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Poem i wrote. Opinions wanted please.

post #1 of 22
Thread Starter 
Hey ppl! My first non cat-related post! I wrote this poem in Language arts in like a minute and a half a couple of days ago. I think it is good, but I would like some second(or third, etc.) opinions. (it is not from my point of view. I am not that depressed, )

Where inside they go, By Wesley(that is my real name, suprise suprise. Yup, i have faked you all out for a long time )

My two friends
comprehend not
this that befalls me.
They know not why, and when i sigh.
If only i could see
what it is they have inside,
in order to be happy.

I wish, i wish,
i wish to know,
where inside themselves they go,
In order to be happy.

Well? Whadya think?

Joecool(yes i will probably continue to use this psedonym)
post #2 of 22

That's really good
post #3 of 22
Originally Posted by joecool
Joecool(yes i will probably continue to use this psedonym)
...Hey looks that we have a new star here on the Bohemian place of the Site!
Congrats is good!
post #4 of 22
its nice
post #5 of 22
Thread Starter 
Awww, thanks you guys!! You really think so??
I thought it was sort of awkward in a way. I dunno. Thanks
post #6 of 22
Nice work! You have a strong sense of style and rhythm...
post #7 of 22
Thread Starter 
I do? Thanks!
Though it only took 90 seconds to write. I expected a lot of critisism. It doesn't seem very good for an 8th grader, in my opinion.
post #8 of 22
It's deep...I like it!!!

Great job! I'd love to see what you could do in more than 90 seconds!
post #9 of 22
Exellent...I'll have a cup of espresso with that please.
post #10 of 22
Thread Starter 
Thanks... I didn't get the expresso thing, xocats... Im sure it is something positive, though...
.... Yeah. Thanks.

And sometime when i don't have six hours of homework, i may just write smtg in a more than 90 seconds.

Thank for all the praise!!
post #11 of 22
Ah, the espresso thing. Well, back in the dark ages (late 1950s, early '60s, when I was but a wee lass), just before the emergence of hippies, there were beatniks. The stereotypical beatnik was a college student who wore a black turtleneck, black beret, and black sunglasses (even at night), and was the epitome of "cool." (In fact, Joe Cool, the Snoopy persona after whom you have named yourself, is a parody of a beatnik!)

Anyway, beatniks traditionally gathered in tiny, candle-lit basement coffeeshops, smoking and drinking espresso while listening to the poetry recitations of fellow beatniks, whose performances were often punctuated by bongo drums. Beatniks were passionate in their poetry, but very low-key in their behavior. If they liked a performance, they didn't clap -- they just snapped their fingers. :-)

You're probably too young to have read any Jack Kerouac or Allen Ginsberg, but they were known as poets of the "Beat Generation," and helped establish the beatnik style. Here's one of my favorite quotes ever, a famous snippet from Kerouac's landmark novel, "On The Road:"

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..."

So that's why the reference to espresso. Keep writing! :-)
post #12 of 22
Thread Starter 
That's interesting poetry. Very desscriptive. Are those "beatniks" Sort of like the stereotype behind the movie "grease", maybe?

Oddly enough, i have been known to on occasion wear sunglasses at night. I get so adjusted that i can see with them on, but when i take them off i have like night vision!!

Interesting comparison to my poem. My dad was one of the beatniks i am sure, he always talks about what happened in the sixties. I read him my poem, but he didn't say anything besides his belief that it was good. Maybe the name "beatnik" was a local thing?

And the joecool thing, i didn't know that there was a character with that name. Dad always calls me that when i change my hair or dressing style, so i decided to name myself that here . He said it was an old expression, in like the sixties.
post #13 of 22
Wonderful poem , what could you do in 180 seconds???
post #14 of 22
Originally Posted by joecool
That's interesting poetry. Very desscriptive. Are those "beatniks" Sort of like the stereotype behind the movie "grease", maybe?
... Maybe the name "beatnik" was a local thing?
Ah, no, those were Greasers and Bobbysoxers in that movie. They were kids who were going to grow up to be mechanics and hairdressers -- 'WAY uncool in the eyes of the Beatniks. Beatniks were a little older, college-age and up, and they were very intellectual, very political, very intense and analytical in their thinking. The Beatniks were too busy debating Proust and Nietsche to listen to Elvis. :-)

Not local, no -- Beatniks were a nationally-known subculture. But the "place to be" if you were a Beatnik (or wanted to become one) was New York City or San Francisco.

I think I like your dad! He lived through some fascinating times. Sometime you should ask him to sit down with you and play some of the music of that era (it was GREAT), and tell you about things like the McCarthy hearings, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the Civil Rights Movement, the Kennedy and King assassinations, Vietnam, the hippies, the Anti-War Movement, Elvis, Dylan, The Beatles, Janis & Jimi & Jim, Woodstock, the moon landing, Nixon, Watergate, and the last chopper out of Saigon.

Once you've had that conversation, you'll have some real perspective on recent American history... and if you decide you want to become a writer, you'll find the song lyrics of the '60s VERY inspirational. (Especially Bob Dylan's.)

Gosh, you're making me wish I had become a teacher! Thanks for listening...
post #15 of 22
Thread Starter 
oh, i see who they were...

Yeah my dad is cool, he had shoulder length hair in 1972,(as i do now)

Most of those conversations we have had already. The music was great. I like the moody blues, from the seventies, and i really like the beatles. I get this song from Buffalo Springfield stuck in my head all the time... STOP, everbody, what's that sound? Everbody look what's goin' down....

As you may have guessed, i ask a lot of questions, and my parents answer if they can. I never forget anything they tell me as answers unless i didn't listen the first time, because i may have a photographic memory. Ex. I could probably tell you things that happened before i was a year old, 4 years earlier than i am supposed to be able to remember. It is cool to not forget stuff!!

post #16 of 22
Thread Starter 
thanks for all that cool info on the "beatniks"!

Hey could i have a little more feedback please?
post #17 of 22
great work
post #18 of 22
Very good and very honest. I love writing because thats the one place i can be totally honest...your poem is great and i can relate to your words. Thank you for sharing!
post #19 of 22
Thread Starter 
well i wasn't being serious, i am not depressed. But thanks all the same.
post #20 of 22
I love this poem, for it speaks to my heart. I often wonder how people are always happy. Happiness has to come from within in roder to be REAL. Otherwise, it is false happiness. You are very good at epxressing yourself so that others understand what you mean. Great!
post #21 of 22
Actually, I don't think that is poetry - as far as I can see it's expressive prose - but it's really good all teh same It makes you stop and think about what makes people tick and whether or not what they have is true happiness, or something they've simply created in order to fool not only those around them, but themselves. keep it up!
post #22 of 22
Thread Starter 
Hey, thanks you ppl for all the encouragement , i wrote a new one on thanksgiving when i was bored(and it took a little more than 90 seconds). Well, i didn't write it down, i just thought of it and didn't forget it. It is a lot shorter and im not sure what exactly it means. Here goes. And thanks again. (And i know that this was the best place to put things like this, because ppl who love cats tend to be very intelligent and thoughtful. )

There are things contained within my mind
That nothing earthly can unbind,
No peering, prying eyes can find.
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