[poetry] Burnseyy's Poetry

[HIGH ON PIE 14]

Oh, I'm sorry I have taken so long to respond to these Burnseyy.

 

You, know these are really good. I have to say all of the poetry in my English Lit class is blegh. I can honestly say your poetry is better than anything those people came up with, and they are in books and have movies made about them.

 

I like how you are vague with your poems. As you said it makes the reader think and reflect...they made me think. I like Secret the best. We want mooore Burnseyy! You have a way with words that makes both your poems and your fics so enjoyable.

 

~HOP

[The_Catto]

Loved Frankensteins Wife. The poem that is, I've seen the movie, and yeah ... Not really my type.

OK, my curiousity is literally peaked. What dirty little secret, eh????

 

Anyways, great work, Burnseyy! Wonderful writing indeed. Structure is very nice. Use of language ideal. And yeah, by the by, great poetry.

 

Oh yeah, one more thing...

 

ps. Sorry to all who I haven't read their recent chapters. Poems are easier to write, than stories are to read, and time is difficult to come by.

 

Pfft. :fist:

 

 

PS: I like emoticons....

[Bee Hoon]

I like Secret better--it doesn't really seem to be about insanity, but more like self doubt and social isolation. Very easy to relate to, and hence very good!

 

P.S. Sorry to spoil your fun, but I think you should not run around throwing cartwheels

[Sabretooth]

I liked this batch of poems the best, although I cannot really pick between Secret and Frankenstein's Wife. Both have vast contrasts to each other in terms of lyrical style and themes, and so they are both strong in their own ways.

 

Secret, I found to be very deep, almost self-referential and bitingly relevant. Frankenstein's Wife was written richly and was firm on its track, making it a work of integrity and composition.

 

It was a pretty good topic for Creative Writing, I'll say. Count Dracula would have come to my mind first. No, it wouldn't work.

[Burnseyy]

I see I've made people question "Secret" it IS a very vague poem, and could mean all manner of things, but the intention is what I described under it. The 'isolation' isn't literal, by the way, and the line "dirty little secret" holds pleeenty of information, hence the title "Secret." o0o0o.

 

@HOP: I hated the anthology poems, too! Well, the ones we got. I liked like one of them, and that was by a pretty weiiird poet. Maybe I'm just into weird poetry lol.

 

@Bee Hoon: don't you worry - I haven't done a handstand since!

 

@BFA: I typed BRA then instead of BFA lol. Anyway, the 'dirty little secret' is for me to know, and you to wonder.

 

Thank you all so much!

[Burnseyy]

Another double post. Gawd, I'm terrible.

 

 

Childhood

 

 

I saw the clouds passing over,

covering yet another chapter of my life.

Hiding my past from my memory,

Letting me forget all that strife.

 

Time has passed, never to return,

Running away with every rain drop.

That 'convex surface' we studied, so,

Was it really worth it, writing about crops?

 

Those times we 'suffered',

We never really knew -

Those times were blissfully perfect,

Just with restrictions in what to do.

 

That embrace that occured,

The last of the last.

A tear breaks my defences;

My childhood has gone too fast.

 

fin

 

 

This one's about being forced to grow up, and feeling like the immaturity and silliness that you held onto so dearly has just evaporated. I feel like I've been forced to grow up... which is probably why older people get along better with me than younger.

 

 

Bracelets and Prose

 

Classic times were those,

We spent, reciting prose

With laughter and phrases;

Rushing through life’s crazes.

 

That band you gave me -

With a smile to see -

It was black, white, intricate.

Was a godsend; a favourite.

 

Time wore it’s beauty,

As the strings hung, limply.

And the beads cried for attention,

Throughout the death-awaited tension.

 

The wrist is now, bare,

Hidden away from life’s impair.

Quiet, beaten;

With no hope to sweeten.

 

The classic times, alone,

We spent reciting prose.

But the laughter’s now faded

And we have ran out of pages.

 

fin

 

Now this one is very close to my heart. It's about a friend I had, a while back, and we got along so well, it was like we were twins. Anyway, I think that it was the best friendship I'd ever had, because the person actually knew when I was upset, and knew my reactions, and the same with me for them. Anyway, they drifted away, and it was probably the most horribly long lasting loss I've ever had. Usually, people just go and thats that, but with this person, they didn't.

 

Ahh, happy days.

[Darth_Yuthura]

*Good Poems* end response.

 

I really never thought of childhood memories being lost in the manner you described. Although I don't know if I can relate, I got the gist of how value of the past had suddenly been lost. And with it all that you put into it. I can not really remember my childhood as any more than a composite of all the experiences in one thought.

 

I can remember I grew distant from a friend who I have known for a LONG time. All those hours, days, years, and events we shared with the company of others... lost with when the friendships dissolved. It may seem like a friend you lost, but all that time and sacrifice for maintaining the friendship were lost as well.

