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The Ballad of the Glass Buildings1.

I feel the familiar pulse
the beat of the drumhead
and the appeal of metal
against glass constructed to govern;
early morning fog by the river
rises like the expectations
like the sun behind the white towers

This place has mechanics
a steady beat of a heart and a
pulse like no other
it breathers vapor

I have come here to be in motion
to excel and exceed
to burn like lithium
and to fall faster than the speed of sound
I have come here to reverberate and ignite
I have come here to redeem
I have come to the wake
I have come to transform

2.

There is something in this place and this moment
there is love that is rising
and movement that mu

GeographyMy last year of elementary school
Possibly the best on record
Before I grew up

We had this assignment that was meant to present
Our knowledge of these certain terms

Mountain, plateau, key, archipelago
Peninsula, strait, and so on, et cetera

Given these small, thin sheets of paper
And the definitions of each
I set out on a snow day to pursue this project
Colored pencils and a black felt pen
Carefully drawing them
Tongue out the side of my teeth
I wanted it to be perfect

It was a four hour ordeal
I remember reappearing out of my room
And lunch had gone by long ago
But I wasn't yet finished
I couldn't find a ring to hang them o

1865pecan pie - was - your favourite
and you told me the grass
smelt of - juniper and berries
were always in the bushes

i knew you loved spring
because i baked then - still now -
and always left a windowsill
out - in the morning glory

dewdrops and rainbows - butterflies
and fresh despise -
in those eyes - gunmetal grey
bring tiffany back home - left Christmas day

a new year came - the bell decried
that happiness was dead
a mother's love - so sorely missed -
a brother bathed in lead

spring becomes a memory
left on the sill to dry
as snow - rain - leaves and creeper vines
climb higher just to die

On The Current Of Soundless Words.Sail away,
in this boat,
made of drifted thoughts.

Raise the wind,
by shouting aloud,
the sound of wind.

Sail on the current,
that is made of,
whispers and soundless words.

There's music,
in the aether,
that will be my;
Final Destination.

Her Second HeartShe sees him laying there
Unable to speak
Unable to move
To breathe on his own
No
The car speeding down the road
at 45 miles per hour
in a 25 miles per hour zone
stole all of it from him

5 minutes to midnight

5 minutes until they pull the plug
She stares at his empty shell
The shell of the boy she once loved
and still loves
Her love never confessed

3 minutes to midnight

She holds his stiffened hand
and whispers to him
"I love you"

1 minute to midnight

His family files in
saying their goodbyes
The girl does not move
from her love's side

30 seconds to midnight

Tears are shed
None as despaired as the girl's
The droplet

Divided Against A Blackened SkyDivided against a blackened sky,
No idea where my loyalties lie;
I've been outcast by the people I knew:
I can't find anyone who will stand true.
I fought beside them for so long
I don't know where I went wrong
Now I'm left here alone
Never have I been so far from home.
Walking by myself in the dark
My soul is tearing apart.
Feeling longing for what I lack
But I know I can never go back
Even as the darkness closes in,
This is where I'm supposed to begin
I cannot live, yet I will not die
For I'm divided against a blackened Sky.

My Story of FallingThey caught me off guard,
My façade was down,
There was nothing I could say,
That would change what they thought.

They knew now,
They knew how I felt,
It was plastered on my face,
The sorrow,
Mixed with pure insanity.

It all happened so quickly,
They sent me away,
Hoping I might change,
But they knew,
They knew I wouldn't,
I couldn't.

It was too late,
I had already lost it,
Lost everything.

So I became one of them,
The people I once despised,
I joined them,
I watched as we drained the colour,
Turning everything to our perfection.

I saw more people changed,
Their eyes so dull,
So cold,
Just.
Like.
Mine.

So thi

White Noise of AtaraxiaWake up to the incessant screams in your ears.

Walk past these self-appointed puppets
being pulled by the strings of insecurity and ignorance,
the age of vivid and virulent ventriloquism.
Succumb to social leprosy and characteristic comatose.
You can see their skin of facades rot away,
revealing the sinews of greed, gluttony and corruption.
Repeat.

Even the most beautiful of flowers can be home to ants.

Listen to the murmered song of Jesus,
trickling from the throats of those in need;
it sounds like he's been strangled by his crown of thorns.
Bent over at the dried up waterhole of faith.
Repentance for redemption, endless extenua

The Sinning SurgeryGod took a little dirt
And built you.
He established you in girth
And birthed you.
This is not enough?
Is this a mistake?
How much do you hate Him?
What would it take
For you to love Him?

You are a man or a woman.
Nothing more.
You are of dust.
Nothing more.
And you WILL remain
What you were built as.
Some maniac with a degree
And a knife says he
Will set you free.
Free from what?
Who you are?

