Ello AC. I'm a fairly decent writer, and I've always wanted to write some serious poetry, or more artistic stuff. I've written some so-so limmeriks, but thats about it. Any suggestions on where to start?
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Ello AC. I'm a fairly decent writer, and I've always wanted to write some serious poetry, or more artistic stuff. I've written some so-so limmeriks, but thats about it. Any suggestions on where to start?
Is it okay if I sit in on this thread? I'd like to learn how to write better poetry as well.
I don't know much about poetry, but I know that all things begin and end in eternity.
There are things to study like meter, and different patterns of rhyming and meter. Check out wikipedia. They probably have a lot of good information.
But as far as your creativity goes, that is up to how good your imagination is. Please don't write emotional pity me, my heart is broken poetry. There is too much of that.
Listen to old Bob Dylan, whether or not you like his music. His poetry and style of rhyming is genius!
Spoiler for Check it out:You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, "Who is that man ?"
You try so hard
But you don't understand
Just what you'll say
When you get home.
Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
You raise up your head
And you ask, "Is this where it is ?"
And somebody points to you and says
"It's his"
And you says, "What's mine ?"
And somebody else says, "Where what is ?"
And you say, "Oh my God
Am I here all alone ?"
But something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel
To be such a freak ?"
And you say, "Impossible"
As he hands you a bone.
And something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To all give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations.
You've been with the professors
And they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well read
It's well known.
But something is happening here
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan".
And you know something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
Now you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word "NOW"
And you say, "For what reason ?"
And he says, "How ?"
And you say, "What does this mean ?"
And he screams back, "You're a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home".
Because something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin' around
You should be made
To wear earphones.
Because something is happening
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
Spoiler for And::Pistols shots ring out in the barroom night
Enter Patty Valentine from the upper hall
She sees the bartender in a pool of blood
Cries out "My God they killed them all"
Here comes the story of the Hurricane
The man the authorities came to blame
For something that he never DONE
Put him in a prison cell but ONE
time he could-a been
The champion of the world.
Three bodies lying there does Patty see
And another man named Bello moving around mysteriously
"I didn't do it" he says and he throws up his hands
"I was only robbing the register I hope you understand
I saw them leaving" he says and he stops
"One of us had better call up the cops"
And so Patty calls the cops
And they arrive on the scene with their red LIGHTS
flashing in the hot New Jersey NIGHT.
Meanwhile far away in another part of town
Rubin Carter and a couple of friends are driving around
Number one contender for the middleweight crown
Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down
When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road
Just like the time before and the time before that
In Patterson that's just the way things GO
If you're black you might as well not SHOW
up on the street
'Less you wanna draw the heat.
Alfred Bello had a partner and he had a rap for the corps
Him and Arthur Dexter Bradley were just out prowling around
He said "I saw two men running out they looked like middleweights
They jumped into a white car with out-of-state plates"
And Miss Patty Valentine just nodded her head
Cop said "Wait a minute boys this one's not dead"
So they took him to the infirmary
And though this man could hardly see
They told him that he could identify the guilty men.
Four in the morning and they haul Rubin in
Take him to the hospital and they bring him upstairs
The wounded man looks up through his one dying eye
Says "Wha'd you bring him in here for ? He ain't the guy !"
Yes here comes the story of the Hurricane
The man the authorities came to blame
For something that he never done
Put in a prison cell but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.
Four months later the ghettos are in flame
Rubin's in South America fighting for his name
While Arthur Dexter Bradley's still in the robbery game
And the cops are putting the screws to him looking for somebody to blame
"Remember that murder that happened in a bar ?"
"Remember you said you saw the getaway car?"
"You think you'd like to play ball with the law ?"
"Think it might-a been that fighter you saw
running that night ?"
"Don't forget that you are white".
Arthur Dexter Bradley said "I'm really not sure"
Cops said "A boy like you could use a break
We got you for the motel job and we're talking to your friend Bello
Now you don't wanta have to go back to jail be a nice fellow
You'll be doing society a favor
That sonofabitch is brave and getting braver
We want to put his ass in stir
We want to pin this triple murder
on him
He ain't no Gentleman Jim".
Rubin could take a man out with just one punch
But he never did like to talk about it all that much
It's my work he'd say and I do it for pay
And when it's over I'd just as soon go on my way
Up to some paradise
Where the trout streams flow and the air is nice
And ride a horse along a trail
But then they took him to the jail
house
Where they try to turn a man into a mouse.
All of Rubin's cards were marked in advance
The trial was a pig-circus he never had a chance
The judge made Rubin's witnesses drunkards from the slums
To the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum
And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger
No one doubted that he pulled the trigger
And though they could not produce the gun
The DA said he was the one
who did the deed
And the all-white jury agreed.
