Idea for a poem.
 

Well... What I'm about to post is something I'm thinking of turning into a poem. It started out as a rant, but is very abstract, since everything is a metaphor. I just want some input about what people think. Feel free to criticize, tell me how to make it better, or tell me what you think it means. Enjoy

Sometimes, I feel like I can just lie on my back and watch the world turn. Colors and shapes swirl past as I'm in a euphoric daydreamed haze. In this state, nothing is real. Everything is intangible, yet easily grasped. If I see something that I like, I can reach out and grab it. For a brief instant, my imagined world pauses as I take in the beauty of the object. The beauty is then replaced by a darkness. It creeps around on the edge of my vision first, slowly advancing. In the darkness, everything is blue. The beauty in my fist slowly dissolves into dust, which floats from my fingertips and sublimates into the darkness unfolding. When the darkness settles in, the world is drastically different. Euphoria is replaced by panic. The beauty is all gone. Just fear and hate are left. Nothing looks familiar, everything is frightening. When I reach my hands out, I can grasp no beauty. Razors slice through my hands, and my blood trickles down my arm. The revolving stops. My body begins to go numb. The colors of the world go back to what they were before the darkness. This time, the beauty seems to be mocking me. It swirls about me as children laugh. The essence of my life pours out of my arm and collects in a pool underneath me. The numbness never subsides, but continues to spread. Soon, all I can feel is my heart. That feeling starts to fade. The world slows down to a stop. The pool of my lifeblood sets aflame. The fire doesn't burn, it just warms my heart and barely keeps me holding on as the numbness subsides. Soon, I feel warm all over instead of numb. A piercing feeling starts in the center of my spine, and the sharpness radiates throughout my body. The last thing my eyes see is a beak ripping through my abdomen as the pheonix rises. For a few seconds, I feel no more. I see no more. I am no more. Then I come to and realize that I am the pheonix. The world starts over and once again, beauty is grasped in my hand...

Heeeeeeeeeey!
Nice work, I like very much! :cool:

I don't know if it would have the same cool effect it currently has, if it were turned to poem. But hey, by all means, pull it off and prove me wrong! :D

;)

I'll try... I know it's gonna be hard, but that also means I have to trim off excess words... Doh!

huzzah for angst!

Good job, it is very nice, and imaginative. You asked for what we thought it means, and I am gonna tell you what I think... It sounds to me, like the world is too much, there is beauty there, but it is fading. It sounds as if you (The person in the poem) just wants to escape from the world he/she is in, and start afresh, a journey unfamiliar and filled with discovery. It is great so far, and I hope that if you do turn it into a poem, that I get to see it. I'm sure that many people can relate to those feelings, keep up the writing.

So far out of people who have read it, you are the closest person to truly understanding what it means. It's not really angsty at all, once the meaning is there. I do like how I wrote it though, in that everyone who has read it has taken it in his/her own way.

Alright, I'm gonna add my thoughts here, and you can tell me what you think... I've done this before, writing down my thoughts, and I have actually turned some of them into songs, and this one became so far my best song to date, which hopefully I'll be recording with some friends of mine next week. So yeah, tell me what you think...

I am outside in a rocky badland. I stand there alone, and it stretches for miles. It isn't night, but is for some reason dark. I stumble along blind, until I realize that my eyes are closed. How could I not know? The sudden flash of light blinds me, and knocks me back. I look around, and discover that I have lost my way, I don't know where I am going but I know it is the wrong direction. I look for something familiar, something to guide my way and in the distance I see... I see a light? I was wrong, even though my eyes are open, it is still dark, and I can hardly see. I make my way for the light, but when I get there, it shuts off, and enfolds me in a deep darkness... I try to open my eyes, but they are open, there is nothing. Still where the light was, I hear a soft, comforting voice telling me to believe... I remain there, a long time, unable to understand, unable to do anything but cry, until it dawns on me. The voice is stronger now, and it speaks to me truth. Phrases flash through my mind, but unlike my other memories, they remain. I still don't know who I am, how I got here, or where to go, but I know how to get there. All of a sudden, a small light appears, a mere candle in a sea of darkness, but I can see again, and my strength grows. As my strength grows, so does the light, and the darkness. Soon, even the sun bows before my light, and I can see everything clearly. I stand not alone, there are millions of people around, all stumbling around in their own darkness. I have been through the dark, and now I see the light, it is my light, a light which everyone has. I go to the first person, and whisper "Believe..."

hey poetthief, I'll tell you what I think of your work, the description seems to reference a cycle, as the imagery of the phoenix embodies. It makes me think of experiences that start out something grand and untouchable, and are by those properties wonderful. Yet when finally understood they lose a portion of their grandeur, to the point where they become just as mundane as the rest of reality. It is painful to be disillusioned, and the torturous feelings you state in your passage represent that fact to me. But, there is always something new, there is always hope and the rebirth of ideals is metaphored by the generation of the Pheonix from the body of the disenfranchised person in your poem. I would suppose that it is the feeling of finding something new to grasp at, until you'v held it in your hand long enough to grow bored with it as well. just some thoughts.

and by the way, it is already a poem, there is no need to restructure it. I feel that the way something is originally written down is the truest form it will ever be composed of, so I would suggest that you just keep writing new things.

now you got me interested
 

here is something I wrote a while back, I know this post is for peoples opinions of your work, but I would like to share this with everyone

Shadow

My reflection in a window
Incorporeal and unreal
A phantom yearns to know
How breathing air must feel

Yet just as real as me it is
A prettier being than I
Untarnished by a lfe is his
Unblinking thoughtful eye


Tempted by spurious passion
Never could a shadow be
As we all are, by a fashion
Unwitting eyes may see

Ingenuous and compromised
Impersonal and seething
The waking mind surmised
This specter enters weeping


A hellish farce of prideful fools
Run rampant through the Eden
His fire dies and slowly cools
Transparently a heathen

Take my life, oh young shadow
Make me new and clean my sin
Find your way to a pure meadow
And never tread these paths again

Look your naked eye to the sun and want for nothing more
Into your heart of glass may the wind in torrents pour
Of longing and of passion only purest intentions have
leave my wasted life behind; let true love be thy salve

On some distant day, a candle burned until it died
And by these dying words know this, I tried, I tried, Itried

Erick Diaz

You are so close to hitting exactly what I wanted it to mean, but a little off. I like your poem as well, but I'll let you know before a mod does, in these forums, double posting is not looked upon kindly. If you want to add something, please use your edit button. Just a friendly reminder (it's in the rules.)