If I should say tommorow
That I am Jesus Christ
Would you give me a crown
And a robe and bow before me?
No.
You would lock me away
And until the very day
That I say otherwise
There I would remain.
So if I say I am a woman

Bless the AngelsClouded with the swelling light
Of breaking summer dawn,
The sky is barely peeking
Through the early morning yawn.

Gladdened heights of tinted smoke
Lounge above the glade,
Watching idly all the ones
Who hum a hymn today.

The bells of silver and of brass--
They chime a tuneless song.
Reaching to the yielding fields
And calling home the throng.

There they go with books in hand
To slip through mighty doors.
They scurry over cobblestones
Like ev'ry week before.

They kneel and ask a blessing
From the patron of the day.
Then ask to be forgiven
For their callow, wicked way.

The preacher gives the sermon--
Sad and yet sublime.
But through the

Don't Listen To A Liar

See her over there, sitting on her own because she's different?

Don't go over to her.

You'll regret it.

Believe me i know.

See those boys being teased in the hallways because they hold hands?

Don't defend them.

You'll regret it.

Believe me i know.

You see that boy at the back of the classroom, the one who came from another place far away?

Don't help him understand.

You'll regret it.

Believe me i know.

You see that girl who wears black and is tripped in the hallways?

Don't help her up off the ground.

You'll regret it.

Believe me i know.

I know you will regret these things.

Wait, what are you doing?

See her over there, sitting

remunerationthere were dreams of abasement, tearing up at the thought of
the noxious corners of your eyes. i saw them at a glance and fell
headfirst in the Styx, catching billowing waves of uncertainty and
heartache. they crashed with a decade-begrudged mind that was far
from healing -- far from me.

                    and though the fall was abrasive and the
                    waves, their own harangue, their heartache
    &#

heavendrunk off kissing you beneath a shower of stars
while my tears of love soak into your shirt, and i breathe in everything that is you
i would savor this moment forever
until sunrise came and i watched you through the lens of my film
as the sun lightly tickled the sides of your face
and revealed to me what i thought i already knew
you are perfect
and together we are perfect

if anyone were to request euphoria from the gods
they would find themselves wrapped in another person's essence perfectly
like the pieces of a puzzle
or the composition of an art piece
or tune of a song
that makes you believe you've found salvation
liberation

Post MortemI am a walking, talking universe of dead poets
who tattoo their stanzas into my flesh
with ghostly, typewriter fingers.

I live and breathe their worldly disasters
like a nicotine addiction I've never had.

Drowning in their scribbles
I kiss their shoreline romances,
envy their Annabel Lee's,
& carry their hearts in my heart.

I am 7am coffee on Sunday mornings:
a half drunk, hungover limerick
waiting to happen.

I am jealousy:
nothing more than weak words,
& a tongue-tied cliche-

but death becomes me.

Listen To The WhisperListen To The Whisper Of The Eternal Wind
As It Gently Touches Your Ear;
Guiding You Through The Forest Of Life
Your Friend; Your Companion; Your Seer.

Listen To The Whisper Of Verdant Leaves
Adorning The Sentinels Of Earth;
Silently Watching The Passing Of Time
Its Beauty The Blessing Of Birth.

Listen To The Whisper Within The Heart
Where Soft Emotions Caress Its Beat;
Let Its Wisdom Flow Right Over Your Soul
And Dormant Love It Will Entreat.

Listen To The Whisper, All Three Of Them
Embrace And Entwine Deep Within;
And When They Merge Within Your Soul
A New Pathway You Will Begin

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FarewellFor this whole time my writings were abound
With praises to the petal-tender face,
To the enticing stare of eyes profound
And the divine lure from your charming grace.
Today attempting to exalt your smile
My fingers scribbled me out of my daze,
With lucid thoughts from bitter tastes of bile—
Ink spelling out the pangs of hurtful ways.
My stanzas now expose games of deceit
From lipstick martyrdom and lizard tears,
Lines warn against the stabs of vain conceit
And rhymes resound with sharp betraying jeers.
Did you forget pens trump the sword and knife?
Like this I sonnet you out of my life.

Gravity SonnetHot stellar remnants turned to cosmic ore
Created by cyclonic neutron storms,
Charged ion bonds amassing in their core
The power to bind matter in all forms.
Light forger, architect of time and space
Condensing dust into our galaxy,
Propelling suns in orbital embrace
with planets, satellites, and you, and me.
These days I wish somehow the pull decreased,
Sometimes my heavy heart grows hard to bear,
How many times must I to you insist
My words of love before you start to care.
Relentless gravity always persists,
Attracting me to you while It  exists.

Amelie's Gone With The RainI came back home that rainy evening to face the realization...

There was no trace of you so I thought: 'I knew it, don't take it so hard.'
Yet, after having a taste of  your comfortably warm affection
My being refused to be bold even if I cursed myself a thousandfold.

