[mr. mustard]

Originally Posted by Noe Soap

SC vainglorious, egotistical, self-satisfied, smug and lots of other negatives spring to mind but not dull IMO, sorry, subjective judgement,

We'll have to agree to disagree there Frank - I find Cowell a dullard of the highest order

Originally Posted by Troy Edwards

I absolutely love this one Musty.

[mr. mustard]

Originally Posted by Burning Egg

Passing Years

The magical mystery tour bus
Criss-crosses country lanes

Nice Beatle reference BE - I really enjoyed this one, it captures that sense of feeling insignificant in the world as life goes on. For all that I didn't find the poem depressing, more a reminder of forces greater than us. Great imagery throughout, especially 'the broom of time' brushing away.

[Seren13]

When

When the sun is at its brightest but outside the skies are grey
When the words have choked inside you for there’s nothing left to say
When fear is armed and at the front line preparing to advance
When your chosen song is playing but your feet refuse to dance

When the orchestra is playing but comes crushing through your ears
When the world around is waltzing but you’re crippled in your fear
When life’s beggar stretches out his hand, there’s nothing left to give
When death grows more intriguing than the prison where you live

When you’re looking for tomorrow but its nowhere to be found
When you’re stuck within this moment and your arms and legs are bound
When you bathe in pools of tears and they incinerate your skin
When this game of life your playing is the one you’ll never win

When you’re seeking words of promise in the solace of the song
but the symphony wont reach you on the tower you sit upon
When the prisoner inside you pleads for mercy to be shown
but the pleadings are unheeded as his flesh falls from the bone

When the wilderness consumes you and you lay your head to rest
And you sink into the wasteland as you terminate your quest
When the hostess of depression hands an invite to her lair
And your helpless desolation makes her certain to ensnare

[mr. mustard]

Originally Posted by Seren13

When the wilderness consumes you and you lay your head to rest
And you sink into the wasteland as you terminate your quest
When the hostess of depression hands an invite to her lair
And your helpless desolation makes her certain to ensnare

I read this masterpiece and then sat amazed. As a former sufferer of severe depression I found it touched on every part of the condition. During these states I rejected music, something I usually find essential in life. The poem included that aspect, which was no surprise considering the great insight shown throughout.

I've quoted the last verse which is brilliant, not that the others aren't. In my opinion, one of the best poems ever posted in the history of these long-running threads.

[mr. mustard]

What drives Maisie crazy

Great Dane and Weimarana
With them she can’t compete
But praise she’ll often garner,
For Maisie’s small and sweet.

Yet our dog sees the red mist
If postmen walk the path;
They’re on her own ‘drop dead’ list
And stir her canine wrath.

They don’t shout or throw packets,
What then irks Maisie so?
Perhaps their vivid jackets,
Bright orange and aglow.

What’s baffling us the most is
Her preference and that’s
More need to threaten posties
Than piddle or chase cats.

We lack an answer sadly
Why Maisie can’t abide
Post office types and madly
Turns Jekyll into Hyde.

It’s not that we’re her betters
Yet if she got her way
There’d be no cards and letters
Or bills we have to pay.

There’s also walkies trouble,
Each mailmen on a bike
Hears barking volume double,
A missile primed to strike.

She strains the lead and manic
Her four legs all gyrate;
They cycle off in panic
When Maisie gets irate.

I wish she’d switch the cause off
But growls come at a glance,
I’m sure she’d have their balls off
If given half a chance.

Though our pet isn’t crazy,
Near postmen she’s not tame,
So we’ll train little Maisie
And love her just the same.


©

[Seren13]

Originally Posted by Burning Egg

Passing Years

How soon our Earthly time
Is over; how speedily the
Unyielding years advance;
Despite our pleas and prayers.
For we are all King Canute.

The magical mystery tour bus
Criss-crosses country lanes;
Before careering off the cliff
Of lost hopes, and plummeting
Into the minefield of psychedelic
Destruction;

A dream tapestry gone haywire.

How quickly the world forgets;
Or did it ever really know us?
Just another life of little note,
Traversing the well worn paths
Of countless other nobodies.

And so the broom of time brushes
Away the remains of our yesterdays.

I too love all of the Beatles associations, another inspirational poem.

For me this line particularly sums up life perfectly....
Or did it ever really know us?
..it's actually given me an idea for a poem

[Seren13]

Originally Posted by mr. mustard

What drives Maisie crazy

Great Dane and Weimarana
With them she can’t compete
But praise she’ll often garner,
For Maisie’s small and sweet.

Yet our dog sees the red mist
If postmen walk the path;
They’re on her own ‘drop dead’ list
And stir her canine wrath.

They don’t shout or throw packets,
What then irks Maisie so?
Perhaps their vivid jackets,
Bright orange and aglow.

