Reply Wed 19 Oct, 2005 06:26 pm
I feel like writing about people. All kinds of people. Hope not to offend anyone (man or woman) with these poems.

With respect,
Endy

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------





Bass for African Woman


She was beautiful
Exotic
Wide-eyed and hypnotic
Pure African beats
Commanding her feet
She danced drenched in the heat
of the gig, gone wild.
Oh man,
she was proud
Amazing
Dark eyes blazing
As she swayed to our rhythm
like a mystic prism
of delight.
Gripping me tight
with her joyous gaze
of compassionate rage.
A real freedom fighter,
the spirit inside her,
seeing not my skin
but the warrior within,
chose me to free her,
forever to see her
so beautiful,
exotic
wide-eyed and hypnotic
And as those bass riffs rose higher
I burned black in her fire.

Endymion 2005

--------------------------------------------------------------

People You Meet

He's just a kid trying to live on the street.
So I gave him a fiver to get something to eat.
He told me his story, like it had to be said.
How his father is evil and his mother is dead.
How he came here to London and my Camden Town,
to seek out his fortune and perhaps settle down.
But instead he owes money and the dept must be paid,
but although he goes hungry, nothing is saved.
How now he is owned, by a man with no name
who cheats him
and beats him
and keeps him on the game.
How sometimes he wishes he would die of the shame.
The worse thing is...
I can't remember his name.

Endymion 2005

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Angry Girl


She knocked me out an oak tree and I fell and broke my wrist
She fired an air rifle at my head (and fortunately missed)

She punched me on the nose one day and made my eyes water
And she could wrestled like an alligator - just as I taught her

But sometimes the teacher was her and not me
Like the time I went flying out of that tree

Because on the way down I heared her yell
"Never challenge an Angry Girl."

We parted company when we were twelve years old
Both of us were carted off - one of us was sold

I'm sorry to say, I never saw her again
and know nothing about her save for her name

I hope she got lucky, I hope she stayed sane.


Endymion 2005
  • Topic Stats
  • Top Replies
  • Link to this Topic
Type: Discussion • Score: 2 • Views: 7,162 • Replies: 64
No top replies

 
AngeliqueEast
 
  1  
Reply Wed 19 Oct, 2005 09:25 pm
This is a great idea Endy! Most excellent poems, I love them. Keep them coming.
0 Replies
 
Beena
 
  1  
Reply Mon 21 Nov, 2005 11:23 pm
Hey! Your poems are really good. I love the middle one the most, about the kid. You tell a story through your poem beautifully and with amazing style.
0 Replies
 
InTraNsiTiOn
 
  1  
Reply Tue 22 Nov, 2005 12:22 am
I aswel think they are very great. My fav was the first one! Please, post more.
0 Replies
 
Beena
 
  1  
Reply Tue 22 Nov, 2005 02:34 pm
If you like your top one the most, then sort out all your poems and the ones you don't like, make sure you do post them here 'cause I'm pretty sure you don't know what your best is.
0 Replies
 
Lex62589
 
  1  
Reply Tue 22 Nov, 2005 04:18 pm
All of your poetry has some pretty intense emotions coming off of the people in them. Do they represent an emotion you've had? They are all really great.Please keep writing, your poems were like a breath of fresh air that revived an unconscious person. You awoke the poetry within.
0 Replies
 
Endymion
 
  0  
Reply Wed 7 Dec, 2005 01:33 am
4 S


I found him sitting outside the hospital doors
Propped legless in his chair-on-wheels.
The drip-stand at attention, like a flagpole beside him.
A cigarette burned cold between pale knuckles.
He looked at me with exhausted eyes,
"Alright mate?"
I didn't know.
The sky was vicious grey. Scattering wet clouds.
A small boy pointed, asking a fair question:
"Where are that man's legs, Mummy? Where? Where?"
A question of despair as he pulled on her coat in panic.
The woman was speechless
Burned red by our stares
Thinking that we were offended
When in truth
We were mesmerised by her.


Endymion 2005
0 Replies
 
AngeliqueEast
 
  1  
Reply Wed 7 Dec, 2005 05:02 am
Welcome back Endy
0 Replies
 
Endymion
 
  0  
Reply Thu 15 Dec, 2005 10:42 am
Just wanted to thank those that left messages.
0 Replies
 
Endymion
 
  0  
Reply Wed 28 Dec, 2005 10:57 pm
What Kind Of Man?


If it's any consolation
I've read their misinterpretations
The suggestive implications
And narrow translations

They sent you on a long vacation
Without a future destination
Locked you up in isolation
For the duration

What kind of nation
Punishes the shocked and shaken
Condemns them as forsaken
For failing to keep their station?

