Silver WInd

Nice to see it posted. You did a great job with it. And I can attest to the fact that this is a very difficult style to work with as I myself had attemtped to write in this style but have not produced anything I truly felt was good enough for posting.

The sijo is a Korean form of poetry, it is a three line poem with a total of 44-47 syllabels, and 14-16 syllabels per a line. A sijo may be made up of several three line stanzas. Traditionaly Line one respresnts the beginning/problem/situation line two is called the development also known as the trun and line three is a strong conclusion with a twist or surprise. Awakening Passion awakened like wild fire within the warrior’s breast as time spread he blazed his trail across the grassy plains to meet his final end upon the days first show of snow. Modern Sijo The modern sijo does not have to stick to the three line rule, but the syllable count remains the same. Sunburst Suns fire burst streaked across the sapphire sky golden yellow radiance reflected its own image in the sparkling lapis lazuli waters down below.

The stars are like The many eyes of Venus, looking down upon me from the heavens above, where I am free to dance in the light of the moon

This is my best efforts to write in the style of Sappho, based on my reading of her work. There are three sperate poems. #1 I was struck by an Arrow from Eros, now I falter in my reason Aphrodite deceives me, so you catch me in your beauty. #2 We were as one Dancing like Pan wild within the woods, where nothing can take from us a freedom found in Artemis' sanctuary. #3 They promised us There would be music to play from dusk to day, but I only heard silence ring in my ears, as if in the night time.

Winter’s Breath Barren trees left quivering a single leaf still dying winds kiss sends it shivering with their chill spirits crying. Hush winter's breath awaken her white tempest churning a land now thought forsaken deep inside lies a burning. A passion left undenied drawn close in fires flicker the winds wail unconfined within their spirits bicker.

I really liked this, I loved the lanague used, and I thought it all flowed very nicely, some great imagery as well. Just one little thing I noticed This line seemed a bit awakard to me, and broke the flow from the rest of the poem, it did not roll off the tounge as nicely as some of the other phrases and words used.

Hehe yes, just been in that kind of mood I suppose. Acutally I used rythmatic on purpose, I sometimes invent my own words for my poems if I am not completely happy with the already exsisting words.

Caged Eyes wide shut stare vacant into the skull brain. Dripping steady rythmatic beat against the wide-split grin. A broken clock only twice right in the dusty den. Pipes squeak like rattled bones something knocked loose. All teeth turned to tallow with a taste for whiskey and gin. In the darkness grime yellow light flickers in electric hum. Unknown fluids etch their way to slit open drains ready to suck it away. A hungry slurp razor-edged tongue some unknown monstrous thing. This is the sum of bad dreams and reality twisted into one.

Thank you, I cannot take credit for the style though I do not know where it oringinally came from or what it might be called. I happend to have read a poem by another whom did this, and I liked it so I decdied to give it a try myself.

Little Bird She watched out the window as the world passed by trapped behind the glass as seasons changed. Rain drops matched her tears sliding their gray streaked tail as the wind howled its pain. Lost inside herself she only dreamed of sunshine the clouds pointed her pictures. Only to herself she wept where there was no one else to see, when the sky was dark. But oh how the stars shined and for a moment she felt free to dance among the sky a caged bird set free. She watched out the window rain drops matched her tears lost inside herself only to herself she wept a caged bird set free.

Thank you for your comments, yes I can see what you mean about the 5th stanza being confusing, though I don't really like the idea of using a question mark in the first stanza.

Thank you, yes I have kind of moved away from using punctuation from a lot poems I will go fix that, I am terrible about remebering to add apostrophes

Beauty Defined Beauty is in the mind's eye but how do we define it with words or phrases do we ever weigh the meaning of these words? Is beauty a lie, a deception or the only pure truth? Beauty found upon the tilt of butterflies wing soft bloom of April spring flowers, it may be perceived in sky reaching towers; city lights on a moonless night, it comes in many forms shapes and sizes, sights, scents and sounds. Does the artist make beauty? Or may beauty truly only be crafted by the ones whom declare it so. Has anything ever been nature or man made, universally beautiful or does everything have a side in shadow?

This is one of my odd abstractions Atomic Disjointed lives souls in fragments our lies fractions of the truth an illusion disembodied by scattered figments of reality. Time skips a beat as we try to discover for the briefest of moments we felt it then it all unwound. Left spinning in orbit our molecules dissolve into the ether. Everything just a scent of air.

Thank you and, yes it should somehow that one slipped by my notice

Ghost For a moment I saw the glimmer reflected in the mirror but when I looked back again she was gone. My heart filled with terror and passing lights flashed into my consciousness. I tired to shake the feeling but the whiteness of her form was so clear. For that brief encounter which forever left me speechless. Could my heart recover the will of imaginative forces bending my sanity.

Nicely done, really loved the imagery and the concept

Thank you

Where the Magnolias Grow I remember the grove just like yesterday on a fresh spring day when the grass was green and the skin blue. But there was such a sweet breeze to touch the air, and it carried the natural perfume. I would run there with my feet bare and without a single care for all the world. Daring in between sunbeams and shade, I was invincible in those precious rare moments where the earth moved under me. I remember the magnolia trees with there virgin white blooms so big and ripe, somehow they seemed so other worldly for all their presumed innocence. So soft to the touch each opening and waiting for the pluck so much like the plush milky white of freshly bloomed breasts making the change from adolescents to womanhood. I would lie upon a bed of their ivory, soft petals each kissing and caressing stimulating, as a gentle lover. But the magnolias are there no more sometimes I still imagine I cast a whiff of their fragrance hear them calling to me from some far away place Yet their sensual innocence shall be lost to me and spring days begin to fade into endless yesterdays.

Black Widow Her eyes black suns burned around the edges she stared into empty space waiting for the next shooting star Her hair a wild tempest of the wind with tendrils of crimson gold flying free without binds Her skin silken caramel scented in lavender and rose petals glossed with moonlight Her voice sounds as a siren drawing in unwary souls to twist within her web of dark desire

Thank you

Postcard Such delight that can be found contained within a small square Splashed in color of rolling green strokes of blue and little flecks of life An escape into another world a place far away where you imagine a loved one down in the warm sand or sailing over mountain tops Offers and promise of hope and happiness given scrawled upon the back Where joy is brought lighting the heart to think you are somehow special to be brought into this world in a single square.

Thank you

Thank you, I do like to do somewhat rather bazzar things now and then.

Well thank you for that.