Poetry

[Venus]

- little section where we place our poems and perhaps some favourites.

If you don't think it's a good idea, I'll delete this thread.

[WilliamMckeehan]

no thats a great idea i like a lot of the poems posted here

i just dont have any poems :D

[scameter]

:) I think it's a good idea; here are all of my own. :) :

Mine
The lighting of poetry is not in the
sole of the word, but in the heart of
Olympus! Oh mighty, give to me the will to
do well and be blanketed by your presence
and shielded be the fruit of the womb. And
song will abruptly break through to the
heavens aloft. Oh, how does thee say "Oh
mighty, oh mighty, give to me the height of
the towers and dazzled brights of Amon."
Does thou not seem, in my state of
perfection? And the covenant will break
through to head and hard hearts. Oh harken
to thee. My mind is still and clear, be
real, my dear, and feel the chill of life.
For oh so bitter its frosts, but harvesting
is its savoring throat of sung heroes. To
thee, I give mine, and mine only to give.
For I come upon you before the light of
harkening, and bring forth what is mine,
mine to give, and to receive. Mine.

The Blue Ridge Mountains
Beauty cascades off the sheers,
Gold spears striking high,
Blue silouhettes rim the horizon,
And I stand head to the high Breathing in the very sky.
Air crisp as the stars themselves
Running through my lungs aloud
Like a river down a fresh mountain pass, and I feel it.
Oh mighty does my heart conclude,
In the starry night and misty dew,
Of the mountains blue and mighty too.

Be more
Clocks drooping,
Hallows whooing.
Tears tearing,
screams breaking.
Thoughts meander,
Eyes shadder.
In the road to truth
Lies only darkness.
Hopes fly,
Dreams die!
Gotta do more,
GOTTA BE MORE!

Just Be who you are.
Red rivers flowing from my dreams
Initializing my heart for the day.
Interesting horizons lay ahead
And it is my job to explore them.
Let go, of the lies, that will tear you to
Pieces!
Realize, recognize, you are who you are!
Never give up, do not give in!
Remain who you are!
Life will progress!
Even in Darkness!
Never forget who you are!
Do not procrastinate!
Achieve your dreams!
Reach your soul!
And grasp it in your hands.
You are, who you are
Not what those around you
Want you to be.
Just BE.

:)

[Smurf]

Very Tao Scam! :thumbsup:

be just that is what is you
whoever you are is you
that which others
is not you
asking
you
to
be

like it? i like the whole slope effect :D

[Venus]

Scameter, be very careful with you poetry... Now I'm jealous... :cry: *mumbles Ihateyou!*
Nice shape Snurf. And quite true. :D

I have a key-hole shaped one about pollution- I called it:
America’s ignorance.

As time fades,
The world corrupts,
Its vitality concaves,
Disasters erupt.

As beauty dies,
Evil penetrates,
The darkening skies,
That, we can all congregate.

It doesn't come out correctly on here... lol.

One word, one state of mind,
One addiction or obsession,
Could inspire our kind,

And everything would be our possession. Lol....

[MidnightSun]

I vail my arms
Too much broken hearts
I vail my hands
In those dusty sands

Dieing God cries
Tells me to rise
Whispering sound
Lifts me from ground
To do it for crowd

Light
Inspires to fight
For the ones in my sight

My sword starts to shake
We’re no longer bait
I strike as a snake
With refulgent faith

I die
For those who will try

[Venus]

:o Oh...William Blake... :o :lol:

I really like your poem MidnightSun! Are you a Christain?

[MidnightSun]

Thank you dearly :) Oh i dont know..maybe i would count myself as a buddhist..not sure..but I guess not a christian.

[MidnightSun]

Oh can i ask what made u think im a christian? :)

[Venus]

The poem. It reminds me of Jesus' death. Something from a spectators point of view.

[MidnightSun]

Oh ic.

[Venus]

I'm sorry about that.

What do you think of this?

The widow in the field.
In the barren winter’s field,
Is a person that can never be healed,
Now a person of forgotten grace,
A person of sorrow behind her lifeless face.

On the cold, windy shore,
Is a person, who wants nothing more-
Than to see her husband once again,
But now she is in eternal pain.

[MidnightSun]

Pretty good :)

[Venus]

I was making fun of my poetry you know. :D

[scameter]

Wow this is all very wonderful my friends, you're all so artistic :) And, they're not that good Venus, if at all, my poems I mean. Yours are much better. :)

[Venus]

:hug: awww.... even the one I took the mikey out of? Lol... :lol:

[Smurf]

ok here goes ...

now i see the midnight
the great powers of fabric
bouncing? perhaps fleeing?

the more I see the less I take
the less I believe the more I fake
now I love for this I crave

More perhaps less?
keep the now, throw the going?
close the door, again I go

Down this winter's snowy path
towards the end of the street
It does not end .

hmm that was different too. must say that these poem i write are completely spontaneous, they sort of come and I have to get them, but I mustn't ponder or change them. Tempted though I may be! :D

[Venus]

Very good! Did the words just came tumbling out did they?
I have an amusing/depressing one that I just wrote with out thinking... lol...
God knows why or how I composed it...

[MidnightSun]

You connect to the greater inteligience ,information web of the universe and u write without thinking about it, coz ur just doing the action, but somel other does all the work for u. Maybe its thoughts of a man, maybe something that the dead wants to say or just some information from that web u type and so on.. You know i used to draw ancient carvings...

I cant remeber how this is called ,but..i think u got the point.

[scameter]

lol Venus *blush* Even that one. :D

And, that's excellent smurf. More of your creativity and artistry. :)

And, to reply to midnight, it sounds like wu wei except in wu wei, no person or motive or thing is driving you for any particular purpose.

[Smurf]

Did the words just came tumbling out did they?

yep :lol:

funny laughter
fills my soul
as I watch the
people crawl

towards their
god of all

perhaps I don't know?
but here I do

about the ones

of in our dreams?

... :D

[scameter]

On and on we go and die
To the heavens we lie and cry
Tilt the earth and all will fall
From their craddles, heartless cry
Devils day, devils die
Come to watch us wail and cry
Down, down, down we fly
Unto the depths of shatterless night
Forever care and deathly door
Due to follow our courtly lord
Tumbling down, tied and tangled
Forever lost within the tangle

[scameter]

B)

[Smurf]

more that i want
less that i need
this is the life
that will be for real :D

prove I am right
guess I am wrong
know I am living
understand ... nothing

realising my dreams
crush my intentions
hoping my hopes
reap my corrections?

listen me here
make more than you
for life is free
as is my love

I see your smile
and mirrors reflect
for you have no fear
and never neglect

I can't end this poem
it's hard to do
but hear my words
and .... the end! :D

left you in suspense there hey? lol :lol:

[scameter]

:thumbsup: :D

[Smurf]

I must ask my, friends, are my poems easy to read? cause I never really look over them that much... :D

[Venus]

They are beautiful. Scameter should be careful when he shows his poetry to any female students... lol...

Smurf: I really like that last verse... I really like your poetry. I don't know why but it reminds of one of Blake's poems...

I'm so rusty with my poetry but here's a er... an unortherdox one:
Untitled
A cursed, cadaverous corpse- a shell,
A tangible form of hell,
An ethereal air of macabre contemplation;
Of evil motivation.

The singed, blackened façade enlightens,
But paradoxically frightens,
All know of its existence,
Its ghastly, incessant consistence.

It corrupts all sublimity of all that are bound
It tortures, it hounds,
Nobody knows if it does truly exist
And nobody knows if anybody could resist.

It curses, it corrupts;
Subsequently disasters erupt,
An incredible force beyond comprehension,
Making all bound irritable with tension.

[Smurf]

oooh nice, what is it about? the subject the thing that corrupts? hatred? nothingness? :unsure:

[MidnightSun]

I tried to flee
I tried to hide
I couldn’t fight
The world seems right
I am in love with you tonight

The moon looks so bright in the sky
I feel my soul can fly
There is no one better to find
I am jumping off my mind

I would sacrifice myself
Would you do me a favor
God I need your help
Her passion is my flavor

Does it sounds crazy enough for you?
I am jumping off my mind, so true

No more fear have left
You love me, now I see it bright
It’s our night, that’s right
When you’re touching me I hold my breath
Your love is all I want to get.


Sorry for grammar.... Tell what u think.

Sry ,but i posted it here too...

[scameter]

Wow, I absolutely love it midnight. Did you write it from no-mind or from preparation? Either way, it's very good and passionate. :)

[scameter]

:)

[Smurf]

Now I lie
happy and gone
my life full of nothing
pristine and pure
I am at peace
I am glad


Although I don't actually know it of course :D

[MidnightSun]

I wrote it while i was thinking of a girl :)

[scameter]

I wrote my best one, "Mine", after returning home from the best time of my life, a vacation to the perfectionate Cades Cove of Tennessee. I, there, observed nature in some of it's purest environments, and especially in one instance witnessed an entirely natural setting, which has essentially caught my soul in a chamber of love of the wildness of nature, as did the entirety of the trip. :) Which is why I enjoy science so much.

[Smurf]

nice, yeah that's right you went to the "perfect" natural spot near a river in the trees? sounds nice :thumbsup:

[scameter]

Yep. :)

[MidnightSun]

Enjoy this one first of all..


Myth of a hero

Kan-Kerai
The creature of pure darkness
Kan-Kerai
Evil which will destroy all the brightness

Kan-Kerai
Slaver of all races
Kan-Kerai
It won’t calm down till it rips everyone’s faces

It will arise as arch angels will fall
But the hope will remain afterall

A knight shall stand
To fight for promised land

“I shall reborn as a phoenix on wings of fire
Freedom is my ultimate desire”

[scameter]

Oh, sorry. Here's the one that I received via the vacation's inspiration:

Mine
The lighting of poetry is not in the
sole of the word, but in the heart of
Olympus! Oh mighty, give to me the will to
do well and be blanketed by your presence
and shielded be the fruit of the womb. And
song will abruptly break through to the
heavens aloft. Oh, how does thee say "Oh
mighty, oh mighty, give to me the height of
the towers and dazzled brights of Amon."
Does thou not seem, in my state of
perfection? And the covenant will break
through to head and hard hearts. Oh harken
to thee. My mind is still and clear, be
real, my dear, and feel the chill of life.
For oh so bitter its frosts, but harvesting
is its savoring throat of sung heroes. To
thee, I give mine, and mine only to give.
For I come upon you before the light of
harkening, and bring forth what is mine,
mine to give, and to receive. Mine.

:)

[scameter]

:)

[Smurf]

A Cathedral? :)

[Smurf]

ahh a cathedral, built like one, beautiful but solid. graceful but a bastion :)

[Smurf]

yes I have seen many great cathedrals in Europe beautiful architechture

[scameter]

My personal favorite architecture is Renaissance architecture in which architects used natural mathematical symmetry and pleasantness to the eye to construct their beautiful creations. :)

[Smurf]

yes i agree, but there is much great gothic architechture out there too? they used symmetry aswell

[scameter]

Most definitely. I like that style too; but I specifically meant that style of architecture favoured by Italian architects in the Renaissance era. :)

[Smurf]

yes when the idea was fresh and had so many people fuelling it no?

