THE POET'S CORNER--YOUR "ORIGINAL" WORKS ONLY...Share your thoughts

Number of posts: 323 Points: 42 Registration date: 2008-05-02

McNeal wrote:

Jocelyn wrote:

how u can write so many lines ma? us novices need some tips... does it just come to you or does it take time???? .... any suggesions???McNeal you can chime in to...

At times, I feel it like anger, or love, or joy, or quietude...just an inward feeling and for one of the mentioned feeling, one decides to write it in a chosen systematic style considering various poetical styles.

One on is a novice to his/her feelings. It's like writing a letter for a particular reason... lets say a letter/statement of purpose...only that more often the rhythmical or versed or stanzad... but it's feelings expressed in words...

ok take this:
as an example

so true...it seems it's easier to write about things i'm passionate about... i tried compiling a piece abt a subject that's not dear to me and i can't get pass the first four lines....i guess that comes with experience...

Number of posts: 323 Points: 42 Registration date: 2008-05-02

krazzy wrote:

usually, i write on my cellphone. as the thought comes up, i write a message and save it. after 2-3 weeks, i transcribe to my laptop and try to make sense of what i have written. the war pieces i wrote as a healing venture-exorcising the pain of innocence lost-for myself and my country.

that's a great idea.... come to think of it, i was watching this piece on one of the news stations, in Japan, they have these authors who write their entire short stories using their cell phones.... sometimes u c something that u know u could use in the future... good way to capture.....

yea..it helped me. got up around 12 one nite to write and my son saw me writing. he asked what i was doing and i said a poem. his response: why didn't u tell us that u r a poem writer, ehn? i will report u to daddy. funny but yes, we are all poem writers.

it been great where are work with the other sistas. they are supportive. whenever we do our women's rights trainings/workshops, we have creative interludes. poets and other artists get up and do their thang. so at work-they say the manager who is also a poetess. making hay big na easy th_ROFLMAO

Number of posts: 323 Points: 42 Registration date: 2008-05-02

but why he say he will report u?????? and he reporting his mom.... th_mrgreen

must be a fun place to work....

i jes told him, i na living with yor o...go to bed :) it is. when i got an invite to attend a feminist leadership training, i knew i was in the right spot. th_yes

Jocelyn wrote:

Thanks McNeal.....Here's another one in memory of my daddy!!! smile_approve

Mourning the Patriarch
More ancient than the cotton tree
Providing a canopy of coolness
To Hanty pa’s rusted, corrugated shack
Women from all over the Kru Coast
Grateful for the break from the scorching heat
Ritually pass snuff and bottles
Gin, Cane Juice, Roots
Sneezing- wailing
Swigging – wailing
Stealing- wailing

His home feels violated
Bereft

The reddened, bruised Hibiscus flowers
Demarcating the lush green mat
From the broad tabella field
Detach their pistils and curtsy to the ground

The potted Praying Hands rebels
Refusing to proclaim Amen
Yes they’ll be like the other pagan plants
At least for this week

Rotted pawpaws cling to their branches in reverence
Knowing the ground, too, must kowtow, starve, suffer
Mourn

The brown plump roaches that make their nightly pilgrimage
Hoping the flickering garage lights were the gates of heaven
Where they too would fly forever
Singing Halleluiah Joy
Will walk till he’s one with the earth

Even the wall geckos
Unable to shed their scaly white skin
Like their no-legged cousins
Can’t wear the color of the dead - black
But vow to remain in the walls, in the dark
Grieve

Like someone driving with broken wipers
In July
As Monrovia is cleansed of its iniquities
Disaster is imminent
He’s dead

At least for this week You were graceful

Like their no-legged cousins
Can’t wear the color of the dead - black
But vow to remain in the walls, in the dark
Grieve who's that?

Very vivid is the imminent disaster

considering the condition at the time, you poem was shortened... If the circumstance be-rounding the home-going was at ease... this poem I do foresee being prolonged by stanzas.

Number of posts: 323 Points: 42 Registration date: 2008-05-02

their no-legged cousins are snakes... so i'm saying if the geckos could shed thier skin, they would wear black.....

hmm.. interesting last two sentences....I just realize what u meant by condition at the time....No, I wrote this years after my father's death...i tend to run outta things to say... and since i don't have a lot of patience, i rush the process.... will have to work on that...

Great, i thought I was mistaken.

Last edited by McNeal on Sun Aug 31, 2008 7:02 am; edited 2 times in total

(A visit by the rushing waters)

Sweeping through the leafy woods
Surrounded by singing birds and lively herbs
Without a sense of birth
I realized myself on the bank of the rushing waters

Unlike the other side
Things were vivid, as I stood not firmly
But I refused to listen to the rushing waters
Thou, which seemed to be telling me many things

As I watched in silence
Listening to her many voices
I knew that I wasn’t the first person
And knew I very well not to be her last visitor

She told me many phenomenons of her beauty
She told me how dry leaves smiled away
But into prosperity
Finding pleasure with the morning breeze
And the oxygen of Mother Nature on her silky soft jelly skin
As she blew lovely kisses of smiles to the rising sun

But I forgot to remember all that she was saying
Wasn’t I also told of some of these dry leaves?
Those which ran into stunting riverbank rocks
And leaving no trace of their existence
Neither being remembered by the depth of her beauty
But being relinquished into the anguish of many that vanquished?

She told me in another mellow voice
How lovely dragonflies were murdered in her astounding beauty
And why fresh plants didn’t flow till the end of her beauty
In another voice I heard her say, but this time very horrifically
How the sun was at times hunting her beauty -
This which left many of her beloved into unending calamities of grief.

