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Lemonrabbit's offerings

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Messages: 1 - 50 of 54
  • Message 1. 

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Wednesday, 30th June 2010

    Odd. I'm sure I posted this already. Must be getting scrambled in my old age..... Anyway, as you may have gathered from the title, this is going to the resting place for the rest of my poems, since it's getting messy having them strewn all over the boards. At least now you'll know what you're getting when you click on the thread. smiley - smiley

    This first one doesn't have a title yet. I was wondering if anyone could offer inspiration or ideas?

    I feel the pillow curl
    Around my tear-stained face,
    And sink into

    The pain is over,
    You're no longer lost to me.
    I'll find you here:
    The never-never-land of my dreams.
    In my heart.
    Not a cage but a cradle
    For your misguided body,
    From where I let you fly
    Yet you refuse to leave.
    The only place you stay.

    I search for you,
    The colours twisting,
    Swirling, whirling.
    I call your name.
    Faces, crowds of faces,
    Blurred along the edges
    Of my fading vision.
    The drum beat calls me.
    Is this the end?
    How can it be?
    Dreams do not offer death.
    Only memories,
    And even they are lost to me.
    The drum beat calls.
    Locked gates.
    Prison cell.
    Your back to me
    A long way off.
    Too far
    And still the drum beat calls...

    Jerk awake.
    The tears fall again,
    For you are lost to me now,
    Even in my dreams.
    Still, the drum beat calls.
    Not a drum.
    Your heartbeat, beside me,
    Where it belongs.
    In time with mine.
    The nightmare is over.

    Report message1

  • Message 2

    , in reply to message 1.

    Posted by PopTheBubbles (U14225629) on Wednesday, 30th June 2010

    I love this, even though I'm not sure if I got the right end of the stick. Oh I hate not understanding, it ruins things for other people if they have to explain it! Ah well...is the other person actually asleep next to her, and is she therefore panicking in the confusion of sleep? Or sad about something else which translates into worrying about not finding "you"?

    But the repetition of the drum beat detail was my favourite. Without a doubt!

    pop, with a head full of fluff...

    Report message2

  • Message 3

    , in reply to message 2.

    Posted by kim (U13937108) on Thursday, 1st July 2010

    I think a title to do with the 'Drumbeat calls' would be great. The drum really is an important image and sound in this poem.

    There's so many clever images here. I love the way you move it all along too with the short one word lines and longer lines. I think you're awfully good at drawing on the reader's senses too. I could almost feel the pillow on my face.

    Really thought provoking poetry. But yeah I think the drum is calling to be in your title somewhere Lemonrabbit for def

    Report message3

  • Message 4

    , in reply to message 3.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Thursday, 1st July 2010

    I enjoyed it a lot. So - how are you going to structure this anthology? Do you think the order in which you present your work really matters? Are you going to theme the collection, or just put random poems up?

    The whole concept of 'curating' work can be quite a minefield. Do you think that an artist should always curate tehir own shows? Is it better, worse, or just 'different' to have someone else interpret your work?

  • Message 5

    , in reply to message 1.

    Posted by Ellen (U14017989) on Friday, 2nd July 2010

    This is lovely Lemonrabbit - incredibly sad but also relatable. The relief of the nightmare being only a nightmare and that the drumbeat is the heartbeat. Great. Love your writing darlin', its got a lovely flow to it

    Tis also lonely as well - despite the nightmare, she cant wake up with the reassurance that the other half will be with her...

    Ellen x

    Report message5

  • Message 6

    , in reply to message 2.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Sunday, 4th July 2010

    I'm sorry you didn't quite follow it Pop, the idea was to leave it a little ambiguous so you could weave your own story into it and make it more personal, but perhaps it needs to be a little less vague.... I'll work on it. smiley - smiley My idea was that she went to sleep after her partner left her, hoping to find him in her dreams again, but by the time she woke up he'd come back and she had the real thing, even better than the dream she wanted.

    Thanks for the title idea Kim, I think you're right and I should work on using the drum... Still thinking, but in the right direction now.

