Poetry By Me

I have decided to post a couple of my best poems for all of you to see. Please comment and tell me what you think.

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The first I wrote for an assignment in school. It was supposed to be an "I Am" poem, but I kind of ran away with my idea and turned it into a gigantic metaphor.

The Forest

The forest...
woods of oak, beech, and spruce.
Flowing water from a pool.
The deer drinks,
deeply drinking...
Now sudden alertness and running, running,
shooting with tremendous speed.
The stillness at the river... now a dream.
A tortoise -- in a stance of firmness.
A red flower -- waving gently, dropping dew.
The deer, running, running past them,
passing bird of lustrous blue and green.
A flutter of wings and the bird soars,
the spruces around it inferior to its height.
Supple limbs waving... resting on
trunks many and wide.
A mangy cat -- climbing on the largest,
grim eyes gazing on the bird that laughs.
Falling fruits and a disgruntled cat.
The squirrel, chattering, yet laughing too,
forgetting his need for food.
Raucous noise of cat, and squirrel;
echoes throughout a clearing.
The tiny den in the bushes, home of rabbits.
Rabbits -- cowering from sound,
yet so curious.
Creeping out, but springing back.
The deer, passing in a rush of momentum.
Running, running,
past curtain of vines
over mossy log,
through fruity brambles.
Watching, running and watching,
seeing all with eyes unfathomable.
Coming close to the destination,
to the edge -- the edge of the forest.
The owl perches on the last tree.
The deer -- no longer in the forest.
Golden eyes of the owl turned
to see where it has gone.
The owl sees...
...a pencil, moving now,
and speedily, words pouring from the tip
onto a slip of paper,
giving life to a train of thought.
The words seem to be running, almost.
Running like a deer,
running, running,
back to the heart of the forest.

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Here's another, written in the same general style, but a lot shorter.

Dreams

A shimmer of silver, radiant as gold,
Fleeting thoughts that mock the day.
Knowing nothing -- feeling all.
A hint, a wisp of silver cloud,
unraveling...
strong timbered ships
crystal falling snow
calm pools
fresh leaves
taking flight...
All as one -- hope.
A shimmer of silver, radiant as gold,
faded but firm.

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This one is extremely old, I believe one of my first serious attempts at poetry. However, looking at it now I realize that it stinks. The wording is completely wrong. In my opinion it just doesn't flow in a lot of places. But I like the idea tremendously and would like to rewrite it. Here it is in its original form, needing immense improvement. I really want feedback on this.

Tale of a Writer's Art

Once upon a time, at a distant land and sea,
artists and their pieces were treasured over others.
So once a year, at a certain time and place,
they met each other once again.

They came to see each other's works,
and show their own as well.
So of course the musicians had their music,
as well as the dancers with their dancing and the singers with their songs.

There were clubs of painters with their paintings,
and many sculptors with their stone.
But enough of the descriptions, there's a tale I have to tell,
the story starts on a spring day at the famous Artist's Hall.

But alas! At that joyous time and place,
from over cliffs and hills, came a stranger from afar.
The stranger was a young traveling artist,
and though he came from far away, he carried only pen.

This artist had no sculptors tools,
no paint, no easel, no dance, no song.
The other artists were surprised to see,
a writer in their midst.

"Go away!" said one, "Be gone!" said another,
"Leave this hall at once!" said a third.
"Writing isn't, cannot be art!"
They said in graceful harmony.

"I will not leave this threshold, because I would like to see," he said,
"who you are and what you do as well as how you do it."
So the singers sang and the players played,
and the painters painted, with all their skill.

But lo and behold! The writer wrote of all these things,
with swiftness and description.
And when he showed his paper a new attitude transpired.
"Please forgive us," said the artists, "we've seen the error of our ways!"

The moral of my story I hope is clear enough,
for though some may sing and dance,
and some may paint and draw,
I shall write my art with words, and I always will.

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These are some "I Am" poems I had to do in school different years. Unlike The Forest, before writing these we were given a specific outline on how to write them. But of course, I found a way to get around that and make, in my opinion, some decent poetry. (As in being freely expressive. Not that they couldn't use improvement.) My teachers weren't pleased.

