Parmenion

Lol! I love Star Trek

One of the things that stood out for me about this poem and which I must admit I really enjoyed was the alliteration. I am and always have been a fan of using alliteration to drive home points in certain lines and I thought your use of them managed to do just that! Well done on that One of the beautiful tricks of this poem is the "pompous piety" description. At the end of the first stanza, the reader feels that the protagonist has been wronged badly by another character. The fantastic trend during the second stanza and the protagonist's own tirade against this other character finishes quite cleverly with again using the "pompous piety" description, however in this instance, the reader has now switched track believing that the protagonist is in fact the pompous and pious one after the tirade. That element of this poem is simply genius! However, there was an elemnt of this poem I didn't much get. "Hatred wells in your belly in anguish" This implies to me that Hatred wells in anguish, or that anguish and hatred have some relationship that I was previously unaware of. Can you explain to me the reasoning behind the use of these words in this expression? Or was there some punctuation that I have missed reading into it? I found this line extremely interesting: "The false pity in your eyes does not melt my heart" I didn't know it was possible to melt a person's heart by pitying them, but this sentence implies just that. If honest pity is a thing that would melt the protagonist's heart wouldn't that make the protagonist of this poem somewhat needy and clingy, unlike the strong hero-type a protagonist is supposed to be?

It tastes exactly the same as the taste you had before you were alive. The protagonist of this poem reminds me of that robot in Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy who had a brain the size of a planet. Was the character loosely based on him at all? If so - bravo! I can definitely see that kind of black comedy in lines such as: "But even I have no pity for me". I thought this was a fantastic line! This tells us so much about the protagonist of the poem in such a short sentance! It tells us that the protagonist thinks he/she is a creature to be pitied, but unworthy of pity from everyone - even themselves! It tells us that the protagonist is too lowly a creature to be pitied or even perhaps beneath pity, if a lower level on the "to be pitied" scale exists! "I would longingly love to be lost In some dark, deep abyss Where only I can do the self-hurting" I found this paragraph a delight! The ironic use of the word "love" by the protagonist wanting to be lost in someplace where only he/she can hurt themselves stood out for me. Love is something very pure, very strong and quite a positive feeling. I find the contrast here uncanny. Th eprotagonist would "love" to be lost so that they can "hurt" themselves. Perhaps because they would rather hurt themself than run the risk of someone else "hurting" them. For some reason the protagonist seems to forget that in a dark deep abyss, it would be mother nature doing the hurting given food and water would be very difficult to find. The picture of Gollum living in his dark cave with his "precious" sprung to mind. A creature with a very weak backbone who rathered secluding himself away from everything that existed outside himself because he never learned that "trusting" and "risking" is not just a once off affair, but a daily event I would truly enjoy finding out where the inspiration for this poem sprang from. Though I would guess Gollum or Marvin I may not be right

I would encourage Tattered to describe how she feels in a balanced manner. To every difficult emotion or state there is an opposite. I would encouage her to seek that opposite within her writing. To describe a thing as well as she has deserves credit. It was a good descritpion and my hat off to the lass. But to give that feeling or state real depth i think the thoughts must be analyzed in this instance as to where they are coming from and then a possible conclusion as to where they are going or how they can be rectified. The last line reminds me of Antonio's opening sililloquay in the Mercahnt of Venice which goes something like: In sooth, I know not why I am so sad, It wearies me, you say it wearies you, But how I caught it, found it or came by it, Whence it came whereof it was born, I am to know, And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, That I have much ado to know myself. Antonio realises that even though he thinks he may be unaware of where this sadness came from, he recognises that he needs to know himself better and by-proxy that defaults into his knowing that it comes from himself. He realises that he must know himself better to understand and analyze and come up with solutions to this sadness that strickens him so. I would encourage Tattered in this instance to look beyond the sadness into perhaps its causes or its possible solutions. I think this would add more depth to the poem both for herself on a journey of self-discovery through such writing and for the reader in understanding and appreciating this journey. I have read much of her writing and she is quite talented. I think with this added depth of perception to her writing it could enchance "quite talented" to "quite brilliant". Her story needs, no; it begs for that journey to be discovered. Even if it is merely that glimmer of light for both herself and the reader reading it I feel it lends a dimension which would take her to that next level of writing. Of course this is a personal opinion. I enjoy reading her writing, and wouldn't have taken the time to post this reply if I didn't. Its a tip she can choose to take on board or ignore as she sees fit

Hehe - i think i probably spelt a tonne of things wrong in my reply, so kudos, I am a victim of my own admonishing I don't know where word_eyes is from. I am guessing american from your reply? My thinking would be that culture is not affected by the changing of governments. But yup in relation to the policies, the best of two bad worlds usually gets in adopt representation!!!

