A thread for one's own poetry

Here's one I did in the style of T.S. Elliot's Wasteland. It's called

Daydream

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I glanced about me as we went
"Why do we do this?" I asked him
"Who knows, it's just the way" he said
then bent to oars as we ploughed on
the gentle water broke upon our bows
as slowly we both squinted in the sun
and without sound of wind or revving engine
heard the quiet water sing
as we rowed easily along

"I mean, what is the reason for all this?"
I asked with worried look on brow
feeling lost and tired and worn
he smiled and twisted hands then said
"It's just the way the river flows, and all we
do is just a part of what there is around us"

"Yes, yes, I get all that, I know it's just
a waking dream" I said
he smiled once more then bent to pull
the oars now dipped below the wave
the bow wave furrowing our way
"So why not just accept what's real,
sit back and let me do the work?"
"Okay," I said, "I guess it feels
like something's wrong with me today"

Then silence fell upon us both
as oars creaked loud in well used rowlocks
I looked around at bankside reeds
that swayed in rhythmic waves, it seemed
the sound of summer hemmed us in
I felt as though perhaps I'd found
the secret here of life unbound
by holiness and sin

And as the minutes turned to hours
we turned and turned about
first he took oars then on it was
to me to do my bit
and finally to bring us home
for though we'd rowed ten miles or more
the hour was getting late
and soon we'd have to stop and land
and once done, then to close the gate
and head once more to house and home
as though the day were just a dream

A pleasant dream for that it was
a fantasy of mind
when two friends spend some time away
from all the worries of the day
to go exploring some new land
where nothing's known and nothing's planned
yet as the day rolls on we see
that there's still room for you and me

To do the things we've never done
or tried to do before, but now
it's just as though a light has shone
on distant shores for us to find
and then set foot on virgin soil
and all the while at back of mind
we both felt need to heed the call

A new horizon to be conquered
lived and then to leave behind
our souls upon that distant loam
where they are free to drift and roam
a diff'rent life from that we've known and
all the while we learn as though
we are just children here at play
dreaming of a perfect day

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

R.J.H. 28.01.2023
 
Last edited:
BJintheUK said:
Here's one I did in the style of T.S. Elliot's Wasteland. It's called

Daydream

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I glanced about me as we went
"Why do we do this?" I asked him
"Who knows, it's just the way" he said
then bent to oars as we ploughed on
the gentle water broke upon our bows
as slowly we both squinted in the sun
and without sound of wind or revving engine
heard the quiet water sing
as we rowed easily along

"I mean, what is the reason for all this?"
I asked with worried look on brow
feeling lost and tired and worn
he smiled and twisted hands then said
"It's just the way the river flows, and all we
do is just a part of what there is around us"

"Yes, yes, I get all that, I know it's just
a waking dream" I said
he smiled once more then bent to pull
the oars now dipped below the wave
the bow wave furrowing our way
"So why not just accept what's real,
sit back and let me do the work?"
"Okay," I said, "I guess it feels
like something's wrong with me today"

Then silence fell upon us both
as oars creaked loud in well used rowlocks
I looked around at bankside reeds
that swayed in rhythmic waves, it seemed
the sound of summer hemmed us in
I felt as though perhaps I'd found
the secret here of life unbound
by holiness and sin

And as the minutes turned to hours
we turned and turned about
first he took oars then on it was
to me to do my bit
and finally to bring us home
for though we'd rowed ten miles or more
the hour was getting late
and soon we'd have to stop and land
and once done, then to close the gate
and head once more to house and home
as though the day were just a dream

A pleasant dream for that it was
a fantasy of mind
when two friends spend some time away
from all the worries of the day
to go exploring some new land
where nothing's known and nothing's planned
yet as the day rolls on we see
that there's still room for you and me

To do the things we've never done
or tried to do before, but now
it's just as though a light has shone
on distant shores for us to find
and then set foot on virgin soil
and all the while at back of mind
we both felt need to heed the call

