Mask (poem)

Unveiling my latest theme of poetry you can touch, I bring to you the poem Mask. I hope you all enjoy it, it is certainly emotive to read.

Mask

-

Life is just a ball-

A masquerade, if you will.

At the door. We take off

Our cloaks, and put on

Fake faces, capes as well.

-

Business is only a dance-

Where men in suits

Court men in suits.

The boss- obviously

A Ballerina from birth.

-

Love is blind- so they say.

Yet why do vanities,

Luxuries, get in the way?

Oh look little spider-

That mate won’t even

Eat you up.

-

Death is just a door-

An unveiling, if you will.

Where we take off our masks,

And let you know what

A great pretender you were.

A sonnet of Thanks

Now for all of you out there who do not know me personally, there's just one thing you should know about me; I never let a good deed go unthanked. Today's poem is explicitly for that purpose, to congratulate this person on her patience and diligence of following and even offering advice when needed in all areas of work, and some in life. Writing poems for people isn't as easy as you see on television, unless you want to write something that you'd see in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, (recites-you eyes are green as a fresh pickled toad), definitely fun, but now is not the time for that. This month's theme is set, and some poems are written, in between obsessively scrambling the end of my novel together. Now, without further adieu I give you, my thanks:

Sonnet to thine Starri Knytes

Men have learned to read betwixt the night stars

All have gazed upon them, they never glare

The sun, how he shines, unholy centre

Of the heavenly host commands, ‘all seas,’

‘All see, Athena, Aphrodite, knights -

Of the realm, Starri Knytes will drape her hair

Over your gold ambrosia. This rare

Womanly host guides us, these are her stars.

-

Such golden deities are almost glass

Never asking for worship unlike gods.

Lazy tyrants- why could they not be Knytes?

So we could live under the bright night skies.

Without this host, just what would come to pass?

Nothing for gods are truly second class.

A blog of Comedy

Comedy

This post will be a little more informal than most mainly due to two weeks of sleep deprivation and a thirteen hour marathon of Dr Who just before writing this, they are not a good cocktail. I’m going to try and incorporate my comical ambitions with today’s post, yet stay topical with my usual themes of the writer and influences.

While we’re all young we question what profession we’ll go into when we’ve finished with education. I personally have always fancied myself as a writer; I know I’m an abomination, but your letter bombs haven’t found me yet!

Up until the age of about fifteen, I’d worked on poetry alone; with adding stories and articles to my repertoire, it shows obviously how I’ve diversified over the years. I sound like a business, I just lack a manager, but let’s face it, there’s no woman crazy enough to share a room with me let alone a shackle.

For the last few years I’ve been fascinated by comedians, or at least trying to break into the world of comedy. I have to avoid watching the Apollo otherwise I begin to think, very wrongly, I can be a gag writer after an hour of someone drivelling on about their genitals. In honesty if that makes me think I’m any good I should just try secondary sex ed, cucumber and a condom anyone?

You know how we all laugh at what children say no mater how idiotic it is we find it hilarious, only because we’re thinking the exact same thing? I feel it’s a shame that’s beaten out of kids at secondary school, it’s no wonder good comedians are a dying breed, still, you have to learn how to give a decent wedgies at some point, or your kids would miss out.

I feel that the most bonkers people in society today are comedians and English teachers, or in the case of Mr Frankie Boyle: both. It takes a man with a real set of balls, or a sense of humour that could crack up royalty to sit in front of a class of young hormonal girls and read how a man has been screwing them all over for years. Personally I’m more in favour of throwing the book at them, not being biased; I’d lob a dictionary or two at the lads and head for the hills. But mum said I’m not allowed to do that again, I have to set an example, and hand out the pitch forks, one each before legging it. Apparently it’s good practice for later in life.

On a more serious note, I’m still wishing I were one of those, maybe not handsome, or cool people on stage, but I’d love to do what they do. It may never happen, but as with the catch phrase this generation has opted for, ‘I do it for de lulz’.

Erotic poetry

Sometimes something, or someone catches our eye, it's only natural that we desire things. I've been watching a lot of star trek lately, so this is really a pure hearted Star Trek fan's thoughts on some of the cast. Enjoy.

Sexy Star Trek Girl

.