    And I don't really have any kind of organised plan for posting, I just intend to keep them all together so it's nice and neat. smiley - smiley Although I do have a kind of diary or notebook that I write the poems I feel I've finished in, to present them nicely.

    Thanks everyone. smiley - smiley smiley - smiley smiley - smiley

    Report message6

  • Message 7

    , in reply to message 6.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Monday, 5th July 2010

    Do you think it might be worth putting them in order, or do you like the randomness?

  • Message 8

    , in reply to message 7.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Tuesday, 6th July 2010

    I kinda like the randomness. It's like a lucky dip: you never know what you're going to get next. smiley - smiley

    Next one.

    Cold to the Touch

    I see you.
    I see the glass prison
    In which you encase yourself,
    Alone in a sea of faces.
    I see the ice over your eyes.
    Glassy stare.
    The fire inside the glacier
    Burns blue.
    I see the lattice
    That refracts the light
    And sends it away from you.
    It leaves you in shadow.
    By all but me.
    I see you.
    I see your soul
    As though your body, too,
    Is clear as glass.
    I see the diamond shard
    Broken in your heart.
    I see the pain
    As it curls around you
    Like a frozen mist.

    I see the fire I carry within.
    It burns your prison,
    Winds about its spires
    And oils the hinge.
    It melts the ice
    And melds with yours,
    Entwined forever.
    It illuminates you
    For all to revel in your glory.
    It warms your soul
    And soothes your pain
    And lets you fly above the mist
    In the light of the stars.
    I see you go.

    I feel you here, with me.

    I'm not entirely sure about the middle verse - I feel perhaps it needs a little more of a pattern or structure to it, but I'm not sure. Thoughts???

    Report message8

  • Message 9

    , in reply to message 8.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Wednesday, 7th July 2010

    Certainly the two verses are very different from each other; I guess you could play with making them related structually a little more.

    I liked this - I found myself wondering who the 'you' was from the beginning.

    And yes - lucky dip is always fun...

  • Message 10

    , in reply to message 9.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Saturday, 17th July 2010

    OK, folks another one, but be warned: this one is very sad. The result of watching tragic films late at night, I think. I should know better. Nonetheless, here you go...

    Stay With Me

    Stay with me.
    I'm not ready, yet, to let you go.
    You are the one I want to grow
    Old with. I can't stand the thought
    Of losing everything we fought
    For, like this, in this place,
    As the tears slip slowly down your face.
    Don't go.

    Stay with me,
    Please. This is not how it should end:
    A whimper on the floor. I'll mend
    Your broken body if you'll wait
    A while to break my heart. Fate
    Wouldn't be so cruel to steal
    You from this world. The wounds will heal.
    Don't go.

    Stay with me
    And we'll see all those things we planned:
    Tibetan sunsets, Jamaican sand...
    All those glorious things we've
    Yet to know. Until then, don't leave.
    We'll find a worthy place to die
    Together. I will not say goodbye.
    Don't go.

    Stay with me.
    I'm begging now. Don't let the ice
    Distort the beauty of your eyes.
    I think I hear the sirens now,
    Just hold on. I will not allow
    You to give up, you hear me? Just
    A few more moments more. You must.
    Don't go.

    Stay with me.
    Don't let my hand go, come on, please.
    I cannot, will not, feel the freeze
    Against my skin. I know you're there.
    You have to be. It isn't fair
    For you to leave me here, alone.
    I can't endure life on my own.
    Don't go.
    Oh God, please, no...
    Don't go.

    Report message10

  • Message 11

    , in reply to message 10.

    Posted by TJ (U2383872) on Saturday, 17th July 2010

    Your lastest one is incredibly heartbreaking... it's wonderfully well written and brought a lump to my throat.

    Great work!

    Report message11

  • Message 12

    , in reply to message 3.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Monday, 19th July 2010

    I'm still working on the title, despite it normally being the first thing I write, but I think I want to use a play on words, work with the double meaning of the word "drum". Instead of using it as the noun, I want to work with the verb, as in drumming on a door. "Drumming on Insecurity"?... Or "Following the Drums Home" alternatively... Another poem soon, methinks...

