Do many INTJs write poetry/lyrics?

[Danneh]

I write poetry, but find that very few INTJ's I know do. It's too emotional for them, and while I agree it can be, it's the only time that I do.. well, do emotions.



- But the thing about it is, well, I don't feel the emotions I'm writing. I've been told my pieces are emotional, but I don't personally see it, I see them as long metaphors or explaining situations I've observed. Whether it be child abuse, or women who's loved ones have left for war.

[Haphazard]

I personally can't stand poetry. It just doesn't seem complete enough whenever I read it. I can never get the rhythm down and I just don't enjoy reading it. When I read something by choice, I want something I can really sink my teeth into, which would likely explain why I don't read many short stories, either.

[integratedvelocity]

I read it occasionally, usually the long epic type. The only kind of poetry I can write is a limerick. Sad, I know.

[Danneh]

I read it occasionally, usually the long epic type. The only kind of poetry I can write is a limerick. Sad, I know.

Not sad. I can only do free style. I'm not any good at doing other kinds, though I was taught how to do them.

[dandylion]

Only when I have strong feelings and the words just come to my mind. Otherwise, no. Sometimes I do enjoy reading poetry. It depends on the subject.

[pallasathena]

I used to write poetry as a child, but stopped at about age 20. I just wasn't inspired to write anymore. All of my stuff rhymed, no free verse and no epic poems. I even did haiku for a bit. I wish I still wrote poetry, I miss it.

[TheLastMohican]

I read it occasionally, usually the long epic type. The only kind of poetry I can write is a limerick. Sad, I know.

There once was an INTJ
Who posted on forums all day.
She typed out replies
Of incredible size,
Until she had no more to say.

[integratedvelocity]

The INTJ you did mention
Is now suff'ring great mental tension
For all her replies
Of incredible size
Have slaughtered her plans for a pension.

Ah, the dreaded procrastination bug. Though I hope I won't have to rely on a pension...

Can we please have a limerick thread?!?

[Haphazard]

The INTJ you did mention
Is now suff'ring great mental tension
For all her replies
Of incredible size
Have slaughtered her plans for a pension.

Ah, the dreaded procrastination bug. Though I hope I won't have to rely on a pension...

Can we please have a limerick thread?!?

I love limericks, but I'm so bad at them. Here we go, though:

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[TheLastMohican]

I love limericks, but I'm so bad at them. Here we go, though:

To view links or images in this forum your post count must be 2 or greater. You currently have 0 posts.

I just finished posting my own. Now what?





TheLastMohican added to this post, 3 minutes and 26 seconds later...

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Above is the link to my thread, which was posted several seconds after Haphazard's.

Let the Battle of the Twin Threads begin!

[DeadSpace]

Started on limericks, at 13 or 14, wrote some. Went to more...formal poetry 17 on up. 2002 had 1 maybe 2 published, didn't get any money for it so didn't care. Haven't written anything in years.

[HappyMondays]

I write poetry, when it strikes me. I have my own form, too.

Take an Elizabethian sonnet and rhyme scheme.

The first letters of each line form words that summarize the theme of the poem.

"Flip the conceit" on the last two lines.

I'll see if I can find one or I'll write one to show what I mean.

[Parallel]

I used to write a lot of prose poetry. I never really like plain old poetry I always thought it was too airy but love prose.

[enfpchick]

wow i would never connect you guys to poetry
because you know *FEELINGS*
BUT my INTJ friend actually writes it
and he does a pretty decent job

[Uytuun]

Hmmm...we are rumoured to have relatively strong Fi. :p

The closest I get to it is in the form of some kind of stream of consciousness-y prose poetry. I use it to relieve feelings and delete it immediately after. I don't even feel like it helps with dealing with feelings, really. Comes across as fake.

I do enjoy good poetry, but prose will always be my number 1. :p

[Uberfuhrer]

I don't like poetry. (Although I'm actually attracted to girls who do write poetry.) I never understood it. Since not all of it rhymes and not all of it has a certain amount of syllables or words. And poetry can also just amount to list making. Overall, I think that speaking in metaphors sometimes amounts to passive-aggressiveness. But again, the people who write poetry often attract me.

[Tinmaiden]

I'm an INTJ, and though it irks me to admit it, I write poetry occasionally. Usually, the form is perfect, and interestingly enough people tell me things like "I never thought you had it in you" if (by some horrible stroke of fate) they figure out one of my pen names and read something by me.