[scameter]

Right. :) Although, much of the Renaissance knowledge came from their new attempt to read and understand ancient Greek knowledge, which resulted in many changes in many, if not all, fields of practice and learning. Even the Catholics viewed Greek philosophy and thought as imperative. :)

[Smurf]

wow you don't see that very often do you? :D

and in Blackadder, Baldrick missed the Renaissance lol :lol:

[scameter]

You're right, and me too. :)

[Smurf]

I think you could call that the "ee" poem :P

Very nice though

[Proteus]

...and in heaven
the angels cry
as the demons
laugh in hell
at the folly
of my question why
and how i fell...

[scameter]

Demons come
Demons die
Writhe in sky
Oh how they fly!
Dusk to day
Night to light
Are you there?
Fair and bright
Angels come
Angels die
Writhe in night
Oh how they fight!
Day to dusk
Light to night
You are there?
Dark and fright
:)

[Smurf]

Irony?

how funny it is that we see
but not understand
the object that comes
does not often stand

the defences that mind
port the reason
shower the belief
with fire and brimstone

open your eyes
need no catalyst
understand and see all
usually happens when pissed!

:lol: :lol: :lol:



<_<

[Smurf]

lol you really are pretty silly today Psyche :P

[scameter]

Why not IT? Why is gender characterization/categorization necessary? Because we require it to understand it, with our arrogance preventing us from saying "I cannot understand God's physical being, if it perhaps exists"?

[Kether]

Drinking deep the sky,
Breathing living bathing in the light
Shaftswavesplains
Of golden ecstacy…
Eating, rolling the rain on the tip of the tongue

Eat the sun
Suck the warm gold yolk of the sky-pyre.
Round soft moonfig
Burst your lyrical luminous innards on the musty shadows of the desertmouth.
SilversSliversSlither
Across the dewy night-time grass.

Clouds rolling
Broiling
Roiling
Black and white and grey
And Gold
As the day
Turns old.
Rain.
Mist rising wistful wisps upon the the surface of the plain…

[Smurf]

Scam needs to calm down a bit i think :P

Very nice Kether, did you write that youself? :unsure:

[scameter]

I am calm, actually. And even if it were a joke psyche, let me inquire your opinion: do you think if there indeed is a one, supreme God as is described in such religions as Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, that it is of a gender, or not? And if so, which one? :)

[scameter]

I agree. Which makes it all the more beautiful. :)

[Kether]

Thank you, Psyche. :)

[locomotive]

smoke weed till I die,

I get by by the wonder
of seeing the sun go under but never die
I fly when I'm high
cry when I lay down
with a frown from the chronic
it's a tonic
African drums are a token for the tokin'
as I ride on the eyes and the body of someone unknown
In a deserted city
I recognize my own
the chronic
chronic is who I am and yet it's not me
and so I see
the beach in the desert and leave that which was known
but not me
so I die but never cry
to be born again like the sun
"I" am the wonder.

jeej a place for my poem. I only have one though.

[Smurf]

beauty knows no bounds, 1, 2 10 or infinite doesn't matter :P

[scameter]

Even to that which isn't often considered beautiful, like a cess pool?

[Smurf]

That is beautiful to someone yes :P such as the shoveller who grows fond of his cess pool (god I can't believe i'm saying this :lol:)

[scameter]

"Beauty" is subjective.

[Smurf]

So is recognising flower scent, tasting food

[scameter]

Actually, the mechanism it's self isn't; only the product. Nearly all things alive do those things, but not all feel the product exactly.

[Smurf]

yeah I know that, I was just stating some more examples of taste...

[locomotive]

beauty is linked to emotion.

[Smurf]

Yes Beauty stimulates the mind into changing emotions.

[locomotive]

I meant what we see as beauty is emotions connected with thought.

[Smurf]

interesting ... ok,

but emotions are output not judges

[locomotive]

We are the judges.
see it as a construction where the sight of a bird means freedom, freedom means the feeling of relaxed muscles, relaxed muscles means laughing, laughing means contracting certain muscles so nerves are stimulated that give a buzz that you call pleasure. This pleasure is the result of the bird and thus it is beautifull. All of these things are illusions because obviously you control these things. You have learned these things. You have picked up that there is a thing such as laughing and through society you have made the connection between laughing and jokes. You favour this because of something else and call it up evertime the situation happens.
Now you can argue about the things I said. Let me tell you that the body has points that can activate joy. You can activate another part of the brain using a certain posture. When some points are hit you die. Hyperventilation causes the blood to become oxidised and I alkinine. It is accompanied with the feeling of cold and moving energy when used in the sense of chi.
Seeing the body as something in nature you could say that the use for emotions is needed. Pain has to cause the animal to retreat and fight. Certainly the whole body is designed and shaped to perform a purpose in nature.
Animals have a more simple live and there behaviour is shaped because of more simple circumstances. Humans live in a pool full of information and things like imagination and emotions are already such a struggle to discern.
hehe

[Smurf]

But Emotion is the product, do you not see something you like then be happy about it, if not then...

someone tells a joke and then you laugh, not the other way around.

and I know we are the judges, just that our emotions are not. pain is not an emotion it is a feeling.

your emotions are not you

[scameter]

Then what we think of that stimulates our emotions into considering it art is actually art?

[Smurf]

Yes!

[locomotive]

The whole point of the story is that if all of these things are subjective then it cannot be the "product" as you imply.
if pain is only a feeling what do you call fear?

[Smurf]

Fear is a feeling too,

you feel fear when faced with danger.

[locomotive]

but I see it as feeling in fact pains caused by muscles.

[Smurf]

fear, pain caused by muscles....
anxiety etc.

then is not everything we do Biochemically engineered to do so?

[scameter]

I personally think that fear and beauty and art are subjective reflections from our unconscious to reality, and are then re-received by our consciousness, and are translated as art or beauty or fear, even if they are not so when sent from the unconscious.

[MidnightSun]

Bright as morning sun
Javelin which cleaves the skies
Unbelievable pure fun
Rabid love which flies
Gal who spins my minds

Bye my lover
Joy we felt together that I’ll never forget
Orevuar my light, my goddess and the heat of summer
Run with the wind, I haven’t forgot u yet
Goodbye

[Smurf]

Bjurg Bjorg?

[scameter]

That's very beautiful midnight. And I could be wrong smurf, but he may not have meant for the emboldened words to be in their own phrase. :D

[Smurf]

yeah... :P

but he is close to Scandinavia? :unsure:

[MidnightSun]

Bjorg/Bjurg is a girl from Denmark... The first poem was written 6 months ago when she was with me and the second one was written a few days when she left me...Im having depression, just wanted to share my thoughts with u.

[locomotive]

psyche's neck,

golden curtains ride the wind
that shows me space before unseen
open it invites a touch,
will it scream if aproached to much?
drawing nearer it starts to speak;
excites my heart, I need to part,
this pounding is so wrong.

I feel the space, I see the touch
it draws so close I start to fear her
peace is great but not much fun
and so I let her nearer.

[scameter]

Hmm..I know how that feels midnight. The poem was beautiful. :)

[Smurf]

Bjorg/Bjurg is a girl from Denmark... The first poem was written 6 months ago when she was with me and the second one was written a few days when she left me...Im having depression, just wanted to share my thoughts with u.


That is very sad Midnight... I have depression too, if that helps? :(

[locomotive]

to much love is a drug, you need to re-habilitate

[Kether]

The part about the golden curtains was particularly beautiful: I felt that it reinforced the idea of the object of desire being distant, cloaked. Wonderful poem, wonderful imagery, very effective. :)

[Kether]

Parched sun beating dull
Light thumping
Lead blanket
Dry bricks baking bathing
Dead dullness
Pale brown day

Cracked black tarmac
Shrivelled squirming no defence
Pinned down
Dead burning burnished gong
Pummels wounded ground

Thick dust carpet
Sun-slashed soil
Stranded cardboard carcasses
Urban jetsam,
Fly-devoured

[Kether]

Dewy grass
Green ripe damp expectation
Bursting dew cold awakening
Bare stale skin treads
Deep soft virgin dampness grass yielding
Moist morning
Crisp expectation lavish on night-dulled flesh
Awaken dazzle joy of morning beauty
Cool the skin
Stir the mind

[Kether]

Raindrop
Revel in the single droplet
Mystic skin unfathomable
Clings to all, defies expectation.

Moving mountains
Carving gouges in the implacable earth
Picking at the rock
Incessant,
Labours as one, many, few,
Fluid self -
All self,
Or none?


City rain
Slashing sheets cool the flesh
Tear sensation from its warmed indoor dullness
Drive the mind from complacent warmness
With raw ice-spears

City minds alone as liquid walls
Enclose them,
Driven withing the dank confines of hoods and hats
And futile rubber shields,
Plunging them within themselves,
Within their ruminations.

[locomotive]

thank you all. the second part is actually psyche touching me :smoke:

great discriptions kether. I think if you observe yourself in environments all the time you will fill a book. hehe

[Kether]

I find that the poetic description of the physical environment leads to a kind of free association. I wonder if any psychological studies have been made relating to this?

[locomotive]

I'm high on love.

Well I don't think you need a psychological study to know that people bring up feelings and visions when trying to "hear" the poem.

[Kether]

Oh, absolutely. I was just wondering if any psychologists had looked at the subject in depth.
Poetry can also be very exciting and therapeutic for the one writing it, provided that they use a very free-flowing style, as I do.

[Smurf]

Much to know and little time
should we try and fail?
or not try at all?

I see all around me
happy and content
but looking closer
there's but naught

I see now nothing
holes of despair
rain falling like tears

pointless

senseless

life

:knockout:

[MidnightSun]

Dark Minds

Sadness pain depression tear
Loneliness distraction fear
The whole world isn’t fair
I can’t see my trouble clear.

My brain is a darkness lair
But no one seems to care
Those evil chains I wear…
I will suicide, I swear.

Nights shadows misfortune
I can’t take the torture
Nights shadow unluck
This life is much too tough

[Smurf]

Hmmm nice poem Midnight, you write it?

[MidnightSun]

Yes, a few days ago.

[Smurf]

Hmmm

did you like mine aswell?

[MidnightSun]

Yes its nice, same sad as mine.

[Smurf]

*sighs*

yeah... -_-

alone, empty, sad
here by now
is anyone there?
hear my call?

my void speaks
I cannot hear
my mind is dying

so alone
so cold

h
e
l
p

.
.
.

[locomotive]

thank you.

green spleen
yellow heart.
purple feelings
seal my fart.
red eyes
cool down
blue-ish actions,
brown contractions
part.

[Smurf]

ooohh



kiss on cheek





warm hug


:cheers: cheers mate...


though still :reallysad:

[MidnightSun]

Nice locomotive, u too smurfy.

[MidnightSun]

Wanted to ask u all..what do u think about my poetry?

[locomotive]

Hmm I can't relate to it.

[Smurf]

Wanted to ask u all..what do u think about my poetry?

I can relate to it, it is beautiful. anything that comes directly from the soul is pure, raw and awe-inspiring. :)

[Smurf]

I am here
no one there

split as a forked stream
running ideas at
breakneck speed

too fast to handle
bottle-neck
collapse

...

Am I still here?
when will this torment end
When will you finish playing
with my soul

how long does it take
what will it take
why?

why?

why?

must you fill your desires?
then unleash them
as a pack of blood-thirsty
hounds onto my soul?