    Report message12

  • Message 13

    , in reply to message 12.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Wednesday, 21st July 2010

    Ice Queen

    I hear the cat-calls, the jeers
    And shrug them off.
    They don't care that their insults
    Fall from my shoulders
    To splinter in my heart.
    I'll never tell.
    I'm trapped in this wasteland,
    All alone
    Because they left me here.
    The cold bites.
    I know I don't belong here
    In this perpetual winter,
    But it is my prison.
    My jailers heaped crimes on me
    I never committed.
    They won't listen to reason.
    I refuse to beg.
    Instead, I gag myself
    With the label they forced on me,
    I make my heart cold to them.
    They try to “thaw me out”
    And the ice grows thicker.
    I feel nothing.
    Once I was warm,
    Cheeks warmer with rejection.
    The fear made me freeze,
    And now it's all I have left.
    I will rule this wasteland
    And wear my ill-fitting crown
    Forever it seems.
    Alone amidst the winter
    Where they left me,
    Where they decided I belong.
    They made me the Ice Queen,
    And that's how I'll stay.

    I'm noticing a decidedly chilly theme, looking at all these together. Think I may need to find a warmer topic for the next one, or even something different altogether. Maybe something inanimate...

    Report message13

  • Message 14

    , in reply to message 13.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Thursday, 22nd July 2010

    Yeek - this is icy indeed. I do like the way you chart the progress from battered down trodden waif to Ice Queen, slowly and so that it's clear how it's happened.

    Just hope it didn't happen to you!

  • Message 15

    , in reply to message 14.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Monday, 9th August 2010

    Good news: I just got back from a holiday in a lovely hot climate, so definitely warming up my work should prove easier, unless of course I allow myself to get distracted by how cold it is at home... smiley - sadface No, I won't. Warm poems will happen, and very soon hopefully.

    Report message15

  • Message 16

    , in reply to message 15.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Tuesday, 10th August 2010

    Welcome back Lemonrabbit. Was it a place that engendered any stories or poems?

  • Message 17

    , in reply to message 16.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Tuesday, 10th August 2010

    South Carolina, lucky me. There were loads of interesting people there, and spiders the size of my palm....*shudder*.... Poems should be happening shortly, once I get over the jet lag. Until then, I'm too frazzled to think in stanzas..... smiley - tongueout

    Report message17

  • Message 18

    , in reply to message 17.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Wednesday, 11th August 2010

    How fabulous. Did you get to Charleston? There must be a few stories there...

  • Message 19

    , in reply to message 18.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Wednesday, 18th August 2010

    Charleston, no, but what I saw was lovely. Think I'll have to do a "sounds and smells" piece soon, but for now something that came to me while I was hyperventilating during take-off on the plane. Interpret it as you like:


    On the brink of
    If I fall, will
    Catch me,
    Cradle me?
    Will I survive?
    If no-one knows what
    Looks like,
    How will I know I've fallen?
    Curiosity is strong.
    Scares me and entices me
    In equal measure.
    So many have fallen to
    So few return.
    The scent of
    Seems to cling forever.
    Do I want to escape?
    Should I just give in to

    On the brink of
    Time to close my eyes and

    Report message19

  • Message 20

    , in reply to message 1.

    Posted by ThatWriter (U14432093) on Thursday, 19th August 2010

    Hi Lemonrabbit!
    I've just read through all your poems - they're really beautiful. You tell a really great story and the rhymes feel very natural. I honestly can't pick a favourite.
    Looking forward to more,

    Report message20

  • Message 21

    , in reply to message 19.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Thursday, 19th August 2010

    I reallylike the repetition of the word 'it' - it somehow makes this unknown thing really sinister. It's creepy without my being able to put my finger on exactly why.

