I started this one many MANY moons ago.

I have an original ending, but I want to see the writing skills of our ATS/BTS poets.

I'm promoting this thread towards an individual section under 'Collaberative Writing".

I want ATS'ers to have their own "Poetry Forum"

*****

One or two words of advice?

1. Keep within the 'Rhyming sequence' or there-abouts.
2. Make the 'story' flow.
3. Bonus Section - "The Title"

I will start off with the poem:

It wasn't long, before we talked.
And talked and talked we did.
He looked deep into the legend,
And did sought,
Went beyond the surface,
And lifted the lid...


The Poetry Ram's Horn is calling...




[edit on 7-12-2007 by TheDuckster]

Calling ALL poets!

Where are you?

~Ducky~

My heart sunk deeply within the mire that was once just a souls reflection.
Yet looking deeper beneath the lid, his fire burned infinity.

We must complete this poem.

Antar has done a wonderful job so far!!

~Ducky~

What secrets lay, beneathe his breast...
How do I suppose 'his most'
He stands before me
His fists a' clenched
The soul of the body I host...

Yet sadly, doth my heart bequeath
The mourning of my love - fore-lorn
Of such, these things...I do believe...
Transpiring....n'er..., to disceive...
Caught tightly in my heart, so warm

"What secrets lay, beneathe his breast...
How do I suppose 'his most'
He stands before me
His fists a' clenched
The soul of the body I host... "

Lifting my eyes, to see his face
He is my guest, of fear no trace.
My fear I hide from him, I try
But, I can't hide it from his eyes

His voice imagined...so gruff...
His touch imagined...so rough
My thoughts run rampant
Though we haven't touched

Edit to add :
Sorry, Ducky, we were writing
at the same time.


[edit on 7-12-2007 by Lexion]

Lex you make me feel good all over! Yummmm...

My home he's in tis no sin
he peers around, I see the
ground

He harumphs, and I feel
a touch

His hand on my chin, I look up
The same blue eyes as mine
He slightly grins and nods a bit
Daughter, he says, fill my cup ?

Title : Daughter ?

The 'Poem' is continuing on.

All Poets..Please contribute to this discussion.

~Ducky~

"My thoughts supposed... unto this being
His thoughts imprinted on
me..supposeded are thy thoughts in thee
The lighthouse signals unto thee
How shalt my storm carry on... "

Pulsing, as the light
round and round, I fear
I might
Succumb to words,
My fear is right

"My thoughts supposed... unto this being
His thoughts imprinted on
me..supposeded are thy thoughts in thee
The lighthouse signals unto thee
How shalt my storm carry on... "

Pulsing, as the light
round and round, I fear
I might
Succumb to words,
My fear is right

Thy calm exterior and inside fight,
My storm with grace and height,
Like a bird i swoop, i fall down deep,
Into this lair,
Into the pit of despair, i do dare...

[Hope this is alright at least i tried lol]

One of our members: teleonaut asked me to post this on his/her behalf (end lines/bolded}:

My thoughts supposed... unto this being
His thoughts imprinted on
me..supposeded are thy thoughts in thee
The lighthouse signals unto thee
How shalt my storm carry on... "

Pulsing, as the light
round and round, I fear
I might
Succumb to words,
My fear is right

Thy calm exterior and inside fight,
My storm with grace and height,
Like a bird i swoop, i fall down deep,
Into this lair,
Into the pit of despair, i do dare...

To snub Herr Nietzsche's sound advice
And fix mine eyes on darkness fair
To praise and gaze forevermore
Upon a monstrous sacrifice:
My life for love's --
The one for the pair.

Beautiful work everyone!

Keep them coming!

~Ducky~

How shalt I know a light divine
is coming from this soul of mine
the feeling is so strong
The mists of life are changing greed ..
conforming it to desperate need

Sacred lust of greed and dust
unanswered kisses bound by
beads and chain
The water of this life
flows in and out of me
witness to my
spirit, my storm.

Am I dreaming?
I'm wet with sweat
Heart racing anticipation
As if he be alive
Here. Now. Breathing.

His hand on my heartbeat
From where is the passion?
He's not of earthly tribe
Yet here now my King

Body burns, body heat
On a mission
He's my soul giver

He was a poet when a poet could be a poet
the intellectual weight of the evangelical fringe
the gospels of poetry were meshed against each other
you smoked and wrote, you become and are more than a poet.

All over America the edges are frayed
ask the fisherman, the framer
people who work with things of the earth
Out on highway 6 on the Oregon Coast
Houses need paint and blessings
across the street in the motel
the lovers put on another CD
wrap themselves in the curtains,
love and forget about the books.

High up the Holy Mother
remembers babies
the place where they came from
and how they were borned with a
cry and a laugh

And the Jack of Diamonds
completes an inside straight
for the fool