Rubin Carter was falsely tried
The crime was murder 'one' guess who testified
Bello and Bradley and they both baldly lied
And the newspapers they all went along for the ride
How can the life of such a man
Be in the palm of some fool's hand ?
To see him obviously framed
Couldn't help but make me feel ashamed
to live in a land Where justice is a game.
Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties
Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise
While Rubin sits like Buddha in a ten-foot cell
An innocent man in a living hell
That's the story of the Hurricane
But it won't be over till they clear his name
And give him back the time he's done
Put him in a prison cell but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.
Spoiler for Try rapping this:Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.
Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fools gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proved to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.
Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.
So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to you ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.
As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.
Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their marks
Made everything from toy guns that sparks
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.
While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the President of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.
An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.
Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.
You loose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand without nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.
A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not forget
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.
Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.
For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despite their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.
While some on principles baptized
To strict party platforms ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God Bless him.
While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.
But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.
Old lady judges, watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.
While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.
My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me ?
And if my thought-dreams could been seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.
Spoiler for One last example:Early one mornin', the sun was shinin'
He was lyin' in bed
Wonderin' if she'd changed at all
If her hair was still red
Her folks, they said, our lives together
Sure was gonna be rough
They never did like Mama's homemade dress
Papa's bankbook wasn't big enough
And he was standin' on the side of the road
Rain fallin' on his shoes
Heading out for the old East Coast
Lord knows, he's paid some dues
gettin' through
Tangled up in blue
She was married when they first met
Soon to be divorced
He helped her out of a jam, I guess
But he used a little too much force
And they drove that car as far as they could
Abandoned it out west
And split up on a dark sad night
Both agreein' it was best
And she turned around to look at him
'Cause he was walkin' away
She said, "This can't be the end
We'll meet on another day, on the avenue"
Tangled up in blue
He had a job in the old North Woods
Workin' as a cook for a spell
But he never did like it all that much
And one day the ax just fell
When he drifted down to New Orleans
Where he was lucky to be employed
Workin' for a while on a fishing boat
Outside of Del LaCroix
But all the while he was alone
The past was close behind
He'd seen a lot of women
But she never escaped his mind,
and he just grew
Tangled up in blue
She was workin' in a topless place
I stopped in for beer
I just kept lookin' at the side of her face
In the spotlight so clear
And later on, as the crowd thinned out
I was about to do the same
She was standing there
in back of my chair
Said to me, "Sonny don't I know your name?"
I muttered somethin' underneath my breath
She studied the lines on my face
I must admit I felt a little uneasy
When she bent down to tie the laces
of my shoe
Tangled up in blue
She lit a burner on the stove
And offered me a pipe
"I thought you'd never say hello", she said
"You look like the silent type"
Then she opened up a book of poems
And handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet
From the thirteenth century
And every one of them words rang true
And glowed like burnin' coal
Pourin' off of every page
Like it was written in my soul,
from me to you
Tangled up in blue
I lived with them on Montague Street
In a basement down the stairs,
There was music in the cafés at night
And revolution in the air.
Then he started into dealing with slaves
And something inside of him died.
She had to sell everything she owned
And froze up inside.
And when finally the bottom fell out
I became withdrawn,
The only thing I knew how to do
Was to keep on keepin’ on like a bird that flew,
Tangled up in blue.
So now I'm going back again
I got to get to her somehow
All the people we used to know
They're an illusion to me now
Some are mathematicians
Some are doctor's wives
Don't know how it all got started
Don't know what they're doin' with their lives
But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same
We just saw it from a different point
of view
Tangled up in blue
Study the rhyming structures Bob Dylan uses- pure genius! And his lyrics are deep, but not emotional poor me sadness. Nothing sucks as bad as going to an open mic night or a poetry slam and hearing people complain how sad they are. Study from the masters.
So do I, man. So do I. Unfortunately, though, my creative writing class doesn't start on poetry until after my spring break, so I can't really offer any input.Quote:
Originally Posted by KraftwerkI want to learn to write poetry
It seems that whenever I try to write lyrics (which is basically poetry set to music), I find myself coming up against two roadblocks:
1) I can't seem to find any words that rhyme in a way that makes sense/fits in with the message of the song.
2) I can't get the meter right. For some reason, I keep wanting to make each line 9 syllables long. And even when I try to stick to that (rather weird) format, I keep using words whose syllable stress disagrees with the natural meter presented by the music itself, thus forcing stress patterns upon syllables that shouldn't be stressed.
...Halp?