  • Message 22

    , in reply to message 21.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Thursday, 19th August 2010

    Father Forgotten

    So you're back,
    Standing in the doorway
    Like you never left.
    Do you think an armful of flowers
    And a face painted with
    The smiles of a lifetime
    Will mend the damage you wreaked?
    I am not the child you left behind.
    You no longer dwarf me,
    Your strength a comfort
    And your arms a safe-haven.
    You call me,
    But I cannot be
    The ready-made angel you want.
    How will you fix me,
    Do you even recognise me,
    Or am I as much a disappointment
    As you are to me?
    It wasn't my fault, my failing,
    I know that now.
    You made your choice,
    You should have stayed away.

    No, don't embrace me,
    I cannot bear to feel the difference,
    Then and now.
    So much has changed since then,
    Now, I'm not your daughter.
    Even so, I fit here once:
    My head just so against your collar,
    Starched and stiff against my neck,
    Cheek to rough-smooth cheek like this
    And the scent of your cologne,
    Same as ever...

    Oh Father,
    Tell me you love me again?

    (In the last bit, "so" and "this" should be in italics, but I can't do that on here, which is irritating since it really changes how it reads. Oh well.)

    Thank you, ThatWriter, I appreciate it. smiley - smiley And that's odd, Sandra, because I was thinking of a new relationship of some sort, but then as I said I left it open to interpretation. It's just odd exactly how differently people read things, but also great.

    Report message22

  • Message 23

    , in reply to message 22.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Friday, 20th August 2010

    There was just 'something' about it that made me edgy. Dunno why!

    This is strong, emotional stuff - is it based on personal experience - or completely made up? And if it's completely made up, how do you go about putting yourself in the frame of mind to write something like this?

  • Message 24

    , in reply to message 23.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Friday, 20th August 2010

    It's not based on personal experience, no. Actually, very few of my pieces are. I seem to find some of my best work is where I've tried to work out how something would feel, instead of knowing, and get most of my ideas from people watching. Then again, it could just be coincidence and I may find I actually write better when I know what I'm talking about. I don't know, really. Once I get the idea it just seems to flow. Out of curiosity, do you - or anyone else smiley - smiley - prefer writing about things you understand already?

    Report message24

  • Message 25

    , in reply to message 24.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Monday, 23rd August 2010

    That's a really interesting question, Lemonrabbit. I think I understand the freedom that imagination can give you when dealing with a subject that you don't really know.

    Certainly I think there's a time when you can know too much about a subject - for example if you're trying to write something about a really technical or emotionally complex subject for, say, beginners, you can find yourself talking over people's heads.

    Ithink it would be worth throwing this open to the floor. So, folks - which do you prefer - writing about a subject of situation with which you are intimately aquainted, or making most of it up, just researching the facts you need?

  • Message 26

    , in reply to message 22.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Sunday, 22nd August 2010

    Hi again. This is the revised version. I don't normally post my improvements, but I made quite a lot of changes this time and I wanted to know what everyone thought. smiley - smiley I also wanted to know: when you write poems, not so much stories, do you write them and then leave them, or come back to them again and again, or even re-write them completely? This is definitely the most revision I've ever done, I think, at least of something just written for pleasure.

    Father Forgotten

    So you're back,
    Standing in the doorway
    Like you never left.
    Do you think an armful of flowers
    And a face painted with
    The smiles of the lifetime you missed
    Will mend the damage you wreaked?
    I am not the child you left behind.
    I've changed. Surprised?
    You no longer dwarf me,
    Your strength a comfort
    And your arms a safe-haven.
    You call me,
    But I cannot be
    The ready-made angel you want.
    You weren't here to mould me.
    How will you fix me,
    Do you even recognise me,
    Or am I as much a disappointment
    As you are to me?
    It wasn't my fault or failing,
    I know that now,
    But you made it feel that way.
    It was your choice to go
    And you should have stayed away.
    Don't come any closer, leave.
    Only this time I want it that way.
    We're too far apart.
    No, don't embrace me,
    I cannot bear to feel the difference,
    Then and now.
    So much has changed since then,
    Now, I'm not your daughter.
    It's wrong that this feels right.
    Even so, I fit here once:
    My head just so against your collar,
    Cheek to rough-smooth cheek like this
    And the scent of your cologne
    Filling my senses and smelling so safe,
    Same as ever...
    Oh Father,
    Tell me you love me again?