Sexy star trek girl I’ve waited so long

Temptress of five seasons, it’s wrong,

I’ve survived your skin tights and uniform

Surely you’ll be mine before it’s all gone?

.

Your nightdress was a jacket, not fine

Was there nothing other to wear that night?

Why do you all wrap up like Victorian Vines?

Yet without the need to shield your thighs.

.

Your eye’s phaser me, always on stun

You blame me for looking, though dumb?

At those hair styles, tightened buns,

Not to mention your rounded sums.

.

Sometimes as a telepath, or a Trill

You may be human, once in a while,

But the Borg certainly knows how to move

She would waltz that floor, swaying well.

.

The voice varies, from your cherry lips

The councillor, the fighter, my woman.

So where do I fit in, in this world?

At my console captain, where else?

Poem of Quartets: Inspiration

Something nice and simple today, about something all us writers can't get enough of. how did I think of this one? Well believe it or not I had a mixture of Katy Perry's California girls, Peter Pan and this month's theme in mind, not to mention whatever else I've now forgotten. So here it is, get inspired!

Inspiration

.

Let me take you on a journey,

Please extend your little hand.

Together we will slip gently

Into the maybe wonderland.

.

Music of the mind, meld lovely

Scenes of films, dressed in dust suits.

All along they were hidden away

They freshen up with your memory soaps.

.

Here the land of inkwells, no computers,

Nor biros in this land. Here we fly

With pirates and boy catchers,

Locked in battles, we pass them by.

.

Through the window, without a broom

Here is your next adventure to tell,

You saw it, yes the little Jay

On the ledge of your old bedroom.

Free Verse

Possibly the most liberal way to demonstrate rhythm in poetry, and easily the most popularly written form, I present the free verse. This poem is probably the head liner of this month, the question is, did I pull this one off? Let me know!

Rhythm of poetry

.

Poetry can be river, and of stone,

It is both of these things and still more.

Inside of the body, perhaps the soul-

Feel that beat? It’s poetry you fool!

Poor little musician, writing tool

You’re giving birth to puppets you know?

Songs of saints, and soldiers the same

You hear what we have gained?

.

A smile, a tear, a child’s bashed ear:

Shakespeare did it for life, you for profit.

A man in a suit to tell you what’s ‘fab’

He who disowned the little yellow cab-

Limos are of course the way to go.

Our words ride with him, on we go.

.

Haiku’s for the beat, sonnets for souls

Villanelles for women, and ballads for all,

Each one with their own tune, you know?

I leave you with this, Poetry is all!

Harry Potter poem

I've seen numerous attempts at writing poetry, dedicated to he man with the lightning scar. However, I've seen very few I would call 'poetry', do offence to those less able at writing this stuff, it just requires a certain finesse which they lack. Themed poetry is possibly the hardest to write, seeing as your choice of words becomes ever narrowed by what you're trying to describe nevertheless, this is my tribute to Prof McGonagall's speech, before the final battle for Hogwarts. NB all those who have not read Deathly Hallows, please jump in a river, climb out and ask yourselves why you haven't read it before reading this!

Rage against the Voldemort

.

Wizarding world unite, now I speak

We stand tonight, no longer meek.

Outside Voldemort waits, creeping

Through out defences, scheming

His way inside, well we say no!

.

It is time to defend our school.

Young ones follow Mr Filch, no fools

For our army, Mr Creevey, you too!

Mr Potter has business here tonight.

.

It is time to close the doors.

Fight not for pride but for all.

I will lead the way, will you join me?

Tonight, Hogwarts will not fall!

.

Filius, cast your charms, Horace

Take the grounds, I will cover

The towers, now all, let’s go!

Rage against Voldemort finally tonight.

Villanelle: Broken Record

Continuing the theme of Rhythm, to a more traditional sense, I bring you this sonnet. Its style is the embodiment of what I'm trying to capture this month, and is also my preferred style of poetry perhaps because , I am a broken record.

Broken Record

-

I am a record, broken of course

Never changing my tone, same note

By that needle, always so coarse.

-

I play Jazz, though nothing morose

I survived the jukebox but-

I am a record, broken of course

-

I’m even a grandparent, loose

Are my CD children, unhurt

By that needle, always so coarse.

