HopperWolf

Accept, thou shrine to our lost touch, Instead of tears take this charge; And Past’s path be strewn with sweet rhyme, Take from me these sorrow filled lines, From thy wanting serf, that thou must In your passing, tumble firm trust. Sweet Heart, since thy ill desired leave, It hath been for me to believe, While I roam the halls of my mind, The echoes of steps left behind, That thee solely provide in me A star to follow and set free My soul, cast within corridors That seem to the eye as before. Yet, in thy absence the light grows Dim. And suffocates in thy woes, Losing my sight and direction, Stumbling blindly for perfection, When I cannot know the limits Of halls, these the darkness remits. Time contorts preposterously, Past, Present, Future: all I see, While I cease to live life by day, Merely watch my clock drain away Still the Sun tells of happiness, Of days gone by are surely missed. And yet the moon brings gladly news, Of passing time I would end soon As I pray for Past and Future To meet; thy bond, lost Touch, is sure. And ‘twixt us and our soul’s wish An ocean interposéd is: Exile in mind to taunt and warp A truth that’s felt in our own core For crimes not committed in our Innocent need. A justice soured By humanity’s epithet, That would challenge what hath been set. Thus, in that world I light our way, The same star bright I bid to stay, By which I steer our sail's wind, And compass set to gladly send. Nor labour I to stem the tide, Through which to thee I swiftly glide. ’Tis true with pride and joy I bend, The mind and heart in which to mend Thy sorrowed tears, for missing time. So I say; I am yours, you are mine, And so shall we remain in truth, As time doth bend, we do bend too. The thought of this bids me go on, And await with you reunion, With Hope and comfort. Love, forgive The pain. I am content to live Divided with but half a heart, ‘Til we shall meet and never part. This poem as inspired by, and is a semi-parody of "The Exequy" by Henry King, which is a looong time favourite of mine Edited by: HopperWolf at: 9/23/02 4:59:46 pm

you think so? Thank you I've got terrible writer's block at the moment. It took great inspiration and an entire day to get the words down.

hehe, sorry, that's me (Jamil) - forgot to log in as HW. so's not to waste this post... again, much high praise from me

Unfinished, if truth to know, Half a heart, Half a soul, It never hurt to be from home, ‘Til home was you. Feeling empty far from her, Holding on, The life we share, Missing things when we were closer, Touching you. Heavy heart that weighs on us, In shared pain, Distance lost, Eyes connect in hope that must, Be fulfilled. Lay alone, watching the truth, Missing you, Loving you, Feelings growing, flowing through you With me tonight. Edited by: HopperWolf at: 9/13/02 1:45:59 pm

*bows in return* wonderful to be back

I have to say, tis a good poem! If you can manage to find my poem "Eternity" on here a couple pages back I took a different approach, almost the opposite. Many reasons for faith I like the rhyme scheme myself, as was said, harks back to oler day of the metephysical poets, who were also slaves to rhyme and assonence But, language is, and always has been, flexible in my opinion. When it comes to poetry at least. I enjoy playing with it Good poem

I like this seems alot of my own friends claim love where they merely are in love with the idea of love. And others disillusioned with love altogether as they haven't found it yet. It is a confusing time, but they are still young. Still, no one wants to be alone, and it gets to them.

(conversion confusion, this is actually the original post for this thread) Where are you? Looking for your face in a crowd, Yes, I was wrong, Saying things I shouldn’t aloud. But you see I need you, And I loose all sense when Things don’t look perfect; What you’ve deserved since then When your face was an angel’s, With a voice to send Fear and pain from me. And so when After time looses track, Your voice stops, Fear strides back. Now I utter silent prayer, In desperate hope, That through the crowd, Your face will appear, And in cloying clamour, Your voice arise To wipe all fear, Of a court clown’s disgrace With soft caressing whisper. In that peaceful interlude, I would strive to show, A world deserving of you, Through words, Of love in heart, Of peace in soul. Find perfection in what I give, For all I am is yours, While I know it’s not quite right, It’s a perfect me. Yes, I was away, if anyone noticed. lol. for about two months, except the two poems I actually managed to post *proud* So, hello everyone. how are you?

(conversion confusion, this is actually the third post in this thread) Thankies

See you lying there, Now childish features full of innocence, See you lying there, In the subtle state of your world of dreams, See you lying there, A world of trouble left behind in peace, See you lying there, A face I’d lay down for if showing pain. Soft skin with gentle cheeks, Hair swept across your face, And eyes closed tight. Curled frame I’d hold you tight, Head to chest to protect you, As best I can. See you lying there, Wrapped warm in comfort’s blanket, See you lying there, Wrapped safe in love’s covers, See you lying there, Angelic face that when I See you lying there, You steal my willing devotion. Beautiful one, Soft and tender to the touch, Beautiful one, Warm under my lips, Beautiful one, I give you my all, As you lie in your sleep, Never to know, The promise I make, Never to know, That I keep it every moment, But never to break it.