    ("Only this time I want it that way" - the "I" should be in italics as well as "so" and "this".)

    Report message26

  • Message 27

    , in reply to message 26.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Tuesday, 24th August 2010

    I love it when people revise stuff - it really demonstrates how much work can change between drafts.

    I think that the revisions you have made aren't as major as you think they are, but they are subtle - the second poem reads more 'barbed' somehow, more bitter. I'm quite pleased you lost the starched stiff collar - I didn't hate it, but it felt a teeny bit cliched, so I'm pleased it's gone.

    I think this reads even sadder than it was, and the desperation of the last few lines works even more.


    And yes - I don't see any reason why you would revise poetry any less than prose. Many professional poets spend hours getting a line right.

  • Message 28

    , in reply to message 27.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Saturday, 28th August 2010


    Oh, to be here forever.
    I find sanctuary in your arms
    Only, your warmth seeping
    Into me, I'm safe from all harm
    But that which I find here.
    I fold myself into you
    Wishing I could disappear
    Within you and float, sleeping,
    In the calm blue of your soul
    Where I don't know how you love me.
    Take my hand and let us stroll
    Down memory lane awhile.
    Watch the stares I speared you with
    Once, when it still seemed worthwhile.
    Do you remember the smiles
    Reserved for you, or the way
    My skin used to fizz at your touch?
    Such a delicious symphony,
    My thoughts swirled into disarray...
    No, I suppose it all passed you by.
    The fireworks bursting up my spine
    Where your fingers trace a lazy path
    Remind me what you offer
    And unknowingly deny.
    I am trapped in your embrace, yes,
    But a prisoner to our success
    In building something so strong:
    The friendship we nurtured and loved
    And held ourselves apart with.
    We cornered ourselves with one word.

    Report message28

  • Message 29

    , in reply to message 28.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Tuesday, 31st August 2010

    What I love about this poem is that its title totally influences the way we read it. If you hacn't given us the title, we would have read this to the last line as a love poem. But by giving us the title you have constrained us as readers to the same caveats that the lovers have. Brilliant.

  • Message 30

    , in reply to message 29.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Saturday, 11th September 2010

    Thank you. smiley - smiley That was exactly the idea, glad it worked. I like having this anthology-type-thing, it seems to give me a purpose: I feel like I need to keep it updated, if just for me, so I keep writing when otherwise I might have huge periods of doing nothing because I had no reason to...

    Chance Meetings of the Cruellest Kind...

    Sly invader.
    I knew you for a moment,
    Now, an eternal crusader,
    You break my heart
    With your half-and-half presence.
    Found your way into my mind
    Without my acquiescence
    And abandoned me
    In actuality,
    All I have with you
    Is fantasy.
    We shared but a moment
    But you linger incessantly:
    A intruder in my thoughts
    Yet I long for you so fervently
    What imperfection
    Do I harbour
    That I should be infected
    With such ardour
    For such a perfect stranger?
    You, a cruel invader,
    Who made me love you
    In a moment,
    And haunted me forever.

    I was trying to work with half-rhymes deliberately here, to make it seem less...well... deliberate. As though the character isn't really thinking straight? Losing her marbles a little?

    Report message30

  • Message 31

    , in reply to message 30.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Monday, 13th September 2010

    I thought this was marvellous - the half-rhymes work extremely well. I know what you mean about the way they work, feels a bit like rambling.

    You know this, of all your works, has made me really think of performance. I think this would sound brilliant read out loud. Any chance of a podblast?

  • Message 32

    , in reply to message 30.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Sunday, 12th September 2010

    For those who see beyond what's there...

