Hey.... let's do a community poem. Forget all the ideological crap and just make a poetic thread. I'll throw the first lines in.
Dancing dust in light that could have been the sun
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Dancing dust in light that could have been the sun
A thousand splintered fragments refracting wond'rous dances
simply circumstances when the wheel has been spun;
endless games of chance
that are never lost or won....
Fate is blinded here, it seems
By the same glow that alights auspicious dreams
Inspires the fickle wind, the gust
Caresses twilight's dancing dust
Yet words are history's cheap whore,
and we the doubting shameful Johns,
who profane the very hand of fate,
and malign the sanctity of trust.........,
And if words history's harlots be
What can be said of poetry?
A brutal swing by dead'ning Lust?
Or deft stroke of Aphrodite?
It is a feather in your cap at least,
or a sword in your hand at best
to paint the plight with eloquence,
and become the hand of entropy........
A thousand splintered fragments refracting wond'rous dances
simply circumstances when the wheel has been spun;
endless games of chance
that are never lost or won....
Fate is blinded here, it seems
By the same glow that alights auspicious dreams
Inspires the fickle wind, the gust
Caresses twilight's dancing dust
Yet words are history's cheap whore,
and we the doubting shameful Johns,
who profane the very hand of fate,
and malign the sanctity of trust.........,
And if words history's harlots be
What can be said of poetry?
A brutal swing by dead'ning Lust?
Or deft stroke of Aphrodite?
It is a feather in your cap at least,
or a sword in your hand at best
to paint the plight with eloquence,
and become the hand of entropy........
therighttothink50 · 56-60, M
They are the party of red diaper doper baby scum,
The will of Stalin, Mao, Obama and Sanders, thy will be undone,
Haters of freedom of speech and confiscators of guns,
Walking to the beat of the solitary group thought drum,
Not an honest election have any of them ever won,
Masters of propaganda spun,
Individual liberty, common sense and logic they all shun,
May they one day be seen for who they are, misery making socialist bums.....
The will of Stalin, Mao, Obama and Sanders, thy will be undone,
Haters of freedom of speech and confiscators of guns,
Walking to the beat of the solitary group thought drum,
Not an honest election have any of them ever won,
Masters of propaganda spun,
Individual liberty, common sense and logic they all shun,
May they one day be seen for who they are, misery making socialist bums.....
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@FuzeBar I'll throw this in there cause it is my classic example of quatrain and close to my heart. I hope you don't mind the divine reference.
[b][c=#003BB2]The Senses.[/c][/b]
[b]Sight, the colored canvas's in my mind
the sun the sea the land beneath
every thing upon which you've shined
your revealing light becomes belief
touch, the silent message born of love
another gift from life to life
to know the softness of the skin
to know the sharpness of the knife
Sound, the music of reality
the beating universal drum
Life's continuing harsh symphony
It's never ceasing gentle hum
taste, the message from the tongue to brain
the bitter warning not to eat
both pleasure or a type of pain
the polarity of sour sweet
Smell, the priceless talent of the nose
giving flavor to the air
wherewith we appreciate the rose
and separate the foul and fair
If we as all humanity
were simply accidents of time
what use would all these treasures be
to know both wretched and sublime
[/b]
[b][c=#003BB2]The Senses.[/c][/b]
[b]Sight, the colored canvas's in my mind
the sun the sea the land beneath
every thing upon which you've shined
your revealing light becomes belief
touch, the silent message born of love
another gift from life to life
to know the softness of the skin
to know the sharpness of the knife
Sound, the music of reality
the beating universal drum
Life's continuing harsh symphony
It's never ceasing gentle hum
taste, the message from the tongue to brain
the bitter warning not to eat
both pleasure or a type of pain
the polarity of sour sweet
Smell, the priceless talent of the nose
giving flavor to the air
wherewith we appreciate the rose
and separate the foul and fair
If we as all humanity
were simply accidents of time
what use would all these treasures be
to know both wretched and sublime
[/b]
FuzeBar · 26-30, M
Fantastic. I love the form of it, almost like a persuasive essay, each part named and remarked upon, tying into the conclusion at the end. And the existential question is something I've been pondering a lot lately. Why Beauty? Where does it fit into the Absurd existence and the brutal crucible of biological evolution? Definitely a key question for an artist to ask and it's worded beautifully here.
@SW-User There is no randomness on the Mandala!
@SW-User When you run out of rhymes, count your syllables! 😁✌
TeresaRudolph71 · 51-55, F
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@SW-User run Forest! Run!