Change the time signature to fit the line length.Quote:
Originally Posted by Lëzen
2) I can't get the meter right. For some reason, I keep wanting to make each line 9 syllables long. And even when I try to stick to that (rather weird) format, I keep using words whose syllable stress disagrees with the natural meter presented by the music itself, thus forcing stress patterns upon syllables that shouldn't be stressed.
...Halp?
Thanks dannon! I enjoyed reading all that. Mebe I'll post some attempts later.Quote:
Originally Posted by Dannon OneironautI don't know much about poetry, but I know that all things begin and end in eternity.
There are things to study like meter, and different patterns of rhyming and meter. Check out wikipedia. They probably have a lot of good information.
But as far as your creativity goes, that is up to how good your imagination is. Please don't write emotional pity me, my heart is broken poetry. There is too much of that.
Listen to old Bob Dylan, whether or not you like his music. His poetry and style of rhyming is genius!
Spoiler for Check it out:You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, "Who is that man ?"
You try so hard
But you don't understand
Just what you'll say
When you get home.
Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
You raise up your head
And you ask, "Is this where it is ?"
And somebody points to you and says
"It's his"
And you says, "What's mine ?"
And somebody else says, "Where what is ?"
And you say, "Oh my God
Am I here all alone ?"
But something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel
To be such a freak ?"
And you say, "Impossible"
As he hands you a bone.
And something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To all give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations.
You've been with the professors
And they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well read
It's well known.
But something is happening here
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan".
And you know something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
Now you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word "NOW"
And you say, "For what reason ?"
And he says, "How ?"
And you say, "What does this mean ?"
And he screams back, "You're a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home".
Because something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin' around
You should be made
To wear earphones.
Because something is happening
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones ?
Spoiler for And::Pistols shots ring out in the barroom night
Enter Patty Valentine from the upper hall
She sees the bartender in a pool of blood
Cries out "My God they killed them all"
Here comes the story of the Hurricane
The man the authorities came to blame
For something that he never DONE
Put him in a prison cell but ONE
time he could-a been
The champion of the world.
Three bodies lying there does Patty see
And another man named Bello moving around mysteriously
"I didn't do it" he says and he throws up his hands
"I was only robbing the register I hope you understand
I saw them leaving" he says and he stops
"One of us had better call up the cops"
And so Patty calls the cops
And they arrive on the scene with their red LIGHTS
flashing in the hot New Jersey NIGHT.
Meanwhile far away in another part of town
Rubin Carter and a couple of friends are driving around
Number one contender for the middleweight crown
Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down
When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road
Just like the time before and the time before that
In Patterson that's just the way things GO
If you're black you might as well not SHOW
up on the street
'Less you wanna draw the heat.
Alfred Bello had a partner and he had a rap for the corps
Him and Arthur Dexter Bradley were just out prowling around
He said "I saw two men running out they looked like middleweights
They jumped into a white car with out-of-state plates"
And Miss Patty Valentine just nodded her head
Cop said "Wait a minute boys this one's not dead"
So they took him to the infirmary
And though this man could hardly see
They told him that he could identify the guilty men.
Four in the morning and they haul Rubin in
Take him to the hospital and they bring him upstairs
The wounded man looks up through his one dying eye
Says "Wha'd you bring him in here for ? He ain't the guy !"
Yes here comes the story of the Hurricane
The man the authorities came to blame
For something that he never done
Put in a prison cell but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.
Four months later the ghettos are in flame
Rubin's in South America fighting for his name
While Arthur Dexter Bradley's still in the robbery game
And the cops are putting the screws to him looking for somebody to blame
"Remember that murder that happened in a bar ?"
"Remember you said you saw the getaway car?"
"You think you'd like to play ball with the law ?"
"Think it might-a been that fighter you saw
running that night ?"
"Don't forget that you are white".
Arthur Dexter Bradley said "I'm really not sure"
Cops said "A boy like you could use a break
We got you for the motel job and we're talking to your friend Bello
Now you don't wanta have to go back to jail be a nice fellow
You'll be doing society a favor
That sonofabitch is brave and getting braver
We want to put his ass in stir
We want to pin this triple murder
on him
He ain't no Gentleman Jim".
Rubin could take a man out with just one punch
But he never did like to talk about it all that much
It's my work he'd say and I do it for pay
And when it's over I'd just as soon go on my way
Up to some paradise
Where the trout streams flow and the air is nice
And ride a horse along a trail
But then they took him to the jail
house
Where they try to turn a man into a mouse.
All of Rubin's cards were marked in advance
The trial was a pig-circus he never had a chance
The judge made Rubin's witnesses drunkards from the slums
To the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum
And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger
No one doubted that he pulled the trigger
And though they could not produce the gun
The DA said he was the one
who did the deed
And the all-white jury agreed.