    Just an ordinary Tuesday:
    Second-best shoes to stare at -
    The cherry red ones
    For rainy days -
    As I wait for the bus to depart.
    Same as ever,
    Lonely as ever.
    A new scuff
    On the right toe
    Catches my attention
    And today becomes a bad day.
    Eyes slide further right
    For a distraction
    From petty sorrows
    And meet with battered leather.
    Faded and frayed,
    These shoes have been lived in,
    Moulded to fit and embrace,
    Not just worn.
    They know love and patience
    And joy.
    I shuffle closer
    And my little cherry shoes
    Become a richer red
    Beside them.
    I don't forget the scuff
    But it suddenly belongs there,
    Just a part of the shoe.
    It makes me love them more.
    Leather and patent,
    Chocolate and cherry,
    They look good together.
    Better than they might alone.
    They belong side by side.
    I can picture them,
    Lined up before a roaring fire,
    Close together
    And wrapped in the warmth...
    The bus stops
    And interrupts my daydream.
    It's time to go
    And the cherry red's
    Already fading.
    I step onto the pavement
    And a battered leather shoe
    Hits the gravel beside me.
    My cherry patent glows
    And today is no ordinary Tuesday.

    This one has a bit of a double meaning. What am I saying, the whole thing is a metaphor. It'll be interesting to see if people read it the same way I wrote it, though, so I'm not telling you what I meant by it. smiley - tongueout

    Report message32

  • Message 33

    , in reply to message 30.

    Posted by Ellen (U14017989) on Sunday, 12th September 2010

    Oooooh very interesting! I really love this, I think its fab and the half rhyme kind og gives it more of an edge. The last two lines are really powerful and I enjoyed this immensely. One thing I would say is that 'actuality' kind of struck me as not really the right word to use - in my head I thought maybe reality would flow better and then the next two lines afterwards would craete a harsh contrast between them....

    But otherwise absoloutely brill!

    Ellen x

    Report message33

  • Message 34

    , in reply to message 32.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Tuesday, 14th September 2010

    I loved the metaphor for the shoes - is it a human heart and bad experiences being accepted to become part of what makes a person? The way you subtly move it from being a terrible thing to accept the scuff as part of the shoe is fabulous. The chocolate and cherry line is superb.

    What made you decide to use shoes as a metaphor?

  • Message 35

    , in reply to message 34.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Tuesday, 14th September 2010

    To put it bluntly, I'm a big fan of shoes. smiley - blush
    Yeah, it's sort of about the heart, and about how finding the right person can make you feel good about yourself and accept yourself for who you are instead of trying to make yourself acceptable to them, and also about how the best people in life are the ones who do their own thing and don't change for anyone... It's about lots of things, really. Just people in general, I guess. It sort of spilled out. smiley - biggrin

    Not sure about performance yet, I'll think about it....

    Report message35

  • Message 36

    , in reply to message 35.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Wednesday, 15th September 2010

    It spilled beautifully. Do have a think about a podblast. It would be a wonderful thing for us to listen to your work, and it would make a nice 'calling card' for it too.

  • Message 37

    , in reply to message 36.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Sunday, 10th October 2010

    Oh dear, I have left it a while, haven't I? A podblast..... maybe. I'm a bit technophobic, to be honest. Well, actually, no... my laptop is Lemonrabbitphobic. But that's beside the point. I might have a go. Until then, this is my latest effort.


    From here,
    I can just see them:
    The lights,
    Glittering like a thousand fireflies
    In the velvet blackness.
    They dance on her skin
    As she dances in their gleam.
    A perfect duet.
    Them, so adoring,
    They caress her features
    And swirl around her,
    Never straying far from her form.
    Her, so elegant,
    The obvious choice
    In her spangled costume,
    With her grace and charm.
    She won,
    Fair and square.

    I could have had other parts,
    Smaller parts,
    If I'd tried.
    But I wanted this one.
    Oh, to be the star
    And twirl centre-stage
    In a blaze of sequins and feathers...
    Nothing else would do.
    Only one audition for me,
    And I failed...

    So here I am,
    Waiting in the wings,
    Behind the heavy curtains
    And out of the way.
    I'll be here every night though.
    Just in case.
    For all I know,
    One day she might stumble,
    Lose her sparkle,

    And I'll be ready.

    Report message37

  • Message 38

    , in reply to message 37.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Monday, 11th October 2010

    Beautiful, LR. I particularly loved the fireflies and velvet blackness, the blaze of sequins and feathers. And i confess I find myself reading it out loud again. These would make perfect podblasts.