[spiritdetectivegirl]

I do, though I don't find it boast worthy, it usaly falls under the "Edgar Allan Poe" catagory of poems, good classic horror short stories sewn togather in ryming verse.

I do love Poe and Lovecraft.

*sighs dreamily*

[Asylum]

:laughs at the INTJ limerick:
I only like certain poetry and I don't really care for amateur poetry, though I'm an amateur myself. I suppose I do freestyle poetry... I'm pretty bad at sticking to a form, I mostly write poetry for release.

[azelismia]

I have written some poetry in the day. my favorite poem from my hand is called thoroughly morbid Mildred. It must be read with a Posh English accent though. For an ideal reading it would have to be in the setting of an overstuffed leather chair by a fire in a kind of Mobile Mystery theatre opening type setting.

Thoroughly Morbid Mildred


Thoroughly morbid Mildred
was sitting in a chair
all the day she sat there
breathing stale air

Kismet and Leviathan,
her housepets two
opted for that moment
to waltz into the room

they threw things out the window
they threw things on the floor
then Kismet got the notion
to throw things out the door

thoroughly morbid Mildred
went running through the night
but Kismet and Leviathan
would not let her out of sight.

they followed her over hill
they followed her over dale
they shot some arrows at her
but, Alas, they fell astray

finis

[ElstonGunn]

I don't really like poetry, but I've tried writing songs before. I guess the lyrics part is essentially the same thing.

Whenever I try to write something like that, I end up wanting to smash my guitar, burn all my records, puncture my ear drums, and never have anything to do with music ever again for as long as I live. ...Maybe that's an exaggeration, but it's incredibly frustrating when there is something that you would really like to be good at, but no matter how hard you try, you keep failing at it.

[True Rune]

No, I don't really like to read or write poetry. I didn't think INTJ had to do with it, just that I'm not into artsy things.

[Rohsiph]

azelismia: if you will let me ask a "workshop" question:

Why do you end your poem with "astray"? The word is jarring and doesn't fit the rest of the poem. There's something a bit interesting that you would choose for the last word in the poem to be disconnected like this, but upon first reading I find it to be more distracting than compelling.


As for myself, I've stated on a few other threads (I think all of which have fallen at least a few pages behind the periphery): I'm hoping to make it into an MFA program in poetry by Fall, 2009. I'm attempting to advance myself based on the expectation that "to be a great modern poet, one must: 1) write good poetry, 2) read poetry well, and 3) comment on poetry well."

[azelismia]

Why do you end your poem with "astray"? The word is jarring and doesn't fit the rest of the poem. There's something a bit interesting that you would choose for the last word in the poem to be disconnected like this, but upon first reading I find it to be more distracting than compelling.


Rohsiph, I never claimed to be a Good poet. I have alternatively had the ending words as quite shy in the past which is probably better. there's a pause at the last couple words which I probably should punctuate better.

[Chisos]

Yes.

My poetry "jones" is typically triggered when something(s) in life is/are totally turning me upside down, and in and out and twirling me around.

As my mind explodes in all these directions, my free form association seems to tack down the whirl, and help me focus. Much quicker, for me, than prose.

This poetry is usually free form, and would make little, if any, sense to anyone else. But it is therapuetic for me. An aid is sorting things out.

When I read the poem a week or so later, most of the time I'll conclude that the poem totally sucks, and makes little sense. But every now and then, I think, "Aha!"

I first wrote poetry as a high school student, dealing with first love and the angst of adolescence. Then, there was hiatus of several decades.

Last Summer, I resumed, and now I wished I'd never stopped.

[Rowan]

I write poetry and work as an editor for my families’ press that publishes a lot of poetry as well as a poetry journal called Envoi – I have already published one of my pieces and ultimately plan to publish collections. I also love to read all kinds of poetry; prose poetry, epic poetry, free verse and fixed verse like sestinas. I do not see any reason for INTJs to be averse to poetry; Introverted iNtuition seems useful for both comprehending and creating a lot of verse. For some reason people associate poetry with sentimentality and triteness; I would advice anybody suffering from such misconceptions to read the poetry of Philip Larkin or Thomas Hardy.

[tenspot]

Given all of the wonderfully eloquent and colorful language used on this forum, it should only be a propos that poetry would be another feather in the INTJ cap.

