ladymirth

The Kid Sister is usually a pain in the butt, but occasionally she does something that makes feel glad I have managed to stop myself walloping her over the head with a frying pan while growing up. Today, she's written a poem about her boy troubles, and a very good one at that. It bears traces of one who has been possessed by the spirit of Dorothy Parker. That woman is remarkably insiduous. Plus, that writing seminar I sent her off to seems to have paid off.

Anyway, I'm just going to post it up here in a show of sisterly pride. I'm rather gratified that the rhyming gene seems to  run in the family after all. I was worried I was some sort of genetic aberration. 

To the innocent lady
by koel18 

Lady, as you walk the streets,
The pretty boys will stare,
But there are ones you should not greet,
So lady, do beware.

When you're alone, there'll be one,
Who speaks words sweet and kind,
But when to him fair friends beckon,
To you, he's deaf and blind.

There's one to whom you are dirt,
He loves to make you cry,
Lady, hit him where it hurts,
As you pass him by.

And should a silver-tongued one say,
"I'd never lie to you",
Oh lady, do run fast away!
And find a friend more true.

There'll be one, not so bad,
(Good and handsome too!)
But lady, 'tis very sad-
He has no time for you.

Though I tell you this I know,
You will not heed advice,
For it takes mistakes and sorrow,
To make us fools more wise.

So lady, go on on your way,
And give romance a whirl,
You'll find your charming prince one day,
(Most likely it's a girl.)

 

I shall continue to be the proud and affectionate sister, right up until she next does something that makes me long for China's one child policy. Which should be in about ten minutes. 
 

“They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra, just for you.


But they were fucked up in their turn

By fools in old-style hats and coats,

Who half the time were soppy-stern

And half at one another's throats.


Man hands on misery to man.

It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

And don't have any kids yourself.”

- Philip Larkin.

Now compare that with this post.

We're fucked up people, Philip and I.  

Lost

This cavern just keeps
On burrowing deeper
No light at the end;
Maybe forever
Tunneling just beneath
The sunlit surface
Either way
It doesn’t matter
Because I am now
Resigned to blindness
This airy void is
All I remember
Save for shadows
In my mind
The light that cast
Them, long expired

It’s been so long since
I’ve felt my extremities 
I wonder if they
Still exist
I can’t tell whether I’m
Still alive or
Merely just a soul
Cast adrift?
I’ve missed the sun
For so long
I’m afraid it might now
Burn out my eyes
I’ve forgot the feel
Of the wind in my face;
It all almost seems a
Half-dreamt lie

I’ve been swallowed
In darkness so long
I’ve lost all hope
Of the light
I’m racing past
The core of the Earth; maybe
I’ll yet see you
On the other side.  


ETA: Oh, shit. I just realized I've written this to the tune of "The Call" from Prince Caspian.  

The Other Woman

She keeps a-coming to see me
Though her eyes detest my face
When they rake over me I know
How graceless be my visage

She looks at me in fury
Her cruel mouth a-scowl
I look back in reciprocity
With a grimace just as foul

Sometimes she catches me alone
And watches me rail and writhe
In the face of my distortion
She seems to satisfy

I have seen no kindness in her
No compassion for my fate
That I must ever endure
Her unreasoned hate

If only she would loathe me less
Just enough to stay away
I’d rather nonexistence
Than be belittled day by day

I throw her moods back in her face,
Matched every snarl and tear!
We’ve drowned together in seas of rage;
Each other learned more to fear

If free will I could summon,
To ask what wrong I’ve done!
For I am just the mirror-woman,
And she the real one.

You know who this was inspired by. =) Feedback is, as always, welcome. 

Songs for the Soul

A song played on the radio
Sweet notes and simple words
Recalling happy times before
World-weary woes and hurts

Joy for joy I’ll give, thought I
Plunder smiles long buried deep
Into soft lyrics crystallized
That into other souls may seep

And comfort lonely dawnings
Soothe their sorrowing nights
Sustain the joyless mornings
And evening's dying light

To see beyond pretenses
The scarring of past wrongs
In music find forgiveness
And set them free in songs

I set my song free long ago
Sweet notes and simple words
I yet may find it still echoes 
In a stranger's healing verse
 

Feedback is appreciated, as always.