-

Though the dust settled only once

Will Rap or the robot end my lot?

I am a record, broken of course

-

They still listen, smiles toothless

Partying no more in the night light

By that needle, always so coarse.

-

I repeat lines like a river’s course,

I will always proudly put-

I am a record, broken of course

By that needle, always so coarse.

Sarah, a loose sonnet

Sometimes we all look back at our experiences and ask, what if? Well earlier this week, I stumbled upon that question when thinking about a girl, as most men do. I looked at where I am today, and wondered if I'd ever really gotten over that old heartache, the conclusion: probably not.

The first piece I produced to get my back into my old writing habits is titled and written about someone who was always out of my league, and probably always will be.

Sarah

I surround myself with all pretty things,

I enjoy each time your face hides within,

Recovering from a torment, akin

To teenage crushes, naive youth pleases

Itself calling the abstract: real. Pitiless

Sorrows still haunt memory of her; trim,

Slim, of face and mind always maturing

Clearly left me behind, I am waiting.

-

I surround myself with baubles that shine,

In ever imagined rapport with you

Devout of course, how else should I pass time?

You bauble, your face shines that bright blue hue.

You don’t see me of course, I'm the lowly dew

What did I expect? Never, rests my moon.

Writing season has arrived

It has been far too long, months and months in fact. The last time I attempted poetry was back in November, as I’m sure anyone who’s kept track here will notice. This month I hope to bring my reader(s) at least five brand new and very different poems.

So, why has it been so long I hear at least one whisper out there ask, in short, finishing college and a lack of self esteem, rejections obviously hit harder than a curve ball in the chest. This week I’ve tried new themes of poetry, and some old, all in the sole aim of bringing my skills forward and thrilling anyone who comes across the name Realmskipper on the internet, which I’ve noticed has generated quite the buzz.

What have I found to inspire this month’s theme of poetry? I admitted that there was a new theme this month, or at least an attempted one. I can say that as I’ve been teaching myself piano with all my free time, it is actually all things that give us Rhythm, as just rhythm is too narrow. This includes; love, life and of course, our passions.

I look forward to taking all my readers on a journey, and as always thanks for finishing this article. Leave your thoughts and maybe suggestions for what you’d like to see more of in the future!

How to Beat 'The Chopping Block'

Once or twice, you will put your head on the block, so to speak, and when you do you will either be short back and sides, or a little too much off the top. This interlude is really to talk about how I prepare for ‘the block’.

We all tumble upon writer’s block, more often than we’d like to admit sometimes, this phenomenon exists to separate the wheat from the chaff. Personally I have never encountered ‘the block’ for more than an hour, not due to my well of imagination, or because of the endless bollocks I can spout, (though they’re both invaluable tools). I’m talking here of course, how to knock out writer’s block, with a single blow!

I can already hear the crowd divided, ‘has he the miracle cure’, ‘he’s just another blow hart’ but NO, I kid you not people. There are two similar things you need for writing poetry and literature, firstly, and foremost, is silence! No talking children in your ear, no partner demanding a romantic candle lit dinner. The experience you’ve sat down to create for your audience will be a private and intimate date between you and your paper, whether virtual or tangible.

From this point on, simply stick on your favourite, blood pumping music, whether it be to move your soul or quicken your pulse: it’s just trial and error.

For poets

• They say you must suffer to write, the truth is you certainly have been truly touched to find the beauty in what you convey
• If you’re stuck, find the original source of inspiration, feel free to day dream at this juncture
• You’re never wrong when it comes to this field, but yes there is good poetry and likewise!

For writers

· The novel is putting a bit of yourself into the world, show you through your characters, and be unashamedly judged

· This, I admit, could take years; have an unshakable dedication to what you start.

· Daydreams are your friends!

· If you know any artists, or you are a dab hand at the pencil, or modern day software, then draw, paint doodle!

· Disney has probably inspired most of our ‘modern day’ writers to some point, don’t be at a disadvantage!

This of course brings into perspective, that I myself am always inspired by many things at one time to write, whether from stress of examinations, the having a good old skive with my sister to Beauty and the Beast, if you can only take one inspiration at a time, you’ll be at your first masterpiece for a long, long time.