Da_Yog

Just made some edits here.

I like where you are going with that suggestion. I'll give it some thought. The first line is often a bit tough for me. Mostly because I frequently don't establish a feel or tempo for the poem until the second or third stanza so the first often comes out fairly week until some serious tweaking is done. It doesn't hurt that I've only been writing poems for about 2 months now and have 0 formal training in anything approaching grammar or creative writing. Just operating off of high school and a few technical writing classes in college. The price of being an engineer. I was wondering if anyone had any suggestions for transition material near the middle of the poem. There are a few stanzas to me that seem to "jump" a bit suddenly. Did anyone else notice that? I'd be open to suggestions to fix it. Perhaps an additional stanza or two... BTW this was an actual dream, and that of a 12 year old boy, so I was hoping to impart a dreamlike quality. Like it was real but wasn't at the same time. I have no idea if I accomplished this or not.

Regel, I like this a lot. Probably my favorite of what I've read of your poetry. Very nice!

This one has easily the heaviest rhyme scheme I have ever attempted. It's also dark and moody which usually clashes, for me, with a rhyme scheme. Anyway it's a tad long but I hope you all enjoy it. OK completey revamped the first stanza, still not exactly happy with it but better. Also swapped a line from the second stanza and the first for continuity and fixed the gramatical error. A Strange Dream Black ships sail to our shores frail Travelling at night by moon's eerie light Until clouds roll by obscuring the night sky The ships sail near while the men start to fear. The breath of the sea warns death to me The bell sounds the call, to arms for us all I cannot know where my fate may blow So I do what I may, I sit and pray. Upon our sandy beach the black ships do reach Then the order is given, the enemy must be driven So we march out, to our beach in doubt For on the morrow there can be naught but sorrow. The battle turned dour and we fled within the hour To the castle we tread while our troops still bled I watched comrades lying, moaning while dying Still clashing swords ring, of death do they sing! I see darkened walls among windswept halls And blackened stains on ancient window panes Still burning timbers crash on smouldering embers Total destruction of a once noble construction. The dead moan in the night awaiting last rites Still beating hearts are few give the reaper his due Two pennies for the man whose boat over Styx ran The dead have their needs but want not for greed. A lone wolf howls for his mates on the prowl The answering call was only a funeral pall What have I done? Survivors there are none Alone I stand, blood dripping from my hand. The moon too is red for Luna's soul has bled The lands washed in blood making a macabre mix of mud The bell no longer rings but demons, they do sing Of a hellish delight fought on this tragic night. I feel such pain that I alone still remain I alone to dread, just me among the dead I walk along and dole out last rites for their souls In war there is no honor only survivors and their horror.

I very much liked the soft, easy to read style, of these poems. Nice language conveying a peaceful, romantic sentiment.

The Lost Place Here I stand before these hallowed halls Where thoughts of time seem quaint For eons have they stood amongst these hills And for eons unspoiled shall they remain I cannot find upon this place of olde To my sight or sense, the hand of man For man could not love other than he So long as it takes to make such as this. I stand and gaze at what I have found And think to journey and explore Deep within the heart of these earthen halls A step or two more and I could see Sights that no man ever has seen Nay, I stay my feet and turn away For I could not keep such a sight to myself And grand stories would inspire others To go looking where I dare not tread Then another of the precious lost places would fall to the inquisition of man And such a crime I could not bear. Oooh, very nice. Thank you, I agree, this does improve the flow. *bows* This may indeed be what I was looking for. I could never quite put my finger on it. Thanks again.

I like this a lot but I keep thinking it could be better. Perhaps it's just me. :-) The Lost Place Here I stand before these hallowed halls Where thoughts of time seem quaint For eons have they stood amongst these hills And for eons unspoiled shall they remain I cannot find upon this place of olde To my sight or sense, the hand of man For man could not love other than he So long as it takes to make such as this. I stand and gaze at what I have found And think to journey and explore Deep within the heart of these earthen halls A step or two more and I could see Sights that no man ever has seen Nay, I stay my feet and turn away For I could not keep such a sight as this to myself And grand stories would inspire others To go looking where I dare not tread Then another of the precious lost places would fall to the inquisition of man And such a crime I could not bear.

Thanks everyone for your kind words. It means much to me. I have several more waiting in the wings to post but didn't want to flood the boards with them. Most are complete but some still need a bit of tweaking. So I'm open to constructive criticism as well. Just don't be too mean. http://www.themightypen.net/public/style_emoticons/default/ohmy.gif Take care all and thanks again for the kind words.

Greetings everyone, this is my first time here so be gentle. I was invited by my friend Regel to post some of my poetry here, so I'm taking him up on that offer. The Sky Today I tried to write some poems today But the magic of the pen failed me The thoughs would not connect today And the words did not flow freely I tried many times to write today And the words on paper, they just piled The magic was not there today So I just relaxed and smiled. The sun it shone bright today Despite the clouds in the sky I could not write a poem today And watch the clouds roll by So I lay down my weary pen today Even as I relaxed in the grass And I did not write a poem today For such a sunset could not last.