louderback @ 6:46pm: The Starless Night of Dreams
I know the eyeless ever-clawing scream
Dragged out from in the heart of my own mind
That fills the haunting starless nights of dream.

The blankness filled with every futile scheme
Informs my soul and desperation blind.
I know the eyeless ever-clawing scream

Behind me in a rolling, crushing, stream,
Comes terror of a chilling, evil kind
That fills the haunting starless nights of dream.

On foolscap, ink records a nightmare's gleam
Then burns each day with red-hot flames entwined
I know the eyeless ever-clawing scream

Of gaunt and ghast and red-lit burning steam
Upon the flesh of helpless ones confined
That fills the haunting starless nights of dream.

Spare me the embrace of the fiend supreme.
Who stole my eyes and made me ever blind.
I know the eyeless ever-clawing scream
That fills the haunting starless nights of dream.

--

Form: villanelle

louderback @ 10:57am: Stairway

Stairway

I climb, unlighted, through the dark
secure. I know above what I will find.
Ascending softly, borne by hope,
my heart a-thump and scarcely in my chest confined.

The doorknob turns and I softly step
to bedside, touch your tousled hair
and sigh, so foolishly relieved
to just discover that you're there.

louderback @ 12:10pm: Ice Storm Limerick

Ice Storm

Once when I slipped on the ice
I flopped and rolled over twice
I went ass over appetite
And farted to skywrite
"Walk softly, that's my advice!"

louderback @ 2:09pm: 2008.02.11

A parts of speech poem has five lines.
Line 1 is one article and 1 noun.
Line 2 is an adjective, a conjunction, and another adjective.
Line 3 is one verb, one conjunction and one verb.
Line 4 is one adverb.
Line 5 is one noun or pronoun that relates to line one

Parts of Speech

Computers
Compressed and compact
Crunching and collating
Continuously
Cray

Shoes
Shiny and clean
Tapping and rapping
Vigorously
Dancers

A giant
Cold and alone
Sits and weeps
Tragically
Stone

Clouds
High and bright
Sedate or rushing
lightly
Mist

louderback @ 2:54pm: 2008.02.10 On reflection after a discussion of hacking

l33titude

A guy I thought was a haxx0r
Turned out to be just a waxx0r
Running on windows
interfaced with nintendos
… so in disgust I just went and formatted my hard drive, installed Ubuntu and used it as a server for my Mac.

louderback @ 6:40pm: 2008.02.09 The Frozen Giant

The Giant of Capsheaf Crag

With winter's season he arrives
And sits upon the crag
He never moves but only weeps
Blue flowers by his side

Unmoving he through blizzard's snow
His sorrows ride the winds
His tears go trickling on the rocks
To the glacier far below

When winter fails he goes at last
To the mountain far above
And comes not back til winter blows
And the harvest moon has passed

I know not why the giant comes
A vigil or duty to those gone
or hope of a departed's return
Or the ghost of a lost love

I only know he always has
That his vigil never fails
That he is constant as the stars
And that he'll never pass.

louderback @ 3:53pm: 2008.02.08
for Marsha

Conversation

When conversations tend toward insanity,
Or again toward compulsive inanity,
For a different tone,
I pick up my phone,
And dial someone possessing humanity.

louderback @ 12:31pm: 2008.02.07 "Pome duh Joor"

Mah Bukkit

I once dreamt I had a bucket
And a cubby in which I might tuck it.
My Freudian analyst
Called Mom a catalyst
So I walked out and yelled at him, "Fuck it!"

louderback @ 4:10pm: 2008.02.04 On my knees
Form: Triad of enclosed tercets Rhyme scheme: aba cdc efe

Earthbound

Dedicated -on my knees- to her for whom I weep

Wing broken, I am bound to Earth
In my minds I'm free and fly
But never the world can hear my mirth

Enfolded I could fight my fight
But my broken heart is gone
My bright belov'd has taken flight.

I whirl, a dervish, in my fear
Seeking out a guiding light
And find a distant lov'd one near.

louderback @ 2:05pm: 2008.02.03 Doors
Form: Rhyming Quatrains
Rhyme: aaaa bbbb cccc dddd

Doors

I opened my doors and propped them wide
Hoping to entice inside
Some engaging passerby
To briefly bring my day some light.

The weather is cold and filled with rain
Though I checked ever and again
No trace of life was to be seen
Down my walk or down the lane.

I took my pup and sat outdoors
Hoping someone at their chores
Might pause between trips to the stores
And sit with me or come indoors.

I waited sad throughout the day
Nobody passed nor paused to stay
The day was cold and far too gray
And everyone just stayed away.

Tomorrow I'll open the door again
Tomorrow I'll nope for no more rain
I watch for walkers in the lane
And pray I will not watch in vain.

louderback @ 2:19pm: 2008.02.02 Visions

The triad is a specific form of tercet. The origins of the triad are Irish and Welsh. A triad is a poem composed of three tercets. It is a consideration of three things and their effect on a person. Welsh versions of the Arthurian legends make heavy use of this form.
Form: Enclosed tercets
Rhyme Scheme: aba bcb cdc

Visions

I often see what others see
Though seldom as they see it
I see instead that which might be.

