there was a boy
who sat on windowsills
and played his guitar
there was a girl who
sat on rooftops
and wrote poetry
in her leather bound notebook
his eyes were hazel-
just like almonds and his hair
was as black as the
night sky after a thunderstorm
he kept to himself and
was kinder than everyone in
the world put together.
she was lanky and sheepish
she kept to herself and
wore lose jeans she
wrote messily because she
had too many thoughts in
her little head, some that were
killing her slowly
(6.24pm | j.g.)
I thought to those hands that draw my strings
why do ghosts only haunt the living?
Fear slithers down from the stains on my ceiling
coiling thickly around my throat
dripping feted sweat
from the tips of its' fangs
“To Spur You To Run”
so down the darkened hallways and
out to the dirty
downtown streets I flew
skittering fitfully between the alleys
for risk of being seen
before slipping into that same empty bar
me oh my, what dim corners you have
ducking onto that same crooked confessional
oh great bartend, what clouded eyes you have
where I am promptly handed
my glass of Sorrow
deliver me from evil
atop a napkin wrote with print
“All The Better To Drown You With.”
it seems I have forgotten
if this sip or the last
was bitter or sweet
but it burns my eyes
twists my ribs, thickens the wind
and in the moment I see that face
out beyond the foamy waves
that shore upon the dregs
oh hallowed face of Judgement,
it seems blackened ivy has taken root
around your eyes
"I Tip Your Service With A Nod"
every block that I stumble by
orange streetlight onto the sidewalk
which whetted feet find liquor slick
thus put nose to grindstone, idiom or no
I hear the whispered Fury
when I fall down far enough
when my ear is planted to the earth
addressing me curtly
burning up through the asphalt
and stretching uncomfortably underneath my fingers
she lifts me screaming from the molten gutter
"To Hell With Forgiveness"
I find none other than Passion
standing under a spotlight
always dreamed of becoming a star
on the next street corner
you burned out far below the heavens of the hollywood highrise
she beckons me over with knowing gestures
but you still wound up center stage
“I Am Cheap and Love is Dead
Buried With All The Other Fairy Tales”
to which I respond
“We Must Make Due.”
She came and left swiftly
departing with the last of the warmth
in this empty room
douses candles in gasoline
burning half as long but twice as bright
after which I rose and went to my window
ans listened to the chirps of Melancholy
singing of sin.
Copyright ©2010-2013 Sean Winslow All Rights Reserved
tried a hundred twenty times
and still cannot find a rhyme
to write about you
and everything you do
wrote about trees and wrote books
and still cannot write the way you look
from the way you carelessly smile
to your suspiciously gleaming eyes
effortlessly described the smell of rain
and listed every one of life's pains
yet cannot rationalize all the good in you
along with the bad that still shine through
yet everytime i write about you
the ink in my hands stay still and blue
and my thoughts cannot go through
You're beyond the bounds of possibility
that i cannot fathom into reality
Note: this is a poetic translation of the poem 'Der Elefant', which I wrote originally in German.
He lies in the grasses
A white monolith
His skull a great mountain
Armored in ivory
Half buried, one tusk
spears the night sky
The black void of an eye
devours the moon
His grave is a secret
Hidden by time and
corrosion of memory
The others lie in
Their departure was for him
the departure of his voice
The warmth of his songs
flowed colorless from his
and with each song his
life left him in one great
You're present when I hear this song.
As if our moments in time
and futures unknown
One hears the sound of pure water
that you hold so dear.
Washing away regret
and all that you fear.
Its rhythm flows with dark ease,
surfing over thresholds,
and teasing the boundaries of time.
Just as you gracefully ebb
from your story's past,
and aspire to freely climb.
Its beat rises to meet our ways of being
a its tempo jumps deep to be fully present.
Just as your gifts to us become more fluent,
your love of life becomes your servant.
Its clear and abundant tone sings
Just as your voice shares its
The song takes its time to bring us through,
As you unveil the vibrance of your colorful view.
And as you savor today's moments,
seek it significance,
C. . .
I hope you
like this song,
Oh, I hope I got it right.