I am running through the
wilderness
I am alone in the Woods
The trees all forboding

Towering, they block out the
sun's rays
no warmth here
just freezing
chilling
cold
to
the
soul
of your
desires

[scameter]

I am actually currently composing a Gothic-style poem, I would be curious to hear your comments on it :) :

In the late days of the kingdom of Wales, the dead arise from the past
The castle of doom lays unbidden
Awaiting it's former formal's return.
The dying souls of those addressed
Fall through the trapdoors below
The dark, dank underlands
Froth with peril.
The hearts of the dead
Rot from within
And without
With the dreaded climes
Of their heirs' deeds.
The songs of old
Lays dead with the wrights
Their tunes forever doomed
To linger amongst the stars.
To remind themselves
Of the legacy of their fathers
The heirs of the dead remain
Unscathed by time
Yet untouched by life
Their flesh a shadow
Of the light without.
The lights of the old
Lie wreathed in flame
Their piercing dews
Striving for night;
And yet,
The light of the young
Remains unscathed by time
Yet untouched by life
Their lives shadows
Of the light within.
The doom of the heirs
Lies in their withouts
Their lights dying
As their shadows persist,
Their eyes blinded
To the light around
By the shadow they are.
Creased stares
Pierced brows
Day and night
Blur abound.
The gods cry
While the suns die
And the wounds writhe
In pain.
The screams of the dead
Permeate the cold
The screams of the dead,
Reminiscient of their mistakes,
Destroy the hearts
Of hopeful youths.
The lies of the gods
And the honesty of the demons
Remind us dearly
Of the threats merely
Described today,
Employed tomorrow,
And yesterday removed.
Their swords drawn like heavenly wine
Their smiles crease the eve
The sounds of their march abound throughout
And the mystic grin at their betrayel
Repay their pride.
The days have gone down in the present
Behind the hills
Into shadow.
A new day will come, says the young fellow,
As the shadow rides and dies.
The dead turn in their graves,
Life retaking them,
Making available again
Their treachery.
:)

[Moonchild]

Wow! :o that's awesome! scameter, guess you're really inspired to make a lot of poetry... you have quite a talent.

[MidnightSun]

everything is ok cept that it should rime.

[Moonchild]

well not all poetry has rhyming words at the end. HAIKU is an example of poetry but it doesnt need to rhyme.

[scameter]

Wow, thanks. :) And, she's right midnight; my particularly style of poetry in this poem is that of Old English metre and the English Midlands Gothic and Romantic style, similar to that of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. I do hope to continue it eloquently. :)

[Smurf]

HAIKU

ooh the five lined ones??

Yeah my poetry doesn't rhyme, I like non-rhyming poetry, shows it comes from the soul and that half the words are just because you have to find some rhyming words ya know? :P
:cheers:

:)

[scameter]

Yep, that you write them not to compose something explicitly beautiful, but rather to construct something lingual with the paint brushes of your soul, and if indeed it does ryme or is epical or whatever else, so be it; that is the follow-suit of such a true, pure poem. Plus, I just like that form of Old English poetry, specifically that of the English Midlands, and to which derives a poem written around the 14th century and was translated by J. R. R. Tolkien, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Pearl, and Sir Ofeo. :)

[Smurf]

Talking of times past that never were...

[scameter]

We cannot be certain any time is truly "there" for one, and for two, indeed that time was and will always be "there", because it is within us, in our souls as human beings; apart of our emotions and our psyche alike.

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, 'O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless--of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?' Answer. That you are here--that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?"

:)

[Smurf]

The crimson skies
speak words of
my tears of despair

how long must I wait?
until the cold dark embraces
my crumbled dying consciousness

fearlessness understanding
my enemy of time
does but nought help me

I lie at night
the reprocussions of life
seep into what remains of my mind

Only when there remains no beat
to fuel my intentions, I lie, and enter

the dark

[MidnightSun]

well not all poetry has rhyming words at the end. HAIKU is an example of poetry but it doesnt need to rhyme.

Just wanted to rate it as an expert..u know..be critical etc...

[scameter]

That I have psyche, and so indeed is illustrated both my love and appreciation of it. And I'm sorry to disagree with Mr Eliot, but I must; how can something expressive of emotion and passion be an escape from emotion (something impossible to occur if one is indeed a human, or a mammal for that matter)?

[locomotive]

it's similair to noting something with your mind and then it is gone

[scameter]

I agree psyche. :)

[scameter]

I have certainly made a new contribution to my Gothic poem, and I would feel honoured to both post it here and to act as a reception to your comments on the continuation. I feel, also, responsible to post the entirety of the poem with it's recently-added continuation of that which was previously posted for the convenience of the reader. :)

In the late days of the kingdom of Wales, the dead arise from the past
The castle of doom lays unbidden
Awaiting it's former formal's return.
The dying souls of those addressed
Fall through the trapdoors below
The dark, dank underlands
Froth with peril.
The hearts of the dead
Rot from within
And without
With the dreaded climes
Of their heirs' deeds.
The songs of old
Lays dead with the wrights
Their tunes forever doomed
To linger amongst the stars.
To remind themselves
Of the legacy of their fathers
The heirs of the dead remain
Unscathed by time
Yet untouched by life
Their flesh a shadow
Of the light without.
The lights of the old
Lie wreathed in flame
Their piercing dews
Striving for night;
And yet,
The light of the young
Remains unscathed by time
Yet untouched by life
Their lives shadows
Of the light within.
The doom of the heirs
Lies in their withouts
Their lights dying
As their shadows persist,
Their eyes blinded
To the light around
By the shadow they are.
Creased stares
Pierced brows
Day and night
Blur abound.
The gods cry
While the suns die
And the wounds writhe
In pain.
The screams of the dead
Permeate the cold
The screams of the dead,
Reminiscient of their mistakes,
Destroy the hearts
Of hopeful youths.
The lies of the gods
And the honesty of the demons
Remind us dearly
Of the threats merely
Described today,
Employed tomorrow,
And yesterday removed.
Their swords drawn like heavenly wine
Their smiles crease the eve
The sounds of their march abound throughout
And the mystic grin at their betrayel
Repay their pride.
The days have gone down in the present
Behind the hills
Into shadow.
A new day will come, says the young fellow,
As the shadow rides and dies.
The dead turn in their graves,
Life retaking them,
Making available again
Their treachery.

The true door to life
Remains within the confines
Of the child's mind.
The dead recoil in this fact
As do the old
Because they fear their own demise
Oh so arrogantly.
The mind of the child
Is as an empty vessel
Detached to existence
Yet infused with life
Ever a repository to the intertwination
Of life's aspectual tendrils.
The subtle detachment of the child's mind
Evolves it through the fear
And the arrogance
Of the mind of the dead, and of the old;
It's lingering form derives
Not in the dust of the foul
But in the heart of the light,
And in the soul of the fool.
:)

[Smurf]

Awaiting it's former formal's return.

hmm ok explain the "former formal"?

Froth with peril.

nice images :D

The hearts of the dead
Rot from within
And without
With the dreaded climes
Of their heirs' deeds.

yes good ...

rest is awesome, full of meaning and brilliant language!
:thumbsup:

The subtle detachment of the child's mind
Evolves it through the fear
And the arrogance
Of the mind of the dead, and of the old;

Tao? :unsure:

[scameter]

Something about poetry is that sometimes, however less frequently of the modern logical mind, things within it cannot be explained; in the Tao Te Ching, is says that a poet cannot be a poet if he/she thinks about it, and I agree entirely with this. Poetry is intuitional, instinctual. And yes, it is somewhat similar to the Tao, but I did not make it specifically for that. :)

[Kether]

Freud said something very similar about the Id: the normal rules of space and time do not apply, and contradictions can easily exist within the same mind.
Your poem is excellent. I too love the Old English metre of poems like Beowulf, but I see little resemblance to it in your creation. Still, your style is attractive and well executed, and some poignant themes - the way the mistakes of the past enslave the present - are explored.
By the way, Wales isn't that scary... :lol:

[Smurf]

Something about poetry is that sometimes, however less frequently of the modern logical mind, things within it cannot be explained; in the Tao Te Ching, is says that a poet cannot be a poet if he/she thinks about it, and I agree entirely with this. Poetry is intuitional, instinctual. And yes, it is somewhat similar to the Tao, but I did not make it specifically for that.

understand completely, that to think about doing something would crush the actual doing of it, that you are in fact "trying" and not doing? :P

[scameter]

Freud said something very similar about the Id: the normal rules of space and time do not apply, and contradictions can easily exist within the same mind.

What do you mean by "Id"?

Your poem is excellent. I too love the Old English metre of poems like Beowulf, but I see little resemblance to it in your creation. Still, your style is attractive and well executed, and some poignant themes - the way the mistakes of the past enslave the present - are explored.
By the way, Wales isn't that scary...

:D Thanks my friend. Even if it didn't quite have the exact resemblance to the Old English style of poetic metre, I did attempt to replicate the Gothic style and the non-rhyming style of poetry expressed in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Pearl and Sir Ofeo; I very much like both the poetic style and culture of Old English, and find it extremely unfortunate how that wonderful culture was both diminshed by the Romans and essentially corrupted later by the French/Normans; I know most people would disagree, saying that Rome and the French are actually better, and that they have simply enriched our English culture, but I personally think it is unfortunate how that beautiful culture, full of potential and being inherently English, has been corrupted. And I know Wales isn't that scary; well, I've never actually been to it unfortunately, but I'm sure it isn't. However, as with many other poems, mine is very metaphorical and somewhat mythological, combined with it's Gothicism. :)

understand completely, that to think about doing something would crush the actual doing of it, that you are in fact "trying" and not doing?

How so? So, essentially, you are saying that thoughtfully preparing and contemplating on doing something eliminates the actual doing or non-doing of it, and labels it simply as trying? I disagree; mental preparation does not always certify the actual application of one's goal for a task. It is merely the natural human method of certifying ourselves for the physical goal/task with mental assuration. :)

[Smurf]

have you ever done anything and not thought about it? such as riding a bicycle...
If you have read the Tao of Pooh and the Te of Piglet, Banjamin Hoff interprets a part of Taoism: If you do something, such as run 100 metres you're fine and could do a good time... but when the pressure of, say, a competition comes along you tend to actually look at what you're doing and the technique that you apply to your run, and this can make you stuff up?

also:

poet cannot be a poet if he/she thinks about it

and I agree entirely with this

i think the same principle as labelled before? :unsure:

[Kether]

What do you mean by "Id"?
Freud's 'id' is one of the three divisions of the psyche, according to him. It is the part that is completely unconscious and beyond the control of the conscious ego, except through therapy - it differs in this respect from the 'preconscious', which consists of memories that are easily accessed by the ego.

The Anglo-Saxon culture was n0t corrupted by Rome: in fact, it came to Roman Britain as a conquering force. But yes, the culture of the Norman invaders was assimilated into that of the Saxons.
Saxon culture doesn't seem very much better than the one that replaced it. Both were rather grim.

[scameter]

Are you talking to me smurf?

The Anglo-Saxon culture was n0t corrupted by Rome: in fact, it came to Roman Britain as a conquering force. But yes, the culture of the Norman invaders was assimilated into that of the Saxons.
Saxon culture doesn't seem very much better than the one that replaced it. Both were rather grim.

The Celts came to Rome as a conquering force, but there were people in England before the Romans, and the Romans both conquered and influenced the native English people when they decided to invade. And I'm not saying Anglo-Saxong culture was good, nor am I saying that's the culture I speak of; I mean both the Anglo-Saxons and their predecessors in England, the Brits, to which I am not claiming were "good", merely that they were the extent of true English culture, before the taint of the Romans, then finally the abolishing force of the Normans.

being by nature a thinker my most difficult hurdle in music was to not try to think it....my inate musicality is hampered by my philosophical mind....you can think about it and you can think around it but when it comes to singing....in that moment you can't think it....