What’s baffling us the most is
Her preference and that’s
More need to threaten posties
Than piddle or chase cats.

We lack an answer sadly
Why Maisie can’t abide
Post office types and madly
Turns Jekyll into Hyde.

It’s not that we’re her betters
Yet if she got her way
There’d be no cards and letters
Or bills we have to pay.

There’s also walkies trouble,
Each mailmen on a bike
Hears barking volume double,
A missile primed to strike.

She strains the lead and manic
Her four legs all gyrate;
They cycle off in panic
When Maisie gets irate.

I wish she’d switch the cause off
But growls come at a glance,
I’m sure she’d have their balls off
If given half a chance.

Though our pet isn’t crazy,
Near postmen she’s not tame,
So we’ll train little Maisie
And love her just the same.


©

Haha naughty Maisie, but adorable too, unless you're a postman of course!

I wish she’d switch the cause off
But growls come at a glance,
I’m sure she’d have their balls off
If given half a chance

This verse literally made me laugh out loud

Thank you for your comments on my last poem, I'm very humbled by so much talent in this thread

[Seren13]

Our Vicky

Let us all show a bit of respect for Our Vicky
She’s about to show that winning isn’t so tricky
Was there ever such a lady so lovely or bold?
Who would work her lovely legs just to hand us that gold

Such amazing grace in which she pushes her pedal
Just won’t fail to bring home that glorious gold medal
Have that victory dance ready at 4pm Mean Time
We can bask in her beauty and all cheer her sublime

This green eyed beauty has captured glory in Beijing
As stunning as Hepburn, inspiring as Luther King
As fearless as Boudicca and bold as Godiva
Leaves startled white faces on every other rider

A lion heart golden girl, our own lady of steel
Victorious Vicky the warrior of the wheel
Valiant athletes competing could never prevent
Our own Vicky from winning her Olympic event

[Burning Egg]

Originally Posted by Seren13

When

I agree with Musty.

This poem is a brilliant description of the different ways depression can impact the sufferer.

Winston Churchill, who was also a sufferer called it the black dog, but maybe you know that.

Wonderful write anyway.

Originally Posted by Seren13

..it's actually given me an idea for a poem

And one of the best aspects of sharing stuff is inspiring other people.

I'll post one of my Depression related oldies later as you've inspired me with your magnificent poem.

I've held off posting these because they are very personal and many people might be put off by them.

[Seren13]

Originally Posted by Burning Egg

I agree with Musty.



Winston Churchill, who was also a sufferer called it the black dog, but maybe you know that.

.I'll post one of my Depression related oldies later as you've inspired me with your magnificent poem.

I've held off posting these because they are very personal and many people might be put off by them.

Yes, I don't believe Winston Churchill ever shook off the 'black dog', it was a dark shadow which followed him around all of his life. It's interesting that many great people from history have suffered from manic depression.

A lot of the inspiration for my poems is drawn from deep human emotions, which by definition is very personal and sensitive. We all have darkness in our lives - light and shade - and my belief is that if you are able to express that darkness through any art form then when people admire it they will recognise and feel those emotions and be inspired that you have shared them...and dare I say, feel they're not alone. Dark poetry is inspirational because it expresses emotions that most of us have felt at some time.

I look forward to reading your poems.

[mr. mustard]

Originally Posted by Seren13

Valiant athletes competing could never prevent
Our own Vicky from winning her Olympic event

Great poem Seren but I'm afraid I'm not up on the Olympics this time

Originally Posted by Burning Egg

I've held off posting these because they are very personal and many people might be put off by them.

Don't let that concern affect what you post BE - for every poem of pain there's a lighter effort like my Maisie one The thread has an uncanny knack of balancing itself out

Originally Posted by Seren13

Yes, I don't believe Winston Churchill ever shook off the 'black dog', it was a dark shadow which followed him around all of his life. It's interesting that many great people from history have suffered from manic depression.

John Lennon, Vincent van Gogh, Morrissey and William Blake among them - all artistic geniuses IMO Nick Drake, a brilliant folk singer who died in his twenties suffered from depression too. He was on the same anti-depressants I was and he wrote a song called Black Dog. I'm looking forward to more of your own and BE's dark poetry Seren

[mr. mustard]

Oxford dawn

Before a person came along
Or any crowds arrived,
Before the birds attempted song
Or any traffic thrived,

When darkness was no more the hue
And breaking light was born
Exhilarating seemed the view
Upon that Oxford dawn.

I wandered streets I couldn't name
Where features worn and old
Despite the early hour became
A canvas painted gold.

Through empty square and weathered tier
And distant chiming bell
There flowed remains of yesteryear,
Like echoes in a well.