A new horizon to be conquered
lived and then to leave behind
our souls upon that distant loam
where they are free to drift and roam
a diff'rent life from that we've known and
all the while we learn as though
we are just children here at play
dreaming of a perfect day


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Click to expand...
Thank you for his poem! You might want to initial it at the end and write the year, for copyright reasons.
Feel free to visit my thread where I have shared my poems, as well as others have shared their poems: Reflective thoughts and poems
 
palides2021 said:
Thank you for his poem! You might want to initial it at the end and write the year, for copyright reasons.
Feel free to visit my thread where I have shared my poems, as well as others have shared their poems: Reflective thoughts and poems
Click to expand...
I've put this particular one up on another website in the past. So I don't know if that counts?

Anyway, I'll initial it, and put the year it was written as well.
 
Here's another one I wrote, It's a bit sad, but helps to exorcise some lingering demons now and again.

Empty Room
R.J.H 22.01.2023

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The door stands open, so you look
inside the room where she once stayed
she's gone now, it all looks so sad
she'll never breathe in here again
the clear cold air that breezes in
the dust has all now settled out
the furniture in cloth now draped
sad memories lay strewn about

it took place many years ago
when you were young and so was she
you moved into the room together
full of hope and loving thoughts
a new life to embark upon
with years ahead to act and plan
as though the world on bended knee
would do your bidding, your command
yet though you both gave all you could
the world broke faith and floated free

the cracks appeared not in the walls
nor in the ceiling overhead
but in the way she looked at you
as though she didn't care at all
then you began to act the same
and soon the love you'd both once felt
now slowly drained through squeaking boards
beneath your feet as snow would melt
then drip until it all was gone
and nothing's left to dwell upon

so now you peer around the door
at what was once but is no more
the feeling now of emptiness
and loss pervades your every thought
you try but can no longer feel
the hurt when all was said and done
and how you'd cried as children do
when your soul mate had upped and gone
to find a life with someone new
leaving you to stumble on
into a wilderness of choices
filled with many diff'rent voices
calling now and crying out
"so what was all the fuss about?"

the fuss was all there was back then
with much ado you said the lines
and made the gestures as though giv'n
by bard or poet in their script
and when they wrote they knew the score
on words and meanings as they grew
into the language of our lives
we flit around like butterflies
or busy bees a dusty hue of
yellow pollen dust that lingers
clings to hair and clothes and fingers
makes us sneeze and cough and cry
as we recall those times gone by

the happy times we all remember
gone but not forgotten, so that
we remember all those years
of working hard to make a living
giving time and effort to
the love of others, friends and lovers
people we all used to know
when we were young and busy growing
into who we are right now
and though we reminisce and smile
yet still we hold, and always will
like shadows filled with dark and gloom
the sadness of that empty room

----------------------------------------------------------------------
 
Last edited:
And here's the last one for today.

Love Strikes
R.J.H. 31.01.2023

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Who knows when love will strike us down
across the room eyes flash with heat
hair then face, nails and shape
all add to overpowering feelings
lastly dress and chosen colours
add their score, so now the brain
cannot ignore the pull of action
responding to a new attraction

a mixture that's both light and heavy
lifting, spinning, crashing in
to wake the senses, turning on the
wilding scent of new desire
the need to move now ever closer
then join with smiles the one who calls

it's now or never in your mind
you know you really want to wind your
arms around the person who
has touched you, bewitched you
sent you spinning and enriched
your empty life like a shaft of light
the darkness torn asunder by it

when you reach her you approach
with trepidation, cautiously
will she respond or turn away
or just ignore you, bore you, maybe abjure you
heart in mouth you say 'Hello'
and hope she smiles and answers 'Hey'

but if she does where to from there
the road to unknown pleasures waits
or could that be to Hellish gates
when from her lips cruel barbs do flow
with heart now broke in pieces go
from by her warmth to frigid snow
you know you'll never feel so low

but what if she looks up and says
'Hello' coupled with a smile
your heart will pump your skin will glow
your tongue won't know which way to go
and as your nerves begin to break
inside you feel a sudden flutter
as your thoughts all turn to butter
then to flow out from your mouth
a constant drool of pointless mutter

shyness now invades the play
you find you just can't look away
from those dark eyes, that button nose
those dancing lips that seem to pose
a question for you, can you answer
or are you just another chancer?