I felt your presence,
heard this song,
wrote this poem,
what to write about tonight
I wrote one
about the rush of
about how crazy
this world can be
but that's overused
I could write
about the woman
again I guess
she comes and goes
but I know her when
I see her
in the eyes
of them all
you can tell
where she is
waiting to bait
she will always catch
though she's long gone
she will always catch me
I write to avoid her
I drink to forget her
just to feel her again
she will catch
and I will
One of the topics that broached while in class was…Is Rap Poetry…I simply replied yes that it is in fact poetry and that I ‘am a poet there was a quick reply quite loudly stated that no it is not, as to this response I was baffled as to why students firmly believed that Rap is not poetry. Hence the debate
Debate: Is Rapping Poetry
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Rapping (also known as emceeing MCing, spitting bars or rhyming) refers to "spoken or chanted rhyming lyrics". The art form can be broken down into different components, where it is separated into “content”, “flow” (rhythm and rhyme), and “delivery”. Rapping is distinct from spoken word poetry in that it is performed in time to a beat.
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This particular information was obtained from the world renowned site Wikipedia under the title Rapping, so the quote rhythm and rhyme are associated with what is commonly known as Rapping.
It has been a fascinating eye opener for me to write this particular piece in regards to the origins of both rap and poetry…both types of oral communication through which we like to convey to the audience in a lyrical format that all can understand and appreciate. So Rakim and Big Daddy Kane agree upon the fact that rhyme is often thought to be the most important factor of rap writing…rhyme is what gives rap lyrics their musicality.
These men are well known Rappers in their own right and have written a book simply called ‘How to Rap’ It has been noted that rap’s use of rhyme is some of the most advanced in all forms of poetry – music scholar Adam Bradley notes “rap rhymes so much and with such variety that it is now the largest and richest contemporary archive of rhymed words. It has done more than any other art from in recent history to expand rhyme’s formal range and expressive possibilities.
RYHM is in as we all know part of our English which encompasses the use of lyrical words in a format which depending the writer’s expressive writing can either be in Poetry format or lyrical poetry format…and depending on the syllabus and the tone of the writing of poetry or lyrical poetry it can be expressed in song, poetry or rap.
I would like to demonstrate with you my own rhyming of words that I wrote myself to demonstrate this factor.
My Rap Poem
Ryming and Poetry
Yo yo lets Rap it..
Yo yo lets gap it…
Rhyming and Poetry
Don’t diss a poet
Whose passion is words?
What fool told you
That rap aint poem
Aint it a fact
That rap is words
Aint it a fact
That poems is words
So don’t tell me
RAP aint poetry
Take it from a poet
Whose passion is words?
TAKE DAT….WORD OUT
I would also like to quote a poem that was written by a poet and this particular poem became famous not only in the poetry world but world wide
The Rose that Grew from Concrete
Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature's law is wrong it
learned to walk without having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.
This poem was written by a Mr Tupac Shakur or better known as 2pac, Shakur began his career as a roadie, backup dancer, and MC for the alternative hip hop group Digital Underground, eventually branching off as a solo artist he was also a poet.
Is Rap Poetry or not Poetry
This debate came about when we were in class and my tutor said that Rap is Poetry, Myself and Lee said verbally no it is not. This is why we are having this debate.
Rap is one of the biggest selling music genres today, and many rap artists also consider themselves modern day poets, as do their fans. Whether you prefer poetry over rap or the other way, around there are definitely similarities and differences between both art forms. The main difference is the music. In poetry, a combination of words will create a rhythm such as iambic pentameter, the first word is an unaccented syllable followed by an accented syllable with total of 10 syllables with a total of 10 syllables per line. There is a rhythm to the phrasing of poetry and rapping. The difference is that. The rhythm of rap, works in conjunction to the beat of the music, so although the phrasing can be different, both retain a certain type of rhythm and flow of words.
Although rhyming isn’t always present in rap or poetry, it certainly is common. In some poetry, the words at the end of two consecutive lines will rhyme, or the words at the end of the second or fourth lines. However, some artists will make a variation of rhymes throughout the poem. Rap will also rhyme, but the beats of the music will sometimes dictate the phrasing as well as the placement of the rhyming words.
With poets and rappers, one of the biggest similarities is their desire to convey a message. The content may differ, but the need to evoke an emotion response is the same. It’s typically driven by their view of the world or society and wanting to state their point of view. There is often the use of metaphors within poetry and rap to convey their message and some is written that allows readers or listeners to make their own interpretation.
