Log in

No account? Create an account

Karl's Poetry

Recent Entries

You are viewing 25 entries, 25 into the past.

17th December 2007

louderback6:12pm: 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.

30th June 2007

louderback4:19pm: Beauty
Dedicated to the one who knows


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.

10th May 2007

louderback6:12pm: 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.

13th March 2007

louderback11:56am: 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.

12th March 2007

louderback3:02pm: 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)

23rd February 2006

louderback7:43pm: Cinquains

Cinquains: Variations on a theme of Bucolia

Green undulating
Trampling tall grass
Running free in wind

Warm clear
Spilling over rocks
My heart splashing joyously

Neat rows
Checking every grape
Eager for spring wine

Sheep abound
Watching dutifully always
Wary of cunning wolves

Small trees
Lolling in shadows
Relishing the cool quiet


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

Current Mood: dark
louderback7:23pm: 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.

Current Mood: dark
louderback3:18pm: 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?

Current Mood: sore

12th February 2006

louderback6:35am: Blizzard


The cold steals in my house
Despite the blazing fire.
I stay still as a mouse.

Now the flames are higher
My limbs begin to feel.
My body feels lighter.

The quiet inside steals
The warmth again does flee
The cold returns, I kneel.

I stay still as a mouse
The cold steals in my house.

11th February 2006

louderback7:19pm: A triolet: Parade

The Triolet

8 lines.
Two rhymes.
5 of the 8 lines are repeated or refrain lines.
First line repeats at the 4th and 7th lines.
Second line repeats at the 8th line.

Rhyme scheme (where an upper-case letter indicates the appearance of an identical line, while a lower-case letter indicates a rhyme with each line designated by the same lower-case or upper-case letter):

Line 1 A
Line 2 B
Line 3 a - Rhymes with 1st line.
Line 1 A - Identical to 1st line.
Line 4 a - Rhymes with 1st line.
Line 5 b - Rhymes with 2nd line.
Line 1 A - Identical to 1st line.
Line 2 B - Identical to 2nd line.


The colors of a crayon
Shine brightly in your sight
On the major's baton
The colors of a crayon
Leading the parade on
Such a beauteous sight
The colors of a crayon
Are the colors of life

louderback12:33pm: Quiet Times

Quiet Times

In quiet times when left alone
I think of things I've done
I try to think of how I've grown
and of accolades I've won

Shadows fall upon my mind
of evils of my life
of times that I have been unkind
and many kinds of strife

I'd like to live and all atone
but there there are years
I'd make amends to everyone
but I have too few tears

I must live just for me, myself
as you must live for you
you cannot ever kill oneself
for things you can't undo

6th February 2006

louderback6:31pm: Parts of Speech Exercises
Parts of Speech

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

Silent Dusk

A sunset
Sun-splashed and wind-swept
Twisting and swirling

Into the Night

A foray
Wild and daring
Shouting in fear

Days of Longing

An offer
Considered and humble
Whispered and sighed


A hillside
Green and verdant
Windswept and clean

Current Mood: cold

4th February 2006

louderback7:00pm: When You're Tired of Winning
To be sung to the tune of "The Eton Boat Song"

When You're Tired Of Winning

When you're tired of winning
Victories' all the same…
Always falsely grinning
As if you know their names.

We will rise above you
Penthouse and avenue
Watching you at distance
Our lives are not for you.

How our hold increases,
Strangling all the trade.
Flowing wealth ne'er ceases!
The billions that we've made!

We will rise above you
Penthouse and avenue
Watching you at distance
Our lives are not for you.

No way you can stop it
Nothing that you can do.
The rich all get richer,
The powerful and few.

We will rise above you
Penthouse and avenue
Watching you at distance
Our lives are not for you.

We eat those beneath us
We are the priv'leged few
Holding our positions
our fellowship stays true

We will rise above you
Penthouse and avenue
Watching you at distance
Our lives are not for you.