[Antares]

I write vignettes, not poetry. My descriptive sentences do not fit the rhythm and I find reading poetry tedious. All those 'moons and stars' just get me all swirly... and twirly... until I had to throw my arms up in defeat. They just annoy me for no good reason. I can write freestyle though, but you don't need much skills for that.

[SongofSeptember]

Non-INTJ. Poetry, I write. Poetry, I do not read. Vignettes, I write and read.

I love writing poetry, yet I cannot stand reading most. Most of the modern poets out there are stuck on the two extremes: extremely free free verse and extremely strict fixed verse. The former sounds like the "poet" typed up a piece of prose, clicked on random places in the page and hit enter. The latter sounds like nursery rhymes.

Strangely, I'm never satisfied with my own work, but I still take enjoyment in writing it. People tell me it's very good, very emotional, but to me, I just haven't managed to conveyed exactly the right thoughts.

[Isolation]

I don't know the answer. But I've been writing poetry for years. Have some things published (should have kept up with the publications though!)

[PHS Philip]

I write poetry as an outlet for creativity and feelings. It's really not meant to be read, though. It's just something to do, a way to vent off feelings. They have rhythms and rhyme schemes and such that I make up as I feel the shape the poem should take, which makes them even more just for those purposes (because there isn't the effort involved in following a set structure)

I sometimes write a few pages of a story, but they're always the same type of thing, just based on my mood, so I never work for more than an hour or so on any one story.

[fictionsmosaic]

I wrote poetry for a good amount of time. I haven't done a lot of poetry in recent years, I lost all of my poems. Sometimes when I get really into it, I can write plenty of it. But, as I said, last time I really felt like writing poetry was in my last year of high school, wrote 114 sonnets, lost 93 of them along with various short stories and a novel attempt.

Haven't written much poetry since then, probably only a dozen or so poems, of which maybe three or four are ones that I'd actually share.

[nonentropic]

i used to write poetry when i was younger. mostly in my early to mid 20's. after that it was more along the line of rants and self-focussed exposition...leading to some death metal lyrics/songs. now i mostly just focus on putting down my intuitive insights into very clear and largely unchallengable short but very dense paragraphs.

[flex22v]

I used to churn out poetry on a daily basis. My life is less dramatic these days though and I tend to just create monologues in my head.

[Monte314]

BDF BDF

Dead cat, flat as a mat...
It's layin' in the road right beside the Rrrrrrribbon toad...
Dead cat, flat as a mat;
It must have been a REAL BIG SPLAT.



(There you have it, ladies and gentlemen... a poem about roadkill. As an added alliterative benefit, the title of the poem is the sound your tires make when they encounter the subject.)

[replicant]

I have written over a 100 poems. I like poetry. I don't have great difficulty with my emotions only occasionally.

[Zadoc]

I don't really like to read poetry, but I have been known to write it on occasion. The reason why I break with the average INTJ in this matter, and even my own personal tastes, is because I like to listen to music, and I was the lyricist in a band that I used to be a member of.

[lancelot]

I have written poetry, I have read a few poems; I like the one by Alexander Pushkin. He observes childeren and thinks of his life passing, then he reconsiders his life, and decides he wants to be burried where children are playing. I think he moves from being negative to being positive.

This is a Poem I wrote, I was inspired by one of my coworkers.

I met a woman who had been crying, she lost herself in thought and nearly drown in her tears, but the warm radiance of her thoughts dried up the water. Are you alright? I asked as I approached, "Oh yes" she replied in her confident voice. "I was only thinking!"

[sophie]

I love poetry.
So, I'd like to read some poems from intjs.

Do you know any intj poets?
or Are you a poet yourself?(then, show off your works to me.:))

[Merle]

I also love poetry... not going to share any of mine though :P

As for INTJ poets... hmmn, I'd posit that perhaps Emily Dickinson was an INTJ, or an INFJ...
John Donne could have been... or maybe ENTJ.
possibly Browning...
e.e.cummings, George Herbert and Matthew Arnold seem like INTP's to me...

So, Dickinson is my best bet.

[Rohsiph]

I'm a struggling poet/novelist. Just about to graduate with a BA in English & Philosophy, crossing my fingers that I can worm my way into a creative Master's program that I won't have to pay for (after scholarships, teaching assistanceships, tuition remission, etc).

I think that Coleridge and/or P. B. Shelley could have been INTJs. It's hard to say.

I'll think about sharing some of my own work . . .