That's true.

"never take a course where they make you read beowulf"....woody allen

In a way, I agree; Beowulf shouldn't be forced, just as it should not be ignored, seen as primitive or seen as outdated.

[Smurf]

Are you talking to me smurf?

yes :lol:

and Don't worry I know that you have read those books,
just forget that part, it was a technique

ok you said this right?

So, essentially, you are saying that thoughtfully preparing and contemplating on doing something eliminates the actual doing or non-doing of it, and labels it simply as trying?

and this:

in the Tao Te Ching, is says that a poet cannot be a poet if he/she thinks about it, and I agree entirely with this

explain the contradiction please? :unsure:

[scameter]

explain the contradiction please?

What contradiction? :think:

[Smurf]

you said that to be a poet you mustn't think about it right?

in the Tao Te Ching, is says that a poet cannot be a poet if he/she thinks about it, and I agree entirely with this

so you disagreed with this though?

So, essentially, you are saying that thoughtfully preparing and contemplating on doing something eliminates the actual doing or non-doing of it, and labels it simply as trying?

read them carefully ...

[scameter]

:think: What? I'm sorry, I just don't see any contradiction. The Tao Te Ching said that a poet who thinks about it isn't a true poet, and I agreed.

So, essentially, you are saying that thoughtfully preparing and contemplating on doing something eliminates the actual doing or non-doing of it, and labels it simply as trying?

That was my response to the post:

understand completely, that to think about doing something would crush the actual doing of it, that you are in fact "trying" and not doing?

What contradiction is there, and certainly what relation is there between the post about poetry and my response to that post above? :think:

[Smurf]

OH MY GOD! Scam...

right

you said that you can't be a "poet" if you think about it right?

please explain to me the differences to this post:

So, essentially, you are saying that thoughtfully preparing and contemplating on doing something eliminates the actual doing or non-doing of it, and labels it simply as trying?

which if you look back to you disagreed with the latter one but agreed with the former one. you contradicted your choices

[Kether]

Scameter,
The Celtic culture that existed in the British Isles before the Roman invasion was not the 'Old English' culture. It had little influence on the English language, social structure or art. The Romans invaded Celtic Britain and stamped out its culture in the occupied areas. Centuries later, the Empire crumbled, the legions withdrew, and Germanic tribes of Angles and Saxons came and settled from across the North Sea - they were the 'English', and it was their language that had the most influence on our own.
Eventually, other cultural influences including the Normans did indeed redefine the structure of society in the British Isles, and its art accordingly.

[scameter]

So, essentially, you are saying that thoughtfully preparing and contemplating on doing something eliminates the actual doing or non-doing of it, and labels it simply as trying?

This was a question, not a statement. I believe that thinking preparingly about something doesn't eliminate the doing of it; wu wei is doing without thought. It doesn't say that you cannot think and do; wu wei is simply both effortless and thoughtless. Trying is not a completion, and thus cannot be labeled as thought about, not thought about or done or not done.

The Celtic culture that existed in the British Isles before the Roman invasion was not the 'Old English' culture. It had little influence on the English language, social structure or art. The Romans invaded Celtic Britain and stamped out its culture in the occupied areas. Centuries later, the Empire crumbled, the legions withdrew, and Germanic tribes of Angles and Saxons came and settled from across the North Sea - they were the 'English', and it was their language that had the most influence on our own.
Eventually, other cultural influences including the Normans did indeed redefine the structure of society in the British Isles, and its art accordingly.

The Celtic culture that existed in the British Isles before the Roman invasion derived from the Celts in Gaul, who had moved to Ireland and Scotland, the Picts being in Scotland and the Scots in Ireland. Those of England were indeed English, especially before the Angles and the Saxons invaded England; but even afterwards, the original British culture survived into the Anglo-Saxon culture in England. The Romans and the Normans especially are the ones who influenced the English culture, and the Normans, calling English a peasant's language, only spoke French, and that forcement of French onto English bastardized English, making it increasingly more French. Some Viking and English language did survive in our own, fortunately, but much of it is French, especially in style.

[Smurf]

Oh BLOODY HEll I give up Scam I will let your stupid ego win this time

[scameter]

My stupid ego? How so? For one, how can an ego be stupid? And for two, you continued asking and asking the question and requesting an explanation, so I gave it.

[Kether]

That poem is utterly captivating, Psyche. I haven't heard it before - what's the title?

Those of England were indeed English, especially before the Angles and the Saxons invaded England; but even afterwards, the original British culture survived into the Anglo-Saxon culture in England.
I think it's a bad idea to call the Celts who lived in what is now England 'English', as the word 'English' refers to the Anglo-Saxon invaders and is derived from their language. Moreover, the tribes that lived in areas of what is now England identified themselves only with their land, and not with 'England' as a whole; there was no division between England and Wales, for instance. The British Isles were separated into tribal lands, and not into larger territories.
The Celtic culture disappeared in what is now England, and had little or no influence on Anglo-Saxon society. I can think of no similarities between the Welsh and English languages.
Some Viking and English language did survive in our own, fortunately, but much of it is French, especially in style.
The English language is based predominantly on the old Anglo-Saxon, and is very similar.
Why do you say that it is 'fortunate' that Viking influences survive in our language? I thought that you were lamenting the loss of 'English' culture - why, then, are you pleased that the language was influenced by foreign invaders? And why do you dislike this, in the case of the French?
Anglo-Saxon was influenced by Norse, Archaic French, Latin, even Arabic, to create the English that we know today. This is how languages develop. This is how whole societies develop. Why is this bad?

[scameter]

Yes but I don't mean what you call the Celts that lived in England; I mean the tribe Brits, that lived in what is now England and were not, at least not primarily, Celtic or Anglo-Saxon. They were unique.

I can think of no similarities between the Welsh and English languages.

There are some, but that is mainly because for one, the Welsh tried as hard as they could to keep their culture alive and unique, and for two, because they're Celtic, and the Brits tribe was not, nor were the Anglo-Saxons.

The English language is based predominantly on the old Anglo-Saxon, and is very similar.

But was corrupted by French; not entirely, but especially.

Why do you say that it is 'fortunate' that Viking influences survive in our language? I thought that you were lamenting the loss of 'English' culture - why, then, are you pleased that the language was influenced by foreign invaders? And why do you dislike this, in the case of the French?

Because that the French weren't able to entirely destroy English culture, even if it had become Anglo-Saxon. I wish no lingual influences had affected our language or our culture, but it did; I would much rather the Brits more similar tribes of the Vikings and Celts affecting them however, than I would the French; who were yes Norman and were descended from the Vikings, but were different, and spoke French, not any of the languages spoken by the Viking tribes.

Anglo-Saxon was influenced by Norse, Archaic French, Latin, even Arabic, to create the English that we know today. This is how languages develop. This is how whole societies develop. Why is this bad?

Not every culture was so corrupted. Yes, every culture has both a mut language and culture, but not to the extreme degree English culture and language has. For instance, the Chinese are very much Chinese, and the Hebrews, even after not having a country for years, are still very much Jewish. Their cultures have of course been affected, such as with China with Japan and Mongolia and other nations, and with the Hebrews with the Greek language and with the various cultures they've lived in; but both are still very much unique. England and English, however, has been so affected by the different cultures and languages of the world that were a mut culture, especially America, and our language is simply bland. People say it is wonderful and articulate, but it is not English. It is essentially French with some Anglo-Saxon and other lingual influences, as is the same with English culture. I have no problem with the sharing of ideas and concepts between cultures, but that is done by choice; cultural and lingual influence, however, as was done by the Normans to the English, was not chosen. It was very much forced, and thus their culture and language has been forced to diminish.

[locomotive]

you can make poetry if you try. Even though you did not force anything because your actions lead to poetry you tried to make it and did. I cannot think of anything to be considered trying except muscle contractions or looking at something from an outside view. what that man meant with you cannot create poetry by thinking about making poetry is that it's one thing to dream about making poetry and another to be making it.

[Smurf]

My stupid ego? How so? For one, how can an ego be stupid? And for two, you continued asking and asking the question and requesting an explanation, so I gave it.


ahh you're really making me angry Scam ...

I said i give up you win okay you beat me I took the initiative you happy now?

[scameter]

Angry? Saying I have a stupid ego isn't exactly pleasing to me. But, it's fine. I suppose I shouldn't try to oppose or ever disagree with what you say, even if my doing so would by hyopcritical. I understand. :)

[Kether]

England and English, however, has been so affected by the different cultures and languages of the world that were a mut culture, especially America, and our language is simply bland.
Usually the fact that English culture has been a melting-pot is seen as positive. But really, why is it so bad that Anglo-Saxon culture was 'corrupted'?

[scameter]

Objectively, and as you say to the majority of people it isn't bad because it brings in a wealth of culture, intellectual views, and social and technological interaction, as well as economic progression. But, the reason I dislike, not think that it is bad, it, is because I love English culture, but the English culture I know only has the face of it's corrupters, not of it's original tribe. Essentially, I'm simply curious of how the Brits tribe was, before the Anglo-Saxon and especially the Roman and Norman invasions. I love English culture now, even though it isn't really purely English, just as I love Anglo-Saxon culture and language, and admire the French culture, although I'll admit it's not my favourite, and I think Rome was very interesting. I'm simply curious, just as I am curious of how the Gothic culture and language was, that is now entirely dead, especially it's language. :)

[Kether]

I love the sonnet, Psyche. The way in which the words are left hanging on the air, somehow unconcluded, is immensely effective.
Most of Roman culture was adapted from that of the Greeks, and many of the architectural forms are similar - though somewhat more gaudy, and with an emphasis on magnificence rather than perfection.
I'm simply curious, just as I am curious of how the Gothic culture and language was, that is now entirely dead, especially it's language. It is not entirely dead; it is just dead in England. Elsewhere in the British Isles, elements of it - especially the language - live on.

If you are interested in the Gothic language, I suggest omniglot.com, a written language site I have found extremely useful in the past, where there will no doubt be links to relevant sites.

[Kether]

Here, I've found a site:

Project Wulfila (http://www.wulfila.be/)

[scameter]

Most of Roman culture was adapted from that of the Greeks, and many of the architectural forms are similar - though somewhat more gaudy, and with an emphasis on magnificence rather than perfection.

Indeed.

It is not entirely dead; it is just dead in England. Elsewhere in the British Isles, elements of it - especially the language - live on.

By dead I don't mean in use, but as a language it's self.

If you are interested in the Gothic language, I suggest omniglot.com, a written language site I have found extremely useful in the past, where there will no doubt be links to relevant sites.

Ok, thanks my friend. :) As a note, I have been reading on wikipedia the history of England before the Roman and Angl0-Saxon invasions, and it is really interesting. I hope to read more of it in the future. :)

[Kether]

By dead I don't mean in use, but as a language it's self.
What do you mean? I thought that a 'dead language' was one that is not spoken by people as a language, but just on a scholarly basis.

[Smurf]

quite right Kether, it is still a language but it is not an "official" language of any society or culture it is in effect "dead"
doesn't mean that no-one anywhere doesn't speak it still. in scientific terms, quotes etc...

[scameter]

true but they did not have grace the greeks did...

Grace?

