T Nation

Poetry for Men

I’ve never had the slightest interest in any thing artistic. But recently, when trying to deal with some issues, I started to write down my thoughts. Eventually it turned into short poems. I’ve found that it really makes me feel better to get it out on paper.

Anyways, just wondering if anyone here dabbles in poetry, and if you would like to share some of your work (could be a short story, etc.) Here’s something I wrote recently:

Child of Mine

My desires come so harmlessly,
Just one more, or two, or three.
I heed the call of a phantom force,
Promising comfort-leaving only guilt and remorse.

Does what I seek come from within?
Could my answer be a deadly sin?
Searching the well for the child down there,
The bottom offers but a fog of despair.

But where can I find this child of mine?
His careless days so far behind.
In my quest for peace and harmony,
Only my child can set me free.

But if not in the well then could it be,
That my child exists between you and me?
And between him and her and they and them,
That alone we drown, but together we swim.

Too long I ignored the visitors outside,
Alone in the dark, trying to hide.
I go now to greet them in the sunshine,
And together we will find this child of mine.

Samurai Song by Robert Pinsky

When I had no roof I made
Audacity my roof. When I had
No supper my eyes dined.

When I had no eyes I listened.
When I had no ears I thought.
When I had no thought I waited.

When I had no father I made
Care my father. When I had
No mother I embraced order.

When I had no friend I made
Quiet my friend. When I had no
Enemy I opposed my body.

When I had no temple I made
My voice my temple. I have
No priest, my tongue is my choir.

When I have no means fortune
Is my means. When I have
Nothing, death will be my fortune.

Need is my tactic, detachment
Is my strategy. When I had
No lover I courted my sleep.

personally, i’ve found it is best not to post emotional stress online, nor should you bring it up while drunk with your buddies at the bar.

[quote]texasguy wrote:
personally, i’ve found it is best not to post emotional stress online, nor should you bring it up while drunk with your buddies at the bar. [/quote]

However, telling them you “really, really love them” is always a good idea.

This is poetry for men. American men. Fuck yeah. http://www.cannibalthemusical.net/ta/america.htm

[quote]ratherbelifting wrote:
Samurai Song by Robert Pinsky

[/quote]

Thanks! I couldn’t read it all on Colbert the other night. Let’s push this thing out there!

[quote]ratherbelifting wrote:
Samurai Song by Robert Pinsky

When I had no roof I made
Audacity my roof. When I had
No supper my eyes dined.

When I had no eyes I listened.
When I had no ears I thought.
When I had no thought I waited.

When I had no father I made
Care my father. When I had
No mother I embraced order.

When I had no friend I made
Quiet my friend. When I had no
Enemy I opposed my body.

When I had no temple I made
My voice my temple. I have
No priest, my tongue is my choir.

When I have no means fortune
Is my means. When I have
Nothing, death will be my fortune.

Need is my tactic, detachment
Is my strategy. When I had
No lover I courted my sleep.

[/quote]

The fuck does that even mean?!!

Is this some smart-art way of saying “Self Reliance is the key”

I’m not so much for writing poetry, but I like reading it. I used to go up into the White Mountains in the winter with a buddy of mine and read the poetry of Robert Service aloud by a campfire light. When we hit a part that resonated with us, we’d howl and take a hit of Yukon Jack.

The Cremation of Sam McGee
By Robert Service

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee…

…For the rest of the poem:
http://www.wordinfo.info/words/index/info/view_unit/2640/?letter=C&spage=26

I thought the only poetry men recited began with the line,

“There once was a man from Nantucket…”

Man, was I wrong.

Oh, the Horror
One day I sought for new education,
And stumbled upon the site T-Nation.
It was like nothing ever before,
We could even talk about doing a whore.
For while it was almost like paradise,
In unison, everyone ate at their rice.

Then a dark cloud began to appear,
and the trolls came, bringing us fear.
To authors, they would slander their name,
as if they were trying to reach some fame.
TC began to make some changes,
but sadly, the trolls have large ranges.
Now they ask “Should I count the bar”,
and praise DLing 315, though sub-par.
Daily my brain becomes more sore…
And I think…

…Oh, the horror.