Knowing all the secrets
We will control your lives
We will own your children
We can seduce your wives

We will rise above you
Penthouse and avenue
Watching you at distance
Our lives are not for you.

In the end, we'll rule you
Your labor is for us.
Despite strife and sorrow
You are no more than dust.

We will rise above you
Penthouse and avenue
Watching you at distance
Our lives are not for you.

Current Mood: angry

3rd February 2006

louderback4:19pm: On the Future Fixed

On the Future Fixed

My gaze seems ever on the future fixed
and all I see is horror-filled and black.
I would not live, such horror in our midst
and all the world derailed, far off the track.

I cannot pull my fevered vision free
of that which 'fore me hideously looms.
There seems no end to visions that I see
nor limits to cascading, awful dooms.

Repetition and cacophony lie
as blankets smothering my eyes' torments,
while corruscating flames, a fun'ral pyre,
surround my thoughts a harsh, confining fence.

My eyes are never free of sights of doom.
I'm filled with ever growing certainty.
Within my soul i harbor no more room.
That which I see will be the end of me.

Current Mood: content
louderback4:16pm: Strike a Chord

Strike a Chord

Strike a chord! And wring the lute-strings dry as bone!
Shout out! And bring the marching soldiers home!
Sing loud! And let the families rejoice!
Wring tight the strings of lyres and let them go.

Return to us you soldiers from afar!
Come back to give us of your lives once more!
Bring to us your tales of faith and glory
but bring not back the tragedies of war.
Current Mood: content
louderback4:15pm: Strike a Chord (reprise)

Strike a Chord


Things of gentle tenor can strike a chord
and reverberate within the mind's eye
staying before you like a fiery sword
grim in the headsman's hands before you die.

Presentiments of awful failings loom
before one with a near-seductive call.
Better to end and get on with your doom
than to continue strife before you fall
Current Mood: content
louderback4:14pm: Strike a Chord (2nd reprise - haiku)

Strike a Chord (Haiku)

Long 3-5-3 syllables

strike a chord
let ring all the bells
joyous noise

Short 2-3-2 syllables

sing out
the bells sing

Traditional 5-7-5 syllables
(same number as in Japanese)

familiar sounds heard
intimate whispers strike a chord
i know your soft sound

English 7-9-7 syllables

strike a chord at your return
joyously we dance for you are safe
we never thought you'd come back

Freeform 17 syllables
(three phrases, short, longer, short)

strike a chord well-known
give heart by the sound of the lyre
fill men with new resolve

Current Mood: content

27th January 2006

louderback3:36pm: Parts of Speech
Parts of Speech

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

An apple
Red and round
Falling and rolling

The mind
Howling and Whirling
Swimming and flailing

Current Mood: crappy
louderback3:35pm: Clerihews


The writer H.P.Lovecraft
Could never write a first draft
His eerie tales were full of fear
So he wrote the finals before the fear got near.

The grandmaster Robert Heinlein
Often walked the fine line
Between storytelling, ranting, and prose
As his every loyal reader knows.

The lovely heiress Jeanneton
Never left her jewelry on
She put it away to keep it safe
So she could never come to grief.

There is a man named George
Who can ideas forge
New perspectives he'll mix
And attitudes he'll fix.

louderback3:34pm: Cinquains

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

Warm heavy
Curling up tightly
Safe in my bed

Dragging wearing
Watching the clock
Night will never come

Dark black
Pooling in moonlight
I want to run

Flashing noisy
Sitting and watching
I disappear inside them

Friendly fearsome
Watching while frozen
I welcome and fear it

Current Mood: calm
louderback3:33pm: Acrostics
Some Acrostics

Any poem whose lines' first letters vertically form either the alphabet, the poet's or dedicatee's name, a concept word (which can look hokey, but not always), or even entire sentences, if the poem has length. These go back to the Babylonians, but many poets, even modern ones, have fooled around with them.

