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Original Poetry

A platform to express and share your enthusiasm and passion for poetry. What are your treasured poems and poets? Don't hesitate to showcase the poems you've penned yourself!
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Saffron

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Thomas Hood wrote:
Saffron wrote:Thank you, Tom. I'm so glad you've post your own poetry!
Thank you, Saffron. Your turn. Will has something hidden away too. And Carly has a perpetual poetry machine running in the back of her mind. And the shy lurkers are waiting for a leap of faith to post.

Tom
I'm working on it! I tried to write or rather convert a poem of mine to an Elizabethan sonnet. I was not successful. If I can get the origional poem back together I'll try posting it.

Saffron
p.s. DW? How about you? Anything to contribute?
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Lawrence

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Here is a poem written by Andie. This poem was written by my Niece's child who is in the 5th grade. I thought it extra ordinary but I know nothing of poetry. What do you all think of it. Lawrence

"I Am"

I Am
gentle and curious
I wonder
if I will get married
I hear
joy in every moment
I see
beauty all around me
I want
to control my fiery temper
I am
gentle and curious

I pretend
I have superpowers
I feel
as if I were on top of the world
I touch
people's lives every day
I worry
when I hurt somebody
I cry
when something I love dies
I am
gentle and curious
I understand
when something has to die
I say
I have an open mind
I dream
about people I love
I try
to understand my life
I hope
I live life to the fullest
I am
gentle and curious
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Saffron

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Thanks, Lawrence for posting the poem. It is lovely. The poem flows well and visually the structure is pleasing (which one of my daughter's insists is important). Andie seems to be insight beyond her/his years.
Last edited by Saffron on Wed Sep 17, 2008 8:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Saffron

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It's funny when I pulled out my box of loose papers and almost poems, I hardly recognized my own words. Here are two poems written in 1996.


Ideas

like a cherry ripe and waiting to be picked
I can reach it
snatch it
but as I put the cherry in my mouth
the sweat juices choke me
I choke and sputter
struggling for composure
the words will not come will not be commanded into complicity
they run from my lips, my mind
as the juice splatters with each gag.




Friction

We walk near each other
I can feel the pull of your gravity
straining to maintain my position, footing, grounding
so as not to come too near
I will ignite at the slightest brush of your body
like your son's caps that we played with in my drive way
dragging the rock across the strips of red paper
little pockets of gunpowder
trilled by the rapid succession of little explosions

It really is an odd feeling to see poetry you've written, but not seen for many years.
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Thomas Hood
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Sweet juices, I think. Friction definitely belongs in your book of poems. It has immediacy, involvement, tangency, structure -- objective features of a good poem. I could defend it in court.

Tom
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Saffron

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Thomas Hood wrote:Sweet juices, I think. Friction definitely belongs in your book of poems. It has immediacy, involvement, tangency, structure -- objective features of a good poem. I could defend it in court.

Tom
Why thank you, Tom. Very kind, encouraging words; just what I need to hear today.

Saffron
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Saffron

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Mango Passion

Reaching into the refrigerator the door brushes against my breast
like his hand gently reaching out to caress.
I close my eyes.
He's gathering me to his body
bones fit
flesh to flesh.

At the sink cold water runs over the fruit in my hand
splashing shivers over my body
like his nose against my neck
I close my eyes
little moist kisses
tingle and burn.

Slicing into the mango
the knife slides into the silky flesh with a push and a pull
like his body into mine.
Juice drips from the open fruit
I close my eyes
His hands pull me down

The mango meets my lips
like his
wet and sweet
sliding softly into my mouth
I close my eyes
I can taste him.
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Saffron

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And this one is me too.


Poetry (A Perspective on Life)

It sustains me, carries me into the morrow
And the next and the next
it floats me gently on an old inner tube on a hot July Afternoon
cool & shady
trees dip their branches in for relief
like my own toes dragging in the water
leaving a long ripple that follows me
a wake, my imprint momentary
And gone like the water it is written on.
Last edited by Saffron on Thu Oct 02, 2008 9:26 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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GentleReader9

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Yum, Saffron!

You have a very lush and delicious sense of imagery. Educators talk about how some people are auditory, visual, or kinesthetic in their dominant mode of thinking and processing. It seems to me that you are...what would it be called? Gustatory? Expressing and processing through taste. I have a sense of chewing and savoring these poems, of your images melting in my mouth. Maybe it's a kind of kinesthetic processing. I like it. And you said the "voice like chocolate cake" thing, too.

I did see the boxing poem before, but I guess I was having some kind of memory gap between that poet and you. Now I'm having an "oh that Saffron" moment: you posted many of the really good poems here, went to the poetry festival, had an illegal picnic, like REM...now I know who you are a little better. Thanks for reminding me where the original poetry was. I get tired and act even spacier than I am. :smile:
"Where can I find a man who has forgotten the words so that I can talk with him?"
-- Chuang-Tzu (c. 200 B.C.E.)
as quoted by Robert A. Burton
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Saffron

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GentleReader:
"oh that Saffron" moment: you posted many of the really good poems here, went to the poetry festival, had an illegal picnic, like REM...
Yes, that is me.
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