While overhead the gargoyles frowned
From every lofty height
The thoroughfares I walked around
Were slowly turning bright.

As daytime started to impose
The sheer delight increased;
When columns of the sun arose
My spirit was released.

The very structures I could see
Appeared as gleaming fires,
An Oxford dawn that spoke to me
Beneath the dreaming spires.


©

[mr. mustard]

We are the Big Cats

I am the lion, majestic of mane
King of the jungle and long shall I reign.

I am the lioness, queen by his side
Fiercely protective of our new-born pride.

I am the jaguar, hungry and free
If weary legs fail you're gained on by me.

I am the leopard who nature allots
Power as well as these beautiful spots.

I am the panther and caught in sunbeams
My fur's the texture of black satin dreams.

I am the cheetah, I'll never rescind
Speed that ensures I can run like the wind.

I am the tiger who William Blake wrote
Burned through the night in a vivid striped coat.

Sabre-toothed ancestors roared unashamed;
We are the big cats, forever untamed.


©

[Burning Egg]

Originally Posted by mr. mustard

Nick Drake, a brilliant folk singer who died in his twenties suffered from depression too. He was on the same anti-depressants I was and he wrote a song called Black Dog. I'm looking forward to more of your own and BE's dark poetry Seren

Funny you should mention him Musty as one of mine references this extremely talented and tortured man.


As promised a few of my oldies:


In the Web of Life

Ensnared in life's
Web of mystery
As the spider; fate
Waits, hungry for me.

Chained to this spinning
Wheel of insanity
My fears and dark dreams
Become tangible reality.

Locked in this cold box
Without a key
My screaming soul awaits
Its dread destiny.


Memories of a Fruit Tree

Alone in a darkened room.
Nick Drake singing soothing lullabies;
Through my disturbed brain, extolling me-
Saying: 'Come, join me man'.

The memory clouds gather above;
And shatter into a thousand wasted
Dreams, which fall upon me;
Multi-coloured shards of crystal,
Reflections of my empty existence.

Piercing my prostrate body, the blood begins
To flow; at first a trickle, then a torrent.
As it oozes from a thousand wounds;
Becoming a red sea of despair and:

Death.

And Nick finishes singing;
Of the fruit tree which never grew.


Trapped Inside

As I prepare to leave my refuge,
The chilling touch of fear appears.
Silent as fog, it seeps through my unsuspecting
Body; casting it into my own mini ice-age.

As muscles are paralysed, I become another
Statue in the courtyard of despair.
My mind, a maze of suffocating, paranoid thoughts;
Which bounce around my skull,
Like maniacal marionettes on an acid trip.

The door of my bedroom haven
Becomes the trap-door to my doom;
And daylight, once a welcoming friend,
Is now the agent of dread, invading my senses.
Overwhelming my capacity to enjoy.

Overcome by the fear of reality,
I retire again to the warm comfort of my bed;

My only ally in this war of existence.

[Burning Egg]

Our Vicky



Lovely tribute and she's won the gold medal.

[Burning Egg]

Originally Posted by mr. mustard

We are the Big Cats
©

I love the way you list the attributes of each feline Musty.

Nice one.

[Seren13]

Originally Posted by Burning Egg

Funny you should mention him Musty as one of mine references this extremely talented and tortured man.


As promised a few of my oldies:


In the Web of Life

Ensnared in life's
Web of mystery
As the spider; fate
Waits, hungry for me.

Chained to this spinning
Wheel of insanity
My fears and dark dreams
Become tangible reality.
Locked in this cold box
Without a key
My screaming soul awaits
Its dread destiny.


Memories of a Fruit Tree

Alone in a darkened room.
Nick Drake singing soothing lullabies;
Through my disturbed brain, extolling me-
Saying: 'Come, join me man'.

The memory clouds gather above;
And shatter into a thousand wasted
Dreams, which fall upon me;
Multi-coloured shards of crystal,
Reflections of my empty existence.
Piercing my prostrate body, the blood begins
To flow; at first a trickle, then a torrent.
As it oozes from a thousand wounds;
Becoming a red sea of despair and:

Death.

And Nick finishes singing;
Of the fruit tree which never grew.


Trapped Inside

As I prepare to leave my refuge,
The chilling touch of fear appears.
Silent as fog, it seeps through my unsuspecting
Body; casting it into my own mini ice-age.

As muscles are paralysed, I become another
Statue in the courtyard of despair.
My mind, a maze of suffocating, paranoid thoughts;
Which bounce around my skull,
Like maniacal marionettes on an acid trip.

The exit door of my bedroom haven
Becomes the trap-door to my doom;
And daylight, once a welcoming friend,
Is now the agent of dread, invading my senses.
Overwhelming my capacity to enjoy.