On city sidewalks dimly lit
Chalk lines where children gather
Seem like a map unfinished yet.

Explanation seems a bother
My sight seems to me just fine
It's what I see that I prefer.

louderback @ 12:36pm: Cinquains Various

Bureaucrat

Bureaucrat
Stiffly formal
Talking at me
He needs to die
Officious

Crushed

Crushed
Half paralyzed
We need us
I love her completely
Maimed

Endurance

Endurance
Ever faithful
Always working hard
O! What a tragedy
Sisyphus

Sightless

Sightless
Wait, Wait
Never go anywhere
I need to fly
Nebulous

louderback @ 3:34pm: 2008.01.31 A Writer's Life for Me!

A Writer's life for me!

Dedicated to "waiter"
With apologies to the spirit of Walt Disney

Hi-diddle-dee-dee
a Writer's life for me!
Elbow patches and ivy-league ties,
at cocktail parties while telling lies.

Hi-diddle-dee-day
A writer's life is gay!
You meet odd people every day,
a Writer's life for me!

Hi-diddle-dee-dum
a writer's life is fun.

Hi-diddle-dee-doh
deadlines come and go.
Between times life is filled with stress,
you write your worst but try your best.

Hi-diddle-dee-dum
a writer's life is fun.
Cigarettes, strong black coffee,
Exhibiting viricapnity,
write all night then sleep 'til three,
a Writer's life for me!

Hi-diddle-dee-dee
a Writer's life for me!
Elbow patches and ivy-league ties,
at cocktail parties while telling lies.

Hi-diddle-dee-duf
an advance is not enough.
I need a regular salary;
I wait tables from six to three;
I never have enough to eat;
a Writer's life for me!

louderback @ 8:45pm: 2008.01.30 Solomnent Days

Somnolent Days

Somnolent days and sleepless nights
Plague my life and o'erfill my heart
Bruising without making a mark
And fill my mind with endless frights

I know not what I truly fear
But live each day with howling stress
Filled full with horrors unaddressed
Anticipating as they near

My life should be oh so serene
Responsibilities are few
And that is truly nothing new
I live my life as in a dream

louderback @ 12:35pm: Dancing - form: rictameter

louderback @ 12:25pm: Unheard - form: rictameter

Unheard

Silent
Wind in the grass
Makes more noise than I do
I stalk the night unseen unknown
My goals mysterious even to me
But I must walk and see the dark
I must hear but not speak
I am a mute
Silent

louderback @ 12:19pm: Lonely - form: rictameter

Lonely

Solo
Staying at home
Never going outside
Allowing the world to go past
I live as if I've already passed go
For me the world moves much to fast
Its like a circus ride
Leave me alone
Solo

louderback @ 6:12pm: PIty Party

Oldies Radio

I sit here at my table
          and my face is all aglow…
I've been up all night listening
          to oldies radio.

The music that I'm hearing
         reminds me of my past…
I wonder when I lost my way
         and why I chose this path.

Where are the women of my life
         and where are all my sons…
Am I to live my life alone
         until my life is done?

Why did I choose a life of work
         and not a life of fun?
I shouldered all those burdens…
         why was I the one?

When I feel nostalgia
         for all the things by gone…
How do I explain to me
         all the things I've done?

I seldom feel regret's sharp pain
         I rarely share my past…
but I'm coming closer to my end
         I feel it coming fast.

If I could do just one thing more
         take a gift from far above
I'd live my life without the cost
         of living without love.

louderback @ 4:19pm: Beauty
Dedicated to the one who knows

Beauty

Ruined Beauty sits enthroned,
alive behind her eyes.
Ravaged by cruel circumstance,
not ever will she rise

She can't raise her hand to mine,
nor can she ever smile.
On her throne she sits bereft,
and softly sighs at whiles.

She'll not raise her hand to give
my face a soft caress —
never press her lips to mine —
nor on my shoulder rest.

Ruined she, by unkind fate,
her limbs obey her not.
Her body, a betrayer,
condemns her to her lot.

Once we laughed, we danced, we sang,
our lives a merry whirl.
Then came an evil on us
that took away our world.

Now my ravaged Beauty sits,
confined upon her throne.
Within her body, still alive,
but 'prisoned and alone.

I can't share the life she lives
but I can share my own.
I give to her my own life
that she might feel at home.

As time works its ravages,
upon her helpless frame,
I see her age encroaching,
I see her dying flame.

Her hair, first white, now greying,
is thin and oh so fine,
Her skin once pure as snowdrifts
Is wrinkled, without shine.

Her smile, once a cupid's bow,
is now a ragged gash.
Her hands once fit for sculpture
seem claws that want to slash.

Her body lithe and supple
is spare and hard as bone.
The smooth bare feet on which she danced
now seem as rough as stone.

This she has become at last
a wizened, aging crone.
To all eyes but mine she is
a sight best left alone.

