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Posted by: Lady of the Night (209.222.212.---)
Date: October 04, 2002 10:15AM


I tell you of passion
Speak of desire
A driven will
A burning fire
I spin you stories
That taste so sweet
And then you tell
Of my great feats
I laugh aloud
And smile too
But now I'm tired
And so
This poem
Is through

- Megan A. Clemmer

Re: Untitled
Posted by: Brucefur (24.67.253.---)
Date: October 04, 2002 06:53PM


Nutmeg, this was a wonderful little piece that had grabbed me right away and was pulling me along, completely engrossed in the imagery, and then...

What is with the silly ending?

I still like it. It did bring a smile to my face, but if you were to ditch the last four lines and continue with it, I think that it would be a much better piece.

Love ya,

Re: Untitled
Posted by: Sargirl (24.194.207.---)
Date: October 04, 2002 09:08PM

oh I love the end!
It will drive most poets mad!
the lack of mood, the scheam!
arn't I a little devil!
keep the end!

Re: Untitled
Posted by: Terry Johnson (67.225.176.---)
Date: October 04, 2002 09:43PM

NOW there's a pome as opposed to poem.

Love it. Wish I'd'a said that.

Re: Untitled
Posted by: Sargirl (24.194.207.---)
Date: October 04, 2002 09:46PM


Re: Untitled
Posted by: Noloco (209.142.182.---)
Date: October 04, 2002 11:23PM

Not fair i mean the words and it was so and ahh. You had a great poem and that line about the story actually every line it just held my attention and then noooo wow ahh forget the punctuation for now lol

"To write something, you have to risk making a fool of yourself." Anne Rice

Re: Untitled
Posted by: Quiet Dreamer (198.81.20.---)
Date: October 05, 2002 12:35AM

Ooooh! Another good one smiling smiley

Re: Untitled
Posted by: Lady of the Night (152.163.188.---)
Date: October 05, 2002 04:42PM

LOL..thanks again! I'm so flattered, you guys., when I get flattered I laugh. Just one o' those weird lil things....

Now, the last lines have to stay. Lemme tell you why: Because this poem is about my keeping up an image for the public, but in reality, it makes me very tired, and so when I go into some personal place, all of that stops. It's supposed to be abrupt, that's the idea. Again, this was written in the past. Granted, when I'm alone, I do have a certain scowl on my face, but....well....that's just me? But they have to stay, otherwise, it will be a totally different concept that just doesn't portray the black/white that is me!

Thanks again for all your comments!

Help any?

Lady of the Night

Re: Untitled
Posted by: Snark? (67.24.196.---)
Date: October 06, 2002 04:48PM

oooooooh po-tree!!!!
i like the way that the scheme disolves near the end. i have written a great many poems that do just that, unfortunatly my teachers seem to think that there instructions actually matter and that i must adhere to them. humpf!

Re: Untitled
Posted by: Sargirl (24.194.207.---)
Date: October 06, 2002 04:49PM

once again...
some teacher are just dense!

Re: Untitled
Posted by: Lady of the Night (209.222.212.---)
Date: October 07, 2002 02:38PM

LOL, Snark, the "hmphf" was a great touch winking smiley


Re: Untitled
Posted by: english teacher (208.182.181.---)
Date: October 07, 2002 03:14PM

well, some teachers are me. anyway, i think this poem is nice. but i want to know what it is really about. for whom do you spin these stories for? what fantastic feats (of storytelling I presume) does he/she brag about and to whom? i am intrigued. But i want more. Perhaps that was your intent? if so, interesting. but still, i think your poetic talents go much deeper. stop holding back...

Re: Untitled
Posted by: Brucefur (24.67.253.---)
Date: October 07, 2002 10:20PM

Yay! Way to go English Teacher!

Megs, are you listening?

Mumbles silly goose, under his breath...

Re: Untitled
Posted by: Lady of the Night (209.222.212.---)
Date: October 08, 2002 09:54AM

Lol, yes Bruce, I heard him/her. sigh

English Teacher,

Hey, how goes it? Good, I hope. Hmm...well, I spin the stories for everyone I know, in hopes to make my boring self seem more interesting. For example: in painting a picture, instead of just sticking to red, yellow and blue, I use different shades of blue, maybe some purples, perhaps some green or even orange if I'm feeling spunky.......not really lying about who I am, just making it seem better than reality says so. Go to a restaurant and order a burger. If it's just slapped on a plate, soaked with grease and the fries are limp, it don't look too good. Or you could go to a better place, and it's placed carefully on the plate, you have fresh fries, it's not too greasy, and maybe even some parsley on the side. See what I mean?

The great feats would be...hmm. Bruce tells 'em, Angelito tells 'em...most of my friends tell them. Basically, it's things like how beautiful I am, how talented I am, what a great friend I am, etc. etc.. Personally, I think they're all a bit loopy (love you guys!), but I seem to have trouble accepting such outlandish tales!

Did this help any? I'd add the completed thoughts into the poem, however, I think that would take away from my intent of showing in a fast, dizzying way what it's like to be me. What it's like to have to live an image for others, but how tired it makes me and how quickly and abruptly that image will drop when I'm alone.

Hope that helped!
Lady of the Night

Re: Untitled
Posted by: Brucefur (24.67.253.---)
Date: October 08, 2002 10:19AM

Megan, I wrote this poem for a very good friend of mine back in high school, and I thought that you might find the content appropriate.

Picture Perfect 1985

Soft amber eyes
smile teasingly
with coquetish glances,
peering forth
from a golden veil of hair,
framing her equiset face
within its cascading tresses.
She is perfect
in form and gesture,
the model of feminity,
captured in all of its glory.
She is envied by those she meets,
yet is an inspiration to all.
She is warm and caring,
the incarnation of happiness,
a little bird with big dreams;
a poet of small renown,
but of great wisdom,
limited only by a lack of confidence
and a shy modesty.
Yet within this perfect picture,
her soul weeps all alone,
caught in a tumultuous struggle
between what is expected of her,
and what she truly is.

Bruce Herbert Fader

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