What do you mean? I thought that a 'dead language' was one that is not spoken by people as a language, but just on a scholarly basis.

Usually, but in the case of the Gothic language, it only, and barely, exists through it's influence on other languages; currently, it only exists in extremely small fragments, with no solidity. For some reason, it simply died as a known language.

[Kether]

Scameter,
I was not talking about the Gothic language, but the Celtic languages. Welsh stems directly from them, and is very much alive: as well as being spoken as an additional first language by many people, it is an official language alongside English in its home country.

[scameter]

grace as in graceful...not like spiritual grace...

Ok.

I was not talking about the Gothic language, but the Celtic languages. Welsh stems directly from them, and is very much alive: as well as being spoken as an additional first language by many people, it is an official language alongside English in its home country.

Oh. Then most definitely, Welsh still exists in practice, as does Gaelic; of course they have evolved, but are still very much unique. I was actually talking about Gothic. Sorry for the confusion my friend. :)

[Kether]

It was my fault: I didn't read your post carefully enough.

Gaelic is indeed still spoken by some people, but I used the example of Welsh as the latter is far more widely spoken.

[scameter]

Really? Hmm... I thought Gaelic was just as popular in Wales as Welsh, and that it is very popular in Scotland and in Ireland. Course, I don't know that with certainty.

[Kether]

The languages spoken in Wales are Welsh and English; Gaelic is not one of them. There are two forms of Gaelic: Scottish and Irish. English is of course spoken in these countries too.

The Gaelic languages are quite distinct from Welsh; I think that Welsh stems from the languages once spoken in what is now England, before the Roman invasion, and that Gaelic stems from the languages of the Picts and Scots. But this is speculative; no doubt a specialist in these languages could tell you differently.

I don't know which Celtic language group Breton stems from, or how widely spoken it is. It's been a long time since I last went to Brittany.

[scameter]

Hmm...so you think that perhaps Welsh stems from the tribes of England before they were invaded by the various peoples who did so? Interesting...

I don't know which Celtic language group Breton stems from, or how widely spoken it is. It's been a long time since I last went to Brittany.

Breton?

[Kether]

Breton is a Celtic language spoken in the North-West region of France known as Brittany.

[Kether]

A few weeks ago, I went on the most moving journey of my life. It was a visit to the battlefields and memorials of the First World War in Belgium and France - something between a pilgrimage and an educational visit, run by my School. After visiting the cemetery and memorial at Thiepval in the Somme, this poem, written by a visitor to the site many years ago, was read out. It is simple in form, but bears a terrible poignancy.

How do you do, young Willie McBride?
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside,
And rest for a while 'neath the warm Summer sun
I've been walking all day and I'm nearly done.
I see by your gravestone you were only 19,
When you joined the Great Fallen in 1916.
I hope you died well and I hope you died clean -
Or, young Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?

Did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind,
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined?
Although you died back in 1916,
In that faithful heart are you forever 19?
Or are you a stranger without even a name
Enclosed forever behind a glass pane
In an old photograph torn, battered and stained
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?

The sun, now it shines on the green fields of France,
There's a warm summer breeze makes the red poppies dance;
And lo' how the sun shines from under the clouds;
There's no gas, no barbed wire, there's no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard, it's still No Man's Land
The countless white crosses stand mute in the sand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man,
To a whole generation that was butchered and damned.

Ah, young Willie McBride, I can't help wondering why,
Do those who lie here know why did they die?
And did they believe when they answered the call
Did they really believe that this war would end wars?
Well the sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the pain,
The killing and dying were all done in vain.
For, young Willie McBride, it's all happened again
And again
And again
And again
And again...

[scameter]

Breton is a Celtic language spoken in the North-West region of France known as Brittany.

Hmm...well, if it is still spoken today, then it is obvious that Breton derives from when the Celts ruled what was then called Gaul, and thus somehow, Breton has remain uncorrupted by the surrounding languages, such as French. How is this possible? Are/were there a specific group of Celts that spoke Breton, and simply somehow managed to remain obscure and secure?

I have recently learned of a language and of a small group culture of people in northern Spain, called Basque, in the Basque Country. They are currently considered an autonomous group of people in Spain, and even in some patriots have wished for seperation from Spain into their own nation. I read that the Basque language is extremely difficult to learn. Of the philology of it, I am not certain; I am curious of what other language(s) it is similar to, if any, and from whence it derived, if from elsewhere, and indeed what the Basque Country people are like and how they have been and for how long. It is interesting, just as the Welsh are interesting, and it fascinates me deeply, as philology is one of my key interests; which is why I am currently taking the time to learn one of J.R.R. Tolkien's created languages, Quenya, a fascinating study especially when applied. I would also love to learn Welsh, Anglo-Saxon, Basque, and others someday. :)

Yes, the Somme...it was the blodiest battle of WW1, and an extremely tragic one. Such waste of life, so many people gone....Tolkien fought at that battle, too. Most of his friends from Oxford died, and when he returned to the college after being released because of attracting trench sickness, he said that the college had been made barren because of the mass losses in the war, and that it deeply affected how he viewed both humanity and life in general, and also influenced how he portrayed combat in his fantasy novels, as well as his hate of industry and modernism. Very sad... :(

[Smurf]

It was a visit to the battlefields and memorials of the First World War in Belgium and France

wow did you go to Iepers? They love Aussies there :D they celebrate ANZAC Day there too just like here, Belgium is an Awesome place hey? :thumbsup:

[Kether]

Yes, Smurf, I stayed in Ieper/Ypres. It's a beautiful town in its own right, though it's historical significance gives it a somewhat melancholy atmosphere. Have you been there too?
They probably identify with Australians because of the Australian troops fighting in the area.

Scameter,
The roots of the Basque language Euskara are notoriously hard to trace.
When the railways in Madrid were bombed, Basque nationalist groups were immediately scapegoated.

It is possible that Breton originally came from the British Isles. Bretagne is the other side of the channel from Cornwall, where a Celtic language was traditionally spoken.

Try this link:
yourdictionary.com/celtic (http://www.yourdictionary.com/languages/celtic.html)

[scameter]

The roots of the Basque language Euskara are notoriously hard to trace.

Indeed, which is why I find it so interesting. Something interesting about it I read is that they have found similarities between it and "Etruscan, African languages, Caucasian languages and so on. A connection with the Iberian language gave some hope, but it is unclear whether similarities are due to genetic relations or mere vicinity." (Quoted from wikipedia.) As well as "the North Caucasian, Sino-Tibetan, Yeniseian or Na-Dene" (again, wikipedia). But no one is entirely sure. It is very interesting, though. Perhaps it is one of the first languages, and because of it's similarity to languages both distant and close geographically, it could be one of the first languages. :)

It is possible that Breton originally came from the British Isles. Bretagne is the other side of the channel from Cornwall, where a Celtic language was traditionally spoken.

Hmm...so, it derived in Britain, and moved to northern Gaul? That's odd...the Celts actually moved vise versa. Do you know what language(s) it is similar to, if any?

[Smurf]

They probably identify with Australians because of the Australian troops fighting in the area.

yep :D

Have you been there too?

most definately, October 2004 me and my Brother went to a wedding in the northern part of Belgium, the non-dirty Flemish speaking part. :lol:
It is a beautiful country, if bloody flat :D

[Kether]

I used to live near Cambridge - that's just as flat....
Hmm...so, it derived in Britain, and moved to northern Gaul? That's odd...the Celts actually moved vise versa. Do you know what language(s) it is similar to, if any?
The Celts arrived in Britain from Gaul, but that was centuries before the Roman invasion. The impression I get is that Celtic culture was eradicated in Gaul - so Celtic languages could have moved back to Gaul from Britain after the Roman conquest.
In YourDictionary, Breton is grouped together as a 'Brythonic' language, with Welsh, rather than with Gaelic and Manx. However, when I read a passage of Breton, it seemed closer to the latter group - a mixture between Gaelic and French.

[scameter]

The Celts arrived in Britain from Gaul, but that was centuries before the Roman invasion. The impression I get is that Celtic culture was eradicated in Gaul - so Celtic languages could have moved back to Gaul from Britain after the Roman conquest.

Hmm..I thought they were forced into Britain by the Romans, that they weren't originally in Britain. But, if indeed they did, wouldn't the French have either influenced or eradicated them, as well as the Franks before the French?

In YourDictionary, Breton is grouped together as a 'Brythonic' language, with Welsh, rather than with Gaelic and Manx. However, when I read a passage of Breton, it seemed closer to the latter group - a mixture between Gaelic and French.

Hmm...what is Manx exactly? And, if Breton is similar to Welsh, then it could be incredibly old and could have been a language of a combination of the Celtic languages in Gaul and the Welsh language in England before the Celtic, Roman, Viking, and French influence. Or, perhaps it is a mixture of Gaelic and French; perhaps that the Celtic languages moved back to Gaul after the Roman conquests and were then influenced by the French. Do the Bretons have a distinct culture, or is it simply the language Breton?

[Thomas Knierim]

Lovely and sad poem, Kether!

I had a similar experience when I visited the killing fields in Cambodia. There were mountains of human skulls. Just a fraction of the millions who were slaughtered in the rice fields.

Or the concentration camp memorial sites in Germany. Terrible places. It all seems so senseless and unbelievable.

scameter: I have recently learned of a language and of a small group culture of people in northern Spain, called Basque, in the Basque Country.

I once had a pen friend in the Basque country. If I remember right, she called her country Euskadi. The language is very strange - I've never heard anything comparable in Europe. I visited the Basque Country in the late 80s. The coastal towns were not very exciting, industrial, densely built, and a bit mirthless, especially the area between Bilbao and Santander. Every public building was guarded by soldiers with machine guns. The countryside is very beautiful, however, some parts of it look almost like Switzerland. I have fond memories of our lonely camping nights in the mountains of Navarra. The French side is also very beautiful, especially Biarritz. Beautiful beaches, grand estates, lively markets, friendly people, and all that 'old world charme'.

Cheers, Thomas

[scameter]

Wow, that sounds absolutely incredible Thomas, except the cities. Why is there such heavy enforcement of security there? And, why do you think Basque is so different than anything else (language and culture-wise) in Europe?

[scameter]

An excellent poem, about true power:

SONNET: POLITICAL GREATNESS

Nor happiness nor majesty nor fame
Nor peace nor strength nor skill in arms or arts
Shepherd those herds whom Tyranny makes tame,
Verse echoes not one beating of their hearts,
History is but the shadow of their shame,
Art veils her glass, or from the pageant starts
As to Oblivion their blind millions fleet,
Staining that Heaven with obscene imagery
Of their own likeness. What are numbers knit
By force or custom? Man who man would be,
Must rule the empire of himself; in it
Must be supreme, establishing his throne
On vanquished will, quelling the anarchy
Of hopes and fears, being himself alone.
Percy Bysshe Shelley

:)

[Smurf]

I used to live near Cambridge - that's just as flat....

ahh ok? like Belgium you say? as in take a train ride from edge to edge of Belgium, flat allllll the way :D

[Kether]

The Celts arrived in Britain long before the Roman invasion of Gaul - when it was Britain's turn for colonization, Celtic languages were pushed into the fringes of the island - Wales and Scotland.
Hmm...what is Manx exactly? Manx is the language traditionally spoken on the Isle of Man in the Irish Sea.
And, if Breton is similar to Welsh, then it could be incredibly old and could have been a language of a combination of the Celtic languages in Gaul and the Welsh language in England before the Celtic, Roman, Viking, and French influence.
Before the Celtic influence? I thought we had established that Welsh was a Celtic language.
Gaul was romanized by the invaders, and I would be surprised if their language survived that process. I think that a more likely explanation is that, after the Empire collapsed and Roman influences left Britain and Gaul, Celtic-speaking groups of people migrated from Western Britain to Bretagne.
The Welsh language has survived for centuries, even after the English King Edward I invaded Wales and attempted to ban its use - so why shouldn't Breton have survived the emerging French culture? In fact, Bretagne was independent from the Kingdom of France for many centuries.
The French side is also very beautiful, especially Biarritz. Beautiful beaches, grand estates, lively markets, friendly people, and all that 'old world charme'.Yes, Biarritz is lovely.

