At 10/21/05 06:32 AM, StarF68 wrote: Sort of a war poem I guess. ^_^

i like yours the best

-=Dream of Reality=-

Quarries running in the greens
Thoughts of my home reside my mind
In the distance, so far away
I yearn of returning, but I can not see that day

War has turned my sense once so clear
Divided by violence's barrier
I believe I live nightmares of young children
And it seems like I will never wake up again

But the scenes are so real
I am starting to think that I really am here

I dream about my family, keep them from this row
Against my will, to the next battlefield I am town

I want to come home, not glare anymore
At this inhuman slaughter, at all the gore
Heads of young men no longer resting on a stiff neck
The eyes of the dead, stare so cold
I wish the dream would never been hold

Arms of young men hanging flabby, we use them as logs for warmth and light
The horrible things that I have seen, plays before my eyes each night
They are frightfully vivid, of a kind that I can not fight...

At 11/12/05 01:33 PM, Andersson wrote: -=Dream of Reality=-

Another poem. I liked the beginning part and this poem was good. The ending part was alright, but I didn't like it much. Still good anyway.

-=Fists of Steel=-

Fists of steel hanging down
Extremely powerful to disaster
It could have made blood flown
But so calm almost cowardly
Accepting the crimes, as it being their masters

Do not let the fists of steel hang immobile
Throw them around, pain deliverers so agile

Thy people will tell you that you have granted them freedom
Released them from the destructive beast
From them aside and run through their cordons
Launch your hands of doom when they expect it the least

Do us a favor and do not stand by and watch
Do not do as the the whole coward batch...

At 11/18/05 12:36 PM, Andersson wrote: -=Fists of Steel=-

Cool, another poem from you. This poem is very good. Nice work Andersson.

-=Blazing Blue=-

I am outside it is freezing cold
But I am resting by a fire
A fire of the I goals I hold
To enforce justice is what I desire

A fire blazing blue as the sky
The fire of my mere soul
The accomplishment ahead which ignited my pyre
Is to drag the guilty to the gallows pole

One day I will finish my work with a shimmering axe
And blood will supplant the warmth of the fire
Which for so long has heated my body at max
But untill then I will still be drifted by my desire...

That was ... amasing, it was very tuching and yet still comical in some way that made me shiver...

I scanned through the thread, reading about 2-3 per page:

What's your method when you write these?
Do you go one line at a time, thinking about what sort of line would sound good with the previous? Or is it more of an all-at-once thing: bam, you just spit it all out?

And:

A lot of poems supposedly have a deeper, underlying meaning.
Whether or not they're intentionally put there by the poet is often debatable.
Since these are specifically war poems, I have to ask, are they depicting just war, or do any of them have any specific allegories? Maybe to slavery, to sexism, you know.

At 11/18/05 03:07 PM, Zerok wrote: I scanned through the thread, reading about 2-3 per page:

Ah, thank you. =)

What's your method when you write these?
Do you go one line at a time, thinking about what sort of line would sound good with the previous? Or is it more of an all-at-once thing: bam, you just spit it all out?

Mostly, I just "spit it all out". But I do ofcourse try to make the second line rhyme with the first one.
All of those was written very fast. I make it up while typing, more or less.

I try to make them rhyme as it looks much better, and the meaning of the poem is oftenly more concealed.

A lot of poems supposedly have a deeper, underlying meaning.

Ofcourse. <=]

Whether or not they're intentionally put there by the poet is often debatable.

Many of my war poems (And the poems I write in other genres) all include many meanings. What I like is that with those who has to do with the battlefield, just not as simply related as it could, express so much around it.
As the two last war poems for example.

While those I wrote in the beginning illustrated the battlefield, fear, deeds, honour and so on, and the reader simply experienced something horrible.

Since these are specifically war poems, I have to ask, are they depicting just war, or do any of them have any specific allegories? Maybe to slavery, to sexism, you know.

They are depicting both the battlefields, the corruptness of leaders through history (Both past and what we await), the weak minds of people, the soldiers' view, the society, the aftermath.

Simply everything that has to do with it and is related.

By the way, it was fun to answer some questions about my writings, so if there is anything more you would like to ask or reflect, then please do so. =)

-=Word of Fear=-

Yet no-one has spoken a word, though they breath heavy
I can see smoke and a beach, but no Germans in my view

I control my rifle, is my helmet on?
Are we dead men, or die only those who does not carry on?

