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Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

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I love the title and idea of Draconis Infinitas , Cyun. Perhaps purely because it makes this prosaic world more in touch with poesy, the idea that there's a world beyond human perception is one that I've always found fascinating.

That said, I'm not much a fan of free verse poetry, so I do very much hope you get around to making a "proper" poem (so to speak) out of it.

27-Oct-2013 00:12:53

Cyun

Cyun

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@Snow, what ludicrous modesty you have.

@Poller, I thank you for the complements, though they're unjustly given. Cig wrote 'Draconis Infinitas'.

Are you addressing me or Cig when you say you'd like to see a "proper" poem?

I like to write a variety of forms, you'll find that my poems aren't all free verse. I'm currently working on a sonnet. Whether the form constitutes to whether a poem is a "proper" one (as opposed to a pretend one?) is very controversial, and you could upset a lot of postmodernist soul-patched poets in and around smokey underground bars by saying so. I'm not one of those. I'm growing a Dali moustache. Whatever the case, I find that some poetic conforms are adhered to in a silly and fustian manner by a lot of pretentious gits. The way I look at it is that you should first have a good understanding of theory, then attempt to approach it differently, subvert it, or do what the hell you want with it.

27-Oct-2013 10:53:33 - Last edited on 27-Oct-2013 11:11:53 by Cyun

Poller5
Dec Member 2023

Poller5

Posts: 11,421 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Ahh, dammit, yes, that was directed at Cig and not at you, Cyun. Too many C names around here haha.

I understand that the "proper" poem comment was potentially controversial, hence the scare quotes and "so to speak" qualifier; it was also in response to his comment that he might take the free verse bones and expand them into a metrical form.

All that said, I probably am closer to your pretentious gits than your postmodernist soul-patches in my views and tastes in poetry. I find free verse tends to border on the prosaic, where I prefer poetry that is more "poetic", so to speak (same qualifiers -- obviously this is a hugely subjective issue).

None of that, of course, prevents me from recognizing the merits of a well-written poem, however it's written.

27-Oct-2013 21:32:59

Cigam Mai

Cigam Mai

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The Artistic Voyage Trio of… David Lisker, Yana Reznik, and Eugene Lifschitz… playing Ludwig van Beethoven’s Opus 70 Ghost Trio inspired the following poem. You can watch Artistic Voyage Trio perform on YouTube, but you'll have to look it up yourself.


Satisfying the Ghost

by Cigam_mai -- October 29, 2013

So strangely scored, with eerie sound
Haunting, called The Ghost
Written with Marie in mind, to
Thank a gracious host.

The Master’s Opus Seventy
For a trio scored
Reznik, on piano shone, as
To new heights they soared.

With Lisker and Lifschitz on strings
As they played they found
Their talents lifted everyone
To a perfect sound.

How well Artistic Voyage played
Everyone was moved.
The ghost, Ludwig, at last revealed
Silently approved.

30-Oct-2013 10:03:08

Cigam Mai

Cigam Mai

Posts: 1,781 Mithril Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Apparently, I awakened from MY doze to turn Draconis Infinitas (Infinite Dragon) in the promised ode. Enjoy.


Ode ad Draconis Infinitas

by Cigam_mai -- October 30, 2013

We doze, though not within the realm of what you sense,
For you inhabit but the world between;
A tiny spectrum of a vaster whole,
From atoms to vast galaxies, unseen.

Hibernation, that’s the wrong measure that you’d use
Describing us within time’s ebbs and flows;
Unmoving, not alive, to you it seems.
Our kind, we never fully sleep… we doze.

And though we’re generally aware of all you do,
We’ve naught to add, and even less to prove.
While mindful of your need to be restrained,
Inertia makes it very hard to move.

Now bound within a cooling, iron-nickel sphere
We dream the dreams of dragons; so sublime:
To soar magnetic flux and plasma streams,
To overcome the bounds of space and time.

Your kind must see and touch. YOUR senses make it real?
In stories, tales, and myths of every kind
Do you not think it strange to see us there?
Ah, dragons… out of sight, thus out of mind.

Up thrusts occur when we would lay our bodies down
Inert for millennia, as we chose
Our Dragon’s teeth, our Dragon’s back, our tail;
Erosion will oft parts of us expose.

Look! Your cities quake, when we shudder in our doze
And when we wake, you’d best know dragon lore.
Mountains will crumble, seas will rise and fall.
Pray we doze a few millennia more.

30-Oct-2013 13:43:01

Old Gnomish
Jul Member 2023

Old Gnomish

Posts: 2,569 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Excellent, Cig.

Just thought I'd share one of my favourite poems:

The Cloud

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother's (b)reast,
As she dances about the sun.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under,
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.

I sift the snow on the mountains below,
And their great pines groan aghast;
And all the night 'tis my pillow white,
While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers,
Lightning my pilot sits;
In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,
It struggles and howls at fits;
Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion,
This pilot is guiding me,
Lured by the love of the genii that move
In the depths of the purple sea;
Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills,
Over the lakes and the plains,
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,
The Spirit he loves remains;
And I all the while bask in Heaven's blue smile,
Whilst he is dissolving in rains.

The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes,
And his burning plumes outspread,
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,
When the morning star shines dead;
As on the jag of a mountain crag,
Which an earthquake rocks and swings,
An eagle alit one moment may sit
In the light of its golden wings.
And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,
Its ardours of rest and of love,
And the crimson pall of eve may fall
From the depth of Heaven above,
With wings folded I rest, on mine aëry nest,
As still as a brooding dove.
Snow
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30-Oct-2013 15:07:24 - Last edited on 30-Oct-2013 15:08:40 by Old Gnomish

Old Gnomish
Jul Member 2023

Old Gnomish

Posts: 2,569 Adamant Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
That orbèd maiden with white fire laden,
Whom mortals call the Moon,
Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor,
By the midnight breezes strewn;
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,
Which only the angels hear,
May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,
The stars peep behind her and peer;
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,
Like a swarm of golden bees,
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,
Till calm the rivers, lakes, and seas,
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,
Are each paved with the moon and these.

I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone,
And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl;
The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim,
When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,
Over a torrent sea,
Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,
The mountains its columns be.
The triumphal arch through which I march
With hurricane, fire, and snow,
When the Powers of the air are chained to my chair,
Is the million-coloured bow;
The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove,
While the moist Earth was laughing below.

I am the daughter of Earth and Water,
And the nursling of the Sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
I change, but I cannot die.
For after the rain when with never a stain
The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and un-build it again.

Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1820
Snow
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30-Oct-2013 15:07:59 - Last edited on 30-Oct-2013 15:11:56 by Old Gnomish

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