| Poetry Pond This is my paper, my mind is the pen |
||
THE GOAL: ONE POEM PER WEEK . |
||
|
About the Poetry Pond Archives Contact me Poetry Sites Resources for Writers
|
Saturday, May 31, 2003 This poem is written by me for/to/about the late musician Jeff Buckley. If you don't know who Jeff Buckley is, I highly suggest you go read Jeffbuckley.com and learn more about him and his music.So, here is the Jeff poem I wrote in early October 2002: To Jeff Step in The water's fine You've stumbled upon a night divine Love is all around you You call it out by name Lay back, take a breath, play the game The piercing cold Holding you like a mother holds her babe This is where you were drawn Could you not see it in your dreams? Things will become clear for them When the pain is gone After all, you put it in song It calls you, and you follow it It swallows you Eats you up Devours you So greedily it devours the gift The love The voice You resisted all those years But now you give in, and you pay the price Where did you go? I cannot hear your voice Jeff? Jeff? JEFF! The moment has come The voice is silenced But silenced only on this physical earth, for the voice will never truly die It lives on, in the works you made and were in the process of making In the performances you gave, you gave it your all. Why did you do that? Why did you have to give yourself to the waves? The voice lives on in hearts and minds, those who have heard you and love you And like our Lord it will rise again, in the hearts of those who have yet to hear it What a gift they will have, knowing your magic But what sadness, that they will never be able to know you like they need to The voice is better than nothing, but it may never be enough I never knew you, until it was too late I feel cheated, cheated out of what others had the chance to experience But even so, I feel like you're a gift, and I will never be the same Your smile shines, but it tells great lies To see the truth, we look into your eyes Puppy dog, looking for affection So sad, so lonely, did it come from him? Were you born with those eyes, or did they grow from pain? One look says it all, says more than we ever wanted to know You could have been the happiest man in the world, but those eyes bring sadness That voice That wonderful voice Piercing hearts like an unclean dagger Refusing to let go, demanding attention Dripping with emotion, sensitivity, sorrow, anger, vulnerability You write a book with each sigh, each moan, each scream Your body was taken by the water But the voice is what stays Isn't that all that matters? I made a mistake Your love stayed too It touched everyone who knew you And I think it also touches those who didn't Love and a voice What a combination What a way to change the world It's never over It never will be You are our dream brother Can't you see? You trusted the water But it didn't respect you But we do We have to We love you How could we not? posted by:Russ at 2:58 AM | Post Page | 0 comments Tuesday, May 27, 2003 I have NO clue where this one comes from. I just randomly wrote it one night from some image in my head. It's untitled.The coldness creeps like a black widow spider dark and harsh, without mercy. The frost on the ground crunches against the weight of hard soled boots, you bought them only a week ago. Breathing hard, disoriented, hoping the light will come. Where is the light? Is it coming for you? Will you have to stay cold like this forever? You hear a bird cry out, flying alone you sit and collect your thoughts. You feel the warmth, the light has arrived and the fear in your heart is like the bullet from a gun of cold hard metal. posted by:Russ at 1:54 AM | Post Page | 0 comments This one was written on the one-year anniversary of the 9/11 tragedy. 'Nuff said. I know you've felt the pain You feel you've been done wrong But if you'll give me a minute, then I'll sing you a song The vulture tore the curtain The red silk cover of life The eagle tried to stop it And paid for it with his life The skies were black with poison Belched and fouled by hate The Towers took the blast and fell In the city Great Questions went unanswered Goodbyes fell to air Young and old Man and woman They all were shattered there But now they are all Angels Guarding over child The love that still seeps through the cracks In man's heart runneth wild As long as there's a rainbow Coming through the storm and rain Those who live to tell the tale Will find hope and peace again posted by:Russ at 1:42 AM | Post Page | 0 comments This next poem is one I wrote on the spot for a good friend of mine. I think she knows who she is, and if she doesn't -- it's B.L. So here's the poem, no title: Dance with me in the moonlight, let me see the glimmer in your eyes Let me peer into your soul and hear your breathless sighs I am your haven, your Dream Brother Let me be a home for you Know that you are loved no matter what you do I hold out my hand, won't you take it? If you give me your heart, I promise not to break it. posted by:Russ at 1:34 AM | Post Page | 0 comments This one was inspired by the Willamette Valley Folk Music Festival, held here at the University of Oregon every year. We get lots of counterculture people out dancing around. But we also get parents taking their kids, so that's cool. Lots of good folk and world music is performed at the festival, local bands and regional alike, and a few larger groups as well. I really love going out and checking out the music, and memories of this year's festival inspired the following poem. Folk Music Festival Dread Lock Hackey Sack Plate of Noodles Gentle Breeze Pouring Rain Grass Stain Tie Dye Student Union Love and Peace Hair Grease Wooden Drum Feeling Numb Dance to the music, young child Feel the rhythm move inside you Driven by the man with the drum On the stage above you Listen to the sounds Can you hear it? More importantly, Can