can you quickly overcome
the one inside who wants to run
and hide back there in yonder corner
licking wounded pride forever

pluck your courage from the air
and ask with confidence to spare
if she'd like to go out with you
then learn with laughter spoken true
of all your foibles, hers as well
and so your nerves start to dispel

with loves new tokens now exchanged
it's time for dates to be arranged
and contact details swapped about
you know you want to jump and shout
but all you do is nod and pout
knowing you can now go out with
someone new, fresh and exciting
such rewards are now inviting
you to speculate ahead
perhaps one night she'll share your bed?

---------------------------------------------------------------------
 
We had to write poetry in my 10th-grade literature class, and I found I had no talent for it at all. But I managed to sweat this out; my High-School Haiku

Five little ninjas
sitting in a field of grass
Comfy in jammies


(BTW, I'm not mocking your thread, BJ. Think of it as comedy-relief)
 
Here's one I did after reading "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Elliot. It inspred me to put fingers to keyboard and knock out this ode to those who are much better than me at combining words.


The Song of the Sadly Unfrocked

R.J.H, 20/10/2024

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sitting there upon the stair
where long dark hair has fallen
with shoulders bared amid the stares
of those who have the gall, and
taking in the scene obscene they see
before their lustful eyes
the fruits of labours long now past
full grown to ripeness full and fast
upon the bosom of success they feel
emotions growing

and though they lust they know they must
keep smiling just for show
to hide their thoughts
those naughty thoughts that rise inside their heads
and fill the void
as though they're coy
yet still the lust inside them grows
and soon they know that it will show
to all around and sundry
if they should fall and heed the call
of hot desire that growing must
burst out into the room

and cause those all around to gasp
and in their eyes you see surprise
that one has so lost all control
and social training has now fallen
foul of inner workings strong
that feel so good, yet feel so wrong

and even though the wrongness shows
they still keep dancing on their toes
the twinkle toes that move them on
from waltz to tango then to bed
to free the rush of heat and blood
that surges through their writhing limbs
and oozes from their sweating skin
to lubricate the action
of bodily attraction

that drives them on to seek release
within the confines of these walls
or sometimes out there in the halls
where open stairs attract the stares
of those with envy who just see
the long dark hair and shoulders bared
for those who happen to just be
a moving through the place

with faces pure and innocent of meaning
so it seems but in their dreams
they strip the rest of those reclining
til their breasts burst out of dresses
cut to show the most soft skin

and build the lust of those who must
now prance the dance like trusting puppets
thrown around by forces hidden
while all the wiles of thrusting heat
blush cheeks and heaving bosoms

and hourglass figures hide the rigours
of hours of stress 'bout underdressing
in order to attract one's peers
and flirt with others too demure
to chase with ardour
and ceaseless harder working senses
taking in both sight and scents
and sound so loud inside the heads

of those aroused by weapons wielded
with much skill by those who set their sights to kill
the innocence of those they snare
while all the time they stand and stare
at those who sit upon the stairs
with long dark hair and shoulders bared
for all to see, like you and me
who can't react with honesty
to what they see before them