[Merle]

[QUOTE=Rohsiph;217621]
I think that Coleridge and/or P. B. Shelley could have been INTJs. It's hard to say.

QUOTE]

I see them both as F's...Shelley ISFP and Coleridge INFP... Romantic poetry seems massively Fi based to me.

[PHS Philip]

I think that Coleridge and/or P. B. Shelley could have been INTJs. It's hard to say.



I see them both as F's...Shelley ISFP and Coleridge INFP... Romantic poetry seems massively Fi based to me.
Keep in mind that INTJs are quite capable of using their tertiary Fi, especially in writing. I'm not necessarily disagreeing, just thought it was worth pointing out.

[Rohsiph]

I took a class on the Romantic poets about a year ago, we looked at their poetry (among others) and also their backgrounds. They both struck me pretty strongly as being introverted intuitives--lots of time spent alone, and lots of denouncing traditions (among other things).

They might be F, they might be P. But my guess is at least one of them is T and J.

[Skatt]

I write poems. I don't mind sharing.

Strange

The kings of men have fallen
feudalist tendencies calming the masses
it's amazing how this makes us breathe
the skies of judgment in the errs of asses
The waning moon will ebb the tides of forgiveness
while the demon prince of valor swings his mighty cleaver

and to whom do we owe the custom
the current power system
beware the financial phantom
beware the awful roof

The beautiful faces are sullen
with tears of blood to scare the weak
It's amazing how this makes us see
the seas, oh the seas of the meek
and when this awful truth subsides
the rivers and mountains will show their eyes

and who deserves this freedom
this endless draught of wisdom
drink the caustic venom
revere the fatal truth

The gates of anguish have opened
free admission with purchase of a large fountain drink
it's amazing how this makes us strange
to the one that doesn't think
if inane wall does descend
why don't you see, it's not the end

and who here will see the spectrum
of light to dark and dark to saintdom
will be the man to rule the kingdom
to toss the fare in the tollbooth

and it's amazing how it makes us strange


Out of the Blue
The days pass by and not a minute is counted
and I stare at my feet while you stare at the ceiling
the time just stands still while we sit in this room
and I just might have noticed that we're wearing the same costume

So I tell myself I'm lucky, but I don't believe it's true
I really think these thoughts just come out of the blue
and I don't want this to end, but I don't know what this is
I don't want this to end, but I don't know what this is

The weeks pass by and every day is counted
I stare at your feet while you stare at the ceiling
the time just flies by while we sit in this room
and I just might have noticed how fast the seconds zoom

So I tell myself that I'm too slow, but I don't believe it's true
I really think these thoughts just come out of the blue
and I don't want this to end, but I don't know what this is
I don't want this to end, but I don't know what this is

The months pass by and every moment is missed
I stare at my feet while you stare at the ceiling
but I wouldn't know that, because we're not in the same room
and I just might have noticed that it's too late to assume

So I tell myself that I fucked up, but I don't believe it's true
I really think these thoughts just come out of the blue
and I don't want this to end, but I don't know what this is
I don't want this to end, but I don't know what this is

Songs About Violence
The entrance to silence through the hands of the slaves
the hours of screaming, quiet and well played
while the man of defeat is coaxing the knaves
motivated whisperings of well-abated lawfulness
highly efficient independence destroyers at our expense
only the man without sin truly repents

regret for his failure in teaching you love
regret for his failure before floating above

every time I think it all matters
I sing songs about 50 mad hatters
and how their birthdays are sad, never looked forward to
because something is missing and they think that it's you
because someone forgot and they think that it's you

these songs about violence and the hate of the wicked
they keep me from crying over gallons of red liquid

The existence suit on the backs of the sharks
Indolent seals, mendicant barks
ptochocratic luxuries, autocratic tendencies
regulated dependencies
sell their bottled ghost weed

accepting the futility of a meaningless society
accepting the futility of the anger that’s inside of me

every time I think it all matters
I sing songs about dreams that shatter
And how it’s so simple to get shit on my shoe
But not quite as simple to motivate you
But not quite as simple to make the flies shoo

these songs about violence and the hate of the wicked
they keep me from crying over gallons of red liquid

The extinction of the artistic and poetic
Subliminal tube, radiated antiemetic
Asyndetic, 'cause all of us are indebted
and you can bet it, won't be long you'll regret it

every time I think it all matters
I sing songs about a flag that is tattered
And how it's a shame that the threads don't screw
stand there and act like there's nothing to do
because someone forgot and I think that was you

these songs about violence and the hate of the wicked
they keep me from crying over gallons of red liquid