The most obvious difference in these two artistic styles is that rap is words put to music, and poetry is not. Also, big considerations in rap music are the beats and the groove. In poetry, there is nothing consider but the words and the rhythm and rhyme. However, in rap the importance of the beats can sometimes overshadow the importance of lyrics. Rappers are also sometimes concerned with whether or not people can dance to the song. Chances are you won’t find many poets that are concerned with whether or not their poems will inspire them to dance while reading them.
As an old saying goes listen to the music not the beat, the words feel the pain and emotion it screams listen to their story as in the life you learn from the stories. You gain pain you feel emotion, you get lost in the rap. Know what their dreams and hopes are in the word, as the beat was just the drive like your own heart, different beat, different words, but one heart and one song. I remember a time when music use to relate to what we do, a thing we hope to say to a lover, or a crushing dream, or to be a Casanova knowing that if you could not say a thing in your mind or heart the song could say it for you. One time I remember being so angry at the world, and my family, had dark times my world, writing poetry couldn’t cut it for me, it could explain and yes it rhymes it sounds good, but it always seems to miss its point for me, but one thing remains with me, I time a shared with friends around a few drinks, I heard a song by 2pac about his mama, what he said, really explained what a mother is thinking, this guy knew what I was thinking and how I felt, he knew how to explain his point. I sat their listening to his rap, he said; ‘Aint no women alive that can take my mamas place’. I wondered as I kept listening to his song, I felt we related on a higher level, I can’t explain how this guy can put words in a rap that helped me through a dark time in my life, and Rap as always been a big influence in my life.
It was interesting how the topic ended, and as a poet I still believe in the positive but the opposing team closure had me thinking again but then I realized he has not been exposed to poetry in general…so therefor it was indeed an eye opener for me. The positive was myself the negative was a student of mine Matthew, His last conclusion of the debat was written in his own words, I am very proud of his work and I will as a poet will introduce more works to him as the course grows...I have told them I am a poet...they laughed at me hence the debate... I just had to prove my point and you know me...never step down from any challange...grins...anyone else want to prove to this young man that Rap is Poetry. Negatives 5 votes Postitive 5 votes...that was a surprise in itself.
My students are Matthew, Lee, Samson, Ken and Ngametua.
I would also like to thank Silentwriter for giving me the idea Rythem And Poetry as a heading for my rap thank you sir.
I wrote you a poem
but I crumpled it up
because I remember how much
I hate hearing about myself.
Seeing myself skewered out
on a circus mirrors, through your
I hate it.
So I wrote you a poem
and swallowed it down
like cotton candy, words like
sticking to my teeth, something my mother
can complain about when I come home,
but for now, the white cone sits
sticky in my hands, begging
It starts with drifting. Having no time for one another. Then it's a fight about how they didn't call or decided to go to their friends house instead of being with you. Words are spoken that have been bottled up for months, just building up; truths are revealed and tears are spilled. You go into a blind rage. Breaking everything that comes to your hand, ripping every picture up with him in it. You scream out into the empty abis about how you hate him and he was the worst. You no longer feel that empty hole that has been eating up at you for days, the feeling of him not loving you. It is only filled with hatred and fury. Then it hits you. You find your favorite sweater of his that you slept in every night to feel like he was holding you, the smell of his cologne that would cloud your mind, or the first love letter you wrote for him, but never gave because you were afraid that he didn't feel the same. Everything comes back in floods and flashes. How his hand fits perfectly in yours, his crocked smile, the way his eyes shined in the sunlight, how he wiped away the tears when your whole wold was falling apart. Then in that moment, your eyes blood red, tears soaking your face, you realize no one in the world could love you more than he ever did.
I want to erase
every person who touched you
how I wish you were a notebook
I could just turn to
the next page.
know how to write for me
because you wrote for them first,
because you fucked them before me.
I have the breath
of other women now:
you kiss me, and it is shared.
everyone should die
when they want to touch someone
not just a little, but full
cellular reincarnation, new hands.
and I am mad that they still
with pieces of you
and I am mad that you still exist
with pieces of them
and I am mad that
we use the same language to say I
love you that you did with