It's Poetry, relax.

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It's Poetry, relax.

Postby Mysti on Mon Sep 12, 2005 3:41 pm

I have started into my poetry again. They mean both nothing and everything. That is why they make no sense. So anyway. Here is one.

Of the Stars

Birds with golden glasses shine brightly.
Fixing, trying, looking through.
In a day in the life
Of the stars that shine.

The rain clouds fading away,
Bright are the love beams gleaming in.
In a day in the life
Of the stars that shine.

As the snow white owls reel out for the tour,
In a hole in the glass, they sigh gently.
In a day in the life
Of the stars that shine.

As the sunlight turns to moonlight,
The tour bus goes where the winds are.
In a day in the life
Of the stars that shine.
--------------------------------
So there you have it. It is bizarre isn't it? That's how I like it.
Last edited by Mysti on Thu Dec 29, 2005 4:18 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Postby nil on Tue Sep 13, 2005 4:58 am

With enough imagination, everything makes sense...
even the bird with golden glasses,
or the tourist owl,
or the tour bus...

everything shines, everything makes perfect sense...
...
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Postby Mysti on Tue Sep 13, 2005 3:51 pm

Why thankyou. They make sense to me. They just don't ususlly make sense to anyone else. But then again, no-one really understands me fully anyway.
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Postby Mysti on Sat Sep 17, 2005 7:28 pm

Here's another.

Little Car Of America

Little yellow car with seventeen windows,
Driving up and down the introverted streets,
Stopping when red lights flash.
Built in China,
Driven in the States.
A product of the America dream.
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Postby Pimienta on Sat Sep 17, 2005 10:49 pm

that was beautiful
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Postby Mysti on Sun Sep 18, 2005 4:52 pm

Awww thankyou. :Kiss:

On a Sunday

On a cold Sunday afternoon
Eating cakes by the window
Sitting on two laced cushions
Staring outwards.
To the grey skies,
Down to the distant villages,
Across the fields,
And you drift into a sleep.
Wondering
Pondering
Over your Sunday afternoon.
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Postby Mysti on Sat Sep 24, 2005 7:43 pm

I don't have a title for this. Too weird.

A man with elephant trousers,
Smiles for the camara,
Standing solo in the sun.
Innocent like a child,
In the suit of an old man.
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Postby Pimienta on Sat Sep 24, 2005 7:51 pm

you could call it elephant trousers

it is good
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Your poem

Postby nil on Sat Sep 24, 2005 7:54 pm

Tomorrow, a Sunday afternoon,
I will sit by the window,
eating cake,
wearing my elephant trousers,
and ponder on your poem,
which is very cute.
...
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Postby Mysti on Tue Sep 27, 2005 3:34 pm

Many many thanks. :D :D :D
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Postby Mysti on Mon Oct 17, 2005 3:38 pm

When I was in English this just popped into my mind. It's actually a little song and has it's own little tune, but I'll let you work that one out for yourselves.
I's basically just made up on the spot. Sounds like it, dosn't it? :D I like it though. It's nice I think.

Milkshakes

When you feel that you need refreshed,
Ask for a glass of pure freedom.
It will change your world if you try...

Strawberry milkshakes that come from the heart,
Just let your worries float by.
Strawberry milkshakes that come from the soul
Together we fly so high.
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Postby Cherokee_girl on Mon Oct 17, 2005 5:36 pm

Strawberry milkshakes are the best
I like Anime and Manga and Music and DOCTOR WHO!!
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Postby nil on Tue Oct 18, 2005 4:25 am

That's great but I think the chocolate and vanilla milkshake felt a little bit left out. When are you going to write a poem for them?
...
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Postby GoodGrief on Tue Oct 18, 2005 4:39 am

Your poetry is weird but nice. And vaguely wistful at times too. I like. *offers cake*
-GG

What exactly is meant by the above statement I may never know.

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Postby Bomadeno on Tue Oct 18, 2005 6:20 pm

I like vanilla milkshake... *chuckles and grins*

Your poetry reminds me of falling through fog, very.. hmm... drifty. I fall through fog regularly.
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