If you cannot be bothered enough to re-read your own posts for spelling mistakes, the question must be asked as to why you feel we should be bothered reading or replying to your posts. Its just common courtesy to have rechecked your posts after posting them and editing them where necessary. Regarding the subject matter of your poem, I would hate top live in a country where its taught that if you are not academically minded then you will amount to nothing. What kind of messed up society could brainwash its children into feeling so confused about this that they feel compelled to write a poem about it! Word_eyes, all i can say is get away from that society you are living in when you are old enough. If it makes a youth feel like that about school then I can only imagine that it would place too much emphasis on status and comparative achievement in adulthood. Thats not what life is about, and the sooner you get away from a society like that the better. It doesn't matter a jot how well you do in school. It doesn't matter how good looking you are. It doesnt matter how much you earn. What does matter is how you see yourself. How confident you are in yourself. If you can look in the eye the kind of person who thinks such things are important (and has them), with no inferiority complex then you have realised the most valuable piece of information you possibly could have. They are just another human. Nothing more, nothing less. They'll grow old and die just like you, they are essentially no different to you. Only a belief in those material things lends them any credibility. I am perfectly successful having flunked out of school. I may be bald but I pick up very good looking women and while I don't have a huge house or car like many of my peers, I have seen places and things they'll never see and I've spoken to more interesting people in this tiny community than they are ever likely to meet in their enclosed little lives. So take heart

So that sound that buses make is the brakes! LMAO! 28 years old and I always wondered what it was! Thanks HB, may day just got brighter coz I learned something

I was a bit thrown by the title also. Thoroughly enjoyed this poem Two and knowing the story behind it lends the reader a little more understanding of it Very good, I look forward to more.

Ouch! It'll be a testimony to your character if you manage to avoid offing yourself.

Finally with all your ambiguity in other posts you have managed a very real stroke of genius! The metaphorical quality of this small but superb piece is second to none. The fact that you realise that the poem discovers that the answer to any problem within any person's life resides within them is a mark of self-discovery and a lesson to anyone reading this poem. Remarkably though provoking with a very important message. Well done word_eyes!

The mark of youth is that they are always prepared to die for some noble cause. The mark of maturity are those who are prepared to live humbly for one.

or spelling...

Always try, failure to try is a failure of character. If you dont try you may as well not exist. You'll be nothing if you have that attitude. Life is as scary as you allow it to be. Pick up your skirt, grab yer nuts and remember you're a man. Embrace it. Those who need to know where they are going will never amount to anything. Life will never be as exciting for them as it could be for you becauyse they are not taking a risk. Fate is the provider of opportunity, nothing more. It is up to us what we choose to do with the opportunities she presents to us. Your second part or poem I really enjoyed. These are stupendous lines: blure = blur Then for me personally you went and spoilt it somewhat by mentioning a god which there was absolutely no need for. Granted you are alone but ultimately any strength you think ytou derive from such an entity was within you to begin with. It is still a very enjoyable second verse but given that you hadn't made and references to omnipotent beings previously, it seemed very out of place. The third part is confusing as to whether you are talking about losing this incorporeal being you mentioned in your last stanza or something more tangible and real. Though I still enjoyed the poem i think the description "emptiness of sea" is poor, given that the sea is far from empty. The emptiness of the sky would be a better analogy.

Spelling: ment = meant I see that you are trying to encourage a certain train of though in the reader - deep thought. The pragmatic outlook is that you took the wrong question out of the riddle or the wrong riddle pertaining to the right puzzle, or the right riddle pertianing to the wrong puzzle; which is why the piece wasn't meant to fit. I would suggest making sure that the riddle, question, puzzle and piece are all relative and relevant to each other before undertaking such a task in the future. It will save you a bunch of time.