As I looked into her glittering wet blue eyes
I knew that she was telling me truths of many things
Those which were very hard to understand
I understood everything; only to forget
Yet I felt that she was talking directly, but to me
I then looked over my mounted shoulder in pretense
And saw many others exactly like me
It was then that I realized that I wasn’t me
But just a withering leaf
About to go on its own
Far away from its mother – tree

And now into the world of the rushing waters
The waters of rushing creatures
The waters many like me would be afraid of
By knowing that which she had told me – I told myself
I could reach the end of her beauty;
Without knocking ‘gainst the rocks of the river banks
Without drowning into the depth of her chilly beauty
But flowing upon her beautiful silky skin
I then knew that my visit to the rushing waters
Was not in vain
But for a purpose

Number of posts: 83 My Mood: Points: 0 Registration date: 2008-08-11

This is very inspiring! McNeal, I can totally relate to the "inner feeling" you were talking about. I've never really written poetry as such, but I write my thoughts constantly...sometimes it feels like a force rising within me that is waiting to be born and it's almost like I have the compulsion to grab a pen and notebook, not knowing what's going to end up on paper. Sometimes the feeling is so intense that it's like a volcano on the verge of eruption, and my hand can hardly keep up with it.. It's truly amazing!! I will continue to explore and experiment with that, and would love to share sometime.

Last edited by Nica on Sun Aug 31, 2008 3:57 am; edited 2 times in total

McNeal wrote:

i think we need to collate these pieces of arts and commission a village-book of poetry... or something...what do you think?

My pepo...da new grio in The Village and nobody ain tell me sef? When you move from here long you can miss plenty mehnnn.
Welcome to the palava hut wise one, welcome.

McNeal

I tried as I browsed today, to quickly skim through your prose
but your lyrically alluring voice whispered, "Sister take it slow".

I acquiesced and slowed my roll to survey the scroll you'd unfurled.
To my delight, I found wisdom and insight in the protrait you paint of your world.

Keep brushing edifying strokes on the canvas of revelation for without it the people shall perish.
Hone in on your craft like a diligent tenor whose voice, grateful listeners do cherish.

For when the wrestling of your me, by God's grace is complete
I am sure you will have brilliantly enhanced the tapestry of humanity.

MHKnuckles

McNeal,
Your relationship with nature would make any woman jealsous. Your personification of it is enthralling. A Visit by the Rushing Waters has a very prophetic air to it. Perhaps I am mistaken, but I hear nature lament over global warming. I see the waters as earth herself, the beauty of which we all are endanger of being lost in as we seek its end.

I enjoy you yah. : read

McNeal wrote:

I wrestle against myself

I tried turning away from myself
But saw me looking at myself
I tried taking away the old stuffs off my shelf
But knew it was a wrestle against myself

How could I remove my ancient sleeve,
And put me on a new amour of serenity?
How could I change when I don’t even believe?
And then wrestle against my own integrity?

I cried out aloud from within
Only to put all that I feel out
Looking unto a future so thin
I still hope to wrestle me out

Wrestle against my failures,
Wrestle against my ado,
Wrestle against my future,
I verge to wrestle against my ego

McNeal 1998/99

Quite poingant and apropos is your intimate peep at a humanly commom battle, to put the self or me to death...to wrestle it out. Scripture says we are to...put away the former and be of a renewed mind. It is in turning away that we truly find ourselves looking at ourselves.

But if we are not wrestling the things we find, the failures, the egos, the flesh.. then we are in a complacent place, a place of no growth.

th_cool

You alright my chile.
My son in Monrovia Oh! lol!

(you old enough to remember da one sef?)

krazzy wrote:

Untitled Script based on Pain
Subtitled: War Fashion

their unprepared souls were labeled
as perfume
abhorred by even the most vain
tricked into death
their knowledge of this travesty
or lack of knowledge
of their tribe
or their tribe
put them into widespread fashion
sprawled on roadsides
in rotting shapes
moving on the catwalk to no where
knives carved unknown
shapes
on backs of men
bellies of women
questioning, devaluing
the unborn enemy
ignored and silenced screams
spirits disappear
and bodies roam as fodder
of carvers
mass graves
no shifting
or comfort positions
flesh rot together, removing
the anticipated privacy of death
one wreath for a thousand
unknown but company
open conversations
same colours
same place
same hole
mud, colours and flesh
for a rest
in this war fashion.

--------krazzy

5/30/2006 9:57:05 am

OUTSTANDING

Jocelyn wrote:

My fourth and most recent baby.... Y'all inspire me to write more!

The Beauty of Scars
Dark, ugly, calloused, scars
Grace the stunning vista
Of my smooth cocoa skin
And adorn the contours
Of my gallivanting soul
Nevertheless I’ll continue
To frolic carelessly
On the mountainous rocks
Of the falls of Kpatawatee
And though love thieves
Continue to contuse and abuse
My chest remains unlocked
Since sores and welts are brief
Whilst taking life by the leash
Creates lovely, ceaseless memories
As I still live, hurt, lose, bruise
I pray more scars will appear
Proclaiming, Healing is Near

~senyennoh

Unique expression...Very good piece. Scars as an assuring sign of healing is very poignant and perceptive.

OK..I coming go take bath na. I ain move since I sat down here this morning. I have truly enjoyed and been edified by the works I found here today. I am very proud to be in such talented company. Yor keep it up. There is definately an anthology in the making here.

I trust!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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THE POET'S CORNER--YOUR "ORIGINAL" WORKS ONLY...Share your thoughts

THE POET'S CORNER--YOUR "ORIGINAL" WORKS ONLY...Share your thoughts

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