Yui-chan Posted October 8, 2002 Report Share Posted October 8, 2002 (edited) Don't mind me. I'm just creating a thread of my old poetry in anticipation of writing a new piece or two that have been floating around in my head. I am going to start consolidating all of my non-prose works into one thread so as to take up less space. Thank you, ~Yui Upgrade! Yui's Poetry v2.0: Since this is starting to get long, a list of happy links to take you to specific titles. Most recent to most ancient. Narcissist Anarchist Little Words EAY (Edgar Allan Yui): from the Shoutbox Telecon Perfectionist Haikai - Memory Stranger Swim the Pitch-Black Sea A Never-Life Melody These Words Arrow Frantic Blade Dance Masochist Mad Merlin Cobalt Dreams Lament Dawn's Reverie In the Old Way Shards Apart ______________ Edited September 14, 2006 by Yui-chan Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yui-chan Posted October 8, 2002 Author Report Share Posted October 8, 2002 Shards Apart Blow the shards apart, Shards of heart. Let them burn where'ere thou art. Cry freezing tears, For seconds, years. Flowing like thy bleeding fears. All, then, be still and rest and die, For better that than choose as I. Better that than shattered naught. Better purged of rancid thought. Better eternity's blank sleep Than bladed hurt that runs soul-deep. Scream wrending pain, A shrill refrain. That shard-sliced bound'ries shan't contain. In suff'ring wrythe, 'Neath Fate's cruel scythe. Surrender all thou art as tithe. All, then, be still and empty lie, For better that than choose as I. Better that than hopeless fight. Better blind than tortured sight. Better oblivion's delight Than miswrought life of venom'd spite. Weave tearful prayers, filled all with cares. Sent winging high 'pon faith-built stairs. Hold tight thy hopes, Those hanging ropes. O'er silent time, belief elopes. All, then, let fall and crumbled lie, For better that than choose as I. Better that than hope distraught. Better walls than risk love caught. Better never first begot Than end in spilt blood come to naught. Blow the shards apart, Shards of heart. End all that is, all that thou art. Give up and cease and fail and die, Or live and fight and choose as I... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yui-chan Posted October 8, 2002 Author Report Share Posted October 8, 2002 In the Old Way Feel. Love and Care. Live. Learn and Act. Laugh. In the Old Way. Hurt. Fight and Hate. Die. Teach and Rest. Cry. In the Old Way. Hope. Trust and Give. Breathe. Share and Take. Sing. In the Old Way, The only way. Find your way, the right way. Never their way, the locked way, the stifling way. Only one way is the true way. The Old Way was your way. Live that way. A bit of very random poetry-looking stuff from yours truly. Please don't lynch me. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yui-chan Posted October 9, 2002 Author Report Share Posted October 9, 2002 Dawn's Reverie {Published, Fall 03} The sharp-slanting light bears the warm touch of dawn. Its power tints the rough walls with fire. The fast-dying shadows mourn night’s sovereign gone, o'erthrown as the sun hurries higher. And there, on the threshold of daylight’s advance, far away in a bright world of dream, you curl in the comfort of sleep’s circumstance, immune to the morning sunbeam. The hard-yet-soft lines of your sleep-slackened face, that pillow-tossed mass of soft hair, the sweet, serene mien that you wear with such grace, wipe away any thoughts of despair. Instead, I am left, in the silence of morn, with my love clearly writ in my eyes, to drink in your warmth, dream of futures unborn, and bask in the breeze of your sighs. And then, in that breath hung ‘twixt old day and new, in the midst of my dawn’s reverie, is the soul-searing truth. I exist just for you, and you, love, own all that is me. *note: I don't believe that this one was posted in the Pen, before, so don't be surprised if it doesn't look familiar. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yui-chan Posted October 25, 2002 Author Report Share Posted October 25, 2002 The title for this piece just suks, but I couldn't drag a better one from my Muse. It's the first piece of poetry I've written for a few months, inspired by a growing sense of horror and frustration at what CNN shows me every morning. For now, I'll just call it my Lament. Lament Please! Close your eyes. .. Don't watch. .. Don't hear. All the madness and hate, .. Breeding death, .. Breeding fear. In a world upside-down, Hold so tight to your hope! Lest you find it struck dead, Hung on cruelty's frayed rope. If the sharp gunshot sounds, .. Stay still. .. Don't turn. You don't want to see, .. Evil's face, .. Eyes aburn. In the misguided rage Of a perverted few, Guard your innocence close, Lest they steal it from you. So please, close your eyes. .. Don't watch. .. Don't know. As they ransack our lives, .. For 'fun'. .. For show. In a world upside-down, do your wholehearted best to live life rightside-up ... for there lies the true test. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yui-chan Posted March 7, 2003 Author Report Share Posted March 7, 2003 (edited) One of the rare recent poetry works I've created. It seems lately that most of my writing is to give a properly rich caption to some piece of art or another, especially the few poems I create. I will not burden the forum with a bunch of images, but I will try to include links, especially where I feel the piece of writing doesn't stand on its own. Thank you! 'Cobalt Dreams' linked (It's a digital painting done as an exercise in portraiture with Photoshop 7 and my mouse. Special thanks goes out to a young woman called 'Akemi' for volunteering the photograph. The picture just screamed 'Sleeping Beauty' to me, so the poem was written with the fable in mind.) "Once upon a distant time, along a hidden trail, in ancient castle clenched by vine, beneath a whisp'ring veil, I found a vision clothed in blood, concealed from mortal eye, awash in sunshine's glowing flood and safe 'neath summer sky. She lay in silence soft and deep, alone in sweet repose, a porcelain beauty sealed in sleep a fragile, human rose; and I stood watching, entrapped, it seems, as she glittered, fire and gold. A noble lady in cobalt dreams, her fate long left untold..." Edited March 7, 2003 by Yui-chan Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gwaihir Posted March 7, 2003 Report Share Posted March 7, 2003 I enjoy the way it flows, and the imagery . Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gyrfalcon Posted March 8, 2003 Report Share Posted March 8, 2003 Gyrfalcon agrees and applauds! Excellent work, Yui-chan. I'm not sure if this was intended, (perhaps I'm finally reading beneath the surface slightly.) but one line changed the meaning of the poem entirely. "I found a vision clothed in blood," I'm not sure if this was used to rhyme with 'flood' and was meant to mean a body, but the sense I got from the poem was not one of a woman sleeping until a prince arrives, but one who was sent to the final rest. *smiles and applauds* Excellent work, again, and I love your artwork. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yui-chan Posted March 8, 2003 Author Report Share Posted March 8, 2003 Thanks, Gyr and Gwaihir. Actually, the comment about her being 'clothed in blood' was based on the image. If you click the link, you'll see the color of her dress. It's really why I included the link, because you're right that it starts to sound ominous... Then again, perhaps it is. ~Yui Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tasslehoff Posted March 8, 2003 Report Share Posted March 8, 2003 That was very beautifull Yui.. Great work there! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yui-chan Posted March 17, 2003 Author Report Share Posted March 17, 2003 (edited) Mad Merlin He sits in a cold, darkened corner, alone in a dead-silent room. A mind full of much restive nothing, a heart full of deep, dismal gloom. Golden his glazed-over eyes are, black-brown his long, tangled hair. Pink-pale his thin, cracked, dry lips as they part to breath stale, fetid air. Gone is the once-milk-white tunic, now dirtied to brown, dingey grey. Gone now his tall, doe-soft boots, for the thieves long since took them away. Gone, too, his once noble bearing, that confident lift of his chin. But most of the missing is summed up by the lack of his once-frequent grin. It's true he was not always forlorn. It's true he was once free of care. It's true he was once just a young man, one of wisdom and courage and flair. It's true, too, that once he was much loved, and true that he loved her in turn. What's more, he once dreamt of a life that they'd share with their growing unborn. Truth lived in her blue eyes and soft locks, filled his mind and his heart and his soul. And 'tis true that his volatile temper was well soothed by her serene control. And she, for her part, shared his great joy, gave the warmth and the light to his day. But more, is the truth that he