In answer to the poem - yes, i think we all do But would you rather be crippled with self-pity or respected for your self-worth? Thats a choice you gotta make. As sweet so finely suggests in her response - "and proudly show that scar". Good poem made better better by the responses.

Thats where you start then. Finding our where it originates through self-analyzation. The best way to tackle any issue is to get straight to the root of the problem. Find the origin, you'll find a reason. Once you've found the reason logic should help dissect the emotive mess. Enjoyable poem but it lacks balance. Poems I find more interesting if they go somewhere. This describes a state of mind, it doesn't investigate why the state of mind exists, it doesn't look at any bright side. It begins and ends in the same light having gone nowhere other than to describe a single instance and so for me it lacks real depth.

Fantastic poem Wyvern - again you have created another gem. Always a pleasure reading your work!

:'(

I am also curious

Parmenion grimaced slightly as he saw Regel remove the splinter from his leg. "All this commotion at a poker tournament" he mused to himself. He scrutinized the people at the table to see if he could find any who were taking advantage of this turmoil to perhaps better their hands. He remembered quickly that his own hand was knocked to the floor by the tremors and bent quickly to retrieve it. Luckily both cards had landed face down. He allowed himself a wry smile. He had learned at a very young age to trust to his luck. His uncle had always taught him that the only way to have his luck grow was to trust it! Settling back into his seat, Parmenion waited tensely to see what would happen next. He had a sinking feeling that the poker tournament wasn't going to go on much longer and that made him feel somewhat anxious.

A good poem deserves a good response. The words I have to praise this work are not cupped deeply enough to do it justice. But perhaps your inspiration for this poem will say something of how much it touched me. Luv you loads hun *hugs* 1. Suddenly she leaned forward, Her head tween' her hands, Brief sobs spoke of sorrow, Not dreams of strange lands. While tears in black streams, Babbled over her cheek, Resolve broke within her, To be strong or seem weak? The rain-tears weren't childish, Nor with pity bought, But a reeling of feeling, From a burnt heart not sought. Did it matter if they saw? If they stopped or they stared? Did any of them know? Could they see why she cared? 2. Her tears watered the earth, In the glade where she wept, A crow cawed from a tree, Then watched as she slept. She dreamed of an ideal, As she fly through the sky, Looking down on the world, With a crow's beady eye. She saw colours for people, Some bright and some grey, Some rich with a newness, Some rank with decay! Did it matter if they saw? If they stopped or they stared? Did any of them know? Could they see if she cared? 3. With a start, she awoke! And called to her crow, On her gauntlet he landed, Then bowed his head low. The truth she thought oddly, As she walked from the glade, In that what hurt her most, Was the plans they had made. She stopped for a moment, Drew her lungs full of air, A calm lifted her spirit, Washing away all despair. It didn't matter if they saw, Or if they stopped to stare, It didn't matter what they knew, Since she really didn't care...

Any update on the current position?

Parmenion glances over at the huge Lizard on hearing what he ordered. Not being much of a drinker, and only ever drinking water at Poker tournaments so as not to dull the senses, Parm had very little idea what is was the lizard ordered but seeing some of the interesting looks from others on the table smiled thinking it was at least going to be amusing. Taking a sip from his water he involuntarily spits it back into the glass realising that the waitress must have given him gin instead of water. Parm catches the attention of the waitress as she is returning with drinks for one of the other players at the table and orders a large water with a dash of blackcurrent in his best common tongue. Having travelled much in the circles of elves and dwarves in his life as a Ranger his practice of the common tongue was less frequent with every passing year, due to his willingness to learn to speak in other languages. He was not shy in the slightest about his poorer than average common tongue. It may be viewed as an oddity in a human by some but he cared very little about what others thought of him. There simply never seemed to be a very good reason to bother. Parmenion did not need to look at his cards to know what his next move was going to be. He bit his lower lip slightly and played expertly with a stack of five $100 chips in front of him expertly weaving a couple of them through his fingers and landing them back on top of his pile.

Looks pretty sound