But Beauty's still bewitched me
and I can see her still
Dancing tall and whirling fast
and hear her laughter trill.

My eyes just can't see her so.
My ears will never hear
the weeping of my dear lost love.
To me, she is still here.

I see the beauty of her face.
I hold her to me close.
The woman I have always loved
will not, to me, be lost.

Her inner vision's glorious,
her spirit brightly sings.
I know her heart still is brave
and that her soul has wings.

louderback @ 6:12pm: Where Your Eyes Won't Go

Where Your Eyes Won't Go

Outside of vision, where you eyes won't go
Is a horrible sight, a mad scarecrow
He capers and hops, and mimics your moves,
He mimes your habits and and brings deja vu.

Outside of sight, where you can never see,
A tattered old golem, in dungarees,
Waves broomstick arms in a comical way
And follows you everywhere through your day

This mad-filthy scarecrow dances with glee,
To see you whirl about and try to see,
What lies in that place you can never know,
The place out of sight where your eyes won't go.

louderback @ 11:56am: Land of Storms, Land of Norns

Hymnal Stanza- this is an alternating quatrain that is written in iambics. Lines 1 and 3 are iambic tetrameter, and lines 2 and 4 are iambic trimeter. abab rhyme.

The Land of Storms

Icy wind in the land of storms
Hurls ice into the night
Spinning fates the loom of Norns
Never will see the light.

Beneath the mighty tree of life
Wyrd sisters spin the threads
That cost men health and hope and wife
Before those men are dead.

Warriors strive and fight their fate
But none a victor is
Norns' fateful skeins forever make
The tapestry thats his.

Welcome to the land of storms
Where lightning strikes in snow
Where men on despite the Norns
And sail where waters flow.

Forth from the land upon the sea
To learn their fates first hand
Living their fateful destiny
To die in foreign lands.

Under brilliant northern lights
Beneath a tropic sun
Dragon ships sail forth to fight
While threads of life are spun.

"Havoc!" is the berserkers song
It's heard in lands afar
At the end of hard journeys long
and under midnight stars

Once again in the land of storms
Men celebrate in song
The deeds decreed them by the Norns
And sleep through winters long.

louderback @ 3:02pm: Untitled "epic" poem

A Redondilla- this is a Spanish form written in tetrameter with any of three rhyme schemes: "abba", "abab" or "aabb".

From out the North eight strode all grim
And went to far and distant lands.
They travelled long and formed new bands
And songs and tales tell us of them.

Great Ull the Leader strong and tall,
Gold Sif defender of the weak,
Kavi a slave brand on his cheek,
Alfir fair-hair blue-eyed and small.

Thorson red-beard the leader strong,
Havelock, sailor who builds his ships,
Blacksmith Nori with narrow hips,
And Ket who sings the harper's songs.

Each to a land and each a man
Whose tale is woven in our souls,
Whose names when spoken thunder rolls
Went forth to serve the Gods' demands. (incomplete)

louderback @ 7:43pm: Cinquains

Cinquains: Variations on a theme of Bucolia

Meadows
Green undulating
Trampling tall grass
Running free in wind
Grasslands

Streams
Warm clear
Spilling over rocks
My heart splashing joyously
Springs

Vineyards
Neat rows
Checking every grape
Eager for spring wine
Nursery

Pastures
Sheep abound
Watching dutifully always
Wary of cunning wolves
Sanctuary

Groves
Small trees
Lolling in shadows
Relishing the cool quiet
Park



Cinquain

A cinquain has five lines.
Line 1 is one word (the title);
Line 2 is two words that describe the title.
Line 3 is three words that tell action
Line 4 is four words that express feeling
Line 5 is one word that recalls the title

louderback @ 7:23pm: Bringer of Dreams

Bringer of Dreams

He enters, evil, the bringer of dreams
And stalks to his place where candlelight streams.
The table's set for a feast of renown,
The servers pale in their shimmering gowns.

The lord of dreams is feasting
On the minds of men asleep.

Gathered round him ancient nightmare shadows
Cast reflections on minds in sleeping's throes.
Men twist beneath the baleful blades of fear
And call out night terrors that all may hear.

The lord of dreams is feasting
On the minds of men asleep.

His glistening blood-cup is raised on high
He quaffs it with a bold demonic sigh.
It drains and souls of men turn cold and dark
And dying spirits give up their last spark.

The lord of dreams is feasting
on the minds of men asleep.

The dawn is coming slow but yet apace
Dreamlord pulls his hood o'er his ghastly face.
The night-feast is ended - terror has flown
Men wake to the day - are no more alone.

louderback @ 3:18pm: What good is served?

What Good Is Served

Around the broken pillars run
Horses wild with smoke, stink, and fear.
The bloody battle now is done
And blood-red purple sunset near.

Men groan beneath the weight of fear
And die in disappointments throes
Lying hurt, their enemies near
To share laments, to share their woes.

What good is served? Heaven knows.
Men know not and so it must be.
For what men would fight and die in rows
For futile causes such as these?