shattered when cruel life took his lover away. Thus now he just sits in his dark place, watching nightmares of her in his mind, Living and reliving horrors that his enfeebled thoughts deftly find. His mem'ries see sun-speckled meadow, smell heather and pine on the wind. But they linger on red, drying blood and the feel of her slack, cold, dead skin. As there in his rock hell he huddles, eternally living his pain. He shivers and shudders and moans out as his tears fall like bitter, warm rain. Next he recalls his swift vengeance, the black hundreds felled by his bright blade. And he screams out his rage to the stone walls, with the hope that his howls never fade. These sounds are the cries of the broken, which ring out through the valleys and hills. This is the destitute singing of a bard that life's counterpoint kills. Here, too, is the end of a hero and the birth of a legend of fear. A wild, lost, dead Lord of the Forest ruling many a long, bleak, dark year. Let Wolf be his silent companion, let hurt be his best, busom friend. Let rage and despair be his bedmates in his self-made, cold, wet, mountain's end. For these are the Darkest of Ages and the decades of suff'ring and strife. And this is the shattered, mad Merlin, who's been dashed on the sharp rocks of life. Inspired by Stephen R. Lawhead's Merlin, the second book in his Pendragon Cycle. Edited March 17, 2003 by Yui-chan Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Rune Posted March 27, 2003 Report Share Posted March 27, 2003 I think your my hero(ess) Yui. That poem was bloody brilliant. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yui-chan Posted March 28, 2003 Author Report Share Posted March 28, 2003 I'm glad you liked it, Rune-sama! I'm pretty sure that I'm not qualified to be a hero(ine?), though; I haven't had the proper training. How about if we settle for 'friend' instead? ~Yui Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Rune Posted March 28, 2003 Report Share Posted March 28, 2003 Works for me! as long as I can adore you unconditionally for your skills. *^__^* Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yui-chan Posted April 4, 2003 Author Report Share Posted April 4, 2003 (edited) {Perhaps there are still improvements to be made, but I've never been one to work a piece to death. I am pleased with this and believe it to say what I wanted it to. Thanks to Cyril and Wyvern and Peredhil for all their input.} Masochist Oh, yeah... Let it burn. Let it sting. Let it stab. When I'm feeling my worst, make it hurt twice as bad. So good... Feel my nails as they rake 'cross my skin. Where the pain doesn't stop, let the pleasure begin. Damn right... When I'm busy, I need one more chore. Exhaustion's ignored 'til I'm prone on the floor. Hell, yes... Beat me up for the tiniest flaw. Flail ego and image 'til bleeding and raw. That's it... Look real close. See my sad lack of worth. Face the fact I'm a mole on the face of the Earth. Like that... Feel the prick. Feel the blade break the skin. Watch the blood trickle out from that numb place within. Oh, god... Does it hurt? Cut it deeper. Again. The pain is my link to the scarred world of men. Yes, more... Let the agony rage. Feel it roar. Feel how much more alive I am now than before. Now! Now!... Reach the height of this soul-warping tryst, Where I live for one moment, a wise masochist. {Edit: For a fun look into the creation and evolution of this poem, members can check out the Writer's Workshop thread of the same name. } Edited June 21, 2004 by Yui-chan Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yui-chan Posted May 22, 2003 Author Report Share Posted May 22, 2003 {This poem was thrown together to caption a digital painting I've been working on of the same name. (The poem title contains the link to the image.) I had a hard time deciding whether a poem was rich enough to describe all that I have in my head as backstory to the picture, but ... well, this is what's come out thus far. I do think is a bit too thin for what I wanted, but I also feel like I did a decent job of enriching the writing of the poem perhaps further than it might have been naturally. That probably didn't make much sense, but I know what I meant, anyway. } Blade Dance ...Linked... 