The exit to eternity through the minds of the faithful
the miles of hypocrisy, dangerous and hateful
televated propaganda, perpetuated ignorance
billions of little lab mice all trained to dance
while this story's unfolding our saint raves and rants

pressure to stop me from being human
pressure to block me from seeing doom and

every time I think it all matters
I sing songs about what bumps and what clatters
and how it scares children when no one can come through
because someone is wrong and it's always been you
because something just hit me and I think it was you

these songs about violence and the hate of the wicked
vengeance always laughs at you for being so stupid


I have plenty more, but those are a few of my oldest ones.

[Merle]

"The Reader will find that personifications of abstract ideas rarely occur in these volumes; and are utterly rejected, as an ordinary device to elevate the style, and raise it above prose. My purpose was to imitate, and, as far as possible, to adopt the very language of men"

" I have said that poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity: the emotion is contemplated till, by a species of reaction, the tranquillity gradually disappears, and an emotion, kindred to that which was before the subject of contemplation, is gradually produced, and does itself actually exist in the mind. In this mood successful composition generally begins, and in a mood similar to this it is carried on"

Wordsworth - preface to 'Lyrical Ballads'


'Lyrical Ballads' being the central text of Romantic poetry, and the preface being Wordsworth's attempt to explain his and Coleridge's approach.

Romanticism is almost anti-intellectual, it was a reaction against the Enlightenment and against Augustan poetry, against The Age of Reason. It is about re-connecting with myth and with nature, while most of the Romantic poets had very radical political views and were atheistic which seem like traits of Thinkers, their radicalism was borne out of a desire to break away from the empiricism and rationalism of society and reconnect with a baser, what they saw as purer, existence. The very basis of Romanticism seems to me completely at odds with INTJ'ness.

[Rohsiph]

Romanticism is almost anti-intellectual, it was a reaction against the Enlightenment and against Augustan poetry, against The Age of Reason. It is about re-connecting with myth and with nature, while most of the Romantic poets had very radical political views and were atheistic which seem like traits of Thinkers, their radicalism was borne out of a desire to break away from the empiricism and rationalism of society and reconnect with a baser, what they saw as purer, existence. The very basis of Romanticism seems to me completely at odds with INTJ'ness.

It's at odds with a level of INTJ'ness, that which all those who end up in the concrete sciences and business world belong to, but I think it's very much in line with the artistic INTJ.

Wordsworth isn't an INTJ, not at all. Taking his 'mission' as the exact goal of all the Romantic poets could well make it look like none of them could have possibly been INTJ. It's connecting the bigger ideas with the kinds of lives Shelley and Coleridge allegedly lived that makes me think they might fit the bill.

Both had the artistic INTJ's devout open-mindedness: social convention held no sway for either of them. Coleridge's romantic (in the boyfriend/girlfriend sense) life was woefully awkward, with his marrying young to a woman he quickly realized he wasn't in love with (planning to start a Utopian community with her and his pal Southey, who married his wife's sister), then falling hopelessly in love with someone else he pined for for the rest of his life. "Dejection: An Ode" and "Frost at Midnight" strike me as showing some INTJ-flavored Ni + Fi.

I think there's more evidence for my hunch in favor of Shelley. The goal behind his Prometheus Unbound and "Mont Blanc" show a heavier dose of INTJ-flavored Ni + Fi than any of Coleridge's work. I'm looking at the textbook we used in the class now, and the section on Shelley begins:

According to Hazlitt, Percy Bysshe Shelley "has a fire in his eye, a fever in his blood, a maggot in his brain, a hectic flutter in his speech, which mark out the philosophic fanatic. He is sanguine complexioned, and shrill-voiced . . . He is clogged by no dull system of realities, no earth-bound feelings, no rooted prejudices, by nothing that belongs to the mighty trunk and hard husk of nature and habit, but is drawn up by irresistible levity to the regions of mere speculation and fancy, to the sphere of air and fire, where his delighted spirit floats in 'seas of pearl and clouds of amber'." Some of Shelley's friends, such as Leigh Hunt, thought this too near the knuckle for comfort, and reprimanded Hazlitt for writing it. The problem was that it was all too true. Few descriptions are more evocative of the visionary, proselytizing energies of one of the greatest Romantic poets.