[scameter]

Very beautiful poem psyche. :)

The Celts arrived in Britain long before the Roman invasion of Gaul - when it was Britain's turn for colonization, Celtic languages were pushed into the fringes of the island - Wales and Scotland.

Hmm...interesting. I wonder if perhaps the Celts didn't begin the entire culture of Germanic, Welsh, and English ancestry. They did populate most of northern Europe, even before Rome- so perhaps this is possible? Of course, then the place of the Basques begins even more interest. :)

Manx is the language traditionally spoken on the Isle of Man in the Irish Sea.

Hmm...what is it similar to, if you know?

Before the Celtic influence? I thought we had established that Welsh was a Celtic language.

Oh. Sorry. :)

Gaul was romanized by the invaders, and I would be surprised if their language survived that process. I think that a more likely explanation is that, after the Empire collapsed and Roman influences left Britain and Gaul, Celtic-speaking groups of people migrated from Western Britain to Bretagne.

Indeed. Then perhaps where did the Germans begin? Were they seperate from the Celts? And if so, did they always derive in Germany, or elsewhere?

The Welsh language has survived for centuries, even after the English King Edward I invaded Wales and attempted to ban its use - so why shouldn't Breton have survived the emerging French culture? In fact, Bretagne was independent from the Kingdom of France for many centuries.

Yes, true. But, wasn't Wales a weaker country than Anglo-Saxon England at the time of the 1066 invasion? Then how could Wales and it's language have survived with much purity, while Anglo-Saxon became heavily influenced by the French?

Yes, Biarritz is lovely.

Oh, you've visited the Basque country?

[Kether]

I didn't really think of the area where I went as the Basque country, which was why I didn't mention it before - but when Thomas mentioned Biarritz, it clicked. I didn't hear any Euskara when I was there, unfortunately - and I couldn't see any marked cultural differences from the rest of France.
Yes, true. But, wasn't Wales a weaker country than Anglo-Saxon England at the time of the 1066 invasion? Then how could Wales and it's language have survived with much purity, while Anglo-Saxon became heavily influenced by the French?
Wales was indeed weaker - it wasn't even a unified country. But it was independent of England until the reign of Edward I, who identified himself as English rather than French, later in the Middle Ages - and the Normans only invaded England. I don't know if any Saxon rulers ever attempted to invade Wales, but if they did they were unsuccessful.
Hmm...what is it similar to, if you know?
It looks very similar to Gaelic.
Indeed. Then perhaps where did the Germans begin? Were they separate from the Celts? And if so, did they always derive in Germany, or elsewhere?
I think that the Germans were separate from the Celts. The languages are very different, and they came from different areas of Eurasia.
Originally, Germanic peoples came from the Aryan civilization in modern Pakistan. Around the time of the Roman Empire, and after it, there were many different tribes living in many different areas of Europe.

[scameter]

Wales was indeed weaker - it wasn't even a unified country. But it was independent of England until the reign of Edward I, who identified himself as English rather than French, later in the Middle Ages - and the Normans only invaded England. I don't know if any Saxon rulers ever attempted to invade Wales, but if they did they were unsuccessful.

Hmm...doesn't that seem odd, that the Normans would conquer the more powerful England, but wouldn't conquer Wales as well? And what about the Romans?

It looks very similar to Gaelic.

Oh. Then the Isle of Man was probably inhabited by Celts.

Originally, Germanic peoples came from the Aryan civilization in modern Pakistan. Around the time of the Roman Empire, and after it, there were many different tribes living in many different areas of Europe.

Indeed. But there were people in Gaul long before tribes came to Europe, and I assume they were Celts (the first European tribe). But if that's so, where did the Celts come from, as well as the Welsh and the English original tribe?

[locomotive]

please scam use quote thingies or something. I know I am just beeing lazy but it reads more fluid that way.

[scameter]

Ok.

[Smurf]

Indeed. But there were people in Gaul long before tribes came to Europe, and I assume they were Celts (the first European tribe). But if that's so, where did the Celts come from, as well as the Welsh and the English original tribe?

ok
this was from Wikipedia

"The Celtic language family is a branch of the larger Indo-European family, which leads some scholars to a hypothesis that the original speakers of the Celtic proto-language may have arisen in the Pontic-Caspian steppes (see Kurgan)"

Hmm...doesn't that seem odd, that the Normans would conquer the more powerful England, but wouldn't conquer Wales as well? And what about the Romans?


William was only against England and Edward the confessor, not any other nations... but perhaps there is another reason altogether

[scameter]

"The Celtic language family is a branch of the larger Indo-European family, which leads some scholars to a hypothesis that the original speakers of the Celtic proto-language may have arisen in the Pontic-Caspian steppes (see Kurgan)"

Hmm...so then perhaps, the Celts, as did the Slavs, came from the steppes. But then who made those neanderthal caves that existed before any other tribe came to Europe, what tribe I mean?

William was only against England and Edward the confessor, not any other nations... but perhaps there is another reason altogether

Indeed, most likely because William was Norman, which were the descendants of the Vikings. I'm not entirely sure, but I think William's grandfather, a Viking, was also King Alfred of England's grandfather, or some such relation from both of them to the Vikings directly. If the Vikings hadn't have beaten the English in the north, then perhaps they wouldn't have been as tired when they arrived to fight William, and perhaps would've won, or at least kept the Normans out. And to be honest, I still don't see why William nor the Vikings wouldn't have invaded Wales too, especially if it was weaker, as well as where the Welsh originate. Perhaps simply from the Celts, since their language is such. But their culture seems to be so different from any other culture, it's only similarity being with the Celts; and the Basques remain a mystery.

[Smurf]

Hmm...so then perhaps, the Celts, as did the Slavs, came from the steppes. But then who made those neanderthal caves that existed before any other tribe came to Europe, what tribe I mean?


the neanderthals?
then our descendants came from Africa and the neanderthals disappeared. then it goes all hazy...

If the Vikings hadn't have beaten the English in the north, then perhaps they wouldn't have been as tired when they arrived to fight William, and perhaps would've won, or at least kept the Normans out.

the vikings lost at the battle of Stamford Bridge...

and Edward had a crappy army anyway, William had cavalry, and he had the shield wall tactic. although the numbers were around the same

[scameter]

But, we first originated in Africa; we then migrated elsewhere. The Neanderthals were a later tribe in Europe; but what tribe came from the Neanderthals in Gaul?

the vikings lost at the battle of Stamford Bridge...

Yes, but they did staul the English so much and tire them so as to the effect that the battle of Hastings illustrated it in full with their demise to the Norman invaders.

and Edward had a crappy army anyway, William had cavalry, and he had the shield wall tactic. although the numbers were around the same

You mean Alfred?

[Smurf]

Alfred??? there was no Alfred in the Battle of Hastings...

Yes, but they did staul the English so much and tire them so as to the effect that the battle of Hastings illustrated it in full with their demise to the Norman invaders.

yeah but the Vikings were no friends of William, Harold Hadraade was going for the crown aswell..

[scameter]

Indeed; actually, it was Harold the second that was the Anglo-Saxon king, which shows his and William's delineation from Harold Hardrada.

yeah but the Vikings were no friends of William, Harold Hadraade was going for the crown aswell..

The Vikings may not have been friends of the Normans, but they did have somewhat good relations and the Normans were essentially Vikings. The Vikings happened (or perhaps had planned to) attack northern England to tire the Anglo-Saxon army before fighting their conquerers, the Normans.

The battle commenced with an archery barrage from the Norman archers and crossbowmen. However, the Norman archers drew their bowstrings only to the jaw and their crossbows were loaded by hand without assistance from a windlass, so most shots either failed to penetrate the housecarls' shields or sailed over their heads to fall harmlessly beyond. The Normans therefore had no other choice than to charge the English time and time again, only to be repulsed. Another tactic used was to pretend to retreat and then when the English chased after them off the hill they were fighting on, without warning the Normans would turn round and attack with the English away from cover. In any event, the archery failed to make any impression on the English lines. Normans relied on picking up enemy arrows shot back at them, and as the Saxons had left their bowmen in York during the rush to meet William, the Norman arrowfire soon decreased.

The Norman infantry and cavalry then advanced, led by the Duke and his half-brothers: Bishop Odo and Count Robert of Mortain. All along the front, the men-at-arms and cavalry came to close quarters with the defenders, but the long and powerful Danish axes were formidable and after a prolonged melee the front of the English line was littered with cut down horses and the dead and dying. The shield wall remained solid, the English shouting their defiance with "Olicrosse!" (holy cross) and "Ut, ut!" (out, out).

However, the Bretons on the left wing (where the slope is gentlest), came into contact with the shield wall first. Seemingly unable to cope with the defence, the Bretons broke and fled. The Bretons, due to their Alannic influence, were experienced in cavalry tactics and may have set up a feigned retreat. Possibly led by one of Harold's brothers, elements of the English right wing broke ranks and pursued the Bretons down the hill in a wild unformed charge. On the flat, without a defensive shield wall formation, the English were charged by the Norman cavalry and slaughtered.

This eagerness of the English to switch to a premature offensive was noted by Norman lords and the tactic of the 'feigned' flight was used with success by the Norman horsemen throughout the day. With each subsequent assault later in the day, the Norman cavalry began a series of attacks each time, only to wheel away after a short time in contact with the English line. A group of English would rush out to pursue the apparently defeated enemy, only to be ridden-over and destroyed when the cavalry wheeled about again to force them away from the shield wall.

The Normans retired to rally and re-group, and to begin the assault again on the shield wall. The battle dragged on throughout the remainder of the day, each repeated Norman attack weakening the shield wall and leaving the ground in front littered with English and Norman dead.

Toward the end of the day, the English defensive line was depleted. The repeated Norman infantry assaults and cavalry charges had thinned out the armoured housecarls, the lines now filled by the lower-quality peasant levies. William was also worried, as nightfall would soon force his own depleted army to retire, perhaps even to the ships where they would be prey to the English fleet in the Channel. Preparing for the final assault, William ordered the archers and crossbowmen forward again. This time the archers fired high, the arrows raining upon the English rear ranks and causing heavy casualties. As the Norman infantry and cavalry closed yet again, Harold received a mortal wound. Traditionally he is believed to have been pierced through the eye by an arrow (through interpretation of the Bayeux Tapestry). But The Carmen de Hastingae Proelio describes how Harold was cut to pieces by Norman knights led by William himself: and the Bayeux Tapestry shows him being cut down by a Norman knight, thus agreeing with The Carmen. It is possible that both versions of Harold's end are true: he was first wounded in the face by an arrow, then killed by hand weapons in the final Norman assault. Wace, in the Roman de Rou, notes that Harold was wounded in the eye, then tore out the shaft and continued to fight until cut down by a knight. At any rate, Harold was dead and England was ushered out of the Dark Ages and into feudalism and the Middle Ages.

