Question to be answered, a poem from my 18th

These are from my 18th year, when I just started college, which was one big disillusionment all-round, so that could be in there. There’s something easy about interpreting a former self: anything goes and no one questions youe authority, though you’re groping in the dark. I’m just guessing here, at the order I put the poems in, too. I found them in alphabetic order, grouped per year, so I don't exactly know when they were written within that year or which came before which.

Question to be answered

genius poet or idiot granted too much verve

shooting random arrows like a playful cupid

aimed at getting more pay than I deserve

gorging on minds in an awe-stricken crowd's mid

while foul-playing the game of "strike a nerve".

In My Eyes - a poem

This one is the first poem I wrote in English since I joined Blogger. It's from 5/11/10 and was on the poetry page for some time - so you may have already read it - but I took it down with the rest to rework the page. So here it is again. It's pretty short and simple but I like it.



 

Source of the image

In my eyes

in my eyes
is not to see
there hides a sea in me
my waves be still
of rising waters
and their shipwrecks
its bottom’s mine alone

Fully Empty, another typographic poem from my early youth

This one is more or less the same style as 'The Gift's Curse' (my oldest poem in English from when I was 14), but I think it's the youngest of the two, but not by much difference. Can't be sure though, it's so long ago. My older work kind of makes me blush with embarassment, I wasn't sure I'd ever post these anywhere, but what the heck, they're part of process that led me to where I am and I vital one at that.



Fully Empty

Strange & thrilling feeling,

                                           so deep inside.

I feel…

            empty,

                        yet so full

                                  full of things

                                            things that are in fact

                                                                              the essence of nothing.

Can’t think

                  clearly,

Can’t see,

          hear,

          speak,

   only sense.              

I want to express,

   want to explode,

                              but everything I want to throw out,

                                                     becomes an implosion.

So much to do,

so much to achieve,

                               but this bitter,

                                                     scorching,

                                                                       crawling,

                                                                                      scratching

                                                                                                          hollowness

claws at my heart,

fills my chest…

Like a warlord surrounding a stronghold.

I want to cry,

  want to scream,

but it just doesn’t

                                   go

                                               away.

The Awakening of the Beast, a neo-mythological epic-apocalyptic poem

This one is a bit difficult for me to categorize. None of the labels given really fits completely with what I have in mind. It's all at once and neither at the same time. Name it after whichever layer you prefer (I'll gladly take suggestions, feel like I forgot a few labels, labelling is a loathed part of internet writing, isn't it?).

This one was written at the same time as 'Phoenix' and finished minutes before. Guess that makes them twins, lol. Anyway, it was just a day after (possibly the same day, memories go hazy that quickly) the elegiac set, when I was still pretty sick and pumped up on stuff to get through classes. So yeah, again, I blame the pain killers. I suppose it is a bit weird.

For insiders (aka residents of The Coffee Shop), I could've called this poem 'an ode on the Rise of the Cult of Mass'. That would make him 'The Beast'. He doesn't visit here, so there's a pretty good chance he's never going to find out and I'll get away with it ;-).

Without further ado... (btw, the song was one of the inspirations. So were my much adored Romantics. And a bunch of other stuff, but I won't keep boring you with endless lists.)

The Awakening of the Beast

A magical cry

splits the tiresome sky

yonder, it howls with thunder

puts the wildest seas asunder

setting mighty Heavens aflame,

the ground from which it came

shall shake and quake.

The beast will reign, shed

smouldering ash and dust from its mane

under its unearthing paws the ground will crack
bring long-forgotten legend back
from what had turned drought
skeletons shall spring and sprout
- eyes wild, flesh tender -

deny their surrender

and wolves in awe and fright

from all around call forth the night.

Suggestions, feedback, criticism (esp. on what doesn't seem to work) and pointers will be very much appreciated.

PS: yes, I'm aware I may have 'overdone' it with all the monsters, but in the horror genre, I just have too many illustrations to choose from. It's a deformity...

From Stories with love ;)

Phoenix - a poem

Phoenix

Parry me, bury me,
in lines of old
interred in fire,
let from the pyre,
my body evaporate
my name expire
that everything else might
eventually, take flight
on wings of gold.


Author's note: I wrote this poem last week, a day after the elegiac set and together with another, longer and pretty weird one that I'll post here soon. I'm not going to explain it, that would largely ruin everything. Hope you like it ;)

All the best,

Stories.

Thank you universe; awards!!!!

Well hello again,

I have some things to settle. Alright, firstly, I was given the Versatile Blogger Award by Taylor, which I’m very grateful for, so thanks a bunch, girl! ;)

And in the mean time, I also just got the award from 7ladybugz, so thank you ladybug, as well :).

I think I’m making everyone happy in skipping the boring speeches... Once I’m on a role, I just can’t stop myself (for an illustration, see the ‘about me’ page, LOL).

