[[deleted user]]

This is my poem that I wrote during Maths class at school :D The topic "Foreboding" inspired me to write this.


Lost Love
by Alice

I had a dream,
I dreamt about you,
I thought I hated you,
But I think I love you.

I woke up with a sense of dread,
But when I thought of you,
I realised I had fallen in love,
It was then that I knew.

I had a feeling I'd see you,
And yet I didn't stay inside,
I went out and searched for you,
With no way to hide.

Something bad was going to happen,
I had a sick feeling,
That I might break my heart twice,
And keep it forever from healing.

I knew something bad was going to happen,
Yet I searched all over for the guy I onced loved,
And found you all alone,
Surprised to see your ex beloved.

I didn't know what to do,
I didn't know what to say,
My heart broke,
As I struggled to keep the tears at bay.

You shook your head,
And slowly looked away,
As I crumpled on the floor,
Silently begging you to stay

My eyes cried for you,
My heart bleeds for you,
My arms reach out for you
And my soul will always love you

You took me in your arms,
Telling me it's going to be alright,
It was then you kissed me,
And held me tight

Like a broken mirror,
Impossible to fix,
My heart mended together,
When we passionately kissed.

[Cheyenne]

That reminds me of the poem I wrote my freshman year and spent (no joke) MONTHS editing the hell out of. It was a fun experience. That's a very nice poem I agree with Al :) Your poem is like a key to memories ^^

[M]

It reminds me of a piece of music that builds to a crescendo in the italicized stanza, then resolves in the last two. You never know what you’ll end up writing in a math class.

[M]

Cynthia’s Fate


I shoved the knife back in the drawer
and poured the wine, impatient for
the glance, the quiet laugh, the kiss,
to have been wrong that all of this--
the beeswax candles and the low
strings of a scratched adagio,
the undulations of the night,
a misty, Edenic first light--
means that I’ve spilt what little wine
fate seemed to have foredained as mine;
from the dripped wax one may surmise
how deep the shadows of my eyes.
The flutes are smashed, their remnants strown
into the carpet, as if sown
by a devil whose smiling ruse
is to have me remove my shoes
and dance to turn the carpet red
before I seek an empty bed
and silky dreams of eyes, of arms
that hold me and clasp golden charms
around my neck, on them engraved
the words by which I’ve been enslaved--
his words, and the world’s oldest lie.
For this indulgence, I must die
but only for a moment feel
the long French knife of carbon steel,
in the small drawer where it was shoved,
my fitting end for having loved.

[M]

Hi, Alex! How are you doing this morning?

[M]

Good! I look forward to reading it. I may work on a story this week, too.

Thanks for commenting on the poem. I couldn’t think one up, so I used something I had posted in the Poetry group a while back. One of the members had put up a few passages from a novel she had written. I’m not sure what about it inspired me to write a poem, but there it is. Speaking of French knives, I bought an old Sabatier carbon steel chef’s knife at a garage sale last weekend. It’s beautiful!

I love lasagna. I could eat it every day. I’d be so fat, they’d have to bury me in a piano case.

[M]

Tsk. Tsk. You didn’t get the vaccine. I hope you feel better soon! The last time I had something sudden come over me like that, I found out I had pneumonia. I had a fever of 106 and thought I was going to die. It was a terrible thing to contemplate, but not any worse than having to teach high school students.

[M]

I think the profile photo you have up is the best one you’ve ever done. It has a fresh, I-have-world-by-the-tail look that reminds me for some reason of the 1960’s and the ingenue who’s aware of far more than she’s telling.

[M]

Yikes! I hope you manage to get some sleep. Maybe you’ll have interesting dreams, the kind that are great for making stories out of.

[M]

I hardly ever wear a suit. Was I the good guy or the bad guy? I just hope I wasn’t the guy who runs a store.

[M]

I look almost exactly like a Fox News political commentator named Carl Cameron. When my niece saw him on TV, she thought it was me. My sister says he looks just like me, his facial expressions, everything. I don’t watch TV, but I saw him on a TV in a restaurant, and my sister’s right.

[Hanzleberry]

You also have a twin at the high school. She has blue eyes, though. Sometimes, I ended up walking next to her in the hallway, and I caught her in the corner of my eye and freaked!

[Hanzleberry]

You are so making fun of me.

[M]

I don’t know. For his sake, I hope not. Recently I got talking to somebody at a garage sale, and he seemed to want to ask me something but was embarrassed to. Finally, with a perplexed look on his face, he said, “I could swear I’ve seen you somewhere before!” I said, “I’ve been told I look like Carl Cameron, the guy on Fox News.” A funny expression came over his face, then he smiled and said, “You sure do. You look just like him.”

[M]

It’s me!

[Guy]

Al, great feeling in this poem of environment and the feeling it evokes.

