Cantr II Discussion Forum

As you well know, there are alot (compared to other types of writers whose sole purpose is to entertain, such as novelists) of poets and their poetry in the world of Cantr. Makes me wonder how did their players get their experience from all that.

Thus I started this thread. What other poems have you made that progressed you to be the player of one of those poets in Cantr?

Any other poems that doesn't relate to Cantr II can be shared and discussed of as well.

_________________


I may not be one of those poets in Cantr, but the following is one of my poems that I submitted into a student poetry contest. It's selected to be published in an anthology of which I have purchased. They said it was selected as one of high merit, but sometimes I think otherwise.

_________
Zanarkand
*based on a scene from Final Fantasy X

An opening at a small fire
Realizing
The past, and the weight of it all
In the memories behind my eyes

Friends all, they sit at the tiny flames
A hill of ruin of scars
Their faces, they stare, as if viewing
A time we all lived through

I, too, join their silence
Expressionless
The calm before the rise
Before the aging graves, we all treasure inside

A journey we've set upon
And still moving on
Spirits as trailing fireflies
Moaning so tuneless, and yet like a peaceful song
_________

(This forum gots everything but a center alignment tag, who knew!?)
What do you think? Any comments and/or constructive criticisms? And which would you think it would be better left-off as: centered or left-aligned?

There was an old man from piru(r whatever that courntry is...)
Who dreamt he had eaton his shoe.
He woke with a start
all clumsy and dark
and it seemed that his dream had come true.

A man who was not verry bright
He went and he sat on a light
and now he is gon
he went to his mom
He weeps for all day and all night

there was an old man named Tapoo
who went to japan for bamboo
but he got scared
he saw a big bare
he only came back with tofu

must I continue?

There once was a man from Nantucket...

I've got too much myself to post, so I linked my website to all of it... it's a bit (rather very) dark. So if you're looking for cheery stuff I'd stay away from it.

This one is either called Burning Water or Finding Flakes

He felt dirty
during day, his drapes
on his bathroom window
were left open.
He didn't feel the dry flakes
that are flung flawed onto
the flare next to his chair.

But the chair perished,
and he did not cherish
the now charred chapel,
until it was gone.
He was dreading the dirt.

There was nowhere to sit:
there slept the chair.
His flakes flew onto the fire
still.
But he could not sit and watch
His flakes take too much energy now.
He needed support to be flawed.
It was hard to stand.

He was aging fast now,
staging the next part.
His drapes were drawn...
for it was now dawn
and it is not coincidence
to say
that it dawned on him then.
That dry skin could be
made pure
cured and cleansed
that flakes could flow
clinging to the body
that he can clutch
his skin like the soap
soaking in the bath.
It has finished choking
on chapped lips.

He has now barred himself
from looking back on charred
chairs.
The flame has flown
to where the body
has caught her in the water.
Dirt floats around them
but coats are left at the window
Flesh mesh as red candles
flicker; they are flawed
But we need that light to see.

Pie wrote:and now he is gon
he went to his mom

Hehe, I'm from Australia so we say the shortened 'mother' differently..
You guys say mom, sounds like 'mouum' or just 'mooom', but we say it 'mum' as in 'marm' like 'marmalade'.... sounds retarded to you guys lol but it sounds normal to us.

Ahh about time i found a fello Aussie.

Yeh there's a couple of regulars here that are Aussies actually.

I say mum.

If we're on limericks, and I've done hundreds, probably thousands, this gentle thing keeps popping back into my head:
Although by my birth I'm Britannic,
The sight of the sea makes me panic.
The only good wave
Is the one Sally gave
When she cancelled her trip on titanic.

the fourth and fith line have to many silibles.

but thats ok, it's still cool.

My parents don't know i'm scottish
so verrily i feel foolish
my sworde has a hilt
Got's blue pant and kilt
I'm yelling for freedome tonight.

I just made that up.

We can tell, it doesn't rhyme correctly.

Poetry doesn't have to rhyme perfectly nor at all in some cases.

I know, I write poetry. I think its decent (I mean I think I'm a decent poet). However, he was claiming that as a limerick. Not being an ass, but it needs some tweeking to fit as a limerick.


Edit: Changed for clarity

Decided to post my favorite anyway...

Lost to God

I look around, what do I see?
Planes of flames unknown to me.

Fire licking at my feet
Tells me that I’m surely beat.
This is when I turn to meet
The most unholy on his seat.
A mirror’s gaze my eyes did greet.

Then all did fade and I am lost.
I’d left from hell, but at what cost?

Am I all that is?
Hell to this was surely bliss.

Even time has ceased to be,
But this is all unknown to me.

Finally grace, a new place
Has entered to my mind’s embrace.
Did I create the whole of space?

But I’m alone, with stars that shone,
While sitting in my new made throne.
I’m lonely to my deepest bone.
My creation I must hone.
I’ll make a race to sound my moan.

Angels thusly I have made.
A price for this would soon be paid;
By my best friend I’ve been betrayed,

And for his sin, I’ve put him in
The fiery place I first had been.

Now for sadness I’ve made the Earth,
A place to fill with boundless birth…

Again I’ve been betrayed!
The images that I’d portrayed,
Have risen up and disobeyed.

I punished them for their sin,
Suffering be known to all the men.

But woe is me
Filled with pity.

I’ll make a son, my will be done,
And with me men will again be one,

And we’ll rise against he who banished me,
Who once was so friendly.
Then he’ll have to see
I’m lost to me.

Condemner and condemned.