Comments on: Pieces of You

By: ravenswingpoetry

ravenswingpoetry — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 15:09:09 +0000

Thank you, piece of pie. Thing is, we cannot stay Daddy’s girl forever.

-Nicole

By: pieceofpie

pieceofpie — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 18:21:55 +0000

…beautiful raven.. dig the fib form… we are all daddy’s girl in one way or another… some memories need polishin to view the shine of love in his heart… others are just mere puzzles we will never finish w/o all the pieces… it is good to know the fading photos carry on what was once…

By: ravenswingpoetry

ravenswingpoetry — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 13:16:22 +0000

Glad to see you are starting to take steps.

Best of wishes to you.

-Nicole

By: paul wright

paul wright — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 22:48:13 +0000

thanks very much i like your advice,and kind words,i have entered the uksongcontest with a song called scatterbrain and i have entered paramontnashvillelyriccontest with raindrops and teardrops’,am also in a deathmetal band with nextdoor neighbour called satanmegadrive,we have such classics as alteredbeast and doctorsocoffocus/purveyor of nothingness and who could forget the seminal debut smash hiroshima in me,but i really want to learn accoustic as i have many beautiful songs,oh what is a stanza scottfellow refered to sounds like a wickedbad car out of cannonballrun,i am glad ive got stanzas in my songs they sound cool,i am a tiler i never did school much,i got spectacles a few weeks back,because i realised the strain my melon was under from writing,so went to optitian and turns out my world has always been blurred,i just didnt realise ,its awesome everything is so beautiful,especially leaves,clouds,eyes and night time lights and nightskies,i am finding i have a calmer approach to writing as my brain can just amble now,without needing to defragment visual images,i also used to be tired all the time always powernapping but now i seem more focused,and the daylight doesnt hurt anymore cos glasses go grey when outside,and also have started reading a life standing up by stevemartin,the last book ired was catcher in the rye when i was 15 i am nearly twice that now.a lot to takein but also endless inspiration i guess.x

By: ravenswingpoetry

ravenswingpoetry — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 15:34:19 +0000

Thank you, Scot and Nathan.

Paul: First of all, I find some potential in the work you’ve posted here. You DEFINITELY need to find your own mode of expression. Blogs are one way you can do this – WordPress, for example, is pretty easy to navigate, set up, and use. I’d also recommend finding an open mic in your area, one that features either music, poetry, or both. You really need to find an outlet, whether musically or poetically. And don’t stop. You’ve obviously got more words and meaning trapped inside of you.

Best of luck.

-Nicole

By: nathan1313

nathan1313 — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 13:11:00 +0000

I love how the form creates a spiral of words in each stanza, mirroring the sense of the past, of memory here.

By: Scot

Scot — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 02:19:53 +0000

very good poem–wish you luck in this

By: paul wright

paul wright — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 22:07:47 +0000

hajo my name is paul iam from england,i have been writing songs since late february,just over 4 months now but people say they are more like poems,i have written nearly 200 songpoemthings this saturday i did 7,don’t know how to approach it ,i love writing and would love to do it professionally in some capacity,im learning guitar but no real structure just trying to make it speak,so far got paulsmellowsong but it lacks depth,i dont think il ever tame this stringed beast.here is a poemsongthing i wrote last nite,it is about the relationship between gods and monsters and man and me.it usually takes about half an hour to an hour,and sometimes i set incredible sensations of beauty just after i finish,sometimes it feels like a ghost just brushed past,is this a common phenomenom when a dorment heart is awoken by expression?or am i truely alone?
the complexities of simplicity
fraught with fear
the future seems
interspersed
with broken dreams
holding back
and stretching me
like fabric
only bound by seams
regimented
standardised
lonely shadow
starved of light
broken pieces
of my heart
cast into the fractured light
inverted circles
in the sand
painted by
the hearts of man
scattered words
inside my heart
disappear
on cardboard shards
when it rains
i fall apart
always playing
guessing games
insipid flickers
of my endeavors
intrepid footsteps
chasing heaven
climbing trees
and painting devils
splattered ink
in reteric
idle hands
for devils work
patchwork thoughts
in silver foil
raising the dead
halleluijah
waking the dead
amen
in the aftermath
of mathematics
after all
that was thought
was fathomed
where foxholes
chase foxcubs
that’s where you’ll find me
where two square eyes
divide infinity
over two square miles
in vatican city
crimson blood
from up above
stains the hands
of would be thieves
indellible
the devils ink
perfect light
and perfect dark
fight for space
inside my heart
the idle hands
that glide
down dust on handrails
the feet that rest
upon the table
leaking roofs
and creaking stables
kings and beggars
caine and able
idle hands
and rocking cradles
a level line
a level eye
a playing field
inside my mind
where dragons fly
and spiders hide
biting moon
and whitest wind
on my neck
i feel you still
wrong from right
and right from left
lead is painted
on my chest
signalling
my childhoods death
replacement costs
for fallen gods
a stone is cast
in bronze
symbolising everything
betrayed by angrey gods
everything that went and came
tainted by the hearts of men
like silk flowers never die
immitating after life
ghost wind on a wooden swing
a watermark upon my heart
a babys eyes
in black and white
purest form a child
waterfall
cascading lies
driftwood splinters
in my eyes
airing on the side of cation
all this tork
and all this torsion
all this pain
and all this poison
hades rising
heavens falling

By: Noah

Noah — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 20:56:29 +0000

That sucks to not get to know who your family is.

Good write.

By: ravenswingpoetry

ravenswingpoetry — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 19:25:56 +0000

You’re welcome. I was speaking of my father in this poem (who *was* old enough to be my grandfather – he was 56 when I was born). Consequently, I never even got to know my grandfather. Dad was very secretive about his life. I’m still examining his pieces to find out who he was.

Thanks for stopping by.

-Nicole