Either INTJ or INFJ. In any case, it's Ni + Fi.

[Zzyber]

I wrote a lot of poems and short stories when I had a lot more confusion and anger in my life. Most of it is fairly dark and unhealthy but I don't think I'll put any here. If you're really interested just send me a message and I'll share.

[Colette]

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.

[Merle]

It's connecting the bigger ideas with the kinds of lives Shelley and Coleridge allegedly lived that makes me think they might fit the bill.

Both had the artistic INTJ's devout open-mindedness: social convention held no sway for either of them.


The disregard for the moral codes of the time that the Romantics exhibit (Shelley's desire for something approximating free love and Coleridge's marriage choices) do point to an individualism and independence of mind, but for me they also suggest an extremely developed sensuality - Shelley's desire for freedom in his love-life is linked to the Romantic desire to move away from societal structures and back towards nature - it's a desire closely linked to the similar impulses of the 1960's when, not incidentally, the Romantic's enjoyed an upsurge in popularity.
Likewise, their political radicalism - linked to the French Revolution and to solidarity with the 'common man' - while at odds with the incumbent institutions and codes of the day and appearing avant-garde, is in fact the very opposite:

"in their social sphere, they lay stress on the noble simplicity of a class in which traditional virtues are still lingering."

" this sympathy is justified, according to these writers, by the moral dignity of a peasant race attached to the soil for years, whose spirit goes back, beyond the century of Reason and enlightenment, to the faith and patriotism of bygone ages"
(Emile Legouis A History of English Literature)

it is actually anti-progressivism masked as radicalism.

Now... to the probable types of the poets themselves:

(I think we both agree on the 'I' at least so I'll leave that out:))

Coleridge:
I just cannot see him as a J - he left so much unfinished and continually went back to ammend or re-write his visions ('Christabel') - 'Kubla Khan' is merely a fragment of a larger poem that he could not fully realise. From the same book as before: " He carried through scarcely any of his undertakings". And Hazlitt on Coleridge:
"Two things are indispensable to him -- to set out from no premises, and to arrive at no conclusion."

In terms of the N and F I think this explains why I think he fits:

"his somewhat wavering metaphysics... is based upon an intuition of the essential unity existing between our spirit and the divine... Coleridge possesses as well a vein of effusion, a homely, religious inspiration, and the direct utterance of emotional moods... in such works the landscape is interwoven with the feelings, in accordance with an irresistible association, the wholly subjective quality of which he himself perceives and points out with sad clear-sightedness."

So, for me... INFP.

Shelley:
I suppose that Shelley could be an N, but I still see him as firmly ISFP - the archetypal Artist:

" Everything with Shelley is the occasion for a musical stir, since his powers of feeling are the keenest attuned and most delicate of this age; sensation, like emotion, with him over-steps the normal diapason, moving in a higher scale."

The only English Romantic that I can see being an INTJ is Byron, who is closer to the European Romantics - who, on the whole, tend to be much more NT I think.
Where, as I said before, the other Romantics' moral and political radicalism was actually deeply backward looking, Byron was truly, you could say inherently, radical within himself. The normal moral laws did not apply for him - although he recognised and knew their significance, they held no sway over him:

" The logical bent of such a temperament leads it, if not to crime, at least to the serious violation of laws which it accepts in spite of itself but does not respect."

( all the quotes are from A History of English Literature by Emile Legouis and Louis Cazamian... since I gave away all my Crit and theory on the Romantics a few months ago, hoping never to look on it again lol)

Also - I came across a thread at MBTI central while searching Coleridge and MBTI: To view links or images in this forum your post count must be 2 or greater. You currently have 0 posts.****************/forums/popular-culture-type/8705-romantic-poets.html

[Rohsiph]

Interesting arguments you raise, Merle. Also interesting you throw in Byron as an INTJ, as my impression of him is ENFJ, but I didn't consider his type half as much as Coleridge or Shelley's.

I'm a bit tired with other things on my mind and other work to take care of, but I wanted to at least anchor my previous arguments again with the suggestion that my impression is based on my knowledge of psychological process order alongside content creation & idea focus. I haven't read much about ISFP's, but I could go with that for Shelley as he'd still be working from Fi & Ni.

. . . so I guess I think I'm coming around to see it your way now ;)

[rewhu]

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.

I used to have most of that poem memorized. Now not so much.