I wish I could implore them
to cover up their earthly charms
but though I know they do no harm
yet still I wish they'd cross their arms
to save me from embarrassment
and help to save them too from harrassment
by those who'd take advantage when
they see those curves out on display
so, "Matron! Please take them away!"
as spoken many years ago
by Carry On film actors who
we never knew
were gay back then
when gayness was a mortal sin

but now we see for what it is
just a different form of business
personal to those who know
they can't control the way they go
about their wishing for another
and at least it's not their mother
nor their sister nor their brother
who they find they're lusting after
it's someone else's son or daughter

and as long as they're full grown
and of an age when they can give
consent to joining in the game
and legally be stimulated
till their worldly wants abated
then they can relax upon the stair
where long dark hair has fallen

shoulders bared to help to cool
the ardour spent and after all
it's meant to be for everyone
both genius and fool
for without such the human race
would not be won at all

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
Last edited:
BJintheUK said:
Here's one I did in the style of T.S. Elliot's Wasteland. It's called

Daydream

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I glanced about me as we went
"Why do we do this?" I asked him
"Who knows, it's just the way" he said
then bent to oars as we ploughed on
the gentle water broke upon our bows
as slowly we both squinted in the sun
and without sound of wind or revving engine
heard the quiet water sing
as we rowed easily along

"I mean, what is the reason for all this?"
I asked with worried look on brow
feeling lost and tired and worn
he smiled and twisted hands then said
"It's just the way the river flows, and all we
do is just a part of what there is around us"

"Yes, yes, I get all that, I know it's just
a waking dream" I said
he smiled once more then bent to pull
the oars now dipped below the wave
the bow wave furrowing our way
"So why not just accept what's real,
sit back and let me do the work?"
"Okay," I said, "I guess it feels
like something's wrong with me today"

Then silence fell upon us both
as oars creaked loud in well used rowlocks
I looked around at bankside reeds
that swayed in rhythmic waves, it seemed
the sound of summer hemmed us in
I felt as though perhaps I'd found
the secret here of life unbound
by holiness and sin

And as the minutes turned to hours
we turned and turned about
first he took oars then on it was
to me to do my bit
and finally to bring us home
for though we'd rowed ten miles or more
the hour was getting late
and soon we'd have to stop and land
and once done, then to close the gate
and head once more to house and home
as though the day were just a dream

A pleasant dream for that it was
a fantasy of mind
when two friends spend some time away
from all the worries of the day
to go exploring some new land
where nothing's known and nothing's planned
yet as the day rolls on we see
that there's still room for you and me

To do the things we've never done
or tried to do before, but now
it's just as though a light has shone
on distant shores for us to find
and then set foot on virgin soil
and all the while at back of mind
we both felt need to heed the call

A new horizon to be conquered
lived and then to leave behind
our souls upon that distant loam
where they are free to drift and roam
a diff'rent life from that we've known and
all the while we learn as though
we are just children here at play
dreaming of a perfect day

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

R.J.H. 28.01.2023
Click to expand...
thought I recognized your pen - welcome from another world! - [the dog man]
 
well you know how the poetry comes and goes - but we do have one of two threads around - take a scan - it's a mood thing heh? - my father was a gentle poet and when he died Ma gave me his handwritten collection - see if I can dig a few out - one was called "The Quiet Man" loved being at home and not gaddin about! Bro and Sis never took to it but I did a while. I think you'll be welcome here
 
BJintheUK said:
Here's another one I wrote, It's a bit sad, but helps to exorcise some lingering demons now and again.

Empty Room
R.J.H 22.01.2023

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The door stands open, so you look
inside the room where she once stayed
she's gone now, it all looks so sad
she'll never breathe in here again
the clear cold air that breezes in
the dust has all now settled out
the furniture in cloth now draped
sad memories lay strewn about

it took place many years ago
when you were young and so was she
you moved into the room together
full of hope and loving thoughts
a new life to embark upon
with years ahead to act and plan
as though the world on bended knee
would do your bidding, your command
yet though you both gave all you could
the world broke faith and floated free

the cracks appeared not in the walls
nor in the ceiling overhead
but in the way she looked at you
as though she didn't care at all
then you began to act the same
and soon the love you'd both once felt
now slowly drained through squeaking boards
beneath your feet as snow would melt
then drip until it all was gone
and nothing's left to dwell upon

so now you peer around the door
at what was once but is no more
the feeling now of emptiness
and loss pervades your every thought
you try but can no longer feel
the hurt when all was said and done
and how you'd cried as children do
when your soul mate had upped and gone
to find a life with someone new
leaving you to stumble on
into a wilderness of choices
filled with many diff'rent voices
calling now and crying out
"so what was all the fuss about?"

