I'll suppose go first I suppose..

This is for your own works!!!
Everett Wade

I'll suppose go first I suppose..

Post by Everett Wade » Fri Jul 05, 2002 6:21 pm

-To the Incarnation-

To the incarnation of the smallest fire,
Which we devote our lives to so often.

One intrinsicality,
A lifeblood that sustains--
Even wings it gives,
Or so seem they, until they perish.
Biting winds of disuse often drive them this way
Into that clay-cold world of words.
That is perhaps what causes the actions
To appear as mere scars.

Once these are left to ruin
The converse is then realized,
This will bind you to yourself--
To the keen sickening
In the pit of concious thought.
Those who believe in escape
Can, and likely will be crushed.

So many have sat idle,
Wringing the blood out of their hearts
Till they lay lifeless and still
Never having known what,
Or who it was they loved.

Reason will watch on, nearby
With eyes that are cracked with age
Receeding into the ashen dust.
And the inborn self stands...
Facing the light.

I fall to my knees--
Too weak to stand
Shards of intensity rake across my vision,
Tearing the sky before me
Into strands of reddened emotion.
Painting a beautiful picture indeed.

Like a statue
Created of ice
The tears that course down my face,
Are the very essence of my being
Wasted-- as they glitter in the sunlight.
My dwelling is now amongst the spines and thorns.
The incommunicable pain
Becomes a solace.
The shade comforts me no longer.

But inferiority,
Even total lack,
Acts merely as a parched riverbed
In which the azure flow
Winds it's sparkling way back,
In a blaze of light and fury,
Into the sea from whence it came.
Just as the moon sets before the sun rises,

On the face of one...

Sitting at the edge of a lake,
As birdsong darts in and out of the warmth
Along a glorious emerald lanscape
Where stones themselves speak in hushed tones.
No longer I yearn,
No longer I aspire to reach,

To the incarnation of the smallest fire,
Which we devote our lives to so often.

For I have been given the rest,
Of which the zeal and ardor of a thousand souls,
Could not speak.
George. Wright


Post by George. Wright » Sat Jul 06, 2002 5:04 am

Poetry Cop

Post by Poetry Cop » Sun Jul 14, 2002 12:38 am

Everett Wade, I am issuing you a citation for the following line:

So many have sat idle,
Wringing the blood out of their hearts
Till they lay lifeless and still...

Idle people would never lift a finger to wring blood out of their hearts.

Poetry Cop
Everett Wade

Post by Everett Wade » Mon Jul 15, 2002 9:45 pm

Idle means doing no work... and besides, you don't have to lift a finger to wring the blood out of your heart...
But wait... you might not know what a metaphor is.
Poetry Cop

Post by Poetry Cop » Mon Jul 15, 2002 11:53 pm

Everett Wade, I let you off easy. I could have charged you with the overuse of metaphor.

Fire, Wings, biting winds, cold clay, scars, shards, statues of ice, parched riverbeds, talking stones, cracked eyes - to say nothing of the sea, moon, light, fury, shade, the glorious emerald landscape and reddened emotions.

I quote from the Statutes (lex scripta) of the Commonwealth of Poetry, Section 601:

"One thing that literature would be greatly the better for
Would be a more restricted employment by authors of simile and metaphor.
Authors of all races, be they Greeks, Romans, Teutons or Celts.
Can't seem just to say that anything is the thing it is but have to go out of their way to say that it is like something else."

And in section 604:

"They (poets) always say things like that the snow is a white blanket after a winter storm.
Oh it is, is it, all right then, you sleep under a six-inch blanket of snow and I'll sleep under a half-inch blanket of unpoetical blanket material and we'll see which one keeps warm.
And after that maybe you'll begin to comprehend dimly
What I mean by too much metaphor and simile."

Everett Wade, you may pay the 50 pound fine in person at the Small Claims court.
User avatar
Posts: 25387
Joined: Thu Jun 27, 2002 8:57 pm
Location: Florida, U.S.A.

Post by lizzytysh » Tue Jul 16, 2002 3:10 am

Poetry Cop: Got any extra copies of Statutes (lex scripta) of the Commonwealth of Poetry? :)

Metaprotectors, Inc.