Hereafter, if people have a problem with my internet addiction, poetry writing, fanfiction writing and comic book fixation, I'm just going to throw this poem at them.

Dear Friends
By EA Robinson

Dear friends, reproach me not for what I do,
Nor counsel me, nor pity me; nor say
That I am wearing half my life away
For bubble-work that only fools pursue.

And if my bubbles be too small for you,
Blow bigger then your own: the games we play
To fill the frittered minutes of a day,
Good glasses are to read the spirit through.

And whose reads may get him some shrewd skill;
And some unprofitable scorn resign,
To praise the very thing that he deplores;
So, friends (dear friends), remember, if you will,
The shame I win for singing is all mine,
The gold I miss for dreaming is all yours.

Find courtesy of copperbadge 
 

  
I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;
And yet I am! and live with shadows tost

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
And e'en the dearest--that I loved the best--
Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smil'd or wept;
There to abide with my creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;
The grass below--above the vaulted sky.

 
I don't think it's healthy to relate to a poem quite this much. 

Abstract Repartee

What came first, Nothing or Something?
Why, Nothing, of course.
How do you say that?
Because Nothing means Void,
Which is the absence of Creation,
And if Creation were absent,
Then there could only have been Void
At first.

Ah! But if Nothing means
The Absence of Something
Then if Something were not there first
How could it be known to be Absent?

…
Perhaps, in the beginning there was Void,
But without the awareness of Void
Engendered by Creation
It was merely named Void in retrospect?
For example, I AM alive now
But I was not before I was born
Even though, I could not
Have known I was not alive
Until I was born, and with it
Granted awareness that, in retrospect,
I was not alive before.

It seems sloppy work then,
To merely say,
“In the Beginning there was Nothing”
Instead of “In retrospect, there
Was Nothing in the Beginning”
In any case, what beginning
Could there be, without awareness?
For, are not true beginnings
Begot in awareness?

If Awareness were the sole
Validation for Beginnings
And Creation equaled awareness
Then Void would not have a place
In existence at all
Which it does, as void equals zero
And zero precedes one,
Even without having a value
And yet exists in sequential numbering

No, it does not.

….What?

Zero is a number tolerated
Only so it may illustrate
The absence of numbers
But have you ever seen a book
Beginning with Chapter Zero?

Are you saying Void
Does not really exist?

Of course, it exists.
For if Void is the absence of Creation
And if Creation is to be absence of Void
Then one cannot be without the other.
The question posed, was:
What came first, Nothing or Something?

I think it is clear by now
Philosophically and numerically
That if Nothing were to exist at all
And exist it does
It necessarily preceded Something

Ah! But what if, in the Beginning
There was Something, or Creation
Then it was taken away, becoming Nothing
And then the Void were replaced
By Creation once more?

...
There can be only one conclusion
For this debate, good sir.
Yes? And what is it, pray tell?
That one must never attempt
To search for philosophical enlightenment
Without a cup of tea.

 

Fall to Liberation

Snip away the fetters
Of your kin from your skin
Snip! Snip! Snip! 

Glory in the numbness
Of their bleeding sting
Sting! Sting! Sting!

Whipping winds halo you
As you spread your wings
Whip! Whip! Whip!

Beneath the high ledge
Peace smiles beckoning
Beckoning! Beckoning!

Good bye to the minute life
Scurrying between your feet
Good bye! Good bye!

Fall forward into Heaven's arms
And breathe in deep
Deep! Deep! Deep!

Fly a diving glide
In Death’s sure slipstream
Fly! Fly! Fly!

Let Fate’s comforting cradle
Drown you in sweet sleep
Sleep! Sleep! Sleep!

Hissing air flays off your cares
In Gravity’s grip
Hiss! Hiss! Hiss!

The Earth rises for a final blow
And then…only bliss
Bliss! Bliss! Bliss!