Days so dark and dull
Everyone seems out to hurt me
People seem strange and cold
Retreating seems my only option
Even my friends abandon me
Somehow I knew they would
Seeking help is futile I think
I try so hard but I'm just to tired
Only my therapist listens and he doesn't care
Nobody knows unless they've been there

Bright energetic accomplished days
Interspersed with the depths of despair
Peel the layers of my mind away
Overlay my thoughts with electric sparks
Laugh and love and rush around
Avoid the world and hide in the dark
Routine is not for me, not ever

Once again I feel the press
Compelling me to find the way
Demanding my obedience

Do I know you, I don't think so
I knew you once but that wasn't me
Do you care that I'm not myself?

Contained by nothing nor wishing it so
Reveling in freedom to do as I like
Abandoned rules trailing in my wind
Zoo keepers fleeing before my charge
You don't care about me

Walkers in Darkness hand in hand
Allies against the terrors of the night-mind
Living for the moment to face the future
Keeping ourselves alive by being alive
Embracing those who know us better than any other
Remembering those who have gone before us never to return
Sighing in relief at the sight of one who understands
Independently independent not relying on those who would confine
Named for the abstract virtues we admire
Divining the beauty in those who think themselves ugly
Arriving again and again in the nick of time
Requiring nothing giving all
Keeping sane inside insanity
Nobody can hear us more clearly than we hear ourselves
Eventually, everyone changes as we watch
Simple pleasures color superior lives
Suddenly, we feel safe among friends

Current Mood: blah
louderback3:33pm: An ABC poem


An "ABC" poem.

An ABC poem has 5 lines that create a mood, picture, or feeling. Lines 1 through 4 are made up of words, phrases or clauses - and the first word of each line is in alphabetical order from the first word. Line 5 is one sentence, beginning with any letter.

One-eyed it sits before us,
Puissant Cyclops enthroned.
Quite placid in its soft address,
Requiring naught in the way of props,
We abase ourselves upon the sofa.

Current Mood: blank

20th January 2006

louderback5:55pm: Beneath Your Bed

Beast Beneath Your Bed

You can hide from the beast beneath your bed
You can kill the monster in the closet dead
You'll never flee fast enough or far
to escape the monster in your head.

The howling madness of the dark
or the burning shine of a sunlit park
crash the barrier behind you eyes
and feed the monstrous mind shark.

Teeth and jaws and mouth agape
the clawing howling mindless ape
that tears at dreams and waking
and turns all thoughts to bloody hate

You cannot flee the monster mind
you can't escape or hope to bind
a creature that lives alone within
and with your soul remains entwined.

Current Mood: cold
louderback4:53pm: Linebyline: Small Cake and Finely Cut Bread
small cake and finely cut bread

Signs of civility abound
skirts like clouds of mist all whirling.
My heart lifts at the orchestral sound
and I find my spirit freed, unbound.

The flash of light on polished sterling,
odors, sweet aromas that go to my head,
banners bright in the breeze unfurling,
warmth and courtesy 'round me curling.

There's naught I would have in their stead
gallantry, amenity, the world around me
seen in evidence of no stronger thread
than a small cake and finely cut bread.

X-poeted to linebyline
Current Mood: content

19th January 2006

louderback8:19pm: A Villanelle: The Emptiness of Days

The Emptiness of Days

The emptiness of days
the pallid sleepless nights
are measured in the bitter chill of hours

I see as from a tow'r
though distant, in plain sight
The emptiness of days

My lonely cloistered ways,
dark devotional nights
are measured in the bitter chill of hours

The falling rain that scours
and cleans cannot set right
The emptiness of days

I've tried so many ways
but life's slow rhythmic fights
are measured in the bitter chill of hours

I yield to sullen pow'rs
the battle for my rights
The emptiness of days
are measured in the bitter chill of hours

Current Mood: cranky
Powered by LiveJournal.com