I'm not a Palestinian child
Fighting for an education
I'm not a beaten-up and stabbed
South London Asian
I'm not the son of an addict
F*cking up his probation

In fact I'm no relation
No connection
But I have a recollection
Of selection

Crazy infection by injection

A short-lived elation
Then sudden realization
Inspection and intrusion
Rejection and confusion

What kind of man
Gets up and makes a stand?
The man I would follow
If I could live again tomorrow.


Endymion 2005
0 Replies
 
Endymion
 
  0  
Reply Tue 3 Jan, 2006 01:40 am
Chasing The Medusa (For Don McCullin)
Chasing The Medusa (For Don McCullin)

A small boy out hunting
Over the bombsites of London
Climbs to the top of mountains
Of fallen brick rubble
In search of scraps of metal
And the precious tin foil
That is dropped by the Germans
As if by special favour.

Passing through mourners
Who stand with torn fingers
Ignoring signs of DANGER
Taking no heed of WARNING
Scraping skin from frozen knees
Tearing holes in his clothing
He saves up the coppers
For a pie or chip supper

London's filth and grime
A playground to his wandering
Curious mind
And sensitive thinking
In a brave beleaguered land
Of defiant mothers
Who stick up their fingers
At Hitler and his buggers
And keep hold of their sons
Lest they follow their fathers
And while under siege
Share bread with one another

One night the boy in secret
Heard his parents talking
How his father had just met with
A local fire warden
Who was carrying a bucket
With a woman's decapitated head in it
He said in case her family
Should wish to bury something.

Her gaping mouth and eyes staring up from the abyss

Later, in Biafra when those thin
Albino fingers
Reached out to touch yours
Breaking your heart forever
And in Vietnam
Between two dead soldiers
As you lay cradling your camera
Searching for some cover

Did you know even then
That you were chasing the medusa?
Her gaping mouth and eyes
Staring up from the abyss

You have revealed the pain
Of world-wide grieving mothers
On the bombsites of the planet
From Beirut to Northern Ireland
And their war is your war
Their suffering is mirrored
In a memory of your first war
Which took away your innocence

Some say you have a death wish
No I say, without rest
You are a slayer of demons
An army against death


Endymion 2006






http://www.digitaljournalist.org/issue0309/images/life/biafra.jpg

http://www.bbc.co.uk/polish/specials/images/1630_50_photography/2164033_4.jpg
0 Replies
 
Endymion
 
  1  
Reply Tue 3 Jan, 2006 09:36 pm
Untitled - (McCullin)

He ran
Crossing the empty ground
Sure of foot
Sublime
Unaware of the heat that followed
Burning a path of everlasting
Joy
Nothing could touch him
Not the grabbing fist
Nor the cutting wire
As he ran
Turning dust under fire
Brave of heart
Fearless
Unaware of the chaste killer
Focused
Only on those
That turned
Their faces him

Endymion 2006
0 Replies
 
Endymion
 
  0  
Reply Tue 3 Jan, 2006 09:39 pm
Very frustrating
Wanting to say something
But not having the talent to do so.
0 Replies
 
CrazyDiamond
 
  1  
Reply Tue 3 Jan, 2006 09:55 pm
Oh don't worry, you've got plenty of talent. Wink
Great bunch of poems in this thread. Touched my heart with Chasing the Medusa. Very well done Endy. Very Happy
0 Replies
 
Endymion
 
  0  
Reply Tue 3 Jan, 2006 10:22 pm
Hey CrazyDiamond, thanks (although I really thought for a minute there you must be joking - I'm not kidding. I sweated over Chasing the Medusa - but couldn't get it right - probably because i dont really understand poetry at all - why sometimes it works and other times it sounds like corny sentimental b*llocks

I started to reply earlier, and what I was writing turned into some sort of spontaneous few lines. Hope you don't mind if I keep them.

I think they've got something:




What I write

Between you and me, CrazyDiamond,
What I write
Is bull-shite
If I had the guts to really write
I wouldn't be writing about shite
With no balls


This is the first thing I've written in a long time that has made me smile. So thanks for that.

Endy
0 Replies
 
Endymion
 
  0  
Reply Tue 3 Jan, 2006 10:29 pm
Untitled - (McCullin)

He ran
Crossing the empty ground
Sure of foot
Sublime
Unaware of the heat that followed
Burning a path of everlasting
Joy
Nothing could touch him
Not the grabbing fist
Nor the cutting wire
As he ran
Turning dust under fire
Brave of heart
Fearless
Unaware of the chaste killer
Focused
Only on those
That turned
Their faces to him

Endymion 2006

Here it is again without the typing error (which I didn't notice until it was too late to edit)
0 Replies
 
Endymion
 
  0  
Reply Mon 9 Jan, 2006 12:24 am
Untitled

I don't know where you're hiding now
or if you're gone for good.
I only know I'm missing you.
Your strength and your support.