Well Ive got too say I enjoy creative writing,even though I,am highly dyslexic. Here is a rap I wrote about Einsteins theory of relativity which got air play on British radio. Hope you enjoy
it.

Relativity rap

All the chav’s think they are real clever With their Burberry hats and
eyes to close together But check Einstein he wrote the line Relativity
he found divine Mass and energy is the same thing E=mc squared is da
bling

A curved prism light gave Newton insight That classical unstable
thermodynamics is the structural wave form which moves the planets The
sun is a changeable force with a moving boundary which gives heat and
light to you and me Spectral light emissions cause the effect that
curves space/ time to a constant effect

Nuclear fusion will cause no confusion
If you get over the simple delusion
That every thing is in a fixed state
That’s not how particles interrelate

I understood Newtonian physics at school for every action an opposite I
was no fool Well Dense energy equals mass they didn’t teach me that in
class.
Compressed energy is released in a dance a physical activity not left
too chance All the sums must balance out and that’s what stars are all
about

Well a black hole it has no mass
Progress and motion towards its devotion No light escapes this Euclidian
potion Into what dimension does the energy emerge The whole damn thing
is truly absurd

Now please don’t see this as a retraction Let me illustrate this action
One two three all states emerge, mass and light and energy Extend from a
singularity.
Unleashed potential all around and that was how the light was found

With energy the world resounds there’s are always motion where light is
found E and mc squared gets it together and creates all kinds of cosmic
weather Photons and electrons perform the trick that lets the clockwork
universe tick It is not clockwork Newton’s bucket was wrong but try
making that into a song

The Lambda principle lets there be light who’s to say it’s not
cosmologically right?
A balanced creation of energy that created everything mysteriously
Electrons and photons Like to dance and will interact given half a
chance

Too all of us its quite clear the earths a sphere You can not see the
curve off the earth for its mighty girth The curve of the line resting
on the equator Is the truth of the now in the past and the later

The point of an arrow that curves on a dime This is the essence of
circular time, gravity curves nature too a constant degree And even time
is a singularity

Come on now, and don’t be morons
Just innovate your interneurons
With its strange polarity existing on every scale The perfect geometry
off this tale The golden ratio that makes every thing go It’s the
strangest thing that we all know

The Wheeler-DeWitt equation freezes time but quantum gravity is the key
too help undo this mystery The Tachyon is faster than the speed of light
and into history it sets flight I hope this rhyme found the time to show
you that physics is so sublime

I really like the “Samurai Song”, where did you see that first?

I’m a huge fan of Alfred Lord Tennyson. He is probably my favorite classic poet, altough I love a bunch of them, esp. that madmen Wordsworth. Frost is probably one of my favorite modern poets.

I’m going to post a Tennyson favorite. For some reason has never failed to move me though I’ve read it hundreds of times.

The Revenge
A Ballad of the Fleet

AT Flores, in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay,
And a pinnace, like a flutter’d bird, came flying from far away;
“Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!”
Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: “'Fore God I am no coward;
But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear,
And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick.
We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?”

Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: “I know you are no coward;
You fly them for a moment to fight with them again.
But I’ve ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore.
I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard,
To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain.”

So Lord Howard past away with five ships of war that day,
Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven;
But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land
Very carefully and slow,
Men of Bideford in Devon,
And we laid them on the ballast down below:
For we brought them all aboard,
And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to Spain,
To the thumb-screw and the stake, for the glory of the Lord.

He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to fight,
And he sailed away from Flores till the Spaniard came in sight,
With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather bow.
“Shall we fight or shall we fly?
Good Sir Richard, tell us now,
For to fight is but to die!
There’ll be little of us left by the time this sun be set.”
And Sir Richard said again: “We be all good Englishmen.
Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil,
For I never turn’d my back upon Don or devil yet.”
Sir Richard spoke and he laugh’d, and we roar’d a hurrah and so
The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of the foe,
With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below;
For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were seen,
And the little Revenge ran on thro’ the long sea-lane between.

Thousands of their soldiers look’d down from their decks and laugh’d,
Thousands of their seamen made mock at the mad little craft
Running on and on, till delay’d
By their mountain-like San Philip that, of fifteen hundred tons,
And up-shadowing high above us with her yawning tiers of guns,
Took the breath from our sails, and we stay’d.

