Death Diary - Endymion

Reply Sun 11 Jan, 2009 10:38 am
Hey Endy,

Hope it's a 'peaceful' one for everyone!
Reply Mon 12 Jan, 2009 12:10 am
So very good to hear from you, my friend Smile

Yes. Peace would be a wonderful thing, wouldn't it?

Here's hoping.....
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Reply Mon 26 Jan, 2009 03:34 pm

Shadow of Winter

Time has run from his death
Yet memory stands
Still beside his encounter
Long the days turn
Spinning on, around the sun
Slipping into shadows of winter

A strange familiar
Cast in a distant role of brother
Mentor, friend of the soul
Fearless guide
Who'll never grow old
I knew he knew the truth
Shared the secret buried beneath

How much it hurts to be alive
Yet still be so in love with life
Trying to analyse the risk
And the consequence
The spirit of compromise
Everyday a little more messed
By the crazy, tragic unrest

And laughter cursed and ugliness
Watching the destruction of love
The confused mass who fall
As leaves drop from an autumn sky
Into a river of a million lives
All beauty to his eyes
Their pain he saw



I cannot reflect beyond this
It is as if
All advantage that speaks
In our world
Has succumbed
Vanished beneath tears shed
Love torn from love
Spill out the heart's blood
Our world falls misshapen
Whispers buried, unheard
In narrow confines, anger shaken
Absurd! I cannot!
I cannot love your word
Or the urgent screaming mouth
Of desperation
Old fears echo loud
But I hear them in their pain
Distant, crying out

Endymion 2009
Reply Mon 26 Jan, 2009 04:51 pm
just here... reading... feeling.

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Reply Mon 26 Jan, 2009 07:32 pm
Great, endy.
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Reply Mon 26 Jan, 2009 08:19 pm
Endy, Your poetry has improved greatly in the six months since I last saw it. Both "Shadow" and "Siege" are very fine: good line breaks, strong imagery, excellent tone. I particularly like the "Siege." "Love torn from Love" is a striking line. Bravo!
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Reply Thu 5 Feb, 2009 08:11 pm

Izzie Edgar and Miklos
thank you- i found both poems really hard work, so you know - it means a lot
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Reply Thu 5 Feb, 2009 08:24 pm


In search of peace and the old ways
The dead warrior unbuckles the war
Walks out through the night under god's gaze
Climbing high in the desert sky
To ancient stones that stand in mourning
Man lies dormant
Sleeps his dreams, spiralling from within
Deadly sin
Shame, torment
Cursed to be mocked, he must become obsidian
Or damn his heart to oblivion

Endymion 2009
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Reply Thu 5 Feb, 2009 08:26 pm
Reply Thu 5 Feb, 2009 08:37 pm
Wink Smile
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Reply Thu 5 Feb, 2009 08:57 pm

Blood Lust

We were ghosts that day
Feeling our way across the plain
We remembered how it felt to be alive
But we were dead inside
Out of our ******* minds
Out for blood
Crazy in love
Twisted with rage
We were depraved
But oh, we were cool as ****!!
We fucked with lady luck
Lost deep inside
In the violence of our time
We were blind, stupid and mean
Cursed by belief
We were all boys
Who had abandoned joy
We screamed
We cursed them all
We were vicious and cruel
We were mortified
Thinking we were still alive
We were grim
Driven from within
They shouted orders in our head
But we were all, already dead

Endymion 2009
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Reply Thu 5 Feb, 2009 09:58 pm
this bit of a poem might seem odd coming after the last one, but i wrote it after reading a post on a2k - someone talking about going out in the snow with their child - although it's about my own feeling, of course

maybe it belongs somewhere else - but weirdly, i don't want to separate it from the last two because i actually wrote them at the same time, more or less.

maybe i should have put them together on the freaks thread..
but no. they belong here

Winter Dawn

Cold winter night
Fields sleep beneath glass sheets
Frozen, silent
Snow-ice resides in evergreens
Falls white, translucent
Flurries down, charmed by laughter
Hungry to drift to sacred ground
As peaceful sweeps the heavy fleece
of winter's coldest breath
Piled soaring above the ridge
In eagerness, under an awakening sky
I am alive!
Surprised to lie so deep concealed
inside this well
Of stillness
Dawn touches tree-tops on the hill
as birds rise
And the sun arrives
To wander wild
I am so lucky to be alive
God, i feel like a child

Endymion 2009

Reply Thu 5 Feb, 2009 10:07 pm


Reply Sun 8 Feb, 2009 11:23 pm

I've been looking at the news in Oz
It looks bad
hope to hear soon that you are okay
night, Olga
Reply Mon 9 Feb, 2009 02:47 am
It is bad, Endy.

131 dead recorded so far in Victoria & still rising .....

Something like 3 1/2 thousand people homeless now.

Whole towns, like Marysville & Kinglake wiped off the map. Just like that!

Burns cases in hospitals .. the doctor on the news tonight said in worse shape than those who'd been treated after the Bali bombings ...

But I must say, the state & the nation are "rallying" behind the fire victims... though really, everyone seems shocked, gobsmacked at the extent of the damage, the scale of the losses ...

Today, at the school I work in, a bushfire fund was started, staff, students & parents will no doubt contribute. I recken this sort of thing is happening all over the place here, right now. In schools, workplaces, businesses, various organisations ....

But the threats are by no means over. More fires could still easily happen. Summer has a way to go yet ...

Reply Mon 9 Feb, 2009 03:42 am
thank you, Olga

I fell asleep at 6 am - but woke up again -
Glad to come here and find your post

It sounds terrible - i read someone describing it and was appalled

Yes, burns - what a nightmare.

Glad you are okay, Olga

(Gona crash back out now)
Reply Mon 9 Feb, 2009 03:47 am
Happy dreams, Endy.
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Reply Tue 10 Feb, 2009 05:56 am
just here... reading along..... hope you got some sleep Endy. I might go for a kip in a bit too.

wandering dreams....
i wonder
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Reply Mon 2 Mar, 2009 01:57 pm

Been looking through this collection
asking myself what its all about
you ever look back at your posts and think - i don't even
recognise myself in that... ?
Reply Mon 2 Mar, 2009 02:46 pm
Looking back through these pages, you should be very proud of your growing vision and skill. Big accomplishments. You'll surely continue to progress is both areas.
Every committed writer looks back and wonders what it's all about, but he or she never comes up with the answer. If you actually knew why you wrote and the significance of what you wrote about--or, more likely, pretended to--you would sound like a preacher. Preachers--some very gracefully--speak from certainty. Poets--with varying skill--speak from mystery.
If we write a lot, we change a lot. And, of course, our vision changes slightly every minute, simply by virtue of our being alive. The vision and writing that poetry requires changes us all the more rapidly. And, every now and then--same as the modern theory of evolution goes--artists make a big leap forward. When this occurs, it may amaze us to look back even a few months and realize how different now is from then.

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