 

I take it back, you really touched me with both.

[LordOfTheFish]

Nice!

 

"Bracelets and Prose" is my favorite yet. Thumbs up, and good job!

[Burnseyy]

Thanks a bunch for the comments. :]

[Endorenna]

I agree with Fish, with one little addition.

 

[The_Catto]

It's sad when you drift away from a person whom you considered to be a best friend. You will always share a connection but it just wouldn't be the same if you were still hanging around with each other.

 

I remember reading Bracelets and Prose in the CEC before now, but I didn't really know the back story to it. Now it's taken on a whole new meaning.

Sad poem, Burnseyy. Sad poem indeed.

Well done.

[Burnseyy]

Building Blocks of Life

 

I could build a man from timber,

And he would be precise,

But the romance would surely set alight,

When we figured that we weren't alike.

 

I could build a man from concrete,

And I would build him strong and tall,

As if I'd make him small!

Yet the romance would tumble,

When he never answered my calls.

 

I could build a man from heart and soul,

And I would love him for all to see,

Yet that man could never exist,

Because the idea came from me.

 

fin

 

 

This is about how people (like me) have suuuch high standards in guys, they won't stand for someone unless they're absolutely ideally perfect... but that person will never exist, because as long as there's something wrong with me, it's impossible. It's kind of a good poem... telling people to stoppp being so high standardish.

 

 

_

 

I uttered words in confidence,

And hoped for you to comprehend:

"Can't cope right now, I'm breaking down,"

What delusion do you think I intend?

 

Did nodding and uttering poetry

Get you what you had craved all along?

Did kissing my lips and holding me still,

Make the man inside you feel strong?

 

Tears are exploding, tearing down my cheeks,

Whilst thoughts race wildly, wondering what everyone seeks;

I cannot control the fire spreading within my mind;

Brace yourself, stand far away, unless you know what to find.

 

fin

 

 

This one is about not being able to cope with simple things in life, suspecting everyone, and needing everyone to stay away because it only causes harm... even if the things they do/say are harmless. Whey!

[CommanderQ]

Excellent Poems! You are quite the poet, Burnseyy. Keep up the good work!

[The_Catto]

Damn that second poem seemed familiar.

Nothing I - or anyone else - wrote, mind you, but it seemed oddly close as to just how I can get sometimes.

 

Nice poetry once again, Burnseyy.

Looking forward to more.

[Sabretooth]

Strange, it seems like I missed two poems.

 

I loved Childhood, it was a wonderful read and very relevant. I liked how you just skimmed over and around the hackneyed poetry topic of the loss of one's childlike innocence. It was well-written and a delightful little poem!

 

Bracelets and Prose had a great impact and came through very strongly, but it could have used some extra work. The writing wasn't upto the mark and I found a couple of errors. Still, it wasn't an awful poem and I enjoyed it.

 

Building Blocks of Life sounds like something I'd have in my 3rd-5th Grade textbooks, which is probably why I found it so charming. It was light and simple, easy to digest and worth a smile. I wouldn't say it was a terribly great poem.

 

Drat, I've got to run right now. I'll be back as soon as I can to check out Untitled.

[Burnseyy]

A big thank you to you all!

 

A bit of info, here: I've decided to cut the crap. Enough of just throwing down thoughts onto paper, and not paying too much attention to how good the poem is... It's time to challenge myself. No more writing rubbish - now it's time to really try and improve.

 

 

The Stigma of the Picture

 

 

The abandonment of existence

Truly conforms such a person to fixture;

Amazement at the beauty of the picture,

Watching as raindrops drizzle down a banner

Entitled "Enigma".

This scene surely influences the stigma

To contort the mind into a mixture,

Of doubtful transes and enriched restricters.

Could one insist on becoming a hitcher?

Not I - for the bewilderment of the phrase

"Let's just ditch her"

Honestly and purely touched my soul.

 

fin

 

 

This was influenced by earlier today. I was waiting for the bus to come after college, but I was waiting for something else, too. I felt like something else was coming, but I didn't know what it was. Whilst I waited, I observed my surroundings, after being ditched by my friends, and thought about how waiting really can leave someone back at the drawing board.

 

 

New York Snow

 

Cannon blasts through sight;

Unknown beauties do shine through,

And time does resume.

 

fin

 

 

This is a haiku. I wrote it today in college, and it's about a picture I took in NY that I don't remember taking. It was of snowflakes falling into a puddle, and I thought it was very symbolic of my memories from that time of my life.

 

 

 

:] Now, are they better?

[CommanderQ]

The other ones were very good, but these new ones surpass those by far. Excellent Poetry, keep posting!