And while now the great San Philip hung above us like a cloud
Whence the thunderbolt will fall
Long and loud,
Four galleons drew away
From the Spanish fleet that day.
And two upon the larboard and two upon the starboard lay,
And the battle-thunder broke from them all.

But anon the great San Philip, she bethought herself and went,
Having that within her womb that had left her ill content;
And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand,
For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers,
And a dozen times we shook 'em off as a dog that shakes his ears
When he leaps from the water to the land.

And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea,
But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.
Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons came,
Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle-thunder and flame;
Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her shame.
For some were sunk and many were shatter’d and so could fight us no more--
God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?

For he said, “Fight on! fight on!”
Tho’ his vessel was all but a wreck;
And it chanced that, when half of the short summer night was gone,
With a grisly wound to be drest he had left the deck,
But a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly dead,
And himself he was wounded again in the side and the head,
And he said, “Fight on! fight on!”

And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the summer sea,
And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring;
But they dared not touch us again, for they fear’d that we still could sting,
So they watch’d what the end would be.
And we had not fought them in vain,
But in perilous plight were we,
Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain,
And half of the rest of us maim’d for life
In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife;
And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold,
And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it spent;
And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side;
But Sir Richard cried in his English pride:
“We have fought such a fight for a day and a night
As may never be fought again!
We have won great glory, my men!
And a day less or more
At sea or ashore,
We die–does it matter when?
Sink me the ship, Master Gunner–sink her, split her in twain!
Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!”

And the gunner said, “Ay, ay,” but the seamen made reply:
“We have children, we have wives,
And the Lord hath spared our lives.
We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go;
We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow.”
And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe.

And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then,
Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last,
And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace;
But he rose upon their decks, and he cried:
“I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true;
I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do.
With a joyful spirit I Sir Richard Grenville die!”
And he fell upon their decks, and he died.

And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true,
And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap
That he dared her with one little ship and his English few;
Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew,
But they sank his body with honor down into the deep.
And they mann’d the Revenge with a swarthier alien crew,
And away she sail’d with her loss and long’d for her own;
When a wind from the lands they had ruin’d awoke from sleep,
And the water began to heave and the weather to moan,
And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew,
And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew,
Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their flags,
And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter’d navy of Spain,
And the little Revenge herself went down by the island crags
To be lost evermore in the main.

Emo Pants
My tears are like blood,
Rolling down my tortured face,
These pants are too tight.

Death? The End of an Era… Or the End of My “Creative Juices”
When I was a little boy,
I had an over-active imagination.
It was my greatest toy,
My juice of creation.

As I’ve grown, I’ve lost the way
To tell a good story.
This line ends with “day”,
Because my juices have run dry. Gory.

It might seem like this “poem” is clever.
I thought so too, at first,
But next to every poem ever,
This must be the worst.

Wrote them a while ago for school.

This thread needs a guy driving by in a car, honking and yelling:

“3 VWs for under $17,000. Woohoo.”

Instead, here’s one from my favorite poet:

The Little Boy and the Old Man by Shel Silverstein

Said the little boy, “Sometimes I drop my spoon.”
Said the old man, “I do that too.”
The little boy whispered, “I wet my pants.”
“I do that too,” laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, “I often cry.”

The old man nodded, “So do I.”
“But worst of all,” said the boy, “it seems Grown-ups don’t pay attention to me.”
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
“I know what you mean,” said the little old man.

DB

i have 23 pages of poems that i have written. However, most of them are of a romantic nature,if you’d like to read a few you could pm me or something.

[quote]jmwintenn wrote:
i have 23 pages of poems that i have written. However, most of them are of a romantic nature,if you’d like to read a few you could pm me or something.[/quote]

how many of them concern fucking mountain dew cans?

i dont wanna scare you with the number

[quote]dmarz wrote:
Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference[/quote]

Still one of the greatest poems ever written.

DB

P.S.
“Emo Pants” is hilarious.

I write basic songs. i’m not much of a musician, but i enjoy writing lyrics. here’s a youtube link if anyone cares to listen …

… and don’t mind the grey’s anatomy …

cheers