Loki Wyrd

When does it start?

Oh, that's not the title. Most of my poems don't have titles, so I just make up something to post. Glad you liked it.

I'm a little late. Hope you had a good one.

To eliminate my pride (clumsy as it is) my redeemer made a failure to juxtapose me with. Now no angst will deter, nor stomach resist, what my eyes have tried to make me miss: I'm not forsaken but by myself. No longer complacent-- thanks to the mirror's help.

I don't have anything useful to add, but I just wanted to let you know that I really liked your poem. I suppose this post is more for my own benefit than yours.

Drowning out all thought Even the written word My focus is lost To entertain the absurd Life being so In my state of mind The only way through At the end of the line Waiting Falling Contorting my mouth Into a smile That's flagrantly real A plea of denial The eager fool My own abomination Fraught with peril Sharp as the imagination Crippling me

It was a gift from myself to myself. I'm a very giving individual. One of the features I really love is that you can store up to 40 words in a word list. It's a great way to build your vocabulary, as opposed to possibly forgetting the word you just looked up.

I just recently got a really nice electronic dictionary/thesaurus (and lots of other features), and I figured people here would appreciate it most. At school I show my new toy, and I don't think they are too impressed. But if they'd know of the hardships of having to carry those fairly bulky books--or being forced to go without--then they'd understand. My now obsolete book dictionary only had 80,000 or so words in it, and I was becoming quite frustrated at spending the time looking up words only to find that they were not in it. I haven't been having that problem anymore; I think my electronic dictionary has around 260,000 words in it. My iPod and that are now my two most prized possessions. Anyhow, I just thought I'd express my pleasure--with so little of it going around, one must seize the moment. I'm wasting time, putting off going back to my studies...

Is this still going on, or am I missing out on something?

May the anarchy sticker serve you well in the future.

Sorry for filling up the Banquet Hall with my posts. For the ones that actually have titles I like to start a new thread. Besides, I'm not so sure anyone actually looks at the ones I post in the longer threads...not that I want anyone to look at this one necessarily. But it's short, so an easy read. Prompted by the word 'meniscus.' The meniscus rises as beads of water slowly run down the glass. Each tributary joining with the body, becoming just another reason for my eye level to shift.

Pinings of the disenfranchised Waiting for a voice Are stamped out in bare footprints Searching for a choice Amongst them in the dearth Clouds of dust kick up into the air Denied the breath to breathe it They curse it in despair

Nothing else matters For a burning instant: The red glow of the stove top Captivates the hostage audience. The hand engulfing my wrist isn't there, Only a biting at my fingertips That sinks into my bone And swims through my blood, Omnipresent. Not knowing what I did; Neither caring nor feeling regret, Only insolence and a smile.

Surrendered to the feral jungle Once called home Remnants of a people Long since gone Indifferent to the places of worship Where blood was spilled to appease the gods Trampling on the learnings and knowledge That in the end failed them all Buildings lie in ruin Speaking of their past In a voice no longer heard That wasn't made to last Nothing glows anymore It's just deep and dark and black Where the whims of the wind Still may take it all back But there is a continuance to everything Life and death within the dirt And though our ways may not still be There is yet the earth we helped breathe Holding to the feral jungle Of this place once called home Reminder of a species Otherwise now forgotten This likely needs some revision. As always, any suggestions/comments would be appreciated.

"Life is running out of reasons," Mutters the man with matters That he just can't relate To the conventions of life: Accomplished in seasons, But better with days; And often best looking at night. "It's easier than falling asleep," To be taken seriously, Should ask for a second opinion. Long and lasting, I feel like I should move, As the moving means I'm living; Everything else is to be asleep, Riding the invisible rails. "I need more information for a spaceship," Picturing it in the backyard: It would go nicely with the garden. When I heard footsteps my walking ceased, The rest still out there, Like raindrops in the sky; Falling, despite the weather's calm. Not suitable for flying Means to stay where you are.

I began to cut my hair, For no other reason then it was there. Golden locks fell in the sink, Curls and waves around my feet. Fro and to they followed you, Down to somewhere I once knew; Though I'd no longer than my hair, With it henceforth scattered everywhere. The bodies littering a battlefield, Writhing and still refusing to yield; And also an ocean, rising only to fall, Or the treacherous vines swallowing the jungle. I, too, am invoked into its entwinement, Recalling to me my memory, with this slight bent: I never did cut my hair. Was it all but a nightmare?

You had to die so that someone would remember you; Therein lies the tragedy. I wonder why it is they weep: To act a part, or to be too late for you? Either way, their tears fall for you-- I think it might be the music that they play. But when fallen, they seek no real change, Like rain in a wasteland, or the taste of the dirt to you. Here lies no one special, To be forgotten once again. And I cry.

I much prefer that. P.S. Don't be down on the Macs, I'm a user...I get by. Besides, I find it's best just to read over what you've written, and if you're not sure about a word, go to the dictionary. Spell check is alright, but you don't want to rely too heavily on it. Plus, when you read over it again, you might find a way to improve on what you've written. You never know.

You're welcome. And yes, I think it works very well.

I always love a silly poem, and your's flowed smoothly. I only have a few suggestion, if I may: 4th stanza - I thought the 2nd line could use a comma after 'suddenly.' At least that's how I read it. 6th stanza - 2nd line again, I thought a comma after 'Sadly' would be apt. 7th stanza, last line - To your credit, this is the only thing other than a comma I can point out that I thought could use some work. It seems just a little flat. If I knew poetry speak well, I could probably tell you what was the culprit; as it is, I only know what sounds right (to me). I think it's just because it breaks from the voice you maintain through the rest of the poem. Then again, I'm probably just being overly picky. I'm trying to be helpful, really I am! You'll probably just want to ignore me...that would be for the best Good work.

First off, I didn't read all the replies in here, so it's quite possible this has been said already. If so, forgive me. I did notice that there was some confusion as a result of the first couple lines. I think this may have been in part because of the double negative: don't-nothing. Maybe if you wrote it, 'better than nothing,' it would set it apart and help clarify that as a phrase that's been used. You seem a very kind person, so I hope that get what you want (and don't get the other end of it). Here's to hoping~~>

That was a nice read. Good for a laugh, certainly. Welcome to The Pen, may your humor stay fresh even if your corpse does not.

It's good to have a happy ending. I especially like those last two lines, they wrap the poem up nicely. On the last stanza, though, you got a little sloppy with the spelling. Nothing a few second edit won't fix. One suggestion...on the second stanza, "Then all of a sudden" just doesn't sound that great IMO. Perhaps try to throw in something creative and original to spice it up. Just a suggestion.

Don't tell me what, if only you would describe it. I rollover onto my side, on the edge of the bed; A crevice formed between that and the wall. My breath forcing up the chill already present. Hopefully, my hand is proferred into the dark, As I imagine looking over the side into the unknown; Unwilling to open my eyes or stir from my place, For fear of losing grip of something yet uncertain. Your voice can take me anywhere; if only you would-- Give me something to look upon, to touch, smell, or taste.