Me

I am a person, I am me.
I wonder at the moon and stars,
I hear the wind,
I see the sky,
I want reality.
I am a person, I am me.

I try to hide my feelings,
I feel the joy of happiness,
I touch the fury of anger.
I worry for Earth's secrets,
I cry too many tears.
I am a person, I am me.

I understand a garden,
I say I love the sea,
I dream of many mountains.
I try to write my thoughts,
I hope I will succeed.
I am a person, I am me.


Bio Poem

Spruce
writer, poet, original, creative,
friend of all artists,
lover of humanity, time, and life,
who feels the crashing waves, the roaring wind, the raging flames,
who needs to know order, logic, and organization,
who gives thoughts, dreams, words,
who fears despair, hopelessness, impossibility,
who would like a book, a game, a strategy,
resident of me.
Woodway

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This is an old acrostic poem I wrote when I was bored one time. Amateur, maybe, but I kept it because I liked it.

Mount Everest

Majestic peak,
Overabundant in snow,
Under thin blue skies.
Noticeable and ready
To be climbed.

Elaborate trails
Veering every which way.
Remarkable
Everlasting
Sights.
Tempestuous challenge.

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Here are some haikus.
Among the mountains,
a fire craves destruction,
but is quenched by stone.


The fish jumps skyward,
but there is no water there,
and it falls back down.


In the quiet wood,
a great oak tree is falling,
but nobody hears.

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This is another type of japanese poetry, but I'm not exactly sure what.

Surrounded by sea.
where there's not a cloud in sight,
the sand is warm and
clear waves crash against the shore
while birds chatter lazily.

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I finally found this one. I wrote it for a contest once. It's not complex or fancy, but I like the idea it portrays. As always, please comment.

Stand Firm

The lowly servant,
Makes his king know truth,
If he should but stand firm.

The milking maid,
Makes the farmer know truth,
If she should but stand firm.

The beggar boy,
Makes a merchant see truth,
If he should but stand firm.

Even you and I,
Can make anyone see truth,
If we should but stand firm.

I understand it may be frustrating when people don't comment, but don't worry. It's hard to get recognition for writing on a forum like this.

Anyway, about both your poems, I think they're very good! Significantly better than some other's I've seen around here. I like how you used repetition for the deer in the first, and used the deer almost to guide the poem along in the forest.

Nice job, but I can see improvement. Maybe try and expand a bit more on some thoughts in the second one, but that's just my thought.

Yes, the deer symbolizes my writing, seeing everything in the forest (me) and bringing it to the outside. That was the original thought that got me started on that poem. I'm glad you like that.

On the second one, I purposely made it shorter. Some people in my class had complained that The Forest was too long. So when I wrote Dreams, I tried to fully realize the idea in as few words as possible. Maybe I'll rewrite it to be longer sometime.

Thank you for your thoughts.

I noticed that I had over sixty views, so I added a poll to possibly help get feedback. However, I still encourage you to post and tell me specifically what you think.

I think these poems are really good! I see potential in them. Of course, there is always room for improvement. Your last few poems I could visualize well with the description. I like your style of writing.

I can see in a lot of my poems places to improve, but I don't know exactly how. I'm always open for suggestions. Anyway, I'm glad you like my poetry.

Hey, good poetry I really liked the Tale of a Writer's Art but yes, it could be more poetic. The story and potential is there. The Forest is good also. Dreams offers a different view of dreams, I like it. Mount Everest is pretty cool too, good description of the Mountain..... what does Tempestuous mean? My guess would be hard or something, knowing Mount Everest....... Both the bio poems are pretty good, I never like writing them though so, I don't blame you for making your teacher's displeased.

Yes, I've been trying to work on Tale of a Writer's Art lately. I believe that tempestuous does mean hard or challenging. Either that or stormy. I can't remember where I got the word. Thank you for your thoughts, and welcome to Zelda Universe forums!

these are really good and show a good future as a poet(possibly).

My favrite one is Me.

Thank you. I'm glad you like them.

I edited all of the poems onto the first post, hoping to get rid of any clutter and make them more accessible.

Today I edited some of the poems a little. I have not found anything else I want to add, and I don't think I will. So that's it for my older poems. However, I still welcome anyone to comment on them.

The earthy spirit your poetry expresses is somewhat enchanting.