"edger" poems
"Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?"
~Later, towards the end~
Alice asks, "Hatter, why is a raven like a writing desk?"
Mad Hatter: "I haven't the slightest idea."
Then Alice disappears back home.
So why is a raven like a writing desk?
Ravens symbolizes death and to me Writing symbolizes
freedom.
But when you think about it ravens fly-- come and go as they please. Writers feel like that when they write at a writing desk--
come and go as they please.
So maybe there's the answer...
Ravens are free, and a writing desk is a place to be free.
But maybe a raven is also like a writing desk because most good poems deal with some type of grief, or joy...Every good poet deals with issues with life and the grief that comes with death. Every great writer has troubles-- look at; Edger Allen Poe, Dylan Thomas, and Emily Dickerson, just to name a few. Edger often wrote of ravens and drank, Dylan also drank, and Emily was afraid to go outside. We all have troubles, but only a certain amount of people can write about them in poetry and make the words be so beautiful. So maybe in the movie there was no answer, but it all seems to random to have no answer. So here's my answer: Freedom and Troubles, Ravens have/deal with both as well as a writer at a writing desk.
Do you know why a raven is like a writing desk?
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 4:18 PM UTC
Edger Allan Poe inspired me
Shakespeare educated me
Maya Angelou raised me
These writers created a beast in me
A beast of emotions, words that lack definitions
Only existsting in my expressions
Ideal to the common citizen
I write with a pen full of love, curiosity and pain
Emotions that have gone blind, to common sense, and swallowed a pill full of ego
I realize I am worthless without this pen and this pain
I write of love as if I feel it
I write of Justice as if I need it
I write of human behavior as if I need to fix it
If I am to die let my words live on within your emotions when you read them
Forever and ever I hope you feel them
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 7:15 PM UTC
I want to be a great poet
Make you think and ask questions
Seek the answer to know it
Beautiful poems I want to write
Deep in your heart I want to touch
Bring what I see into your site
Can I get you to laugh and cry
Write my poetry on your mind
I want to write with conviction
To be able tell stories of rhyme
That makes me have to consider
How to write every line
With words new things I will try
Invoke an emotion inside
So you have an experience
Lay it all out on the line
To all the poets of the world
The masters of this very gift
I want to learn to write from you
And give my poetry a lift
So Edger Allen Poe will teach
Shakespeare will educate too
Wordology I will seek
Till I am a master that's new
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 10:02 AM UTC
"Those who create literature know first hand how difficult creating it can be........." @Jeancarlo_ochosi
Poetical lunacy. My brain plays it as a movie. A human being who speaks so fluently. Suffering from symptoms that turns us into maniacs. Slavery isn't over it just took a new alias. The data repository establishment of maintenance almost turned me into an atheist scared of aliens. Why should I write? When I can make a better living, selling freeze dry venom to wild life clinics. See I hate being a predictable bore, when you get used to me you wont love me no more. My final soliloquy of the eternal paramour. Transcending beyond the flesh and the blood because this is just level one. Finding the answers they did not know. Maybe Edger Allen Poe description of El dorado is not so? The world is trapped in a bubble but it did not phase us a student over zealous I would rather learn it now than learn it later.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
In case they come looking, I will pretend I don't see glitter
in the sky, because I do,
a crossed eyed believer
screams for you. "I want to go home now"
twenty-four years grieving
the past
present future, I still don't know
who I'm missing
I've gone psychotic once again-- don't dare
turn round, they're coming for you
with rot blood
and a poor children's army
so I was told
Lucy is full of magic,
under the
insane asylum,
in all delirium
she left her body within a hollow
willow tree
to become a dream walker
pacing deadfall manor, yet,
someday
you will understand
why we cannot build ivory towers
to heaven
someday you will understand
why the deciding fates
left emerald tablets for
daria's eyes, why they burn-- I don't know
I cannot make a move
without DMT and a heartbreak--
the critical axis
of creatures
connected to contrasted scenes
here I was told to burn the money,
"birth stars, instead"
but if you catch the ash...
Hell is a poet. roll it. smoke it.
look at all the glitter in the sky?
each moment is a myth
handed to people who
can no longer remember where they came from
I have too many, they pile up
like tangled chrysanthemums
beating out each others
beauty in the pursuit of the virgins sun-- Edger Keela
Edger Keela said
moments matter-- in fact, 15 minutes from now
I will look up and mourn
another lost
trip
trip
trip trip
knowing that the only time I cry
is when clarity and alchemy forget one another,
true love
is a twisting light, I bow my head
when I speak, I lay down
and write with my tongue, my lips
but willow
can't sleep why can't willow sleep?
on white sheets
of unwritten life lines
I've come to understand
nothing but secrete doors, as if
reality was hidden behind them;
words of pitch black can be found, here
the house is on fire...
we set ourselves on fire on fire on fire,we write.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 12:53 AM UTC
Voices, from the other side
oh, can you hear them cry ?
they are calling out a name
a name of darkness
a name one knows so well
Dark Angel from a living Hell,
They never stop crying
they are acting as if they are insane
Oh, No
your not going to give me the blame
I know your long gone
I'm not taken that gilt
No more pain I say
move away from my space,
When I sleep I get those dreams
you know the kind
the one that torment
just to miss with the mind
I can see Dark Angels eyes upon me
he is my inner demon
that wont go away
he loves to see me in pain ,
He loves to control my moods
slowly he makes his way
slowly hear comes the clouds of grey
Oh, hear comes more pains
he is transforming like a prince
he looks almost like Edger Allen Poe,
He stands so tall
he thinks he knows it all
he is a beast of all times
he loves to make me cry
he claws at me in darken dreams
he digs deep within ,
Why do you come to me I cry?
then he stands over me and say
Because I can !
and I will do as I like
just then I heard thousands of voices
coming out from the wind
telling him to take his stand
This is a command ,
Old Dark Angel moved away from me
looking at me deep
He knew just then
Who send me among enemies .
Poetic Lilly Judy Emery (c)
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 1:33 AM UTC
metallic edger grinds the concrete
sending sparks askew
offering trenches for rain rivulets
and a break from the monotony
of the cold impersonal sidewalk
granting a distinctive separation
from the well-manicured lawn
just adjacent –
wide brimmed hat hides a sweaty face
darkened upper sleeves show
the land of lost perspiration
the official ‘wipe-zone’
for the landscape technician
paid by the contract
not many how many hours it takes –
she peeks out from behind lacy drapes
gazing at the most forbidden of fruits
longing to feel rough hands
with skill and delicacy
create new designs upon her landscape
show her the care and patience
she has watched him bestow
on so many flowerbeds
maybe one day…..her bed –
fleeting images of stolen kisses
and soft embraces
dance across her mind’s eye
when at once the rattle
of a rusted out and dented pick-up
travels slowly down the driveway
leaving her lost in lamentation
longing for next Tuesday –
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC