[x]

Ode to the NovaEnter the age of Youtube
Where playing a game became a revenue.
Commentary here, and a walk-through there
You could say these fuckers were everywhere.

But look, what's up ahead?
On a ground so oftenly tread.
Leading the fad on an white angel steed
The Nova charges steadfast indeed.

Tearing down knock-offs with a voice so sublime
Able to deviate and stand the test of time.
Neigh he stood not alone in the reign of power
His friends helped to keep his projects unsour.

The man of Spoons and the one claimed Immortal
Ride side by side him in formation.
The trio of wits; the regulars called they
A deadly force of elimination.

To this day, the No

So longA time so long
The start is gone
Longer than forever
An everlasting song

We waste away
We’re skin and bones
Never moving or seeing
Last light has flown

We slowly die
Among the dead
Close our eyes
And rest our heads

A time so long
We forever see
The shadow of time
In you and me

Is there no end?Never ending nightmares in my sleep and in my wake,
Always living, never breathing,
A tortured soul's mistake.

Always believing saviors will come despite a lack of proof,
This hope will be the death of us,
Our assailants haunt our every move.

By day and by night I creep around,
I haunt him back, you see!
Little do I know, the one haunting me is me.

Morning CallThank you for the morning call
You said just what I have hoped
Did you hear me laughing softly
Through spring tears that gently flowed
Dove-grey sound of light rain
Whispering secrets in my ear
Under blanket happy dream
Of a smile that is so dear
I could stay in bed whole day
Feeling touch of it's caress
But in duty to my life
Lovely wish I must suppress
I will linger little longer
Quietly sit on futon edge
Watch the peaceful dreamy smile
Daily faith to it will pledge

GoodbyeWith a gesture, I say goodbye.With the eyes, I promise you a reunion.
I will not give up so easy. I don't care if it is machine or human being.
I will always be by your side.
I Walk in the trails without hurry, imagining the train that passed there.
Hey you
Do not stare at the empty Merry-Go-Round. No,not at The Ferris wheel. Careful, you might hurt yourself.
See? I told you. Oh, yeah. You can not cry.
We'll see each other again,....right...?

Splitting SkullIntruding my thoughts controlling my brain,
What can you do or so to say?
Open my memories did you just?
Or say something unlocked in the dust?
All this flow running into me,
Why am i scared so desperately?
What did you do what did you find?
One day will you tell me in time?
Head spins whirls in a wind,
Reminder of someone i remember not,
Who are you in this thought?
So much is hidden what can i do?
You unlocked something what is assumed?
My throbbing head in and out,
Wondering where i am now.
What did i say what did i do?
Who am i just to assume?
What did i say what did i do?
Who am i just to presume?

The Copper GiantCount of years have I lost,
As I dwelled in my old cellar
I tried to build at any cost -
The device so spectacular!
I'll drag my country from the dust
And the ruins of past wars
Weapons will be laid to rust,
When I energize the copper corpse!
Oh, how marvelous was the day
When I introduced my engine to the world!
And nothing could bring me dismay
When my proud heart became unfurled!
Greater and stronger than any man,
The machine showed itself in full pride!
And when the exhibition finally began,
My felicity was impossible to hide
The audience was gathered before,
The engine was still in slumber
The excitement couldn't be kept ashore,
On that evening of November
Silence stepped in and the audience gazed,
When the engine was brought to life
Even I was tremendously amazed
That I've won my internal strife
The spinning of cogs made it walk,
Though the machine clattered too loud
But the copper giant ceased every talk
And the silence made me even more proud
But my work was doomed to tatters,

Oliver May and the ChupacabraThere was once a boy named Oliver May,
Deemed a coward and a little bit gay.
To rid of his gift or curse, he would pray
That he no longer sees cryptids all day.

Oliver grew up and his hair turned gray,
No longer scared of these monsters he'd slay.

Rumors abound of goats being sucked dry;
Curious Oliver would visit and pry.
At night, he saw a creature slim and sly.
"Look closely with an inquisitive eye,
A Chupacabra!" Oliver would cry.

Setting up a trap with a goat as bait,
Oliver would hide in the bush to wait.
Chupacabra walked in and sealed its fate.
Dawn came, its head delivered on a plate.