Rubin Carter was falsely tried
The crime was murder 'one' guess who testified
Bello and Bradley and they both baldly lied
And the newspapers they all went along for the ride
How can the life of such a man
Be in the palm of some fool's hand ?
To see him obviously framed
Couldn't help but make me feel ashamed
to live in a land Where justice is a game.
Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties
Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise
While Rubin sits like Buddha in a ten-foot cell
An innocent man in a living hell
That's the story of the Hurricane
But it won't be over till they clear his name
And give him back the time he's done
Put him in a prison cell but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.
Spoiler for Try rapping this:Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.
Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fools gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proved to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.
Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.
So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to you ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.
As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.
Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their marks
Made everything from toy guns that sparks
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.
While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the President of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.
An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.
Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.
You loose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand without nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.
A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not forget
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.
Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.
For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despite their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.
While some on principles baptized
To strict party platforms ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God Bless him.
While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.
But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.
Old lady judges, watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.
While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.
My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me ?
And if my thought-dreams could been seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.
Spoiler for One last example:Early one mornin', the sun was shinin'
He was lyin' in bed
Wonderin' if she'd changed at all
If her hair was still red
Her folks, they said, our lives together
Sure was gonna be rough
They never did like Mama's homemade dress
Papa's bankbook wasn't big enough
And he was standin' on the side of the road
Rain fallin' on his shoes
Heading out for the old East Coast
Lord knows, he's paid some dues
gettin' through
Tangled up in blue
She was married when they first met
Soon to be divorced
He helped her out of a jam, I guess
But he used a little too much force
And they drove that car as far as they could
Abandoned it out west
And split up on a dark sad night
Both agreein' it was best
And she turned around to look at him
'Cause he was walkin' away
She said, "This can't be the end
We'll meet on another day, on the avenue"
Tangled up in blue
He had a job in the old North Woods
Workin' as a cook for a spell
But he never did like it all that much
And one day the ax just fell
When he drifted down to New Orleans
Where he was lucky to be employed
Workin' for a while on a fishing boat
Outside of Del LaCroix
But all the while he was alone
The past was close behind
He'd seen a lot of women
But she never escaped his mind,
and he just grew
Tangled up in blue
She was workin' in a topless place
I stopped in for beer
I just kept lookin' at the side of her face
In the spotlight so clear
And later on, as the crowd thinned out
I was about to do the same
She was standing there
in back of my chair
Said to me, "Sonny don't I know your name?"
I muttered somethin' underneath my breath
She studied the lines on my face
I must admit I felt a little uneasy
When she bent down to tie the laces
of my shoe
Tangled up in blue
She lit a burner on the stove
And offered me a pipe
"I thought you'd never say hello", she said
"You look like the silent type"
Then she opened up a book of poems
And handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet
From the thirteenth century
And every one of them words rang true
And glowed like burnin' coal
Pourin' off of every page
Like it was written in my soul,
from me to you
Tangled up in blue
I lived with them on Montague Street
In a basement down the stairs,
There was music in the cafés at night
And revolution in the air.
Then he started into dealing with slaves
And something inside of him died.
She had to sell everything she owned
And froze up inside.
And when finally the bottom fell out
I became withdrawn,
The only thing I knew how to do
Was to keep on keepin’ on like a bird that flew,
Tangled up in blue.
So now I'm going back again
I got to get to her somehow
All the people we used to know
They're an illusion to me now
Some are mathematicians
Some are doctor's wives
Don't know how it all got started
Don't know what they're doin' with their lives
But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same
We just saw it from a different point
of view
Tangled up in blue
Study the rhyming structures Bob Dylan uses- pure genius! And his lyrics are deep, but not emotional poor me sadness. Nothing sucks as bad as going to an open mic night or a poetry slam and hearing people complain how sad they are. Study from the masters.
That's under the assumption that I'm coming up with the lyrics first, and composing the music around them. The converse is true for me, so changing the already well-established structure of the music would be unfathomably out of the question...I'm kind of lazy like that.Quote:
Originally Posted by SupernovaChange the time signature to fit the line length.
There are ways. Lyrics often sound better when they begin on the last beat or the second to the last beat of the previous measure and end on the one
i like poetry to, but i express it trough freestyling, it realy helped to express some feelings i had because the only other way i could use to express my feelings was beating the wall. but that isnt good for my,
for me the words just get in my head i dont have to think about it with every word i get like 6 - 7 possible words that could fit in and rhyme it just happends its not like i am trying to. i guess this isnt realy helping you learn it but this is how i do it