  • Message 39

    , in reply to message 38.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Saturday, 16th October 2010

    Another nameless one, slightly similar to Understudy actually. Thank you, Sandra, by the way. smiley - smiley I'm glad you liked it.

    Once again,
    The scene is set.
    Enter you, stage left and slowly,
    With poorly-masked tears
    Since it's not manly to cry.
    I wait, as ever,
    Centre-stage with tissues in hand.
    We've rehearsed this so often,
    I know your lines
    Before you open your mouth.
    They echo
    Though you can only whisper.
    Same old tired plot:
    Lengthy monologue for you
    On how she broke your heart.
    My turn.
    I hold you wordlessly.
    I know my lines
    Of course.
    How could I not
    With all this practise?

    Defiance floods through me.
    The script is wrong
    Because I'm in the wrong role.
    If she were in my place
    And I in hers,
    She wouldn't be consoling you
    Because there would be no tears.
    Her part would be so small
    She'd be written out altogether,
    Because my lines would have no shouting,
    No tantrums,
    No lies.
    There would be no booing.
    There would be no tragedy.
    Just the perfect romance.

    I knew what the part was
    When I auditioned,
    And I was lucky to get it.
    I don't have the skill to play her role.
    Who was I to think of ad-libbing?
    Of deviating from the script?
    That's not my place.
    I deliver my lines
    And you yours
    Until the curtain falls.
    Just as the script says we must.
    They say the show must go on,
    And so it does.

    Report message39

  • Message 40

    , in reply to message 39.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Monday, 18th October 2010

    LemonRabbit this is one of my favourite ever poems about platonic friendship and the longing within that of one party for something else. Utterly beautiful, and heartbreaking too.

    Your work has taken on a real spurt recently - have you been doing anything particular to work on your poetry, or is it just good old fashioned practice?

  • Message 41

    , in reply to message 40.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Monday, 18th October 2010

    Wow, thank you! And to be honest I wasn't so sure about this one to begin with... I started college this year and everything got all mixed up, I found it really inspiring writing-wise. At least once I got my head round it... And it's a good way for me to get stuff that bothers me, etc. out of my mind and be productive with it. smiley - smiley

    Report message41

  • Message 42

    , in reply to message 41.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Monday, 18th October 2010

    Shooting Stars

    Like every child,
    I learned to wish on falling stars,
    And still I do.
    Yet my wishes are different.

    I do not wish for wealth,
    But only that all I am
    Can be invested in you.

    I do not wish for fame,
    But only that when I'm gone,
    You will always remember me.

    I do not wish for happiness,
    But only that you are a part
    Of every joyous moment.

    I do not wish for security,
    But only that there will always
    Be a place in your life for me.

    I do not wish for longevity,
    But only that together
    We will never truly grow up.

    I do not wish for love.
    I wish for you.

    Sorry folks, I've gone all gooey recently it appears. I'll try to find some other subject matter, methinks. Liven things up a little.

    Report message42

  • Message 43

    , in reply to message 42.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Thursday, 21st October 2010

    ...or at least I will after this one. smiley - blush It just kind of happened.


    I've known him two months now.
    When he smiles,
    One corner of his mouth
    Lifts up faster than the other
    Like they're racing in slow motion.
    He can match me
    Word for word in verbal combat,
    But he always lets me win.
    When it rains,
    He drags me outside
    Just so's he can have me to himself.
    He understands romance,
    Even if he's a little rusty.
    He makes my friends jealous
    When he tells me I'm beautiful.
    He's polite and kind and funny,
    Gentle and well-mannered,
    Intelligent and good...
    And mine for the taking.
    But he's not you.

    Report message43

  • Message 44

    , in reply to message 43.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Friday, 22nd October 2010

    Oh these are lovely - and the second one especially had my heart racing. That last line is a killer. It trips along and you think 'ahhhh' and then you come in with the kill.

    This is lovely. You say it 'just happened' - but I'm guessing it had a spur - care to enlighten us?