21 May, 2003 Sweet and silken beauty flows 'Midst midnight black and blood-red rose In whorls and arcs and whisp'ring spins, Unveiling hearts untouched by sins. Hardened steel through hot air sings, A breath from blood, its cold length rings. There snapped to stop by corded arm, Then off once more, quicksilver harm. Rhythm beats 'pon taught-stretched flesh As sweat-slick forms entwine, enmesh, A coquette flirt with razor edge, A consummation and a pledge. Each step, each turn, each swing a test, Young bodies strain, to limits pressed. Through beauty, courage, strength and grace They summon others in their place. Thus blackest Death and fiery Rage Find avatars on marble stage, And mortal souls succumb to trance So gods may join in their Blade Dance. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Gwaihir Posted May 22, 2003 Report Share Posted May 22, 2003 Yui, I love it! knife fighting, dancing, playing...it's allthe same in a way Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Salinye Posted May 24, 2003 Report Share Posted May 24, 2003 As always, Admirable work, Yui. :0) ~Salinye Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yui-chan Posted May 27, 2003 Author Report Share Posted May 27, 2003 Thanks, Gwaihir and Salinye. There is a certain beauty in a knife fight, I think, with its elements of grace, violence and courage. This piece barely scratches the surface. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Wyvern Posted June 7, 2003 Report Share Posted June 7, 2003 I'll add my compliments to those of Gwaihir and Salinye in praise of Blade Dance... I think that both the poem and the image connected to it are strikingly beautiful. As always, Yui, your elaborate uses of meter and form as well as your fluid imagery render the piece incredibly vivid. Though the entire poem is excellent, my favorite part was probably the third stanza... Once again, great poem Yui... you never cease to amaze me. Mad skillz yo! ;-) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yui-chan Posted June 8, 2003 Author Report Share Posted June 8, 2003 Wyvern, Yo B! Thanks for the mad props, ya know? It so happens that stanza three is my favorite, too. You always did have good taste. And thanks for the compliment on the picture, too. After the response it's gotten everywhere else, I kinda needed it. I've been told by a couple of people that it all needs scrapped and redone. >_ Anyway, thank you as always for the comments. Yours, ~Yui Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yui-chan Posted December 14, 2003 Author Report Share Posted December 14, 2003 {Transfered from the freewrites thread in order to consolidate poems.} Frantic The creatures in my bruised, black brain are dancing, jumping, dancing, leaping, rolling, wrestling, never sleeping, singing, yelling, shouting, laughing, screaming jokes 'tween spurts of clapping, waging war against my senses, driving busses through my fences, roaring, screeching, buzzing, spewing, taking, leaving, taking, doing, trampling footprints in grey matter, blasting hours of senseless chatter, rifling, ripping, bending, tearing, dropping, breaking, losing, scaring, taking all my hard-won thoughts and shovel'ing them in chipped clay pots, digging, sifting, slinging, dumping, scooping, throwing, flinging, humping, digging holes in all my plans, carting off ideas in cans, turning cartwheels, tumbling, flipping, climbing, falling, sticking, slipping! Those pesky little brain-mite bugs are making me FRANTIC! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Yui-chan Posted December 14, 2003 Author Report Share Posted December 14, 2003 {Transfered from the freewrites thread in order to consolidate poems.} Arrow Fly to the end of a runaway world where the sky burns in such sweet shades of bright azure and gold. Dance with the wind that is plummeting free from the cliff's face to fall so far to the cavernous deeps. Feel all the life to be discovered there on the razor edge where hearts beat hard to fight mercury time. Arc on your path to a ballistic end where you will bloom in a moment ripe with exquisite death. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
DarkPainInside Posted December 14, 2003 Report Share Posted December 14, 2003 the last poem 'arrow' is very good and heart felt- what i feel, yet cannot express as beautifully as you. well done!! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dragonqueen Posted December 15, 2003 Report Share Posted December 15, 2003 Your style is wonderful. It seems to fit right in with the great poets of history. I love the language-- it has a bit of an archaic tinge. Seems like you should have been born in the Middle Ages? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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