The renewed Norman attack reached the top of the hill on the English extreme left and right wings. The Normans then began to roll up the English flanks along the ridgeline. The English line began to waver, and the Norman men-at-arms forced their way in, breaking the shield wall at several points. Fyrdmen and housecarls, learning that their king was dead, began streaming away from the battle; the Normans overran the hilltop in pursuit. Harold's personal guard died fighting to the last as a circle of housecarls around the king's body and his battle standards (the Dragon standard of Wessex and the Fighting man, his personal standard). Harold's corpse (through an interpretation of The Carmen) was probably emasculated by one of his attackers."
-wikipedia

Interesting incredibly is the part about the Bretons, that the English used them to feign retreat.

[Smurf]

The Vikings may not have been friends of the Normans, but they did have somewhat good relations and the Normans were essentially Vikings. The Vikings happened (or perhaps had planned to) attack northern England to tire the Anglo-Saxon army before fighting their conquerers, the Normans.


Harold had claim to the throne too... he wanted the same thing that William wanted...

awesome battle though... I would love to have a time machine to go back then and experience the great battles... battles like Hastings... Agincourt and Trafalger

[scameter]

Harold had claim to the throne too... he wanted the same thing that William wanted...

But didn't proceed to invade the Normans after their conquest. :)

awesome battle though... I would love to have a time machine to go back then and experience the great battles... battles like Hastings... Agincourt and Trafalger

Besides all the murder, blood, insanity, entire lack of compassion or mercy, honour, endurance, integrity, reason, or peace, me too. :D

[Smurf]

But didn't proceed to invade the Normans after their conquest.

geographically and militaristically he couldn't

Besides all the murder, blood, insanity, entire lack of compassion or mercy, honour, endurance, integrity, reason, or peace, me too.

:lol: :lol:

[scameter]

geographically and militaristically he couldn't

Why?

[Smurf]

well he was in Norway, and he had just launched a massive military campaing, which he lost... limping back to norway he wouldn't have the money or men to launch another attack... and William had just gained a whole kingdom?

[scameter]

They had many settlements in England, they wouldn't have had to have returned to Norway entirely. Even if the king did, his regiment could've continued, then could've been proceeded by an entire Viking assault group from their settlements and from Scandanavia it's self, which would've hurt, if not conquered, the battle-weary Normans. But, why didn't they?

[Smurf]

did they even know that William was there? I don't think Edward would have told them that he had two enemies and his kingdom was vulnerable?

[scameter]

Edward?

[Smurf]

Oh I mean Harold, I was thinking of Edward the Confessor, sorry :)

[scameter]

:P Tis fine.

did they even know that William was there? I don't think Harold would have told them that he had two enemies and his kingdom was vulnerable?

Harold the first's kindgom wasn't vulnerable. But the second's was, to both the Normans and Vikings. I think most definitely that the Vikings knew the Normans were there, possibly even collaborated with them in the conquest. But, the question of whether Harold the second knew if the Normans were coming or not is indeed persistent.

[Smurf]

Historical accounts show that Harold Hardrade was a very rash person, he didn't care much for pre-planning... he tried to invade England with 300 ships, he returned with only 24

I think most definitely that the Vikings knew the Normans were there

evidence of colaborration?

the question of whether Harold the second knew if the Normans were coming or not is indeed persistent.


then why did he march south again so quickly?

[scameter]

Historical accounts show that Harold Hardrade was a very rash person, he didn't care much for pre-planning... he tried to invade England with 300 ships, he returned with only 24

Evidence?

evidence of colaborration?

Evidence of otherwise?

then why did he march south again so quickly?

To defend his nation from the Normans, most likely a prediction because of the prolonged Viking attack in the north.

[Smurf]

from Wikipedia:

"He had come to England with the idea of claiming the English Throne as his own."

"He landed in Northern England with a force of around 5,000 men and 300 longboats,"

"His army was so heavily beaten that less than 30 of the 300 recorded longboats Harald used to transport his forces to England were used to carry the survivors back to Norway."


ok what did you mean by this statement?

But, the question of whether Harold the second knew if the Normans were coming or not is indeed persistent.

[scameter]

ok what did you mean by this statement?

None of your quotes signified that he knew the Normans were coming, it simply illustrated the size of the Viking army and how heavily they were defeated. I meant that it is still unknown whether Harold the second knew if William and the Normans were coming or not.

[Smurf]

William considered himself to be the successor of the childless Edward the Confessor, and obtained from Harold an oath to support William as the future king of England. It was alleged that William forced Harold to swear to support his claim to the throne, only revealing after the event that the box on which he had made his oath contained holy relics.

this quote from Wikipedia shows that Harold Godwineson swore that he would help William's claim for the throne when Edward died, Harold knew that when he took the throne after Edward's death William would certainly invade England and put his claim for the throne. It would take a madman not to work that one out... and William had the Pope's support for this:

In order to pursue his own claim, William obtained the Pope's support for his cause.


well the latest quotes I put there were for clearing up this:

Historical accounts show that Harold Hardrade was a very rash person, he didn't care much for pre-planning... he tried to invade England with 300 ships, he returned with only 24

Evidence?

evidence of colaborration?

Evidence of otherwise?

[scameter]

:)

[Smurf]

:)

[scameter]

As a note my friend smurf, I have recently purchased a wonderful, rather old book by an Englishman I believe, called "The Age of Chivalry". It is essentially a history of the middle ages, from the fall of Rome to the crusades. In it, I was reading about the invasion of 1066, and I learned that when King Edward of England died, Harold the first the Viking, Harold of England, and William of Normandy were all competing for the throne. Edward appointed Harold of England as his heir, but of course the other two didn't take to this lightly. William and Harold the Viking then collaborated in the invasion of England. The Vikings invaded first in the north and took many regions, but the English led by Harold quickly responded by amassing his men and hastening to the north. After defeating the Vikings, his men exhausted, the Normans invaded from the south. Upon hearing this, Harold of England hurried 65 miles south in 3 days to meet Norman in Hastings. With only 7 miles left to Hastings, his entirely exhausted men, having fought the Vikings in the north 65 miles away only three days previous, in which time they had marched hurriedly south, the Normans attacked. The English formed a shield wall I believe to recall was about 600 yards long and about 10 to 12 men deep. The Norman horsemen attacked from the left, but failed. During the fight, rumour spread that William was dead. Upon seeing his men falling behind, William charged to the center, lifted his veil and ushered his men forward. His knights then plunged forward into the English shield wall, swords swinging furiously. Soon after, William ordered his archers to fire high in order to strike the English in the head. At the advent of this, it is presumed that Harold died. William then quickly took victory, and proceeded to conquer England rather easily, the Anglo-Saxon royalty destroyed.

[Smurf]

Interesting, as is always in history and everyting we can never be 100% certain...

many onions make the stew

[A Student of Life]

Unshaken
By Randy Guilhas

What truth we hold in illusion's glass
sipped in tiny measure
as youth grown old in innocence’s ash
yet tinged in tastes of pleasure

May alter states to circumstance
but waiver nay in bearing
exalting fate’s content to chance
the sutures of our wearing

But the demons wail in discontent
to blur the spirit’s vision
as beacons unto sinking ships
with scarce to no provisions

And though aglow these shadowed sleuths
arise from their abyss
you know they know you know the truth
could never cross their lips

© Copyright 2002 randy guilhas/akaSOL/KW

[scameter]

Very good my friend! :)

[sahyo]

you cannot know love
pain maybe still festering
squelched behind the comfort of words display
airborn
nowhere

[scameter]

Feelingful. :)

[sahyo]

:)

[Kether]

The knell of the bells at the Gion temple
Echoes the impermanence of all things.
The colour of the flowers on its double-trunked tree
Reveals the truth that to flourish is to fall.
He who is proud is not so for long,
Like a passing dream on a night in spring.
He who is brave is finally destroyed,
To be no more than dust before the wind.

The opening lines of the Heiki Monogatari, a 13th-century Japanese novel.

[scameter]

Excellent my friend, excellent. You have great taste. :)


The day conforms to the night
The sun conforms to the moon
The sky conforms to the earth
The mind conforms to the body
The fire conforms to the water
The life conforms to the death
The madness conforms to the heart
The might conforms to the fright
And the light conforms to the dark.
-Me, spontaneously

[Michael]

In the garden
The Buddha
Sits lotus fashion,
Smiling his
Buddha smile
Upon the pigeon feathers
The cat scattered
Upon his knees.

[scameter]

:)

[Smurf]

Black rocks incarnadine by the fiery depths
Unleash The devil's unlimited fury
Eternal darkness tinged by golden magma

Proud light spews from the heavens
Steam rises as oceans rise to join the clash
heavenly bodies pit against one another

The battle rages and rips the ground apart
nothing stands in the way, nothing lives
Everything will die

As the smoke clears the field and the last fires consume the tiny life left
a small green stem drives forth to defy the laws
the petals form as the energy breathes life into
the dead, dark world

[Michael]

Under the sun a bird passes,
over the fields its shadow flies.

Under the sky our lives are lived,
over the earth our shadows fly.

[sahyo]

flamboyant uttered sleep
what thought stays long enough for worded deed
slummbering cannot constant stay scream's noisying lacking weep
but quiet even see

[Winfried]

There's a dog eating my cheese.
And a bat in my refridgerator.
Oh sweet nonsense show me the light.
You are the only path to redemption.

A cat is flying on a string of spaghetti.
But that does not matter.
My phone is ringing.
But I'm busy taping a squirrel to a rocket.

There's trees in my attick.
But what boughters me most.
Is the pink juggling cloud of fluff.
It ate all my lasagna.


weird.... :wacko:

[buzzlightyear1982]

That is one of best poems I have ever read...

[Winfried]

then you should read more poetry :D

[buzzlightyear1982]

I do...I like it so much because of the mis-match elements. It gives the poem a certain degree notability to it B)

[Winfried]

That's way too much credit for something I made up in three seconds :lol:
Yeah, I rule B)

[Anarchistic Fascism]

I used to be a poet too.
I used to create all kinds of poems.
People thought they were good... And that I should really become a poet.

But back then I was 9, now I like meat and other MANLY things.

[buzzlightyear1982]

Don't knock poetry, historically the greatest poets were men B)

[scameter]

Fascist, you suit your name. :)

[buzzlightyear1982]

What do you mean by that?
<_<
Are you talking about Freud?
:think:

[Kether]

What does this have to do with Freud? I think that he was saying that Anarchistic Fascism suits his name (ie, is a fascist) because he considers poetry to be somehow effete.

[scameter]

That I was. :)

[buzzlightyear1982]

Your right, Anarchistic does apply to me quite well. However, after people get to know me a little bit more they often refer to me as subversive B)

[scameter]

lol Actually, I meant that to the one called Anarchistic Fascist. :P

[Anarchistic Fascism]

Sometimes I bash things for now reason, like I did earlier.

I like some poems, especially Winfried's masterpiece.

[Michael]

It is most frequently on buses I see you
as you relax between engagements from the strain
of playing different parts
for the different audiences of your life.

Tired and unaware of me you sit
staring at your reflections in the window of the bus,
a mediocre actor, too tired
to deny the truth in the dressing room mirror.