the fuss was all there was back then
with much ado you said the lines
and made the gestures as though giv'n
by bard or poet in their script
and when they wrote they knew the score
on words and meanings as they grew
into the language of our lives
we flit around like butterflies
or busy bees a dusty hue of
yellow pollen dust that lingers
clings to hair and clothes and fingers
makes us sneeze and cough and cry
as we recall those times gone by

the happy times we all remember
gone but not forgotten, so that
we remember all those years
of working hard to make a living
giving time and effort to
the love of others, friends and lovers
people we all used to know
when we were young and busy growing
into who we are right now
and though we reminisce and smile
yet still we hold, and always will
like shadows filled with dark and gloom
the sadness of that empty room

----------------------------------------------------------------------
Click to expand...
reminds me of another that must have made a lot of money and still is! -The song "Since You Stayed Here" was written by Peter Larson and Josh Rubins. It was first released by Dionne Warwick in 1977 - are you related?
 
smiley said:
reminds me of another that must have made a lot of money and still is! -The song "Since You Stayed Here" was written by Peter Larson and Josh Rubins. It was first released by Dionne Warwick in 1977 - are you related?
Click to expand...
Definitely not. I share no characteristics with any of the three people you mentioned. As you can see from my avatar, I am the wrong ethnology for Dionne Warwick, and I've never heard of the other two. However, I've just read the lyrics of the song Since you stayed here, and I can see where you're coming from. :ROFLMAO: 👍
 
Murrmurr said:
We had to write poetry in my 10th-grade literature class, and I found I had no talent for it at all. But I managed to sweat this out; my High-School Haiku

Five little ninjas
sitting in a field of grass
Comfy in jammies


(BTW, I'm not mocking your thread, BJ. Think of it as comedy-relief)
Click to expand...
By the way, not all of my poems are serious. Here's one I wrote for no reason whatsoever.

Inky Moon and Smelly Sun

R.J.H. 11/03/2015

-------------------------------------------

Inky moon and smelly sun
I could drink a hot cross bunny
If you think that that sounds strange
Check my jeans out made of honey
In the Winter they look neat
In the Summer they smell sweet
But when I sit down it’s not funny
Then they melt and go all runny

-------------------------------------------
 
Hurrah For Poetry

Poetry has a way
Of saying 'just how we feel'
Sometimes hard to drag out
Then 'plonk' comes out with ease?

Bit like giving birth [seen it but never tried?]
but God it had me jaw drop
and tears well from [well you know where - insert own phrase!

Sometimes like a breech birth
Can't stay in but wont all come out
then just gotta sleep on it
gentle ease with one firm clout?

I don't know where this is goin
it's just takin me in its wake
I blame old BJ in the UK
He's wiggled all me memories about

C Smiley 2024 sometimes Davey [ I could Sue but she said not to bother this time - just warmin up]
 
Last edited:
jessie2.JPG

There was a time when motor cars were serious fun to drive,
back then they didn't have seat belts, which help you stay alive.
They had quirky things like running boards and trafficators too,
those were little semaphore arms that gave the direction true.

Jessica is just like that in two tone fancy colour,
an MG of classic vintage, a real beauty to discover.
There's nothing more that she prefers than to show off in the shining sun,
and be photographed by one and all: She smiles for everyone.