Eternity in shades of pale blue, With messages written in bold white strokes, Based on vibrant greens that flow with life; A naive innocence, And on scarred browns that bring hardship, An infinite base for our Eternity, Populated by a thousand million Oracles, Stretching through the tides of time, That give depth to the surface of our Eternity’s base. A base scarred by our glorious destruction, Of a billion sins, And still we forgive, And still we reach out, And still we love. A soul alone walks past, The burden of guilt weighing heavy, But a hundred souls stop to help together, In unity lifted high, And still we forgive. Beneath this Eternity of pale blue, A humble life bares unimaginable significance, In the petty scope of that soul, A hundred souls make great waves, In the Oracles’ tides, And each soul is a life to another. Watch our pale blue Eternity, And the messages it gives, And wonder at the intentions behind it.

I likey this Reminds me of Macbeth actually (Lady Macbeth). I also like the conflict of emotions. In despair so often I seek solitude and in that I find a false hope, which I inevitably see through and slip again.

A great sense of passing time; ages. And a mix of insignificance of the individual and equality in life and death Vivid. NICE

Love, if it were pure divine, A bright and brilliant light, A higher truth than you could find, Would then, when vile Temptation Enters in its fearful state, The Word would true remain In loves own mark, Tempted not, but rather Stay in Lover’s arms and heart. Yet still when ill Temptation Offers a fettered lust, The Word burns and turns. Heart forgotten with sickly ease, For Temptation is this love’s disease.

OOC: This isn't really a short story per say, more the draught of one. Which may just get fleshed out or expanded too. What do you think? Anyway, all comments welcome 's why I post it. *** I didn’t understand then, none of us did. The gates had been open in welcome the same as any other time. No one could possibly have suspected what would happen towards the end of that swealterng summer day. The others swarmed around the grounds in the own groupes, their cliques. I was, myself, a part of a select group. Ironically, it was us: the outcasts that no one would even talk to, and we were probably the closest of them all. I saw him when he walked through the gates. I hardly noticed him. He was the anomaly. The self-created outcast, no one talked to him because he wouldn’t talk to them. Even us. He was quiet, that was all. And, of course, because he never spoke back, he was an easy target. But then, everyone was bullied at school; in some way. Even the popular kids had to put up with it from their friends. I saw him again, throughout the day while he walked through the hallways, paying no attention to anyone else. His mind seemingly on school. So, God, why do I find myself in this situation now? The first shot rang out, echoing down the hall while I drank from the fountain. My bag fell from my shoulder as I spun round, hitting my hand on the metal bowl that caught the water. A second shot, piercing through the silent school and then the doors all along the corridor urst open and teachers ran towards the devastating noise. Still the rest of the school was silent. I don’t think I can remember it being that quiet any other time. I ran too, following the teacher’s frantic dash down the hallways. At the end of the first there was a third shot and I burried my head down. No idea what was happening, or what I would do, I had to find out. So here I am, standing in the doorframe of an English classroom, one of the teachers that had shot from the class along that corridor knelt next to me, quietly sobbing. His shoulders shaking and his muffled moans unintelligable. Only he knows what he is saying. I would try to do something for him but I can’t. I’m frozen in horror at the sight before me. At the back of the class the teacher is subtly trying to calm the children who are crowded round her; most in silent tears. They can’t be much older the 12 or 13. In front of them was a puddle on the tiled floor, the liquid spreading between the tiles. The source of the red water stares blankly at the flickering light the hung above. His partner lies a few metres away, face down; her own puddle reaches out to meet his. He is standing in front of me. His eyes eyes are closed and he breathes slowly. His coat, that hangs to his waist, is ragged and falling from His shoulders. Hs hair is a greasy mess. He looks desperate. The gun in His hand is held limply by His side. I can tell what he’s thinking. I can read it in those closed eyes and that forced breathing. I know he’ll raise that gun once more. I know it but I can’t stop it. Still I stand, rooted to my spot. I watch in horror as the barrel of the gun rises. It rests on it’s target and, lazily, He pulls the trigger. A fnal blast from the barrel is deafening. Fascination and disgust oil in my stomach as I can finally move and run towards him as he falls limply to the floor. Adding a third puddle to the floor.

this is a great poem. Does a good job. It's often difficult to get past depression, and it can last and effect everyone aruond you. This does a great job, putting things in perspective. Very feel good yay.