Overcome by the fear of reality,
I retire again to the warm comfort of my bed;

My only ally in this war of existence.

These poems are absolutely stunning. Although I've bolded some of the parts I particularly love, every singe word is a pleasure to read, as always with your poetry. You have the ability to make each word mean something, the gift of a truly great writer. Your poems always leave me in awe and give me something to aspire to...thank you for sharing them.

Haha yes, very well done indeed to 'Our Vicky', I was cheering her every step of the way

[Seren13]

Originally Posted by mr. mustard

Oxford dawn

Before a person came along
Or any crowds arrived,
Before the birds attempted song
Or any traffic thrived,

When darkness was no more the hue
And breaking light was born
Exhilarating seemed the view
Upon that Oxford dawn.

I wandered streets I couldn't name
Where features worn and old
Despite the early hour became
A canvas painted gold.

Through empty square and weathered tier
And distant chiming bell
There flowed remains of yesteryear,
Like echoes in a well.

While overhead the gargoyles frowned
From every lofty height
The thoroughfares I walked around
Were slowly turning bright.

As daytime started to impose
The sheer delight increased;
When columns of the sun arose
My spirit was released.

The very structures I could see
Appeared as gleaming fires,
An Oxford dawn that spoke to me
Beneath the dreaming spires.


©

Originally Posted by mr. mustard

We are the Big Cats

I am the lion, majestic of mane
King of the jungle and long shall I reign.

I am the lioness, queen by his side
Fiercely protective of our new-born pride.

I am the jaguar, hungry and free
If weary legs fail you're gained on by me.

I am the leopard who nature allots
Power as well as these beautiful spots.

I am the panther and caught in sunbeams
My fur's the texture of black satin dreams.

I am the cheetah, I'll never rescind
Speed that ensures I can run like the wind.

I am the tiger who William Blake wrote
Burned through the night in a vivid striped coat.

Sabre-toothed ancestors roared unashamed;
We are the big cats, forever untamed.


©

Another two beautiful poems Musty - as flawless as always. I particularly love 'We are the Big Cats', a wonderfully written poem and a great tribute to those majestic and magnificent beasts

[Burning Egg]

Originally Posted by Seren13

These poems are absolutely stunning. Although I've bolded some of the parts I particularly love, every singe word is a pleasure to read, as always with your poetry.

Thanks Seren.

It's great that we can use each other, Musty and other talented writers in this thread for inspiration.

[Burning Egg]

Originally Posted by mr. mustard

The missing young
©

Just going through previous pages and I came across this one.

This, as always with you Musty is extremely well written and the subject matter is of course, highly emotive.

It always saddens me when I read about missing children; I have the name of April Fabb aged 13 or14, who disappeared in 1969 in Norfolk I believe, etched in my memory for some reason..

[Seren13]

A day the birds rejected song
The stillness of your face
A fragment of my heart removed,
vacated, empty space

Heart wrenching cry, a kiss goodbye
I search but cannot find
how could the hands upon a clock
so easily rewind?

To be with you, to hold your hand
and guide you to your light
and know your battle had been won
although you lost the fight

They say you're in a better place
but this I cannot see
What better place than on this earth
right here, right now with me

The birds have chorused once again
Sweet messengers of song
they bring the whisper of your voice
'I'm here my love, be strong'

[mr. mustard]

Originally Posted by Seren13

The birds have chorused once again
Sweet messengers of song
they bring the whisper of your voice
'I'm here my love, be strong'

I always comment on every poem and I'll do so on BE's shortly. At the moment I'm still recovering from flooding with tears again This poem is incredibly moving - I shall read it again later. Thanks so much for posting this Seren I need another tissue now

[Biz]

So many times when I've been reading all you poets' recent contributions I've been touched and wanted to comment, but you are all working so well together, that it would have seemed like an intrusion.

Even so, the above poem, Seren, is so absolutely perfect that I just had to pop in and tell you.

EDIT: Drat Musty, you beat me to it. I've already read it several times.

[mr. mustard]

Originally Posted by Burning Egg

Funny you should mention him Musty as one of mine references this extremely talented and tortured man.

Alone in a darkened room.
Nick Drake singing soothing lullabies;
Through my disturbed brain, extolling me-
Saying: 'Come, join me man'.

How great to find a fellow Nick Drake fan on the thread I guess it was inevitable in a poetry zone though BE. What works in this poem for me is the use of Nick Drake. He wrote mainly gentle songs with a calm pastoral nature and that conrasts well with the harsh imagery elsewhere in the piece. Much enjoyed - always good to see Nick being appreciated

[mr. mustard]

Originally Posted by Biz

EDIT: Drat Musty, you beat me to it. I've already read it several times.

I'm recovering with a nice cuppa now Biz