Post by Vigilance » Tue Jul 16, 2002 4:03 pm

Thank you for the opportunity to introduce the services of my company, Metaprotectors, Inc. Although I do not wish to comment on individual poems, I am glad to see the Poetry Police are maintaining their vigilance. I feel it is my duty as a public servant to offer information about the outstanding line of literary protection our company offers. (1) The Simile Shield: This modestly priced introductory line offers quickly employable defense againt similes coming from the distance of your eyes to the computer screen; available in a choice of the Charles Bukowski model which admits no similes whatsoever to the Charles Baudelaire, which screens out only the farfetched but humdrum, the Simile Shield is a sturdy and serviceable entry-level literary protector. (2) The Metaphor Mitigator is for those who have more confidence in their own powers of discrimination but still welcome a little support for those times when their own literary defenses are down from insufficient intake of the liquids that illuminate. If you would like to see our catalogue, we will send you a copy in a plain brown wrapper. Operators are standing by. Just ask for your personal copy of the Viagrous Verse Catalogue: For Those Who Need Just a Little Help With Their Poetry. Remember that using protection is a service to you and society.

Post by Guest » Tue Jul 16, 2002 7:22 pm

To Poetry Cop under the guise of Vigilance:
Ah, well.....
~Lizzytysh 8)


Post by Vigilance » Tue Jul 16, 2002 8:51 pm

Dear Lizzytysh, Nope, I am not the Poetry Cop! Why do you think that?
Everett Wade

Post by Everett Wade » Wed Jul 17, 2002 2:40 am

And my writing should be confined by others ideas of what good writing is? The writers who went out of the confines of their time are the ones who are famous today... sorry Vigilance... if you've tried to annoy me, I'm merely amused... lets just hope thats what you set out to do in the first place.


Post by Vigilance » Wed Jul 17, 2002 3:18 am

Dear Everett, I was most certainly not trying to annoy you. I have great respect for your obvious dedication to poetry and your continual working at your craft. I also like to write, and we all have to be our own best critics. My posting was just a light-hearted bit of fun. I shall look forward to reading more of your poems; I'll probably also post more bits of fun.
Everett Wade

Post by Everett Wade » Wed Jul 17, 2002 3:37 am

woops! sorry, when I said Vigilance I was reffering to "Poetry Cop". Sorry... I'm not used to working 9 hour days yet haha... my brain is a bit frazzled. Sorry man.
Poetry Cop

Post by Poetry Cop » Thu Jul 18, 2002 5:56 am


Wade Cited For Contempt
In Juvenile Court

Everett Wade, 16, was cited for contempt of court yesterday by the Honorable Judge Swift. Mr. Wade was appearing in court for refusing to pay a 50 pound fine levied against him for overuse of metaphor.

Everett Wade's defense that "my writing should not be confined to others ideas of what good writing is" did not impress the court. Judge Swift reminded the peevish young criminal that "on the contrary, it is the duty of society and of this court to pass judgement on heinous acts committed in the name of poetry."

Mr. Wade then startled the court by having a temper tantrum. Throwing himself on the floor and pounding his heels; young Everett yelled that "other writers had left their confines and were now famous for it." He then held his breath and turned red.

Judge Swift unimpressed with this display of petulance ordered the baliff to handcuff the youngster. Judge Swift proceeded to lecture the would-be poet before passing sentence.

If still you be disposed to rhyme,
Go try your hand a second time.
Again, you fail, yet safe's the word,
Take courage, and attempt a third.
But first with care employ your thoughts,
Where critics marked your former faults.
The trivial turns, the borrowed wit,
The similes that nothing fit;
The cant which every fool repeats, Town-jests, and coffee-house conceits;
Descriptions tedious, flat and dry,
And introduced the Lord knows why...

The vilest doggerel Grubstreet sends
Will pass for yours with foes and friends.
And you must bear the whole disgrace,
Till some fresh blockhead takes your place.

Judge Swift fined Wade 150 pounds and sentenced him to 30 day in the county jail.
Posts: 1874
Joined: Mon Jul 08, 2002 3:37 pm
Location: Bangor, N.Ireland

The Judge

Post by George.Wright » Thu Jul 18, 2002 11:24 am

Ev, :D
The Judge said "The poet must die for the lie in his voice"
Everett Wade

Post by Everett Wade » Thu Jul 18, 2002 11:46 pm

Lol poetry cop... nice litl childrens rhymes...
The sad thing is someone is taking their time to write all that stuff and post it. People take things so seriously on the internet hahahha
Post Reply

Return to “Writing, Music and Art by the Forum members”