So, I've seen a couple of poetry threads around here. Since poetry is something I enjoy quite a lot, I thought I might share just a few examples of my own poetry with the good people of Dream Views. I enjoy writing within traditional forms as much as using free-verse. I'll just post a couple of my free-verse pieces, and maybe a couple of other poems if people enjoy these enough.

The first is an experimentation in the visual formation of my poetry. Even though I was attempting to keep within a general shape, I still tried to keep the enjambment meaningful in as many places as I could. I think I did a fair job. I've written a second part to it and plan to do a third at some point. This is just part one though.

The second poem makes heavy use of various poetic elements such as alliteration, assonance, and internal rhyming. It marks a new point in my poetry, being the first piece that makes so much use of those techniques. It's something I plan to use a lot more now though, as it was so fun to write, and quite effective in my opinion. Enjoy!

Grand Guignol

“A man must dream a long time in order to act with grandeur, and dreaming is nursed in darkness.”
- Jean Genet

This feels like the wild west, but
Not the one we know—its darker
Cousin. And I'm reminded of the
Flowings of my consciousness
Like sands blown by a raddled
Din; quiet and violent all at once
As it pores upon my wounds.

Parisian noir alive with that same raddled wind: quickly
Into the naked city, not quite slumbering, its heart still
Beating, and outskirts still flowing with the milky glow of
Subconscious testament to times of brighter ilk.

Please leave me
In this disquiet.
I wish to feel
The amber pulse
Of awkward
City streets.
Faintly

As I walk, ensanguine ghost town
Roads that twist sinistral down;
This is the undiscovered human
Mind, renascent and all aglow.
This eiderdown, this stirring quench
As licking flames; amber, awkward
Against the thickest nocturne.

This theatre
Of private
Undercurrents
Will be my
Renaissance.

Meridians stretching forth across the naked city search
For my reverie, kept somewhere in the raiment braids of wild
Winds and tussled sands. On a stage a lonely saxophone sways
Over drunken guitar strings, to tell me I am home.
_________________

The Wedge-Tailed Eagle

On through the bloom of the blue-brushed gallery!

All wedged and wandered whey-ward through, such flowings
strummed to sway, and yield curved breezes
caped, careened to yonder ease serened.

A flight in circled mystery, for thee
So deft in majesty, so free to
Soar and sunder—emblazoned wonder,
Wingèd thunder: palpitate the brushèd slumber,
Blue and waiting, swept and aching.

I—so stirred and sipped from
Bird of yonder:
Swept and aching.