However it may be my fault, for a true concept of love wasn't in my perception,
Like a man who spent his whole life parched until growing old
I drowned guzzling on the rivers of your body and your mind's perfection.

By letting my personality gradually disintegrate
I became an empty shell, An extension of your own existence

Echoes of a Subastral LullabyValley winds converging on the citadel walls
Their incorporeal fingers flow unopposed
Through vast uninhabited halls
Where arcane energies lie still reposed.

The air currents stir echoes as they drift by
And only those standing inside the ruins eyes closed
Can hear the faint voices sing a lullaby.

Lyrics of an ancient maternal oath binding unsubstantial
But limitless love with powers sublime;
Choir of souls forsaking redemption in all its celestial
Forms to vigil over their children until the end of time.

Once KinI am not really the one you miss, It is the little boy you seek,
The sweet over-sensitive creature whose smile was unique.
That child whose joy was forlorn and whose soul became stark,
Not unlike the baby bird that trying to fly-the-nest fell into the dark.

Lonely nights and shiny tears don't hold me down any longer.
Similar to a calloused hand, the heart may also grow stronger
But equally hard as the the crystallized remains from faraway stars
and cold as frozen particles on the highest moors of mars.

Words of endearment barely mean anything at this time,
knowing we shared the same womb, my indifference is a heinous crime;
Leav

Lune"Constance!
Just passed by your room, the floor is cluttered full of toys.
I know you've been in the garden hiding,
When even clouds above can hear the noise
Don't pretend I don't notice your feet banging.

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Knight's Dawn

by ~CarloGrims, Oct 4, 2012, 12:28:57 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

A lonely knight beneath the moonlight cries,
Hands hold the token of a love denied;
Misgiven promises and passion lies
Are wounds the strongest warriors can't abide.

Forlorn resolve no longer would adjure
And a bleak mind nor could submit to pray,
For bravery and courage to endure,
For noble strength and boundless might to stay.

There's nothing left but for a man to plead,
A grain of will inside an emptied heart:
For knives to make the skin and muscle bleed,
For the long sword to split the helm apart.

Woe's end comes marching with the dawn's faint glow
One final charge against a deadly foe.

Knight's Dawnby ~CarloGrims

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

This started as prose, then turned into a song and again I changed it into a free verse poem. Let's hope now it does better as a Sonnet.

love 1 1

joy 2 2

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~reflectionsinwater Oct 4, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Quite an interesting perspective. Olden suicide is all I can think of. The iambic pentameter is used quite well such as misgiven promises and passion lies to emphasize the words. The ending couplet is mixed. It's slightly ambiguous throughout whether it is that life must go on, or he is attempting suicide or just rage quitting, but I think it's fine to leave it like that

~CarloGrims Oct 4, 2012 Student Writer

YEESS!!! This is first time someone acknowledging to actually get the full meaning of one of my Sonnets. Beautiful ambiguity is exactly what I was going for, suicide or emotional purge...up to the reader to take a pick. It's people like you inspire me to keep writing. You are a clever wonderful person, Thanks <3

~reflectionsinwater Oct 4, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you, and for the watch! I wasn't expecting this at all! I'm quite speechless! There are many writers out there, and it's just a matter of time before you find one who can understand you

~CarloGrims Oct 6, 2012 Student Writer

if you can relate to my stuff I'm sure I'll relate to yours. Looking forward to see what you can come up with.

~xLuckyxFridayx13x Oct 4, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

I like it. Sometimes it feels like no one likes what you write but you just gotta stick with your gut and write it how you like it best.

~CarloGrims Oct 4, 2012 Student Writer

Have I told you already how much of a sweetheart you are? your poems/comments always comfort me somehow.

~xLuckyxFridayx13x Oct 5, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

awwww shucks :3 thank ya

~Mayumisan Oct 4, 2012

I love the main ideas of the poem, but often the wording you chose to portray that idea is confusing, and distracts from the main point. I can see that you tried to set a mood with the wording you chose, like setting the poem in the past, but maybe there is a better way to organize these emotions that would flow like silk off the tongue. Of course, it takes a lot of work and practice to get that good, but once you're there it's all worth it; and people will respect you for it.

~CarloGrims Oct 4, 2012 Student Writer

One of my Undergrad lit teachers once told me that "Shakespearean Sonnets are the most sublime and most painstaking form of poetic expression." Fourteen perfectly rhyming lines consisting of seventy consecutive iambs is as "organized" as it can get. As for the diction you are maybe right, I tend to use semi-archaic words but unfortunately it's part of my style and it's not something I'm likely to change. Thanks for the criticism though, you honor me by reading my stuff.

~Mayumisan Oct 8, 2012

It doesn't seem like it did any good, but sure, your welcome.

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