03-19-2014, 12:17 PM
Just kidding on the kid part, mid-thirties guy here :Þ I just started writing poetry a bit over a year ago when I popped open some sort of mysterious flood gate within me.
I'm not sure if I hope to take it beyond a hobbyist depth of the art, but regardless, I earnestly want to improve my writing skill as much as I'm able. The harsher the criticism the better in my opinion; I know I'm not posting my work here for praise, adoration, to find others able to relate, or any of that other fuzzy crap that blocks the path toward perfection.
Without further ado, my poem called "My Prize", why that I wish I knew...
Eyes on the redeemer
Of thee,
Thou Isis reliever
Blow free.
When hammer call
Don't stall,
Ask and ye shall
Not fall.
Lilith, my zenith
Begin with
Thy war, ever more
On the whore
Of pride and sight.
Thy eye
Full of dark might
To scry
The time a pill swallowed,
Followed
By no pyramid owed,
Hollowed
Of distrust and lust
That must
Now need lead through breeze.
At ease
My love, tomorrow of
Above
White wings a new black moon.
To swoon
With light ever more,
My chore
To settle the score
Of war,
Tearing away feathers
Of dreams,
Wearing away heathers.
Sight keen
Behind thy sight,
No light.
The fright at night
Stretched tight
Above black seams
I love
I clip for dreams
Of dove.
Alight from below,
Redeemed,
Mirrored flight to show
Between
The lines of here and then
Not when
Words cursed the ground with bait
And hate
For what had to be
And seen.
Before I knew it,
Blew it -
The undertow son
That's won -
And soon cease to shun
Amun
Ra or Shah or God
To yod
Point transcending one
Black sun
Mirror sucking in
The djinn
Clipped for all to see
Set free.
I'm not sure if I hope to take it beyond a hobbyist depth of the art, but regardless, I earnestly want to improve my writing skill as much as I'm able. The harsher the criticism the better in my opinion; I know I'm not posting my work here for praise, adoration, to find others able to relate, or any of that other fuzzy crap that blocks the path toward perfection.
Without further ado, my poem called "My Prize", why that I wish I knew...
Eyes on the redeemer
Of thee,
Thou Isis reliever
Blow free.
When hammer call
Don't stall,
Ask and ye shall
Not fall.
Lilith, my zenith
Begin with
Thy war, ever more
On the whore
Of pride and sight.
Thy eye
Full of dark might
To scry
The time a pill swallowed,
Followed
By no pyramid owed,
Hollowed
Of distrust and lust
That must
Now need lead through breeze.
At ease
My love, tomorrow of
Above
White wings a new black moon.
To swoon
With light ever more,
My chore
To settle the score
Of war,
Tearing away feathers
Of dreams,
Wearing away heathers.
Sight keen
Behind thy sight,
No light.
The fright at night
Stretched tight
Above black seams
I love
I clip for dreams
Of dove.
Alight from below,
Redeemed,
Mirrored flight to show
Between
The lines of here and then
Not when
Words cursed the ground with bait
And hate
For what had to be
And seen.
Before I knew it,
Blew it -
The undertow son
That's won -
And soon cease to shun
Amun
Ra or Shah or God
To yod
Point transcending one
Black sun
Mirror sucking in
The djinn
Clipped for all to see
Set free.