This classic car has survived the years and not been torn asunder,
not for her, the breaker's yard, her body parts to plunder.
Despite her years she's greatly loved, her lines to be admired,
and she can still put on a turn of speed to get the adrenaline fired.

Out on the highway she likes to go and keep up with the traffic.
But serious problems can arise, when all the cars are static.
The water in her engine boils and out the steam comes, hissing.
She doesn't have a temperature fan but it's not exactly missing.

It simply wasn't ever there like modern cars today,
there's so much missing with vintage cars, it's the price you have to pay.
But for all her lack of equipment and of technology,
there's something intangible that this car has, this lovely old MG.

It's that distinct smell of old car, of walnut and of leather,
a fragrance so captivating, it doesn't get much better.
Then there's her style and grace and beauty, and class in overload,
but her greatest asset is the fun you can have that comes by the bucketload.
 
horseless carriage said:
View attachment 469462

There was a time when motor cars were serious fun to drive,
back then they didn't have seat belts, which help you stay alive.
They had quirky things like running boards and trafficators too,
those were little semaphore arms that gave the direction true.

Jessica is just like that in two tone fancy colour,
an MG of classic vintage, a real beauty to discover.
There's nothing more that she prefers than to show off in the shining sun,
and be photographed by one and all: She smiles for everyone.

This classic car has survived the years and not been torn asunder,
not for her, the breaker's yard, her body parts to plunder.
Despite her years she's greatly loved, her lines to be admired,
and she can still put on a turn of speed to get the adrenaline fired.

Out on the highway she likes to go and keep up with the traffic.
But serious problems can arise, when all the cars are static.
The water in her engine boils and out the steam comes, hissing.
She doesn't have a temperature fan but it's not exactly missing.

It simply wasn't ever there like modern cars today,
there's so much missing with vintage cars, it's the price you have to pay.
But for all her lack of equipment and of technology,
there's something intangible that this car has, this lovely old MG.

It's that distinct smell of old car, of walnut and of leather,
a fragrance so captivating, it doesn't get much better.
Then there's her style and grace and beauty, and class in overload,
but her greatest asset is the fun you can have that comes by the bucketload.
Click to expand...
lovely you even provided a 'link' too - your wife/sister/ladyfriend/mother?
 
here's one I did under another signature- honest? might be on here even elsewhere - we've all been here a long long long long time!!

A theme on a theme on a theme?

I sat upon my comfy lounge

the fire gently nuzzling

Someone was pulling pints of beer

but the sound was kinda puzzlin?



My ‘invites’ open every eve

from bewitching gloom till late

but I guess the weather’s not been too kind

and it is only Feb in haste?



Still I had my trusty tome

half drunken pint or three

and Paganini’s cello

played like a breathless three?



And then she appeared ; stopped for a while

A hesitant stare and then small smile

She took in the rest of room in glances

It was then I knew my chances?



She really only had two options

make for the bar or turn around?

But then I spoke as if on cue

“It’s quiet tonight – you look quite blue”?



I should have kept my big mouth shut

as I heard bartender’s muffled guffaw

Well I guess I was guest but also owner

Was I excusing or just bemoaner?



Well perhaps we may never know

But I could have swore her smile did glow

And as she headed towards my clime

Well in for a dollar or a dime?



I beckoned to an empty seat

As she leaned and kissed my pensive cheek

“Well high big fella – what’s ya game?”

I smiled and murmured - ‘ always the same’



I start with one full deck of cards

always lookin for Queen of Hearts

so tell me how ya came this way ?

Just passing through or here to stay?



She asked what time d’ya close this joint?

Just call ya shot Ma’am don’t disappoint

Mmm she murmured sweet delights

then close ya bar I’ll be just right



when they came to the bar was down

she snuggled up on asian lounge

and whispered “babe you’ve got some punch”

He asked “you’ll stay for lunch?”

© davo 2023

I do miss our resident angel still or at least someone who could talk to them? RIP
 

You must log in or register to reply here.

Back
Top