You see I am alone here now
and must travel on without you;
but If we meet up on the road
I'll be happy to have found you.

Don't be afraid to reappear.
If you're listening, hear my whisper:
"Hey, you know, nothings writen in stone.
I'm missing you, sister."
0 Replies
 
Endymion
 
  0  
Reply Mon 9 Jan, 2006 09:59 am
I don't know Amon Tobin and I've not been to any of his gigs. Needless to say, he does not know me from Adam. Still, I owe him a sincere dept of thanks. I discovered his work late, but at a time when I desperately needed it. The following is dedicated to him:


A Circumstantial Invite

I'd wandered into the party.
It wasn't the usual house,
but a circumstantial invite
from a friend of a friend.
Jazz electronica. Very classy.
Very loud.
No space for conversation.
No output. Only absorption.
Unless your thing is dance…?
Mine wasn't - not there.

Where,
conscious of being the stranger,
I paused inside a stray archway
to look for Tanner…
(who'd said
he wasn't going to miss any of it).
While wraithlike in the gloom,
a figure moved to the rhythm; his shadow
turning this way and that.
Ninja style.

A pale hand floated out of darkness
to press stiff fingertips against me.
Stalling me on the threshold.
She with the straight brown hair.
I'd seen her earlier, in the kitchen,
stretched-out on an old sofa,
reading a book.
Now she looked at me and smiled,
"Hi."
Her voice was warm and maybe shy.

We rotated around each other,
our drinks held to our chests;
as if the spirits might go for one another,
should we allow them close proximity.
We were crossing beams.
Her eyes were blue,
her hair dark.
Her glance fleeting and distracted,
leaving me secretly watching
until she was gone.

Inside, the music was wild.
Super-modified,
extreme.
Opulent and sexy.
Sound-tracking my own thoughts.
Hypnotizing
and spellbinding.
Turning me on
With its transience.
Then calming my blood.

Fascinated, I was drawn.
by the intricate,
breathtaking drum solos
and the strange, nostalgic strings.
Sometimes energetic and industrial;
then spinning,
becoming something else.
A subtle visionary movement.
A warrior beat.
The haunting element.

As the music flowed to me
I heard chimes that made me think
of rain.
Human voices
warped into alien echoes,
mixed by a genius hand.
A montage of abstract sound
and tight musical composition,
satisfying enough
to exorcise my brain.

Drifting,
I edged around the room, protecting my beer
and checking that I wasn't treading
on anyone quietly skinning
up at the back.
Looking for a space,
discovered an empty window seat
complete with vacant cushion.
Sat back and immediately relaxed.
Began to tap my foot to the slow-slow beat.

While coloured lights spun lazily
over my head. Casting diamonds
across a patterned floor,
flickering over the slender body
of a woman
sitting cat-like
on a rug;
rocking
to the music.
Seduced by the slow-fingered, steel guitar.

Outside, the night was still.
The moon serene.
I watched the trees
through a dark window
as the music spiralled,
transforming,
from liquid into air.
Then unexpectedly, there beside me…
She with the straight brown hair.
Smiling, as she passed a joint to me.

"I remember you," she said.
I couldn't speak while she sat there
watching me. The music picked up a beat
and I could suddenly feel her.
Outside, we lit a fire against the cold,
Sucked up the music with fresh air,
Listened while staring at a lightening sky
and eating hot potatoes.
Listened even as she traced my scars
with her breath. And as we danced.


Endymion 2006
0 Replies
 
j conrad
 
  1  
Reply Mon 9 Jan, 2006 06:07 pm
i enjoyed 'people you meet' quite a bit.
0 Replies
 
Endymion
 
  0  
Reply Mon 9 Jan, 2006 10:18 pm
Hello to you, j.Conrad and thanks for letting me know.

Endy
0 Replies
 
 

Related Topics

What inspired you to write...discuss - Discussion by lostnsearching
It floated there..... - Discussion by Letty
Small Voices - Discussion by Endymion
Rockets Red Glare - Discussion by edgarblythe
rate this rap - Discussion by theprofessor
Short Story: Wilkerson's Tank - Discussion by edgarblythe
The Virtual Storytellers Campfire - Discussion by cavfancier
1st Annual Able2Know Halloween Story Contest - Discussion by realjohnboy
Literary Agents (a resource for writers) - Discussion by Craven de Kere
 
  1. Forums
  2. » People
Copyright © 2020 MadLab, LLC :: Terms of Service :: Privacy Policy :: Page generated in 0.03 seconds on 08/13/2020 at 06:27:37