Doubts spring from the fountains of youth,
only to be forgotten with letters of
neverending time...
'You're old beyond your short years'
they say.

Frivolous daydreams
open doors to promise.
Raze thoughts of duty.
go ahead and sing reveries into the
ear of the one you love.
The seams of her body will dance to endless possibilities.

this is my paper mâché legacy.
here, now and forever.
inching it's way through the
silence.

and a bit more tongue in cheek this one:
The Secret Life of Colours

Curiosity plagues the colour beige,
Openly looking for life.
Monsterous emptiness engulfs
Perplexity of beings.
Lashing our meaning, with their
Enormous
Tongues
Ending our xylophone symphony.

Black holes suck my soul through
Attic windows and café menus.
Languidly I roll through objects.
Looking for meaningful
Silence.

Poem 1: I liked the mixture of responsibility and the carefree in this poem. There is a contrast in stanza 1 and stanza 2, with being older than your short years but having thoughts of duty razed, I really liked that play. And again, the juxtaposition of the paper mache being forever. Nicely worded.

Poem 2: to me this seems an exercise in word use. It reads as if you were looking for words and situations that sounded both right and wrong together. A bit too Williams Carlos Williams for my taste, complete balls.

Nice one Helicopter.
The first one was nicely wrote, I think I get the gist of the first two verses, the last verse confused me.
The second one equally nicely wrote, but I must confess; I haven’t got the foggiest idea, could the poem be another “Nights in white satin” or am I just a bit thick?
Anyway keep them coming.

Poem 2: to me this seems an exercise in word use. It reads as if you were looking for words and situations that sounded both right and wrong together. A bit too Williams Carlos Williams for my taste, complete balls.

Haha, yes, you've nailed it.

I wrote it to dupe a few poetry "fanatics" and English students. Most of whom produced various ideas of themes and subjects for the poem. When in fact, it was merely just an exercise in putting words together to give that feel of "Is it good? Is it bad?"...well, yes, it's just complete balls.

A few of them realised it after i told them to pay more attention to the structure.

But I'm glad you both like the first poem which I put a lot more thought, time and effort into!

Hi Helicopter,

I struggled with the first poem (what was it called incidentally?). Take this line for example:

"The seams of her body will dance to endless possibilities."

I had difficulty conjuring that image. Where would the seams on a body be and how would they dance? A body doesn't really have seams - except perhaps where the ears are stuck on. And my image of ear-seams dancing doesn't really stir any emotions, other than warped amusement.

On the other hand, I loved the second poem. I particularly liked the line

"Lashing our meaning with their enormous tongues"

It really resonated with something inside me. I think we may have stumbled across a rare talent here.

Ron

With the "seams of her body" line I had in my mind the image of a beautiful, vulnerable girl who had the sewing seams of doll. Though it also brought to mind the biological seams we all have, the strands of muscle, each cell being held together, wrinkles, the lines on a palm or fingerprints. I imagine them dancing by suddenly resonating with the whispers in her ear. The thread drawing up from the skin before being pulled taut again. Like the waves on an oscilloscope.

I wanted to mix those two images of the youth, romance and childhood with a more complex image of the body. I always hated in school having the magic of my own imagination of how the world or the body works spoilt by science lessons.

I haven't actually got a name for the first poem yet.

I'm glad you liked that line in my second poem. It's my favourite line.

I'm not really sure where to take my poetry next. I'm going along to the Words Aloud night in November and hopefully some more people will also enjoy them.

Each time we stretch, we tear
Each time that happens, you are there
Tousling, messing, mussing hair

The things that keep us close
Are things we love the most
Laughs, hearts, minds, hair

It is not fair

So soon they stretch, elastic love
Different forces swarm above
And cradle us in plastic

The we, the ripped, seek back our past
Our childhood means something at last
And we, the ripped,
Are sad.