On the beach we debark
As a blood-thirsty shark

We run into the fire which flares
Into enemy lines only great men dares

They are shot and they are shooting
We are shot and we are shooting

Bright lights of muzzle-breaks loot
Each time the youngsters shoot

A war of freedom, terror and opression
Honourable men's last session

To victory and some's death
Our passion and last breath

Blood floats and heads roll
We do not know if we will full fill our goal

But to which cost we might ever loose or win
We must stop this forbidden sin

Towards death or victory...

-=Unseen Myth=-

A shadow which doesn't light up by rays of the sun
With skills beyond this world and carrying a gun

This person is the one the wind whispers about
This person is the source to innocents' shouts

No-one has ever met this myth and walked away alive
Suddenly he just stands there, none seen him arrive

Before the sun rays strucks his face
Before you've made a single thought, you're life he've laced

Battles with no meaning he fight every day
He shoots everyone who gets in his way

Till the world is without victims
He'll continue to kill, to not reveal what is behind his scrim...

-=Unbroken Flower=-

A shadow running through the woods
A stream of light from our moon

A fallen tree which cross the road
A lonely horseman with his load

He possess nothing but timid power
This horseman yet an unbroken flower

The untold story of the shape in black
Those who'd told them hidden in his sack

An owl sounds loud, a warning it become
The furious shadow explodes like a bomb

The horseman shouts "He's everywhere!"
No way to run must face his fears

The shadow flys by with a sword and with it he lash the man
He takes a huge bite from his throat as if it was a ham

The darkened shape moves on and away
At some moment of his life he went astray...

-=Den Första Snön=-

Vid horisontens rand slocknar själens brand
Berg i fjärran torna, släcker värme forna
Ett vidsträckt land med frost som skimmrar
Mot stjärnor det ända som i mörkret glimmar

De sista facklorna blåses ut då moln täcker himlavalvet
Och blytung snö, famlar ut, blir till is i fallet...

-Translation-

-=The First Snow=-

At the horizon's brink the soul's fire goes out
Mountains far off looms, former warmth quenches
A wide stretched landscape with frost that shimmer
Below the stars, the only ones that in darkness glimmer

The last torches are blown out as clouds cover the sky
And snow like lead fumbles out, turning to ice as it falls...

Translation by: Knudsen and Andersson

-=To Arms Or Cover=-

They have spoke about honour in the churches, homes of our country men, aswell as at pubs around the country.

My friends, the patriots of our country, we all belong in a free world.

Honour which you speak of... can not be won without sacrifices, through war. And it has come to us, that freedom can only remain through war.

With the knowledge and trust of which you all behold, an enemy is amongst us.

In Europe, a country which does not possess the right to terminate one among us, has done so.

We are living on the edge of a cliff... below us is a very high fall. With an enemy so close, they could be among us and that against our will, at any time.

So therefor men, women and youth of our kingdom, we do not fail and abandon our belief.
But we will fight and we will prevail.

If we never give up, none of us. If we all enforce freedom... We will not lose.

Together we are strong. We can fight and possibly win or die.

Or our only action will be to wait for death to take us...

I will fight, what kind of human are we?

One who fight, or one who allow terror?

-=Visions=-

Where did our eyes fall
I can hear their calls, full of pain

A hearsay of no reprieve
Horror of no resemblance

We only wish we knew where they were

A spiteful horse trot through the fields
It nibbles corpses of black born men
Rotten hearts. Never to feel again

Without our sight just visions will lead us
And visions affected by fear
Will lead our lives out of here...

Had to be done. ;-)

-=Story of King Arthur=-

He faced world with scrambled kins
Won his throne to be a king
-
When he pulled out the sword in the stone
At an age of fifteen and not full grown

Married Guinevere and her father's dowry
Was the Round Table with which he formed a cavalry

The Knights of the Round Table
The great warband's stable

The court of many heroes
But right into the line of Amor's fire Lancelot goes

They broke apart and war stood ahead
So Arthur left Mordred in charge who rebelled
Arthur slew Mordred, but got an axe in his head
-
But when England needs him, he will return from the dead.

-=Choked Breathing=-

The breathing is slow, are you dead or sleeping?
If your eternal star fades, do not tell. World had enough of weeping

Your chest does not move and your body is cold
While you were here I knew I would withstand the scold

But as a tear of stories froze to ice in it's founding
The one which did not need to, out of all in the mound

Together we will get through war and ill will
But we are not together so they surmount my composure

Now I let them force me, I left our tree to kill...

