Piano Guy's Poetry Thread

Here is a collection of my poetry (or at least the poetry worth posting). I have been writing for a while, and have improved over the past few years. Keep in mind some of what I'm going to post here is early work, but comments are still appreciated regarding any of my poetry.

I'm going to begin with my most recent work, a group of poems I have written over the last two years that tell a sort of story. It is my hope that the reader begins to see a picture painted as the poems progress. It is a universal picture, one that can mean different things to different people, and I think everyone can relate to it on some level. The title and order is tentative - if you have a better idea, feel free to comment and let me know.


The Heart's Long Dream: A Cycle of Poems


1. Musing on a Quotation About Love

A friend recited these lines to me
With ever a sad and longing sigh:
"Tell me why love hurts so much,
And I'll tell you the number of stars in the sky."

Well, I can't tell you why it's so,
But I can surely say these words:
"Tell me the number of stars in the sky,
And, truly, that's how much love hurts!"


2. Love's Candle

He stands, watching, in the distance...
Her beauty is breathtaking.
She is pure perfection,
Put on this humble Earth
By God Himself.
He stands, watching, in the distance...
Does he deserve her true love?
The man, who looks afar,
Wanting love so divine,
Wishing for her.
He stands, watching, in the distance...
And what is the beauty's name?
The name of beauty is hers,
And the fire in his heart
Burns so brightly.
He stands, watching, in the distance...

But to a post he is tied, and he cannot reach her.
He is gagged, and cannot shout to her.
Truly, the fire in his heart burns more brightly
Than the fires of the torches below,
But he will soon burn a brighter red, and then a darker shade,
Because his fires burned for her.

As his muffled, frantic cries fill the air,
He thinks upon his foolishness-
For the stake cares not for the fires of love,
And tears of longing are quickly licked away by death's flames.

He glows, staring, in the distance...


3. Love's Myth

When, as the moonlight spreads
Over the still night,
I ponder love's sweet ventures,
Those journeys of the heart
Unknown to all except myself,
I look back to myths of ages past.

Such myths of the heart are so sweet
Yet so terrible to remember.
I remember as it were yesterday,
I wanted so much to say those divine words.
For I meant them, inside my heart.
The moment I looked to tell you,
You were gone as a feather on a breeze,
As was Eurydice in the ancient tale of Orpheus.

You represent not one who was,
But those who have been
And, I fear, all those to come.
Shall this heart's journey be filled
With only love that vanishes into air?
If so, then may God have mercy
And take my soul quickly from this Earth.

For I fear I cannot keep loving
If my love reaches only to the wind,
And true love for me is only a myth.


4. Soliloquy on Hope

Hope
What is your nature?
Why must you continue to die and be reborn?
You are like ancient methods of torture;
The slow drip foreshadowing insanity,
Never suffering the heart to sleep;
Silently bashing the depths of the spirit.
Unmerciful until death.
Giving no peace until the final rest
Under which your power has no reach.
Are you the result of some great evil,
Or do you exist as those you torment,
A slave to your own existence,
Forever wishing to end the flickering infinite
That destroys the hearts of so many touched by it?
The unreality of a fleeting wish holds no candle
To your forever dying and rekindling flame...
Truth is your antithesis,
But still it is your garden...
And you, Hope,
Are the ever-sealed window
That overlooks it.


5. Compassion

I see an angel by the brook,
Her wings ripped apart
By some vile, Earthly beast.
A tear runs down her cheek
And surely a tear down mine,
For in my heart, with the noblest intentions,
I wish that I could mend her wings
And wipe the tear away.
With a fiery fervor, I desire
To avenge her and destroy the beast!
I would sacrifice my life here on Earth
To carry her back to Heaven
In my arms...

...But who the Hell am I,
After all my sins, to think
That I should attain
Such divinity?


6. Not a Love Poem

Love poems speak of roses and violets
And all manner of colorful plant.
They speak of dreams and wishes
And other figurative imaginations
They speak of fires burning in the heart,
Describing love with such simple metaphors,
And they speak of eternity and infinity-
Ideas we humans cannot understand.

I write not a love poem for you

For the visage of flowers is homely
When compared to the infinite, beautiful glow of your smile
And I cannot dream or wish for anything else
Knowing that perfection such as yourself graces this humble Earth
And there is no flame burning in my feeble heart,
For the fiery passion within your spirit consumes it entirely
And eternity and infinity pale when measured to what I feel for you-
It is such that only God Himself can grasp its depth.


7. To the Used

Dream not of those
Who, unknowingly, take
Your life.
And dream not of those
Who, selfishly, use
Your love.

Dream of someone
Who, unknowingly, takes
Your breath.
And dream of someone
Who, selfishly, steals
Your heart.

But it is reality
that, cruelly, shouts
This truth....

That all of these
May, indivisibly, manifest

As one.


8. On Contempt For Kindness

I judge not, for I do not understand,
Even with my knowledge, any other being.
It is futile to be angry when my kind words
Are met with the vicious baring of teeth.

How can I even attempt to help another poor soul
Or ease the pain of one who hurts in ways that I do not?-
For it would be easier to explain to a man, blind from birth,
What it is to see the light of the sun on a summer day.
To understand my world would cost him a miracle,
A price unaffordable to those who draw breath in life.

It is futile to be angry, but I must ask why
My compassionate attempts are met with such hate and disgust -
For how can a seeing man such as I understand the world of the blind
Except to have the very eyes cut from his skull?


9. Fearless

I am fearless.
Many claim to be so,
But when it comes down to life or death,
Shy away in the face of danger.