Two wolves, lovers of the night, On a mud red bed of roses, Share entwined in passion’s height, Innocence in human delight, Which the animal inside opposes. Two wolves, lovers in darkness, They lay breathless still completed, Held arms around in love’s embrace, Sharp yellow eyes drawn to their face, Passionate in loneliness defeated. Two wolves, lovers at the dusk, Intruded by unwelcome dawn, Tamed by their night’s fragmented husk, Forced in following nights to trust, With last embrace they flee into the morn. Two wolves, lovers of the night, In love’s comfort bed they lie, Think on the wild beauty in their sight, Trust in their faith to heal their plight, But still love their spirits in their night’s sky.

I'm glad you do! I alwyas love to see how people interpret my poetry. I tend to think that a poem is highly personal for poet and reader and each person's interpretation is just as valid and I'm glad when people find meaniung in my work And you were spot on with this one . did you notce the title? *g*

How do you love me? Let me count the ways. You love me in the sorrow, dispair and strife Your soul can feel, when feeling in your sight, For the comfort used and thrown away. You love me to the limit of keeping hopes Necessity, by hand and pitiful. You love me partly, divided by all; You love me barely, nothing below. You love me with no passion, that I use In my new griefs, and lose my childish needs. You love me with a love that seems untrue; An after-thought - when I give all of me; You, the hope of all my life, and you choose To doubt all that I lay for you to see. "Inspired" by: Sonnets from the Portuguese, XLIII by: Elizabeth Barrett

The table’s edge, Seen through the lens of false eyes, Is frozen and disjointed, Wrapped in a subtle guise. Refracted truth, Spectacled in mockery, On show in very private Distorted clarity. What truth to know? When life in truth is blurred, And through false eyes this is A sight that much preferred.

You think you know, Everything you need to see, About yourself and the way, The world works as it spins around, Your idle frame. You think you’re wise, With all your clever words, And your simplistic complexities, As you peg so ineffectively the way, You work the world. You sit and judge, Sat upon your great wood throne, Humble in your self elected rule, Judge us, who cannot judge, We mere mortals. You sit above, And spit on us with your kindness, Generously giving to keep us alive, And taking our freedom to keep us yours, Rely on you. Power not yours, We can snatch back what is ours, We do not need your false power, We do not need what you hold in your hand, To live our lives. I am not yours, You did not create my soul, And you have no hold on what I need, So I cast you away with all your false words, To leave me be. To live my life, The way I know how, not guided by you, But by that which has the right, Whatever it may be, where ever it resides, But it is not you.

Vile Sorrow, Runs rife through my veins, From the treacherous serpent, Coiled about my heart, With gradual pressure, A cage to trap me. In sudden rage, To taste my life’s blood, A violent thirst struck my pet, And sunk in it’s teeth, Spreading lethal poison, By my own venom. Vile disease, Slowly killing life, Burning my blackened heart, Now weighing me down, Manacled by Sadness, My ruthless jailor.

(Conversion Confusion, this is the original post) I have died a million times, Through plague, starvation and war, And you dare to sit and whine to me, About the hardships you have seen, And the awful places you have been, When you’re but a child in this great world, And the things you did, The things you saw, Are nothing in my life’s shadow. I’ve watched life fail a billion times, As all around my friends did fall, Bowed my head when their bells chimed, I looked around me and they were gone, And you sit there and you sing your song, A dirge for lost grades and foolish pride, And you truly believe, That I should weep, For your insignificant loss. I have killed a trillion times, Put to death those weakened souls, Because though I never even tried, I claimed I could do nothing with them, And you sit there and cry to me, That you’ve done this terrible deed, But you did not, You did nothing, I mock your foolish decency. And you look me in the eye, And confess all your empty sins, And lift me on a pedestal so high, The only one to whom you can Entrust your soul and keep it safe. But you do not know, Who I am, And what I could do with your precious soul. Edited by: HopperWolf at: 5/17/02 2:14:54 pm

(Conversion Confusion, this is the third post in the thread) course it always has to be about me, I'm the centre of the universe!! hehe, okay now I'm just kidding. They are generally from a first person, but that's because I feel more comfortable writing that way, conveying the eperience, emotion or whatever, through someone. Easier to relate to perhaps. Especially so on this one. They are not, however, all representations of me. just the important ones. J/K again. Just my lil ramble and reasoning. Glad you liked the poem

(conversion confusion, this is the post which started it all off) It grieves me to see your pain, And though I try, To wipe your tears, And strike down your doubt, That casts it shadow on us, My axe is blunted. Doubt stands still to block the sun, You stand under, Look to the light, And see the willow, I see your shade’s dispair, Enter, touch your heart. But the light has not left you, Else the willow, Then made nothing, Would hold no power, Drowned in it’s own revulsion, You would be empty. Hide not from the happy truth, Live for the light, Giver of hope, Let not cruel dispair, Deny happiness deserved, Of you above all.