In that brief moment between disguises
I see within your blaze the wounded animal
and the angel with the broken wing,
greater than all the make-up and the masks of your lonely masquerades.

0

----------------------------------------------------------------------------


All paths lead to truth
for those who travel
with their hearts.

The heart sees further than the eye
daring the ways beyond thought.

The heart is the centre
that thinks not, knowing truth
where thought finds paradox.

o

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Unlettered Poet

I see him go about his days
he mows his patch of green, reads his newspaper in the park,
sits in the train across the aisle,
the man with the heart of a poet
who has been taught to a clerk.

He holds the mystery of the world
like a secret wound,
he staunches it with anything banal
that comes to hands
and speaks if it to no one.

He has a wife,
they have a child
with the heart of a poet
whom they shall teach to be a clerk.

o
---------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Stranger in the Mirror


When in lightening's after-image
a myth illuminates the mind,
when something in the deep
moves within its sleep,
when a touch touches something
we thought no longer there,
when pain becomes a prayer -
the stranger in the mirror
takes us unawares.

o

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Famine Voice

The cattle were not ours,
neither was the corn.
Only the potatoes were ours
and death when they failed.
We claimed our plots then,
in our hundreds and our thousands,
falling in the margins of the land
where we were permitted to go.

[buzzlightyear1982]

I can really identify with the stranger in the mirror poem :thumbsup:

Here is one of my creations:

First impressions
You made one
From your first word
I found myself
Searching for your face
Just to hear you speak
It has become clear to me
I’m scared
Scared of the effects to which you cast upon me
I find
More and more
You are always on my mind
And I prey
You will stay
For all time
Forever haunting my mind
Leaving me with
So much to say
So much I wish I could say
It runs through my mind
Every minute of every day
But at one glimpse upon your face
It all fades away
Leaving me nothing
So all I can do
Is gaze upon your perfect face
With your heavenly voice
And your haunting eyes
It begins
Dawn breaks within
Breaking upon my cold and empty soul
Reveling what remains
Of this broken soul
Life
The only thing I want to do
Is whisper
Whisper a name so sweet
It made this soul
To become complete
Then I whisper
Whisper your name
Over and over again
Until it no longer
Effects me
So to this day
I whisper still

[Michael]

Hey, Buss, that was lovely and true.

Another poet stepped there before you(no disrespect). He was an English poet called Francis Thomson. I hope you enjoy it



The Hound of Heaven
I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmèd fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat -- and a voice beat
More instant than the Feet --
"All things betray thee, who betrayest Me."

I pleaded, outlaw-wise,
By many a hearted casement, curtained red,
Trellised with intertwining charities;
(For, though I knew His love Who followèd,
Yet was I sore adread
Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside.)
But, if one little casement parted wide,
The gust of his approach would clash it to :
Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue.
Across the margent of the world I fled,
And troubled the gold gateways of the stars,
Smiting for shelter on their clangèd bars ;
Fretted to dulcet jars
And silvern chatter the pale ports o' the moon.
I said to Dawn : Be sudden -- to Eve : Be soon ;
With thy young skiey blossoms heap me over
From this tremendous Lover--
Float thy vague veil about me, lest He see !
I tempted all His servitors, but to find
My own betrayal in their constancy,
In faith to Him their fickleness to me,
Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit.
To all swift things for swiftness did I sue ;
Clung to the whistling mane of every wind.
But whether they swept, smoothly fleet,
The long savannahs of the blue ;
Or whether, Thunder-driven,
They clanged his chariot 'thwart a heaven,
Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o' their feet :--
Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue.
Still with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
Came on the following Feet,
And a Voice above their beat--
"Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me."

I sought no more that after which I strayed,
In face of man or maid ;
But still within the little children's eyes
Seems something, something that replies,
They at least are for me, surely for me !
I turned me to them very wistfully ;
But just as their young eyes grew sudden fair
With dawning answers there,
Their angel plucked them from me by the hair.
"Come then, ye other children, Nature's -- share
With me" (said I) "your delicate fellowship ;
Let me greet you lip to lip,
Let me twine with you caresses,
Wantoning
With our Lady-Mother's vagrant tresses,
Banqueting
With her in her wind-walled palace,
Underneath her azured daïs,
Quaffing, as your taintless way is,
From a chalice
Lucent-weeping out of the dayspring."
So it was done :
I in their delicate fellowship was one --
Drew the bolt of Nature's secrecies.
I knew all the swift importings
On the wilful face of skies ;
I knew how the clouds arise
Spumèd of the wild sea-snortings ;
All that's born or dies
Rose and drooped with ; made them shapers
Of mine own moods, or wailful or divine ;
With them joyed and was bereaven.
I was heavy with the even,
When she lit her glimmering tapers
Round the day's dead sanctities.
I laughed in the morning's eyes.
I triumphed and I saddened with all weather,
Heaven and I wept together,
And its sweet tears were salt with mortal mine ;
Against the red throb of its sunset-heart
I laid my own to beat,
And share commingling heat ;
But not by that, by that, was eased my human smart.
In vain my tears were wet on Heaven's grey cheek.
For ah ! we know not what each other says,
These things and I ; in sound I speak--
Their sound is but their stir, they speak by silences.
Nature, poor stepdame, cannot slake my drouth ;
Let her, if she would owe me,
Drop yon blue bosom-veil of sky, and show me
The breasts o' her tenderness ;
Never did any milk of hers once bless
My thirsting mouth.
Nigh and nigh draws the chase,
With unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy ;
And past those noisèd Feet
A Voice comes yet more fleet --
"Lo ! naught contents thee, who content'st not Me."

Naked I wait thy Love's uplifted stroke !
My harness piece by piece Thou hast hewn from me,
And smitten me to my knee ;
I am defenceless utterly.
I slept, methinks, and woke,
And, slowly gazing, find me stripped in sleep.
In the rash lustihead of my young powers,
I shook the pillaring hours
And pulled my life upon me ; grimed with smears,
I stand amid the dust o' the mounded years --
My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap.
My days have crackled and gone up in smoke,
Have puffed and burst as sun-starts on a stream.
Yea, faileth now even dream
The dreamer, and the lute the lutanist ;
Even the linked fantasies, in whose blossomy twist
I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist,
Are yielding ; cords of all too weak account
For earth with heavy griefs so overplussed.
Ah ! is Thy love indeed
A weed, albeit an amaranthine weed,
Suffering no flowers except its own to mount ?
Ah ! must --
Designer infinite !--
Ah ! must Thou char the wood ere Thou canst limn with it ?
My freshness spent its wavering shower i' the dust ;
And now my heart is as a broken fount,
Wherein tear-drippings stagnate, spilt down ever
From the dank thoughts that shiver
Upon the sighful branches of my mind.
Such is ; what is to be ?
The pulp so bitter, how shall taste the rind ?
I dimly guess what Time in mists confounds ;
Yet ever and anon a trumpet sounds
From the hid battlements of Eternity ;
Those shaken mists a space unsettle, then
Round the half-glimpsed turrets slowly wash again.
But not ere him who summoneth
I first have seen, enwound
With glooming robes purpureal, cypress-crowned ;
His name I know, and what his trumpet saith.
Whether man's heart or life it be which yields
Thee harvest, must Thy harvest-fields
Be dunged with rotten death ?

Now of that long pursuit
Comes on at hand the bruit ;
That Voice is round me like a bursting sea :
"And is thy earth so marred,
Shattered in shard on shard ?
Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest me !
"Strange, piteous, futile thing !
Wherefore should any set thee love apart ?
Seeing none but I makes much of naught" (He said),
"And human love needs human meriting :
How hast thou merited --
Of all man's clotted clay the dingiest clot ?
Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art !
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,
Save Me, save only Me ?
All which I took from thee I did but take,
Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might'st seek it in My arms.
All which thy child's mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home :
Rise, clasp My hand, and come !"
Halts by me that footfall :
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly ?
"Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest !
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest me."

[buzzlightyear1982]

No disrespect taken...copy cats are the higest form of flattery :badgrin:

Heres another original from me about a rose...or is it?

The rose…
Natures own super model.
Perfectly shaped leaves…
Silky, soft peddles.
Much like man kind…
They too have their own race.
Red…
White…
Yellow…
There all the same.
Often these super models find their way to you hand…
The very hand I wish could touch me…
With the same gentleness…
The same care.
As you bring them up to your face…
As their wonderful, sensual fragrance…
Escaping the peddles at your will.
I find myself jealous…
Jealous of the very rose of which came from me.
It suddenly becomes clear to me…
You are my rose…
Perfect in every way.
Your voice is my fragrance…
The wonderful, soft, gentle fragrance…
It will not leave my mind.
In this very way…
You are with me all the time.
So I prey you will…
Take this rose…
As a token of my affection.
So that once more…
You may be my rose!
For if I had a rose…
I would surely name it…
After you...

[Winfried]

Alright, another nonsense verse (if it is correct to use that term), by my artistic brain. Yes, weirdness has it's benefits. This one's very personel and it's called: It's a penguin!

It's a penguin!
Well dressed indeed.
Where will he be going?
What does he need?

I feel the need to ask him.
But I don't speek penguin.
So is it a high-school dance he's attending?
or just any other random thing?

Nay! He will be swimming!
Catching fish as he goes.
People dine in their best clothes,
I should've known.
Why can't penguins do the same?

Yes, that must be it.
Penguins like to go well-dressed anywhere they go.
So that's why you always see them,
Ice-skating in their best clothes.



Marvellous, isn't it? :lol:
Screw Edgar Allen Poe, Winfried Sjoukes is your new Poetry Sensation :P

Oh yeah - almost forgot, please do give me your positive reviews!

[Smurf]

yeah

a penguin ey? It doesn't feel very nonsense to me... unless you can best Spike Milligan then that would be nonsense!

[Winfried]

It is nonsense if you come to think I wrote this as a lament for the dead tree in my backyard... :D

[Smurf]

yeah but you can still make a connection there,

Said Hamlet to Ophelia,
I'll draw a sketch of thee,
What kind of pencil shall I use?
2B or not 2B?

----------

Omen of emptiness

The clock has turned enough
to reach a planet
Life is endless night
I hear wings beating in
the dark of my room
A giant Raven is waiting –

for me to fall asleep

-----------

One of his more known ones:

On the Ning Nang Nong

On the Ning Nang Nong
Where the Cows go Bong!
And the Monkeys all say Boo!
Theres a Nang Nong Ning
Where the trees go Ping!
And the tea pots Jibber Jabber Joo
On the Nong Ning Nang
All the Mice go Clang!
And you just cant catch em when they do!
So its Ning Nang Nong!
Cows go Bong!
Nong Nang Ning!
Trees go Ping!
Nong Ning Nang!
The mice go Clang!

What a noisy place to belong,Is the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!


.+. Spike

[buzzlightyear1982]

CONSIDER IF YOU WILL THE DARKER SIDE OF THE HUMAN SOUL :unsure:

It was that night when her heart was broken
When she began to hunt the night
Silently stalking hi in the cover of his own shadow
For she couldnt watch him in the light

Bloodlust on the tip of her toung
A thirst she could hardly bear
Fighting back the urge to kill
As she led him to her lair

Her time was almost up
The sky showing streaks of red
Her prey was just out of reach,
And her hunger had not been fed

But the temptation was to great
Her patience wearing thin
So she attacked him from behind,
And found theres satisfaction in her sin

Running twards the cover of darkness
She need not put up a fight
Because she lingered seconds to long,
Two lives were taken that night.