Fearlessness is not borne of bravery.
It is not borne of love
Or some other docile feeling
True fearlessness arises
From having nothing to lose in death.

Therefore, I boast not when I say
Those three bitter words
In my tears as I look at your picture-
I am fearless.


10. Recapitulation

What do I say when I am out of words -
The bleak musings of a heart broken and wounded,
Bleeding and losing its life with every beat;
The bitter cries of a man consumed by his own terrible flame?

What do I feel when I am out of emotion -
The feeling of new hope and the compassion
That needs so much to care for another's pain:
The feeling that surpasses even love in its glorious power?

What do I ask when I am out of questions -
Quandaries about the nature of love
And why such a wondrous feeling may be coupled
With the searing pain of loss?

In all my wondering, there lies an answer -
A most curious contradiction that presents itself,
Most obviously, I suppose, as still I continue to weep

When I am out of tears.


11. Afterword

And the heart's long dream is over
Eyes wide open, I remember faintly
A birth, life, and death in my mind's eye.
Somehow beaten to Life by Love,
I begin a new day, forgetting the dreams
By which I was destroyed a night ago.

No longer will I let my dreamlike emotions
Cloud my vision into reality.



Comments are appreciated! Thanks.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

I'm hard to please when it comes to this stuff. I'm not a general poetry lover. But I really like the first one! =D

Most amazing jew boots

Thanks for the reply. Here's a poem I just recently wrote-

The Ultimate Power

Perfect sleep, I call to thee
A state more holy than any,
The purest of being, untainted
By conscious things we keep

Unknown to all our minds lie still,
But moving more than when we stand
Processing things complex as life,
Or simple as a pebble, small

As dust is a heart whose life is gone-
What terrible thoughts accompany
The rot that takes it, after death
Would that it could regain a part

Of life, the thoughts of the dreamer-
The likes of dreams my last hope?
I Call on thee, O great slumber,
To help this soul in what it sought

In love, the sleeper's heart awakens
To the lucidity of one who truly knows
Thought's omniscience to all things
Of life, as dust, unknown, and perfect-

Mind.



I wrote that one yesterday. Comments are appreciated. Thanks! You may still comment on any works, no matter how old they are.
Just specify which one you're referring to.
-Adam

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

You have a grasp of the English language, I can appreciate that much. Unfortunately, this is becoming less common! I'm wondering if you've written anything...less overt. I'm also wondering if your subject matter varies at all. Obviously you've only shown us a grouping and the most recent piece, so this is not so much a criticism as a point of curiosity.

How ya doing, buddy?

Well, as a matter of fact, the subject matter does vary, occasionally. Here's some more old ones. They aren't grouped in any way - these are just random old poems. Comment in any order you like.

A Mirror

If a mirror faced a mirror,
What would the mirror see?
A mirror and a mirror,
Mirrors to infinity!

Thus, if we could face ourselves,
This is what we'd see:
We'd see ourselves a million times.
We'd see as others see.

So, before you taunt someone
For how they seem to be,
Remember, they can't see themselves,
Themselves as others see.

But we can never see ourselves,
Ourselves as others see,
For if we could, we'd drive ourselves
Straight to insanity!


The Cost of War

She stands solemnly by the sea,
And a sad song she sings.
Singing to the silent waves,
She whispers of her long lost love.

In the brutal bay beyond,
Rests her love in the briny deep.
The terrible battle rages on
For him, the soldier from the shore.

Fights he for his true love's life.
His spirit he throws on the line.
Yet, he shall never reach again
To touch the face of his young love.

A tear trails down the maiden's cheek
As the waves subside once more.
She sings no more, she no more whispers.
Only sobs escape her lips.


Ode to a Friend

Friend, be not troubled.
Your world is not lost.
Have you realized your journey
Only this far from the shore?

From a stormy sea,
Assume not the worst
Perhaps the wind will further push
Your ship than what you had planned

Then, my friend, you shall
Reach far lands quickly.
And sail to brighter places
Than now you can imagine.

So friend, be not troubled.
The world you shall gain.
You will realize your journey
When your ship clears the horizon.


The Fragility of Life

Why is life's so fragile glass
Subject to time's forceful grip?
It sits upon a shelf so small
The slightest nudge might see it tip.

And high it sits, this feeble cup
So that when it does come to fall
Upon the ground, it shatters into
Many pieces, sharp and small.

Pain shall come to those who loved
This fragile being so divine
The shards of grief shall stab and slash,
The glint of tears of sadness shine.

The time shall come to find us all
In graves so shallow or so deep
We have so little time to rest
Before we face eternal sleep.


A Puff of Smoke and the Raising of a Glass

A puff of smoke and the raising of a glass,
All for a few moments of pleasure...
We know what we do, yet we care not.

Our lungs cry for oxygen
But the nicotine fills our blood,
Making our relaxation
Into something we perceive divine.

The bitter taste of liquors
That sting our throats as they slip down
That impair our memory and destroy our minds
Is not so great that we cease to drink,
For our cares seem to run farther away with every sip.

We know that we do, yet we care not.
We know what we do,
But, being weak, give in
As unto the slithering serpent
Who passed the proverbial fruit of knowledge
To the mother of our ancestors.

Would that that fruit had been from the tree of life instead,
For knowledge cannot save us from death.

A puff of smoke and the raising of a glass,
All for a few moments of pleasure...
We know that we destroy our lives,

Yet we care not.


So yes, I've written about quite a few different subjects. Thoughts are welcome as always! Thanks.

I was speaking idiomatically.