  • Message 45

    , in reply to message 44.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Saturday, 30th October 2010

    The inspiration is pretty obvious, really, but I like to take what I've got and make it bigger. I'm not really falling apart. smiley - smiley

    Something a bit different today: recently, I've been missing my friend because she spends most of her time with her boyfriend. Makes me feel guilty for resenting him when she's happy though...

    Ode To A Drifting Friend

    I sit beside you today
    And watch the gentle smile
    That lights up your face,
    And I resent it,
    Because it's HIS smile.
    Oh, don't get me wrong:
    I want your every minute
    To be glorious,
    Every day to be a gift
    That makes you laugh with pleasure
    When you unwrap it.
    Your joy is my joy.
    But lately,
    I can't make you smile like that,
    Though you pretend.
    The time I snatch with you
    Is precious,
    And there's precious little,
    But you're never quite mine.
    You're thinking of him.
    Every day,
    I feel you slip a bit further
    Out of my reach,
    Into his grasp,
    And I watch him destroy you.
    The saddest thing is,
    You haven't even noticed.
    You are content to let him
    Build a bubble round you,
    Even though
    You should be flying free.
    I don't want your all,
    Your every second.
    Just a portion of your mind,
    And a place in your heart.
    But I suppose,
    There isn't room for us both.
    And you chose him.

    Report message45

  • Message 46

    , in reply to message 45.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Friday, 5th November 2010

    Soul-mates and Strangers

    Who are you?
    You hide yourself behind a mask
    And lie to me
    'Bout who you are.
    You're a living, breathing fiction,
    A fairytale
    You wrote for me
    To hush me into gentle sleep.
    You've wrapped us in a story-book
    And I'm the princess
    In the tower;
    We while away the passing hours
    With pretty lies
    And pantomime,
    But it's all a fantasy.
    I wonder, is it that you love me,
    Or you don't want to let me in?
    Are you ashamed
    Of who you are?
    Are you the monster in the dark
    That lures me in
    With sweet, sweet nothings...?
    No, not you.
    If all you are is a fable
    Then that's what I'll take,
    And I'll live in the stories
    And dream in ink.
    But perhaps...
    They say the world is a stage:
    Do you play for them,
    And tell only me the truth?
    Is it them who see the mask,
    And I get you?
    I know you lie...
    But to who?

    Report message46

  • Message 47

    , in reply to message 46.

    Posted by kim (U13937108) on Sunday, 7th November 2010

    Hey Lemon Rabbit.

    I can think of only one criticism for these two fabulous poems and they are great, i particularly liked the first one about the wandering friend and the whole idea of the time spent with them is limited because the guy is always in her mind, loved that. Oh yeah back to the criticism, well I don't think you need to capitalise every single line. I know it's done a lot in poetry, but for me it doesn't make sense. There's a lot of enjambment and I think you should just punctuate it like you would a normal sentence, go with the enjambment. If that makes sense.

    But really that's a petty little criticism.

    Report message47

  • Message 48

    , in reply to message 47.

    Posted by Lemonrabbit (U13893167) on Monday, 8th November 2010

    Thank you, Kim, and it does make perfect sense. I suppose I do it that way because that's the way I've always done it - it just says "poem" to me. But I see what you mean, about how this style reads more like prose than poetry, so maybe the punctuation/capitals should match. I don't know, I've never really thought about it before...

    Report message48

  • Message 49

    , in reply to message 48.

    Posted by English Host (U1934188) on Thursday, 11th November 2010

    If you like to put the caps at the beginning of each line, then you should continue to do it. Otherwise, I guess it could just be - well, prose! I confess I quite like it because it reminds us that this IS a poem, even though the enjambment works so well. Out of interest, did you try this as prose, just in case it IS a story in the making?

  • Message 50

    , in reply to message 49.

    Posted by kim (U13937108) on Thursday, 11th November 2010

    LemonRabbit, you are the poet my dear. I don't have a poetic bone in my body, you must go with whatever you feel right with, both are acceptable I think, it's just I tend to think that if you're using enjambment then it should be like a sentence carried on into the other line, that's just me...and like Isaid what do I know about poetry?

    Report message50

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