The townsfolks would sing, dance and celebrat

3 a.m. Rhyme TimeOnce grew a tree so high
Its wooden arms did reach to embrace the lovely, lonely sky
The sapphire maiden fell in love
Yet was powerless to help or touch from her perch so far above
So the goddess for three days and nights cried pure tears of loss and sorrow
And beneath her gray veil of loss, her lost love did soak up her tears and grow
Wider and wider his arms did embrace
Until he could lift the cloud veil and reveal his savior's lovely face
"What saddens you so, goddess of my heart?"
The voice did cause the sky-maiden to start
A charming blush spread along her azure cheeks
Her voice was barely that of a whispering breeze when she began to speak
Hiding her blush and averting her eyes, she confessed her love and desire
Her soft words made the tree pause in his journey to grow ever higher
Then, suddenly, with greatest effort, he began to pull up his roots one by one
Aghast, the maiden uttered not a sound, uncomprehending of what would happen until he was almost done
She cried,

Voicemail MessageJust called to say I'm on my way
For such long time I've been away
Can't wait to be in your embrace
I miss your voice, I miss your face
I tried to call you from the post
But couldn't reach you, signal lost
The journey took me to far land
Of which you'll hear from me firsthand

Labyrinths and PuzzlesMy life's mosaic made of puzzles
It is a labyrinth of codes
I learned to read between the lines
Of lyrics, names and lately words
I solve a puzzle when I'm packing
The groceries each day of week
To lift the backpack and two bags
Is not a matter for the weak
I've really mastered packing process
I'm quite efficient, must say
Not inch of space is lost or wasted
Like game of tetris in a way
Each day is labyrinth of time
In which to find the way I strife
To fit all that I want to do
With all the chores of daily life
I love to solve interior puzzles
When I'm inspired, all night in sweat
Moving around the pianos, bookshelves
Until apartment is reset
Traditional poetic game
Keeping the rhythm and finding rhyme
Without sacrificing thought
I'm now playing all the time
Deciphering the code of life
The roles coincidences play
The hidden meanings in the signs
That teach the mind to see true way
Life's labyrinth is work of art
Like architecture of Daedalus
When it is bui

Power of InspirationWhen I deciphered morning code
I had such feeling of elation
Like battery that's fully charged
With energy of inspiration
The poems flowed on page like speech
I moved on bike with speed of light
I have accomplished daily chores
All day I felt like bird in flight
In ballet class I beat my record
By doing thirty six fouettés
I gave off sparks as I have turned
(They were not perfect I confess)
I danced adagio with soul
I could have jumped over the moon
I could keep going on and on
But class has ended all too soon
Back at the school yard with the kids
I started writing words of ode
In praise of artists building mazes
Life is a labyrinth of code

Time Saving RecipeSome oregano for the stress
Relax tight nerves with it's caress
A cup of fresh brewed buckwheat tea
Spreads peace and leaves mind demon free
Fresh piece of mango like gold sun
A snack that's healthy, sweet and fun
While at the sunset you'll be looking
Let kids experiment with cooking
Let someone else wash dirty dishes
In meantime you fulfill your wishes
Play piano or jot down few words
Decipher hieroglyphic codes
Let all your hidden selves come out
Perhaps a scientist will sprout
And when you've saved a little time
Just sit and dream or write a rhyme

Searching for Lost TimeI am searching for lost time
Life's a mess in disarray
So much clutter in my place
Have to clean it up one day
I have found half an hour
Lying on the kitchen floor
Minutes under pile of shoes
Scattered by the entrance door
Some time hidden in the laundry
Really hope it did not shrink
Quarter hour under piano
Some fell into kitchen sink
In dark corner under book shelf
Half an hour in flakes of dust
Under bed rolled whole round hour
With the stains of mould and rust
In twilight before the sunrise
Torn between the maze and rhyme
Racing with the morning rush
Hope for both to find the time

Sleepy PoemDay has scattered like the sand
Sifted through the hourglass
Sun has fallen into river
Shadows hiding in the grass
I just want to take a breath
Listen to the silence sing
Sit for moment with closed eyes
Feel caress of angel's wing
Drop by drop the sleepless hours
Overfilled the coffee cup
Word by word a sleepy poem
In a dream on lines curled up

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Haiku Without CountingThe idea that haiku should be written in 17 syllables, arranged in three line pattern of 5-7-5 is perhaps the best known 'rule' governing the writing of haiku. It is also the least understood, and the least important, particularly when composing haiku in English. This rule is at best actually a convention, one that emerged from conditions relative to Japanese culture and language. It is a convention ill-suited to the English language.