[Stone]

Me. I write poetry and stories, although not very actively. Unfortunately, they are in Bulgarian, not English...

[eternalenigma]

I sort of figured that if I'm ever to find good poetry, asking INTJs (with our word and grammar abilities) and INFJs (who have proven to be the only other poets I've come to adore) would be a good place to start.

So, share, comment, add...

However, this is an INTJ site...I must forewarn myself and all others posting that whatever you post may be subject to brutally honest scrutiny...so hope what you post warrents positive feedback...

Also, as it should go without saying, all further work should be considered by others to be copywrite material and shouldn't be further published, posted, or otherwise without the writer's consent.

I'll start.


since my soul survived...

i stood in the graveyard and wondered which
of these tombstones stood above the place
where my soul rested...
for it seems as though i killed it off quite some time ago
and although it was painful to me
the death of it all killed the pain
and i began to wonder if i was really alive at all

when i awoke and found that i could feel
i found myself also enclosed by walls and shackled with steel
starving; i didn't know whether or not this prison was real
crying; i begged to forget how to feel
on my knees i pleaded and begged for the suffering to end
not realizing it had only just begun
i felt defeated; gave up; declaired that they had won...

once the darkness was complete
and i was still shackled and bound; hands and feet
ashamed that i could so easily feel defeat
i let my body and this pain meet
and it was then that i realized
it was the pain which made me feel alive
so in my darkness and in my pain
i became alive again

determined now to survive
at all costs to become alive
instead of the living dead
i took a step outside of my head
and began to see the possibilities
the endless possibilities
and it was then that i saw the light in the dark
it shone to a corner, to a little mark
and when i looked closer, it came to me...
all along i had the key...

so close, yet so far away
my freedom could be this day
i could taste the glory that would soon be
the day that i could become free
but it was never really as simple as it should be
even once i found the key
so i scratched and clawed and strained
i could feel the adrenaline override the pain
once, alas, i clutched the key
i pushed it into the locks, twisted, and clicked myself free

no longer bound by chains
darkness no longer a hinderence
i wondered about the strength of the walls that bound me
and who had put me here when they found me
[surely i didn't]
and so i sat in my cell
plotting my escape from my personal hell
and calmly i decided to be
closer to me

so once i found myself again
i found that i could see clearly
and the more clearly that i could see
the more the walls started to crumble
from around me
and i learned that it was me
who was the one who could set me free

so i dreamed until the bricks turned to dust
and my chains turned to rust
i breathed the air until i could see
the beautiful sun shining all around me
i danced until the walls fell
and i no longer was in my hell

i climbed the rubble
slid down the dust
danced through the field
and remembered days past
when i was free
remembered days of old
when i was me

now the light shines
and the fields make me feel free
as i run and laugh and dance and be
but the graveyards remind me
of what it can mean to be dead inside
and i'm glad to feel alive
i'm glad to feel free
i'm glad to have my soul back
and be how i was meant to be

so when you tread upon souls
tread lightly
when you look into yourself
be true
when you look for the solution
look inside you
when you think you're trapped
be free
when all hope seems lost
just remember how to be...

just be.



:book:

[Nikita]

Poetry by the Linguistically Enlightened

INTPs? :p

In all seriousness, I really like your poem. The imagery and meaning are beautiful.

[Monte314]

I like a soda right at dawn,
a fizzy coda to my yawn.
It ope's my eyes to this day's scene...
Thank you, Lord, for cheap caffeine.

[eternalenigma]

INTPs? :p

In all seriousness, I really like your poem. The imagery and meaning are beautiful.

Thank you very much. I try. ;)

[Colette]

Here are a couple of what I regard as real poems (both modern poets publishing internationally). INTJs? Dunno:

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[vanidence]

Hm, actually I like to read, so I also like to read Poetry. I just like to figure them out. ^^
Also I really like well-described Things.
And yes, I did write some myself, but I can't tell you if I am "good" at it.
But I don't think that really matters. You should probably do it for the "Fun" of it. =)

[reb]

to poesy you lean,
but people are mean....
their jealousy waxes,
down come the axes-
your public display careens....

[dragonsscout]

I write poetry on occasion. Usually I don't have time and it's not high on my to do list. I published a few poems in my school's literary journal and I've been told I'm good, especially my sonnets and free verse, but don't enjoy it as much as others. I really enjoy reading it on my own though. I often find poetry to be beautiful and thoughtful.

