new year poem (9)
Keep up the good work scarwolve!!!!
Never you mind what some one says about your poems. Many a great poets came from Ireland.
Famous Quote.... To be Irish will break your heart!
Scar... the one teacher who got me to like poetry, was Seamus Heaney's younger brother. About 11 yrs ago I was able to get a Seamus Heaney's poetry book. "A field of work" ... Great poems. :-)
Never you mind what some one says about your poems. Many a great poets came from Ireland.
Famous Quote.... To be Irish will break your heart!
Scar... the one teacher who got me to like poetry, was Seamus Heaney's younger brother. About 11 yrs ago I was able to get a Seamus Heaney's poetry book. "A field of work" ... Great poems. :-)
Bogland
We have no prairies
To slice a big sun at evening--
Everywhere the eye concedes to
Encrouching horizon,
Is wooed into the cyclops' eye
Of a tarn. Our unfenced country
Is bog that keeps crusting
Between the sights of the sun.
They've taken the skeleton
Of the Great Irish Elk
Out of the peat, set it up
An astounding crate full of air.
Butter sunk under
More than a hundred years
Was recovered salty and white.
The ground itself is kind, black butter
Melting and opening underfoot,
Missing its last definition
By millions of years.
They'll never dig coal here,
Only the waterlogged trunks
Of great firs, soft as pulp.
Our pioneers keep striking
Inwards and downwards,
Every layer they strip
Seems camped on before.
The bogholes might be Atlantic seepage.
The wet centre is bottomless.
by
Seamus Heaney
We have no prairies
To slice a big sun at evening--
Everywhere the eye concedes to
Encrouching horizon,
Is wooed into the cyclops' eye
Of a tarn. Our unfenced country
Is bog that keeps crusting
Between the sights of the sun.
They've taken the skeleton
Of the Great Irish Elk
Out of the peat, set it up
An astounding crate full of air.
Butter sunk under
More than a hundred years
Was recovered salty and white.
The ground itself is kind, black butter
Melting and opening underfoot,
Missing its last definition
By millions of years.
They'll never dig coal here,
Only the waterlogged trunks
Of great firs, soft as pulp.
Our pioneers keep striking
Inwards and downwards,
Every layer they strip
Seems camped on before.
The bogholes might be Atlantic seepage.
The wet centre is bottomless.
by
Seamus Heaney
KHD100: Keep up the good work scarwolve!!!!
Never you mind what some one says about your poems. Many a great poets came from Ireland.
Famous Quote.... To be Irish will break your heart! Scar... the one teacher who got me to like poetry, was Seamus Heaney's younger brother. About 11 yrs ago I was able to get a Seamus Heaney's poetry book. "A field of work" ... Great poems. :-)
Never you mind what some one says about your poems. Many a great poets came from Ireland.
Famous Quote.... To be Irish will break your heart! Scar... the one teacher who got me to like poetry, was Seamus Heaney's younger brother. About 11 yrs ago I was able to get a Seamus Heaney's poetry book. "A field of work" ... Great poems. :-)
hes a great poet many look up to him!!!!!!
Actually, I thought you wrote something that pretty well reflects balance. It may or may not be...the coming year and you portrayed that well.
Even if it is of a different...how do you call it...rhythm than what appeals to me, you get an A for effort. An artist only creates art if somebody appreciates it as such. And our perception of art is personal and unique to the individual.
I do like reading your posts though, for a young man, you show much insight into life. That is refreshing considering the mentality of many of the world's youth today.
But seeing as how we are going to share some poetry, here is one I wrote many years back.
The Dance Of Death
The clouds do cover, the silky moon,
The wind does blow, and very soon.
Deeper to enter, this darkened night,
To all who come, to see the sight.
Beneath this cross, of granite stone,
I lie chilled from, earth against my bone.
My heart lies still, beneath my breast,
Now in this crypt, is my place of rest.
I rise above, this chamber of death,
With a chilling soul, and icy breathe.
To walk this world, in a formless haze,
To come to this gathering, for all my days.
From all around, the clan does rise,
Spirits of death, with sunken eyes.
To come and dance, in somberness,
This gift of death, ours to caress.
This dance of death, upon our graves,
We all join in, to come and praise.
The reaper of death, who comes and takes,
From the land of living, what life forsakes.
We reach the glory, of spirithood,
In macabre frenzy, where the crosses stood.
We danced in shadows, of darkened night,
To all that lives, a frightful sight.
Back to our pits, we now return,
Our dance is done, our souls do burn.
In these pits, where crosses stand,
We go on back, to our forsaken land.
Remember this, all you living,
When life is still, full and giving.
Do not disturb, the graveyard sound,
You'll join in too, when your underground.
Was taking a shortcut through a graveyard one foggy night, and this popped out the next day.
geo
Even if it is of a different...how do you call it...rhythm than what appeals to me, you get an A for effort. An artist only creates art if somebody appreciates it as such. And our perception of art is personal and unique to the individual.
I do like reading your posts though, for a young man, you show much insight into life. That is refreshing considering the mentality of many of the world's youth today.
But seeing as how we are going to share some poetry, here is one I wrote many years back.
The Dance Of Death
The clouds do cover, the silky moon,
The wind does blow, and very soon.
Deeper to enter, this darkened night,
To all who come, to see the sight.
Beneath this cross, of granite stone,
I lie chilled from, earth against my bone.
My heart lies still, beneath my breast,
Now in this crypt, is my place of rest.
I rise above, this chamber of death,
With a chilling soul, and icy breathe.
To walk this world, in a formless haze,
To come to this gathering, for all my days.
From all around, the clan does rise,
Spirits of death, with sunken eyes.
To come and dance, in somberness,
This gift of death, ours to caress.
This dance of death, upon our graves,
We all join in, to come and praise.
The reaper of death, who comes and takes,
From the land of living, what life forsakes.
We reach the glory, of spirithood,
In macabre frenzy, where the crosses stood.
We danced in shadows, of darkened night,
To all that lives, a frightful sight.
Back to our pits, we now return,
Our dance is done, our souls do burn.
In these pits, where crosses stand,
We go on back, to our forsaken land.
Remember this, all you living,
When life is still, full and giving.
Do not disturb, the graveyard sound,
You'll join in too, when your underground.
Was taking a shortcut through a graveyard one foggy night, and this popped out the next day.
geo
scarwolve: hes a great poet many look up to him!!!!!!
maybe more ppl look down to him isnt he dead 
scarwolve: the new year has started
what is awaiting us is it
doom and gloom or is it good news
what has it instore for us
or is it all the same news
only time will tell what
what kind of news.
the new year has started
ever so fast will it fly by
as fast or will it take its
time for us to catch up
will it keep on a normal pace
or will it go to slow for us
only time will tell as the
new year has only began
what is awaiting us is it
doom and gloom or is it good news
what has it instore for us
or is it all the same news
only time will tell what
what kind of news.
the new year has started
ever so fast will it fly by
as fast or will it take its
time for us to catch up
will it keep on a normal pace
or will it go to slow for us
only time will tell as the
new year has only began
You have talent kid,in my opinion. Because is art and literature, it always isn't about what it is about! Some people have a hard time understanding...and everyone is entitled to their opinions; however, not to cut down the humanity and essence of another being. JMO, but that is wrong. Keep up the writing!
thats prettry juvenile
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Created: Jan 2010
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what is awaiting us is it
doom and gloom or is it good news
what has it instore for us
or is it all the same news
only time will tell what
what kind of news.
the new year has started
ever so fast will it fly by
as fast or will it take its
time for us to catch up
will it keep on a normal pace
or will it go to slow for us
only time will tell as the
new year has only began