you prolly ought not judge me by one little stanza, so, here's another poem to chew on;

I am a drug dealer
I sell black market pain
death destruction sorrow
and heartache for the shame

I am death incarnate
It is I who bring the end
My sorrow will be spread to all
and all shall feel my pain

I carry worlds on my shoulder
I hold each heartbeat in my hand
through every winter storm I stay
to keep time for the rain

My life becomes a whisper
as I slowly fade away
In twilight become the ghost
of each life I stole today

Lol, why'd go turn this into ice cream and throw me off track with the cold realization that there is no ice cream in my fridge

I have to agree that Qui's poems excel well beyond your average stock of teenage poetry

I like full poem as well, it's good... and as far as judging by just a single stanza... I had once read years ago that the greatest masters of literature or poetry became such because they had edited or simplified their art to the point where the least words had the most power and effect. So a short single stanza poem could possibly do what pages of stanzas may not... just a thought

“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.” -Leonardo da Vinci

“Simplicity is the glory of expression” -Walt Whitman quotes (poet)

“Simplicity is natures first step, and the last of art.” -Philip James Bailey (poet)

“There is a certain majesty in simplicity which is far above all the quaintness of wit.” -Alexander Pope (Poet I admire a lot)

“Simplicity is the key to brilliance” -Bruce Lee

-On the Subject of Debates Done Without Factual Data and Proper Citation-

Mindless meanderings to and fro
as the river flows and the wind blows.
What course has the navigator to show?
Who knows!

This post was last modified: 12-22-2007 04:37 AM by Lost in the Oilfield.

That's cute.
Who knows? Not I!

This is a old poem I wrote back when I was 18 or 19. I was thinking about how people even after death can still live by the effect they made on someone in life. People think about their family members and friends that have died, and that very action in it's own way makes a home and an existence for that deceased person inside the heart and mind of a loved one... I was thinking about how that in itself is a form of immortality. I was never really happy with the poem, and it's gone through a few edits over the years, but I can never seem to make it right... so that's why I never posted it with the others... I'll just post it as it is.

Reading it through again after so long I think I see why I was never happy with it, but I'll leave it up anyway, flawed though it may be.

Besides, it serves as a reminder of how my thoughts and art have developed, and brings to mind the flaws and imperfections I have long worked at hammering out over time and through life and experience.

And feel free to post your own poems here Qui, they are quite good... same goes for anyone else, if you don't want to start up a thread of your own I don't mind having them in here

This post was last modified: 12-22-2007 05:06 AM by Lost in the Oilfield.

Lol, thanks... was sort of a make-light-of-my-frustration poem

alright, here's one from when I was 13-14ish.

Give me a pencil and an eraser,
Then I am god of all paper!
I can draw whatever I want
create men, both large and gaunt
With an eraser I take them away,
Though they might be back some day
Giant forests, mammoth seas
A drop of water, and death of trees
From my hands comes forth the earth
All of it's death and back to it's birth
Frozen forever in one single breath
Mocking all with a feint of death
But ice I melt back to water
Become the seas, ocean's daughter
Pen in hand I pass out wings
So silently in flight bird sings
This world is mine, yes, I nod
For with this pencil, I am god.

*applauds* Bravo!
That was great... love the imagery... and a very accurate description of the power of the pencil too! Thanks for sharing it!

*applauds* Bravo!
That was great... love the imagery... and a very accurate description of the power of the pencil too! Thanks for sharing it!

yeah I still remember writing that too, I was sitting in class and my friend and I where doodling in my notebook, having a bit of a stick figure fight. I turned the page and wrote that in like 10 minutes while she was watching me, she was like, omfg wtf is that? it was fairly humorous her initial reaction. She was like, where's that come from? Well, it came from somewhere in my head where I was trying really hard not to pay attention in french class. lol.

I walk amongst hills and valleys,
through wood and over stream,
past the animals grazing in the sunset snow,
and through the winds that blow at mountains peak,
I stand at dusk and dawn and watch the sun crest the earth
I watch the world turn and spin through the frozen depths of space
I watch the people run through their days hurried and sullen lost in their thoughts
Lost in the moment, spending each second like dirty copper pennies;
both worthless unless piled together in greater numbers
I die a little each day