Alright, this award comes with a few requirements, so let’s get to it then:

- Thank the person who gave you the award  [check, :D]

- Share 7 things about yourself

- Pass the award to up to 10 other versatile bloggers

- Let those other bloggers know you gave them the award

I guess I’ll need to share things about me... Actually, I was glad I already had something scheduled for yesterday, so I had an extra day to think about this, but here goes (yes, I spnd two things considering this and only came up with that :S):

1)      I have terrible difficulty sleeping at night. Mornings make me extremely drowsy, which is no good to me since my falling asleep moment practically coincides with my frigging alarm clock.

2)      My star sign is Virgo.

3)      I have a shark phobia – except to me it isn’t a phobia, but a fully rational fear – because of which I haven’t been more than knee-deep in the sea in many years. I also think twice about going near rivers and lakes, just in case...

4)      Oh, I don’t like spiders very much either. I don’t want them anywhere near me and since I don’t want them dead for my sake either, will take desperate measures to avoid any collision with them whatsoever.

5)      I dislike book covers where the author’s name is printed larger than the title.

6)      I really hate the cold and am seriously considering running off someplace hot for the winters if I can afford it one day.

7)      Though nobody knows about it and I don’t have them by the dozens in my room or anything, I have a thing for snow globes. I think they’re absolutely brilliant.

There. And yes I spent all night thinking about this...

And now, last but not least, my nominees (at least the ones still left that haven’t already gotten it from someone else after putting this off for so long) for the Versatile Blogger Award are... *drum roll, spot lights start roaming about the room and the ‘20th century fox’ theme starts playing*:

Hannah, the queen of social ranting.

Drachma, who is an author here who actually managed to get his book published, so go and give him a big applause for that!

Marie Viaud, a great French-Irish writer and poetess.

Nina, who not only writes compelling stories but also very useful metafiction.

Trickie, who is new and writes very good, though mostly adult, stories.

Congratulations to all of you, you deserved the award fair and square! (I sure hope you haven’t already gotten one...)

Apart from that, I owe a special thank you to K Marie for honouring me with this lovely award earlier:

 

So thank you, K Marie! ;-)

All is right with the world... :D

Macabre Affairs - 150 words story to the 6th in-thread writing competition

This is another in-thread competition entry that I hadn't posted yet. This one was for the 6th edition, which was finally won by Hannah, who gained her second in-thread victory smacking us all with her incredible skill. She's usually the first to enter too. Don't ask me how she does it, it is beyond me :D.

To read her entry, go to the thread or my post on it.

My entry was slightly inspired by watching the clips for Kanye West's 'Monster' and The Lonely Island featuring Nicki Minaj's 'The Creep' one too many times... That and a late fall-out of Robert Browning's macabre poem 'Porphyria's lover' (which was the google search that gave me the image below).

challenge

once again to write an entry of no more and no less than 150 words containing 5 target words (the ones in bold). For this edition the target words were:

lovely, vocabulary, brother, preserve, reflection.

my entry

"She looked lovely, no question, she did. She always had, as long as he remembered. He looked at his own reflection and shuddered, smoothing his greasy hair. It stuck to his skull, spiking up here and there. Beneath it a face chiselled by angels, but only with Parkinson’s.

She, however, a creature of marble and ocean shades. He carefully wrapped the form’s arm around him. It slid away listlessly. Even in death she would not have him. Her very beauty fled from him, no matter how he strived to preserve it. He brushed her cheeks with rouge, did her hair, clipped her nails, all to no avail. Her mouth turned more to a grimace every day, a taunt. Like the condemning gazes of the common people.

No one had but words of horror in their vocabulary for his relationship. Prejudice... So what if she was dead and he her brother?"

March of the penguin - 150 story, entry to the 5th in-thread writing competition

Since I hadn't put this up yet and I'm busy today, I scheduled this story. It was my entry to the 5th edition of the in-thread writing competition in the Blogger Help Forum (aka 'The Coffee Shop'). I suppose most of you who are active in the forum and participate in the contests have already read it, but for those of you who haven't, here it is.

challenge

write a story of exactly 150 words containing these 5 obligatory words (the ones put in bold): dictator, troop, riding, questionnaire, penguin.

my entry

The contest was finally won by Victoria P. You can read her entry in the thread or in my post on it.

"The new dictator promised his people that he would lead them to victory. The masses were jubilant.

He set off to pound at foreign gates still contemplating one thing: his Arms for the troops. He needed a predator that would inspire trembling in his enemies and still be original. Lions, wolves and tigers, they had become banal. He wanted something fresh to dress his soldiers up as. They would march upon capitals like the animals themselves, mimic its roars making a racket that would incline the boldest to surrender before even a drop of blood was spilled. Their fierceness would be food for legends.

Riding his horse, he thought long and hard, but could not make up his mind. In a fit of brief democracy, he gave out a questionnaire.

A servant handed him an envelope, which he eagerly opened and was taken aback.

“You guys want a frigging penguin?!”"