hey i wrote a poem today, totally random, just stream of consciousness type thing.
IT LOOKS LONG BUT TAKES QUITE A SHORT TIME TO READ. it may not makes sense to you, but just give it a shot please? :)...
Noodles
I remember…
Being inside
A small crate
With love empty and superficial
I remember…
A wall
A long low gray wall
Stretched
I remember…
Staring through the carpet
Endless rows of feet
Pound over
Over
Over fragile fibers
I remember…
A scream
A soft little cry ate
Through my bones
Eyes I could not see,
But I felt
Deep eyes, soft eyes
Turned thin and brittle
I remember…
Opening a door
Key?
It doesn’t matter
The room is not even there.
I miss that
Room.
I no longer understand.
I remember…
That I stopped
For one blink I stared at
My innocent feet
Neatly packaged in their
Red
Shoes
I then realized I was moving
Away away away
From where my heart wanted to go.
But oh!
My feet had given up
Though my heart had not…
I drifted down
Down the long way I had come.
Why the journey?
I do not understand but
I remember…
A sweaty dark space
A jacket
Whose?
Where have they gone?
The buttons, the pockets
All brown brown brown
And smelling of loneliness
I remember…
A bowl of noodles
Round green bowl
Sweet golden noodles
They mocked me.
That one noodle
Laughing its bright, sharp
Noodle-laugh
My air scattered away
I remember…
The rough bites of wood
The soft sloughing of falling scraps
Why this transformation?
The purpose: some other game
A pencil
Sharp
For the sake of others?
If it were up to me
I think
I would like
To be a dull pencil.
But I do not remember.
Anonymous
06:16:21 PM
7 comments:
That was...interesting.
I kind of related to it, actually.
"Sweet golden noodles
They mocked me."
Hehe.
Good work. This is an excellent addition to our compendium of angst.
I like this, especially the descriptive phrases. "Red/Shoes" and "brown brown brown" I really love the line break between Red and Shoes. The title is good, nicely removed from the beginning of the poem, with its theme of The Room, and instead focuses on one of the smaller points of the poem.
Regarding the subject matter... it's all a bit too fuzzy for me to comprehend. Then again, stream of consciousness usually is. The one part that I really don't get is the bit involving the pencil toward the end of the poem.
Although... with a second reading, it's starting to make more sense.
Keep writing.
"God i hate poetry. just leave us alone you poetic jerks."
Jeeze, the negativity needs to stop people! There's nothing wrong with poetry. Whether you think it's bad or not, the fact is, they're -sharing-. Maybe it's not in form that's "entertaining" to you, but that's their way of putting their feelings out there. Not only are they expressing their feelings (a inalienable right for all tangsters) but they're doing it artistically and with work behind it. The least they deserve is your silence.
We've all been tempted to say something rude and out of line because of the anonymity of this site, but remember, just because it's easy that doesn't make it right. The more people we have being rude in non-constructive ways the less comfortable people will be sharing their problems or their joys with us. That's the exact opposite of what this site's meant to do. Every negative comment is the equivalent of a deathblow. Be respectful, be respectful, be respectful. I don't think I can say it any more clearly.
I applaud you, Anonymous 6.
It's the Original Poster/Poet (if I may call myself that =P...):
Thanks all for your constructive criticism and comments, I always appreciate your feedback.
To the people who have left pointless, general, negative comments, you have no effect on me. I simply don't care what you say. OF COURSE some people will not like my poem. But kind of like anonymous6 was saying, that is not the point of a poem. So if you hate it, TELL ME THAT, but do it in a constructive way please? Thanks.
Oh, and to the_watcher...I know you! ^.^ Hi!
Okay. That's all I have to say. Keep commenting =)!
Hmm... I don't quite understand, and I think that no one will, outside the OP/Poet's head themselves, but I liked it. *sigh* Not too good at comprehending or explaining why I like poetry, but part of the attraction was in all the very small things making up the different stanzas coming together, mixed like potpurri. It's good, keep writing.
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