you feel it? Pay attention Listen close It's not just music, It's your life. Play on, guitar Respond to the fingers strumming you The fingers pressing on your fretboard He doesn't hurt you, he loves you Give him all you've got Make these people listen to the gentle sounds you make Don't ever stop the music. Pound on, drum Yes, it's violent, but then again so is life Your rhythms cut through like a knife Boom, pop! Boom boom, pop! You're their master Make their feet move They don't care anymore They just want to feel the rhythm. Wail on, violin Cry out your song Your orgasmic song Caressed by the bow Gently held by the hand Cry out in joy Cry out in peace Cry because your song will touch a heart Isn't that love? Dance on, hippie man Forget you're here on earth Let the music take you wherever You don't even care who sees you It's you, and the music, and what else is there? You become one with the music Isn't that love? Thank you, guitar Thank you, child Thank you, drum Thank you, hippie Thank you, violin Thank you, music. Thank you, for all the good times. posted by:Russ at 1:29 AM | Post Page | 0 comments Monday, May 26, 2003 This Poem is called "The Piper". It's definitely one of the longest poems I've ever written, and one of the best so far. I wrote it from May 20 to May 25. Usually I write poems in one day, but I wanted to take longer on this. It was inspired by a vision I had of a Highlander bagpiper standing on the highlands and playing his song. Enjoy!THE PIPER Upon the bonnie highlands In olde Scotland one still night A piper stands at attention In preparation for the fight He fills his lungs, he fills the bag His pipes call out their song The piper's seen many a battle But now he must be strong He's old and weary, like his pipes He moves his weakened limbs It won't be long 'til someone else Plays "Amazing Grace" for him One chilly morn' in Inverness It was 1829 A wee young boy picks up the pipes For the very first time He struggles hard to hold them up With advice from dear ole Dad, "Now you've got your own bagpipes, my little bonnie lad" "Play them grand, play them proud, Play them right, play them loud" "You're not just another child, you see. Now you're a bagpiper just like me" The wee lad stands upon the heath With a nervous gleam in his eye Pride of country running in his veins He gives the pipes a try He struggles to keep his fingers straight Upon the chanter of wood He's aware that here so long ago His own grandfather stood The sounds come out so harsh and shrill But the young lad tries again He finally gets it right this time With a sorrowful tone on the wind Ten years later on that same heath The soldiers march along Our bonnie hero marches too Playing his military song He's in the British Army now Fighting for homeland But he holds neither gun nor knife He's in the Army band His part to you may seem quite small Just playing some bagpipe songs But it's the music from those lovely pipes That moves the soldiers along Standing in his tartan From his clan's glorious past He plays the tunes with honor His fingers moving fast Someone fires a shot Chaos all around He searches for his brother Who's nowhere to be found The music stops, our hero looks down His brother's wound cuts like a knife Our hero tends to the crimson wound And saves his brother's life Now he plays his mournful song Remembering those old days His brother survived, but now he's dead In his memory the song plays It's getting harder to fill the bag His lungs aren't quite as strong But his pride in country, army and kin Gives him strength to play the song The pipes push out their tears of air Scotland's beautiful this night Now the piper must face a different foe Against death he must fight Upon the bonnie highlands In olde Scotland one cold day A new piper wipes the tears from his eyes And bravely starts to play He play for his dear bonnie grandfather Who's at rest six feet deep When "Amazing Grace" finally ends The piper starts to weep His granddad lived a valiant life Served his country with all his heart And now that he's with God in heaven The piper and his bagpipes must forever part posted by:Russ at 8:38 PM | Post Page | 0 comments Welcome to the Poetry Pond. My name is RF Duck (well, not really, but that's my online name). Those of you who are reading this from the link on my main blog need no introduction to me. For everyone else though: I am a 23 year old near-college graduate who loves music, reading, and enjoying the quieter moments in life. I also love to read poetry, and I read it for the mere pleasure of it. I'm not a poetry snob by any means, just someone who appreciates the beauty of it. I also write poetry, and this blog is sort of an official entry for me into the world of poetry writing. Up until now, I've mostly written poems for people, about those people - very intense, personal poems. I may post some of those on here as well. Now, though, I'm starting to write general poems, just for the fun of it. When I write a poem, I'm not trying to get perfect meter or even perfect rhyme. Poetry, to ME, is about feelings, emotions, ideas. I think that the expression of those things is much more important than the technical perfection of the poem. I know others will disagree, but in my poetry writing, those are my values. That said, I still try to make the poems sound good, and if I decide to rhyme, I try to make the rhymes work. But rhyming or not, metric or not, logical or not, what matters to me is whether I'm satisfied with the poem. I hope you all enjoy my poetry, and I may publish poems by my friends here as well. And if my readers want me to publish their work, then that works too. It doesn't even have to be poetry, any kind of writing is good for me. Have fun reading my stuff, and let me know what you think!! -RF Duck posted by:Russ at 8:10 PM | Post Page | 0 comments |
|
| << Designed by Ryon | ||
 |
||