Starkly grim, Mark.

Alicia, a nice expression of youthful angst. To this old timer it brought back the feeling of ambivalence and a certain gladness to be young no more.

M beautifully expressed, paced and executed. An excellent poem in all aspects.

[[deleted user]]

Guy wrote: "Al, great feeling in this poem of environment and the feeling it evokes.

Starkly grim, Mark.

Alicia, a nice expression of youthful angst. To this old timer it brought back the feeling of ambival..."

:D

[[deleted user]]

M wrote: "It reminds me of a piece of music that builds to a crescendo in the italicized stanza, then resolves in the last two. You never know what you’ll end up writing in a math class."

My brains wired for writing not for Maths :D

[M]

Thank you, Guy!

[Kyra]

AHHAHAHAHAHHAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I doodle during math. XD Ooooooh, I love the topic! I'm gonna hafta at LEAST write a poem before the 19th.

[Kyra]

How I Died
by Kyra

While roaring tides beat
Upon the shore
Until the sand is dry no more
And windy days fade into night
I slip away, under faint moonlight
Barefoot because of well-worn shoes
I tuck away the final clues
That I have left on this dark, rainy day
And let my fate have its way
Heavy rain trickles down my spine
Shivering, I smell faint pine
That reminds me of summers
Spent and gone
That I threw away, one by one
My feet are bleeding as I cross
The hard, twisted, sharpened rocks
That line the shore that's given up
To the beating waves of which it cups
I cannot see, but I do feel
The slippery rocks on which I kneel
And I can hear the pounding waves
And smell the salt and a dozen fish graves
Underneath the rock that I
Have left behind, without a single good-bye

[Guy]

Breathless


The quiet felt too big
and I knew without knowing
that my breath was done.

[Guy]

Kyra, you have created some great images with this. For example ... And I can hear the pounding waves / And smell the salt and a dozen fish graves ....

[Stephanie]

Kyra, I loved your poem. Beautiful.

[Kyra]

Thanks, Al!!!!!!!! XD I was trying yours and M's out loud when my sister cam in and asked why I was talking to myself, lol! (You two are AMAZING poets, btw.)

[Kyra]

Stephanie wrote: "Kyra, I loved your poem. Beautiful."

Ah, thanks, Stephanie!!! I appreciate the feedback.

[Kyra]

Guy wrote: "Kyra, you have created some great images with this. For example ... And I can hear the pounding waves / And smell the salt and a dozen fish graves ...."

Thanks so much!!! I loved your haiku, too!!!!!! It was a haiku, right? Normally most haikus my friends and such write can't convey the meaning of the subject very well, but I think yours captured the emotion really well. So did the rest of you guys!!!!!!!!!

[Kyra]

Guy. That, as usual, was simply amazing. I don't know what it is about your haiku but I love it s..."

I ditto that!

[Stephanie]

All I can think of to describe your poem is it's title, breathless, Guy. Wow. It's like a breath of fresh air.

[Kyra]

Slightly ironic that you compare his poem breathless to a breath of fresh air, no? Nevertheless, I think that describes it nicely.

[Stephanie]

Yeah, I thought so too. Haha

[Allison]

Mark wrote: "Foreboding

Miserable news images
Broadcast and bringing an
overwhelming depression
violence
guilty going free
famine
hurricanes
disasters
death
an internal feeling of
foreboding that ..."

Very close to something I'm writing right now, so great to see new ideas around it...loved:

Broadcast and bringing an
overwhelming depression
violence
guilty going free

If you're going to move forward with this, I'd love to see the questions you identify posed within the poetics themselves...

[Allison]

M - nice mix of the literal and the metaphor/inference. I like:

I shoved the knife back in the drawer
and poured the wine, impatient for
the glance, the quiet laugh, the kiss,
to have been wrong that all of this--
the beeswax candles and the low
strings of a scratched adagio

[Allison]

Al wrote: "Downpour
By Al

Foreboding clouds and thunderheads
circling high above,
brooding,
lightning caught between the gray,
twisting the cottony threads,
pulling at the seams
to bring forth a downcast of..."

Love this:

twisting the cottony threads,
pulling at the seams

[Allison]

Alicia- wrote: "This is my poem that I wrote during Maths class at school :D The topic "Foreboding" inspired me to write this.


Lost Love
by Alice

I had a dream,
I dreamt about you,
I thought I hated you,
B..."

I don't know much about song writing, but I just got "song" when I read this - the italics being the chorus - was this your intent?

[[deleted user]]

Al wrote: "Heheheheheheh

I used to write short stories or poems during math class all the time and pretend to take notes. Of course when the teacher called on me I looked like an idiot because I had no idea ..."

LOL :D Yeh, that happens to me alot. :)