-=Neglected Value=-

Children in panic running down below
Machines of death in skies makes row

Heavy, leathal and coming fast
Burn out woods till the last

Followed by a swarm of hungry birds
Of what it once been now world just a sherd

Hollow sounds of battle far away
In the background just to fray

The background a scene so alike
For the reason of a president who can't just mike...

-=White Tale Black Truth=-

By lack of faith in those we don't know
All trust and love we never get a chance to show

We speak of fear, never about joy
Reflects the norm with the new toy

A white tale but a dark story
Tyrants called heroes of war with a divine glory

But when truth surely is spoken it's a different story...

No good hopes of recovery...

wow dude, your real goo. are you studying poetry?

At 12/23/05 06:00 AM, StONeD_SiLEiGHtY wrote: wow dude, your real goo. are you studying poetry?

Actually. Yes I started to study the art of writing a while ago... but I am only allowed to write in Swedish during class and I can not say that I have learned something new really.

I mostly write in English during class and just take a minute or two to do the sotries we must write.

At 12/23/05 05:58 AM, Andersson wrote: -=White Tale Black Truth=-

I like the title of that poem. The poem itself was good as well. Nice how you talked about white and dark there as well. Nice work.

-=Freedom And Captivity=-

Black dressed knights, ride out over the lands
Show our banner, lift it high in your hands

Each scrap of disgust, show them our greeting
If that is their reply, the dagger will give them a meeting

A torch impossible to extinguish, welcome our guest
Freedom will be tought, the added zest

But at last our hands decompose to ashes...

Your in war?

At 12/28/05 08:20 AM, hankthehero wrote: Your in war?

No I am not.

-=Justice of the Crown=-

Heathens in darkness, hides in the woods
The cold wind brings death and mood

Motionless danger size our den
Rage fuels those men

Their lands were taken and their homes burned
Their women raped, now a lesson will be taught

The proud men of England will be caught

The question is when, when the wave will break
A storm so great that whole earth will shake

And walls will fall and highlanders come down
And take back the people's crown...

I have decided to give you a review of your poetic abilities within the war genre. To be fair, I have read through each and every one of your poems in this thread.

The first thing that I will start with is spelling. Oh, spelling. I know that we have had our differences with regards to spelling and language in general in the Swedish People Club. However, I, and many others, find spelling and grammar very important, particularly in an art form so focused on words. Are you aware of that there are 135 spelling errors in your poems on these pages (grammatical errors notwithstanding, but there are at least as many of those)? Whether you think so or not, such a bad use of language severely diminishes the quality of your poems.

There is seldom any clear structure in your poems. Sometimes you attempt rhyming, but rather than improving the rhythm, the rhymes can be an embarrassing disruption. An example of this is the attempt to rhyme the word “heaths” with “breaths”.

You have no experience of war. How many poems about war can a Swedish, white middle class kid write before all originality is lost? Your poems are rarely anything other than a random sequence of words linked to war, and I fail to see an underlying meaning in most of them (what is a “deathless ghost”?). Most often, a poem has two or more dimensions. The first meaning a poem has is the “shallow” one, where you interpret the poem simply by the actions taking place and the locations they take place in etc. However, most poems also have a deeper, underlying meaning which represents the true point the author is trying to make. Your poems lack substance, what you do is use pretty words to describe scenery; they rarely have any meaning what so ever attached to them. You should consider breaking your rule for writers ("A writer must not read and a reader must not write.") to brush up on your skills. God knows you would gain a lot from reading the work of some good poets.

I was surprised to see how you reacted towards StarF68 when he posted his poem, we are aware that your name is in the topic title but that does not mean people should not be able to post their own poems. Nevertheless, you should welcome a fresh addition to your thread, because quite frankly your poems all melt together after five or so. As far as I’m concerned, StarF68’s poem was the best one in this topic. It was somewhat shallow, as the message was more than clear and did not require any thought to grasp. It was not condensed, the way a poem should be, but rather resembled lyrics to a song. However, it had a point, a good structure, utilised rhyming in a very effective way and had an underlying meaning. Read the poem again, you will learn from it.

To summarise, I think you are good at using a dictionary to look up beautiful words (even though you have a problem writing them down correctly) but not much more than that. I am ready to admit that you are a better poem than most of the population here on NG (which isn’t necessarily a compliment). However, you seem to lack the poetic talents that are needed for success. If I were you, I would not pursue a career in writing. Do something else, this will not get you anywhere.

