Poetry & Prose

This thread is for creative writing of any sort, be it Jedi-related or just plain awesome. Original is better, but if it's amazing, share it anyway (hopefully with a link to its source).

Help Me Take This Mask Off -- original poem written September 2010

It was less of a request, more of a plea,
The world with my eyes I wanted to see.
My life I had wasted, and all that was left
Was the world with old friends that would follow death.

Very nice. I love poetry and see/hear that you do, too (obviously..).
Anyway, I've enjoyed your haiku as well as this and look forward to reading more.

On the application of courage

This isn't strictly Jedi poetry, in the same vein as Ace's poem above, but I feel that it carries a message that many people here could relate to as Jedi.

It's not actually by me; I found it on my 19 year old sister's poetry blog. As in she wrote it. I'm actually quite impressed!


The Ecstasy of Courage

Let us not lie down.
There is no fear in standing here unarmed
Against the world,
But we hold honour who say
'We will meet the coming time with
Smiling hearts and open arms and
Steady hands and laughter.'

We of little heart,
The wanderers;
What more can come to us than this?
Have we not conquered all
And overcome each doubt
In the ecstasy of courage that survives?

Let us not turn our heads
Or blink
And say 'Must the time come to us?
Or if it must may we not
Hasten it, turn on the clocks,
Lay down and sleep?'

For all men are killed
But some die on their feet.

Is anyone here participating in National Poetry Writing Month? It's four days in, I know, but if anyone else is doing it I'd love to get a link to their site!

Here's mine: http://redroom.com/member/maria-badillo (yeah, that's my legal name :) ) I've got a fair amount of stuff on there, but the latest blog posts will be the NaPoWriMo ones. Haikus, mostly, because I love the challenge of making an impact in so few words.

And V-Tog...your sister is an amazing poet. Thank you for sharing. And this thread is open to all poetry and prose, so that's fine, too!

I praise the dance,

for it frees people from the heaviness of matter

and binds the isolated to community.

I praise the dance, which demands everything:

health and a clear spirit and a buoyant soul.

Dance is a transformation of space, of time, of people,

who are in constant danger of becoming all brain,

will, or feeling.

Dancing demands a whole person,

one who is firmly anchored in the center of his life,

who is not obsessed by lust for people and things

and the demon of isolation in his own ego.

Dancing demands a freed person,

one who vibrates with the equipoise of all his powers.

I praise the dance.

O man, learn to dance,

or else the angels in heaven will not know

what to do with you.


- Saint Augustine

Unfallen by Ace (written summer 2010)

I cast aside these chains; I let go.
I will not be a prisoner of this world.
My mind, my self, undamaged;
It is my refuge.
I will not go quietly.
I fight for freedom.

I cast aside these impressions; I let go.
I will not be told what to think.
My views, my sight, untainted;
It is my home.
I will not wonder quietly.
I stand for beauty.

I cast aside these perceptions; I let go.
I will not be fooled by lies.
My thoughts, my conviction, untarnished;
It is my reality.
I will not whisper quietly.
I speak for truth.

I cast aside my hate; I let go.
I will not condemn this world.
My heart, my soul, unspoiled;
It is my life.
I will not care quietly.
I live for love.

Join me on the edge of time
Where pain and fear subside
And things we've never dared to speak
Find no reason left to hide

Join me after midnights toll
While killing words still sleep
Where every secret in your heart
Will lose all will to keep

Join me before morning breaks
And unwanted eyes can see
Where imagination turns to dreams
And dreams - Reality

An old one of mine from years ago.

Interlude

Transcend frame to frame, the thoughts of a heart animated in an idle glow. And yet sadly a dozen memories put to shame over winter tears treading the change, frame to frame among scarred paper-fake smiles and time-stained tiles. He prepares himself the coming season of pain, a darkened faith one may never see, and this one which is yet to be. Treading a path of time stood still, and looking back upon the pain, these fallen leaves of grief, the breeze blows upon him the cold of past lies, ties of long closed eyes, dreams of a symbolic mechanical rejection twisting a horizon into tragic irony. What was that message to be given? Some just aren't meant to live that deserving dream.. Climb over the mountain, stand on the top, and watch them fall below their ignorance. When suddenly the page turns to the next chapter, a foreshadowing interlude of a played out tune, a habitual pattern of a time soon. Hands of the hour, ticks of the minute, they trace away the hunt, kill and skin it. Counter-clock tomorrow's light, a vision sought through a bloodshot sight, attempting to close the mind to that memory, and just let it go, yet instilled with such an enduring flashback of a lost love, the origin of swelling power blared out by a speaker of song, a long wail of a fist smashing away the walls, tear them all down, rip them apart one by one until he's reached these doors. A rusted faded steel of sleeping sores. The knob grabbed at his hand and beckon itself open slower than a galactic birth, the revolting of just one second, where he spent his sleep that night. Just a thought running through his brain frame to frame, like an animated haze, and yet sadly another dozen memories put to shame, autumn tears treading its change. He'll prepare himself the next chapter, a repeated pattern. Hands of the hour, ticks of the minute, just another kill to take and skin it, brought home to a trophy for his past pain, the only possession left of him that day, under a weather of what was foretold. And just what was the message? Some just weren't meant to live the deserving dream. He prepares himself that coming season of pain, a darkened faith one may never see and this one which is yet to be.

"Take my hand," you say,
but our fingers slip past.
"Hold on," you shout,
But there's nothing left to grasp.
I fall,
eyes closed,
embracing death in a silent scream,
the world rushing past in a whirlwind,
glass and glitter piercing my skin,
light bouncing off bloodstained shards
as the world goes dark.

Geez Ace, your awesome at writing