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When most people think of music
I bet they think the trash tones
equal temperament


My outlook is messier.
When I think music,
I hear pataflaflas, diddles, flamacues
banging sticks on...
anything really.

Some would call the latter less barbaric.
Chase Parrish Apr 21
It all started on a night like tonight
It was quiet then too
With the breeze leaving
a small whistle in the air.

Fate on the breeze,
But we wouldn't know that until now
would we?
You could hear it though
if you listen to it
Oh, wait is that a crossbow bolt?
You've died.
Um... this came out of nowhere, and it might be nothing... please critique. I am SUPER uncomfortable with unrhymed poetry, so... let me know what was good, and not so good and why, if possible.
Chase Parrish Apr 15
A slow rabble was the army tent
In the sense events commenced.
Lines lingered laughingly long

Senescent men intent in resentment
Furiously fighting fear.
Young men too, letting bravery ferment

Fools to the firmament.
Fate's Impertinent
Bent by torments underwent.

Who begged to be sent off to war?
Not me for sure; not anymore.
I won't ask why I was whisked away,
That I thought through though.
Wistfully waiting, I Inclined
To outline this old tale of mine
In the event I'm left behind.

So to whom it may concern,
Know you how my spirit burned!
Watch as I, while mortal
Fought foul fate, so much unearned
And how, with luck, I'll yet return.
This is the fifth poem in my The ****** Journal series, although I suppose you could call this the first poem in the set, as this is going to be the beginning of the narrative. Feel free to critique!
Chase Parrish Apr 14
The bulwark of the lake
Where we would stop to play
Had fish bones in the wave's wake
So there we wouldn't stray
You are my fish bones.
This was in response to a poetry prompt about dead fish of all things, but I like the way it turned out. Feel free to critique or comment!
Chase Parrish Apr 11
Eastward we marched toward the Black-Water Tower.
Every stout hero aloft by their willpower
We knew the bloodshed the pathing would bring
March'd we with willful and unyielding hardening;
March did we eastward,
To Black-Water tower.

Damnable scourge is the Black-Water Tower.
Watching our coming with malice and glowering
Knowing what death it brings
Naught did we cower!
March did we onward,
To Black-Water tower.

First came the rattling,
Then came the thundering
Lumbering hoof-beats grew louder and louder.
Then did the marsh turn alive with a showering,
Splinters of arrows all poisoned and sour.

Bellowed and charged did we
Onward to victory.
Many did fall but were all men of valor.
     Righteous, and honored.Yes, all men of valor.

Death did not leave them fair,
Nor took them anywhere.
Save for the heavens, and memories of ours.
After we burned them, some somber few hours,
March did we eastward,
From Black-Water tower.
This is the fifth poem in my The ****** Journal series, it was also the result of a prompt we had in my poetry discord to write a poem with a unique meter or internal rhyme scheme. I took a lot of influence from Charge of The Light Brigade, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. My goal was to write a completely dactylic poem in the setting of The ****** Journal while portraying a theme of valor. As always I'm up for comments and critiques!
[Meaning] = The way we use language to convey [FEELINGS];
Words have [Meaning]
Creativity, Force, Power.etc;}

If(Poem() != [Creative]){
~query~ Is it poetry?}

/* There is no point in writing what is already written */

It's not what we want to say that matters because the FEELINGS we experience in our lives have been felt before. It's trying to express those feelings, and share them with others in a new way.

Ok, so this might be a weird one... I was a computer science major for about a year before I decided it wasn't really for me. Also, this weeks challenge in the poetry discord I'm a member of was, "Write an avant-garde poem." So I suppose this is the baby of both of those things. If you are interested in the discord here's the link.

As always critiques or comment's are very appreciated!
Chase Parrish Mar 29
March do we, along the ash and cyprus
While contemplating natures of the moor.
So very full of life, and also death.

Briefly glancing round, the bog seems lifeless,
To walk so alert, danger life obscures
March do we, along the ash and cyprus

But after observation, I confess
Quite lively lies our grand mud-soaked detour.
So very full of life, and also death.

Every creature here exudes unkindness,
And any of them might our death ensure.
March do we, along the ash and cyprus

Yet still, I find their number in excess
Than places having more growth, and verdure.
So very full of life, and also death.

So now my new perspective does egress
Much different than it ever did before.
March do we, along the ash and cyprus
So very full of life, and also death.
This was using a prompt for the weekly challenge in a discord I'm a member of, but I didn't submit it because I finished it late. We were supposed to quite a poem about duality. This is also the third poem in my ****** Journal series. Check out my page for the other poems in the collection, and free feel to check out the discord.  As always comments and critiques are appreciated.
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