-=Wolf Guidon=-

Epideictical kings and epidectiv queens
To a rotten tinge it leans

Took the civic honour
Impassive which it may seem

But the lies immit further than they deem

The heedlessness of the wolf
They eat us anew when our children are born

And lead us into a sure death with a guidon...

In those lands of death, you rhymed Hands with Hands.

Get more creative, and the effort is acknowledged that you want it to rhyme, but the lines aren't equal length, and you rhyme every line, instead of every two.

At 1/1/06 04:20 PM, Asvegren wrote: I have decided to give you a review of your poetic abilities within the war genre. To be fair, I have read through each and every one of your poems in this thread.

Hmmm, that may be considered fair, yes.

However, I, and many others, find spelling and grammar very important, particularly in an art form so focused on words.

Yes. To be honest, when it comes to poetry the spelling ain't what you should look at, it's the meaning behind what's illustrated.

Are you aware of that there are 135 spelling errors in your poems on these pages (grammatical errors notwithstanding, but there are at least as many of those)?

No, because I do not care.

Whether you think so or not, such a bad use of language severely diminishes the quality of your poems.

Haha, anywho. Everything that has been posted in here has been rewritten and edited later. Those are just scratches made in 10 to 15 minutes each.

There is seldom any clear structure in your poems. Sometimes you attempt rhyming, but rather than improving the rhythm, the rhymes can be an embarrassing disruption. An example of this is the attempt to rhyme the word “heaths” with “breaths”.

That depends Alexander. If you did not know, words were pronounced differently back in the days, so do not judge the "rhymes" by common speech of today.

However, as said, I have aswell edited those poems later on.

You have no experience of war.

A very nice observation. Though I am trained for combat and have a swell fantasy.

Obviously enough.

How many poems about war can a Swedish, white middle class kid write before all originality is lost?

We will just wait and see, will we? One example is the crippled woman who wrote 10´000 original poems from the inspiration of feelings, imagination and the landscape outside her window.

Your poems are rarely anything other than a random sequence of words linked to war, and I fail to see an underlying meaning in most of them (what is a “deathless ghost”?).

Hmmm. I am afraid to tell you Alexander that you are not of the audience for poetry, and that is why you fail to see any underlying meaning.

And as you seem to know everything that could be found in a dictionary, I ask you to look up "deathless" and "ghost".

Most often, a poem has two or more dimensions. The first meaning a poem has is the “shallow” one, where you interpret the poem simply by the actions taking place and the locations they take place in etc.

That is correct.

However, most poems also have a deeper, underlying meaning which represents the true point the author is trying to make.

Yes, and my poems play with the impression the readers get from reading those. By the evidentness of feelings as compassion to who the scene befall.

Your poems lack substance, what you do is use pretty words to describe scenery; they rarely have any meaning what so ever attached to them.

Hmmm. I must simply go with the conclusion once again that you are not the person who should try to understand poetry.

You should consider breaking your rule for writers ("A writer must not read and a reader must not write.") to brush up on your skills.

Haha, as every learned person say. They attempt to show a poet how to write poems by flashing with what they have read for themselves and how good their grammar is.

But they fail at writing, aswell as imagination ain't in their nature.

And I know a couple of writers and poets who would agree with me there.

I was surprised to see how you reacted towards StarF68 when he posted his poem, we are aware that your name is in the topic title but that does not mean people should not be able to post their own poems.

The thing is that more or less, you do not know what different threads are for.

The "Writer's Guild", the "Late Night Lounge" and the "Poetry Club" is for everyone, while threads for separate poets are for the poet him or her self, and no one else.

It was somewhat shallow, as the message was more than clear and did not require any thought to grasp.

That is the style he writes with. You may like it as you do not need to think or use your own imagination, but only what you have been taught from a textbook.

But others wants to read what they can relate with experiences and emotions.

Read the poem again, you will learn from it.

As the message in my profile say "A writer must not read and a reader must not write...". Although I have read that poem a couple of times.

But you should know, that the first poem was not written by the influence of another.

However, you seem to lack the poetic talents that are needed for success. If I were you, I would not pursue a career in writing. Do something else, this will not get you anywhere.

Thank you for that negative respons, but I will listen to the crowd instead who tells different.