Burning thoughts

What is this thing that within us dwell,
Brings forth emotions of heaven and hell
We share, narrate, the story tellers we, but the medium
Changes paint to key
From raw emotion of the pen
To others interpretations when,
In their way they express the message,
Things they need to relay,
Through medium of dance or play
Musicality the message there for those who see
Some receive subliminally

For most they receive our thoughts and muse
Some retain and others use to brighten their day or life
But other see subversion
Ways that erode the status quo,
This is when the narrators go, are ‘disappeared’
For dangers present intolerance feared.

Although the inspiration grows on the vine
As it forms in buds of rhyme which burst into flowers emotional blooms
The scent of them fills the room; the smell of sedition is the perception
Of those who give hostile reception,
Who feel that emotion may lay you bare
Where you may question why; those around you have cause to sigh.

Such pain and desires strip the soul
But when spent leave the creator whole
Bring comfort and understanding
For others thoughts are too demanding
Provoke disordered thinking right?
Lead the masses from the light
Only the party can see the way that is what dictators say

But whatever you may believe
The artist dreams form where they will
As like as not they spill where they may
The critic’s men in grey gather up and stow away
In galleries and book laden halls
The musings of artists to fill the walls
Categorised and indexed, filed
In stead of wild abandoned expression
Centres of detention prisons of thought.

Prisons cannot contain our thoughts
Lock away our intellectual rite
For the party and all it’s might
Cannot ever win
Even conditioned you may be infected
You cannot kill idea’s
Or the display of emotionality
Assassination of a notion
Impossible even with devotion

Such actions are non effective
As futile as ignored directive
Censors will ever aspire
To burn our thoughts on conformities pyre
But as the flames leap ever higher
Freedoms light blinds from the fire
In it’s illumination see
Freedom of expression will ever be

Hope are poets are still around, somewhere. Lin hope things are alright as we miss you x

GREETINGS TO NEWBIES

It does seem a few of the newbies but only some
Have not had a welcome to this forum
it appears that their posts have been overlooked
Not many, a few or so it does seems
So feelings of sadness and we hope to redeem
AS this should not happen, I'm sending a plea
Give a thought to a newbie as they nervously write
Their first post as it can be a fearful fright
It takes courage we know to make that first step
So a warm welcome is important we must not forget.

PB X

You are right of course PB
It should be very plain to see
That people who have the courage
To type in their woes and worries
Should be given a warm welcome
To this excellent forum

But I think it also wise
Not to forget there also lies
Within the posts of "oldies"
Not just advice but queries
We have so much to offer
From each to one another

Be it one post or a thousand
There is always help to be found
From those whose experience
Is new or long been present
So if in your heart you can find
Some gratitude would be so kind

Thanks PB

I'm not on top form at the moment but hope to write more soon. Everything a bit of an effort - like swimming in treacle - I'm sure you'll know the feeling.

Lin
xx

Newbie and Grateful

I think that I shall always be something of a newbie
As such I agree the support received was good for me
To those who wisdom I received I hope and believe
That you know and understand that without your aid I'd have been unmanned
To all you word weavers in this section please be assured of my complete affection.

To those yet to share your verse, put it down for better or worse
it brings us to the light of understanding
Each others insight is a gift which often gives the spirit

BJS

To Elliemac and Tinker an apology as I failed to welcome you to the Creatinve Corner.I hope you post many and find some of ours as inspirational and entertaining as I do!

In the dark of the night sometimes the demons come.It is not always like that. I wanted to write something about fear and confusion and this is an approximation of what I was trying to say.Lin will be appalled by its lack of punctuation and meter but here it is anyway.



Broken sleep broken dreams.

I looked at the clock and it is way past sleep
The ghosts are gathering outside my door
Patterns of rain across the window panes
While the shadows dance on the floors
Away in the distance I can see city lights
I have seen them shine from above and below
A yellow dome that covers the metropolis
Makes me wonder about people I don’t know.
Lovers embrace in the darkness of doorways
Cats leave their catch and go on the prowl
People of the night sidle down alley ways
And of in the distance I hear a dog howl
A cop whistles a tune while walking his beat
Cars pass by with wipers in perfect time
All nights are the same I only hear rain
As the clock tick tocks to his song.

The tune he is whistling is Lili Marlene

It is the time of the demons and doubt
They come in their hordes when eyes close
Tearing at my flesh invading my space
While he taunts me with secrets he knows.
Faint scratching, terror within and without,
Heart thumping the blood through my veins
Fear reaches up through the floorboards
As the song melts away yet remains.
The city mocks me with it’s laughter
When did I last laugh with ease
There once was a time for pleasure.

It is lost now in the tendrils of disease.

.

I shall arise and go there
Go before the dawn is in the sky
The darkness will hide me from loved ones
A letter will suffice for goodbye
If you should come in search of me
Journey to the west of the isle
Look for the Mountain where he prayed
Follow the river for a few miles
There in a cottage beneath the mountain
You will find me within sight of the sea
It is the place where I am happiest
Where my forefathers fought to be free
There two brothers lie in the graveyard
Their stone worn smooth by the rain.
Once more we will find some peace there
And I will be allowed to be me.

I know where all the flowers have gone.

dear bogman
how could anyone consider punctuation when reading such a piece of writing. look! i cant be bothered with capital letters today. have you read poems by ee cummings? he never uses capital letters.
anyway, back to your poem.
sometimes, when i see all those words, i think, 'can i be bothered to read all that?'i was captured by your writing immediately and wanted to read on. it was magnificent. many aspects rang true for me too.I thought it was beautifully written and i loved it.
i don't really know where i would go to be 'home'. perhaps on top of the pennines looking down at the patchwork of scenery. Yorkshire scenery! and you can't write Yorkshire without a capital letter

lin
xx

Dear Lin,

I think I can stop now although I know I won't. What you have written means an awful lot to me. Thanks seems inadequate.

Bogman xx

Awakening
---------------------------------------
Come with me and feel the hope
The sun is warm against my skin
Pulling at the heartstrings tied
Releasing that once trapped within

Each knot unravelled,each one tight
PD frustrating every one
Escaping with arms held aloft
The gallows noose,has finally gone

Falls to the ground,deep inhalations
Memories and dark dreams though real
Won,t subdue twinkling deep Green eyes
Flowers not for mourning now, shall heal

Spring has them yearning for the light
Which penetrating through the gloom
Revived again,the scent of living
Take my hand and with me bloom

Banish nightmares and dark feelings
Join with me this sunny day
The Lionheart as the name suggests
We'll conquer all that bars our way

The cobwebs gathering in dark corners
Reminders of the things to do
Capital without the use of letters
Useful dusting with them to

Word keepers always stand together
When deep blue in that sinking sand
Grasp my hand and hold on tightly
You know i'm here and understand

Titan