[Darth_Yuthura]

Yeah, I know what's it's like to get ditched. I think that you did well in only a matter of minutes for the first one. I really don't get the second. Is its short length meant to be part of the message?

[Burnseyy]

Yeah, I know what's it's like to get ditched. I think that you did well in only a matter of minutes for the first one. I really don't get the second. Is its short length meant to be part of the message?

 

'cannon blasts' are the snowflakes hitting the water, 'through sight' means when i took the photograph without knowing. 'unknown beauties do shine through' means the message i received from it and 'time does resume' mean that after the message, i come back to reality, where I am now.

 

It's confusing, I know, but that's just because it's a haiku.

 

 

Thank you!

[Endorenna]

Sound good, Burnseyy! Very good!

[The_Catto]

Everybody knows what it feels like to be ditched.

Tis not a good feeling.

It described pretty much to the exact point of how it feels and even if a person who has not been ditched - unlikely - came across and read this poem, then they'd definitely get the feeling and know what its like.

 

The haiku was great. I, myself, don't really like to write them. I can't really, to be honest. I get too impatient because I have it in my head, but I just can't get the exact words down onto the paper.

 

I live in Australia and never really been anywhere that has snow. [i've been once, but it was fake snow ] So I don't really know what snow falling looks like [in real life that is] but I get the feeling, from reading this, just how it must be.

 

Wonderful work Burnseyy. As per usual I like it a lot x]

[Burnseyy]

Right... I've written less poetry lately, but I've been challenging myself to come up with some GOOD stuff. :] This next poem might confuse some of you... and some of the words are probably spelt wrong (I hate dictionaries), but here you go:

 

Dream Therapy

 

 

-The Manifest Content

Mutterings of energy issues, a dilemma,

Telling words of wisdom to cure the infliction.

Wih untold revelations unravelling into deceptive realisations,

And a solemn nod to emphasise the confirmations.

But caring intentions could insist upon this picture,

Written in black and white, where laid the stigma.

It is due to the lack of embracement and love,

Of the fulfillment of vanity and what "should",

That we are indeed, "so different in such similar ways."

 

-The Latent Content

Nevertheless, due to certain... research,

It is inevitable to imply that these reasonings are false:

Symbolism infects the mind like a poison in the pulse.

It is competition that is the underlying treason of the care,

And the insufferable reason to attempt to compare.

Perhaps the secret is of lies and personal anxiety,

And the incompetant thoughts of vanity

That coerce one to portray thoughts as negative or wrong?

If not all of the above, then it is in absolution

That amidst all of the evident and crude confusion...

He truly despises the concept of distance,

But also the closeness of similarities in this instance,

That all woes lie in wake of wanting to disappear.

-The Dream Work

To conclude this analysis of the active mind,

That is so astonishingly passive that it was difficult to find

The answer...

I present that the minds of the sober, the drunk and the lonely

Will always think in such absurd approaches

Simply due to the fact that they are not drunk, sober

Or loved.

 

It is what one admires that one is not.

 

Okay, and now the explanation lol. The manifest content (in psychology - psychodynamics) is a level in dreams. It basically means what picture you see in the dream, what is actually happening... The "description" if you will. Without analysis.

 

The latent content is what those descriptions mean. So, now, we do analyse. And more often than not, the meaning is the complete opposite to the actual image.

 

the dream work is how these two come together and make sense for the dreamer, or the client receiving dream therapy.

Sooo... the meaning behind the poem? It's how lots of secrets and bad feelings got out into the air yesterday when my friends and I were drunk.

 

That's only one poem for today. sorry!

[Rev7]

Not bad at all Burnseyy! I have only read a couple of your poems and I don't think that they are bad. Very nice job!

[The_Catto]

So, what does a dream mean when you're running from a large pair of scissors that are dressed ghetto style but have tiny little arms that carry drum sticks?

 

It was a very well written poem! I managed to stick with it for most of the way. However, some parts dislodged my understanding a little. Which is good, lol.

 

Damn drunkenness! Brings out everything it does!!!!

[Burnseyy]

Thanks all, again.

The compliments are wonderful.

 

 

Euphoric Dreams

 

My dreams are running from me,

Escapading out before my eyes—

And then they consume reality,

Severing between it and I, all ties.

 

This euphoria has never been so despised.

 

fin

 

This is about being in a dream like state.

 

 

The Insomniac

 

 

Lying awake

With a subtle dream

On the verge of chaos;

Of regressing to the past.

Of knowing... Life is living too fast.

 

An overwhelming rhythm

Of warmth attacks the heart.

Waiting for the heat to depart

From reality...

and live the conspiracy.

 

Vicious scratches on the wall

And crying floating through the hall.

Enter the realm of the insomniac---

Drink up. Enjoy.

Never dismiss thoughts they employ.

 

fin

 

The... title says it all, really.