Japanese poets count on, a sound represented by one kana; the closest English equivalent to this is a syllable. Thus, the 'syllable' count is a function of the Japanese language, in that Japanese is written in

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Anne Boleyn Pantoum

by *almcdermid, Aug 20, 2011, 12:03:53 AM
Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Traditional Fixed Forms

will you be my Anne Boleyn
will you offer up your head
eyes blind one fine morning
no more to love, no more to bed

will you offer up your head
it is the sacrifice I crave
no more to love, no more to bed
your bed, beloved, a marble grave

it is the sacrifice I crave;
just this bauble, bright and frail.
your bed, beloved, a marble grave;
wet-clay-cold and tallow-pale

just this bauble, bright and frail.
still upon this bed of straw
wet-clay-cold and tallow-pale
at the whim of a padishah

still upon this bed of straw
will you offer up your head
at the whim of a padishah
will you be my Anne Boleyn

Anne Boleyn Pantoumby *almcdermid

Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Traditional Fixed Forms

Anne Boleyn Pantoum, a collaborative poem by

Anne Boleyn (c.1501/1507 – 19 May 1536) was Queen of England from 1533 to 1536 as the second wife of Henry VIII of England and Marquess of Pembroke in her own right. Henry's marriage to Anne, and her subsequent execution, made her a key figure in the political and religious upheaval that was the start of the English Reformation.

Anne was crowned Queen of England on 1 June 1533. On 7 September she gave birth to the future Elizabeth I of England. To Henry's displeasure, however, she failed to produce a male heir. Henry was not totally discouraged, for he said that he loved Elizabeth and that a son would surely follow. Three miscarriages followed, however, and by March 1536, Henry was courting Jane Seymour.

Henry had Anne investigated for high treason in April 1536. On 2 May she was arrested and sent to the Tower of London, where she was tried before a jury of peers and found guilty on 15 May. She was beheaded four days later on Tower Green. Modern historians view the charges against her, which included adultery and incest, as unconvincing.

Following the coronation of her daughter, Elizabeth, as queen, Anne was venerated as a martyr and heroine of the English Reformation, particularly through the works of John Foxe.

Over the centuries, she has inspired or been mentioned in numerous artistic and cultural works. As a result, she has retained her hold on the popular imagination. Anne has been called "the most influential and important queen consort England has ever had," since she provided the occasion for Henry VIII to divorce Catherine of Aragon, and declare his independence from Rome.

Source: wikipedia [link]

That her daughter was one of the most historically influential British monarchs adds a nice touch of irony.

*merpagigglesnort Dec 18, 2011 Traditional Artist

also, though the image is very well known and obviously in the public domain, it would be better form to credit some sources (i know the artist that painted the portrait is unknown) or acknowledge the painting somehow since this is an art setting and that's a painting and that's what appears as the thumb for the poem.

it is not clear here who painted the painting--where you got it from and as i've said the description as well. i know it's incredibly easy to find an image like this, but you might be surprised how much research has been done in regards to that painting. many scholars believe it is one of many paintings said to be anne boleyn, that are actually portraits done long after her death by people who'd never seen her. there are many questions as to whether any extant portraits are actually based actually upon how she looks. there is much question as to what she actually looked like.

sorry to go on and on, but artists treat art as sacred in regards to theft and reproduction without credit, but the same is not done for history in this community...

*almcdermid Feb 5, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

As a well-known image of Anne, that is in the public domain. And, as with the comment, it is there for the reader; it is not part of the art. As to whether it is actually her image . . . I just see why I would need to deal with that issue in this context.

I can't see how this could be construed as theft; it's clear fair-use reference. If the artist was known, if it were by Holbein, for example, perhaps (and even then, it's for citation purposes). In this case, sorry, I don't see it.

*merpagigglesnort Dec 18, 2011 Traditional Artist

love the subject matter, great poem,
however, i have slight issue with the description beneath the poem. it appears to be an essay written by one of the collaborators with link to widipedia that is not obvious. i think it would be much more appropriate to state at the beginning that this description was taken almost verbatim from wiki. if it weren't the internet i would expect footnotes and quotation marks, etc.

*almcdermid Feb 5, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thanks.

Well, the comment is not the art and I don't have written it. If someone wants to make that assumption, I can't really stop that. And since I do reference wikipedia as the source, I don't see a problem.

But we are on the internet, and this explanation is there for people who may not know who she is. It is the footnote.

~RawPoetry Aug 20, 2011 Photographer

A group that works very well together, this is a lovely piece.

*almcdermid Aug 20, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

Had something else in mind when I started it, but I prefer this; we do seem to work well together (I've worked with all of the poets before on other pieces).

=deinktvis Aug 20, 2011 Student Writer

i love workin with jooze gize

*almcdermid Aug 20, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

Great fun, always.

*somnomollior Aug 20, 2011 Writer

That's impressive work. Well done all!

*almcdermid Aug 20, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

My initial idea was a more metaphorical Anne, but I do like how this turned out.

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