[ZZZ]

I don't know if it's a gift or a curse; I, however, tend to write poems… unintentionally.

[Algol]

An INTJ
pondering the Universe
found no proper words

[Colette]

Alright here's my latest one. In case it isn't obvious, the theme is Election 2008 (here in NZ and in the US the timing of both elections almost completely coincides)!

Intersection
(Nov ’08)

There’s no such thing as compassionate conservatism
she grinds

These hands
made
to strip coconut fibre
teach ‘em how to get clean!

talking heads nod
in unison
where’s the drama in all that?

he uniforms mutely
plants a legal smack
on a shiny young cheek

a creased man
sits in the stale fug
of a smoking gun

her teeth won’t cooperate
as she blends primary colours
for the day

we add out-Laboured
to the patois

***
over his side of the sheets
he paints Gazelles
on the Serengeti

on hers
a treadle hums
she weaves sweat
and cotton skeins
into freedom songs

in a hurricane-scape
a machine gun
tears his flesh
leaves a star-shaped hole

he jolts awake
chest heaving
into another day
on the trail

***
somewhere
a circle closes

[NZPixie]

Nice Collette. I like that poem, I think you are very talented. Who are you voting for? (If you are voting/old enough to vote etc) I am voting labour.

I wrote huge amounts of poetry when I was a teen, and still occasionally write, but I don't feel emotions as strongly as I did, and do not feel the need to write all that much anymore. It may just be that my life at the moment is generally uninspiring and boring. My poetry was in whatever style I felt like, generally not rhyming but some rhyming, especially earlier stuff. Now anything I write is not rhyming because I find it limits what I am trying to communicate too much.

[radames]

Used to write it a lot yet found it accentuated a dangerous method of living; ie based on feeling, artistry, musicianship, ALL emotional thereby ALL shaky and insecure.

On the other hand I have athletic prowess and have immersed myself in my work and tedious training in athletic endeavors. I see that I am naturally framed to play sports so I respond to that by training. Making money helps me stay alive, housed, clothed, fed, do online classes, as well as many others verbs. It would be difficult to accomplish all of these feats without the ability to work.

[Sere]

My bro was talking to one of his best friends (which mind you, is female), and later she tells me how he came out with a nice poetic sentence at the end of the convo...

Wowzers? :cheesy: I think that's mysteriously thoughtful coming from him. Only cuz I never thought he could write poems seeing that he never expressed it openly...now I force him to do just that :thumbsup:

[interstellar]

Yes. And I'm good.

[Smotor]

Yes, but I never share it. It's a nice personal release for me. I spend most of my waking hours studying some sort of poetry, so it's inevitable that some of it rubs off.

And I love reading poetry too. Except those Romantic (as in Romantic era, not romantic-I-love-you, although sometimes those too) poems that warble on about trees and grass and all that garbage. I'm not very outdoorsy...

[hullolife]

intp...I write something when I am completely compelled to.

About twice a year! :D

[interstellar]

Yes, but I never share it. It's a nice personal release for me. I spend most of my waking hours studying some sort of poetry, so it's inevitable that some of it rubs off.

And I love reading poetry too. Except those Romantic (as in Romantic era, not romantic-I-love-you, although sometimes those too) poems that warble on about trees and grass and all that garbage. I'm not very outdoorsy...

Wordsworth, not so great. But Coleridge Rime of the Ancient Mariner, beautiful.

[Smotor]

But Coleridge Rime of the Ancient Mariner, beautiful. Oh, yes, and Shelley, too. So I guess I'll clarify as most Romantic poets. ;)

[Hatsumomo1]

I don't write poetry, but I do write short stories, multi-chapter fiction, and some vignettes. Poetry is a bit too frustrating for me. I've been told that my writing style is poetic though. I tend to choose my words very carefully and I try to put a lot of emotion in if the situation should call for it. I've also been told my writing is raw. I try to keep things very real when I write, I don't sugarcoat at all. I love writing. It's an outlet for my emotions, which I don't particularly like to display outwardly.

[Art Official]

I started writing in 1994. Poetry became an interest in 1997. It has come to my attention that the poetry I write has a lot to do with INTJ characteristic traits of scanning the environments that I find myself part of, analyzing the people, places, things and situations or issues manifisted within those environments, and developing associations with each and every element of the environment. I have provided two examples of my poetry for a better understanding.

Beyond the Streets of Minneapolis

Dedictation to Jay Cowan

"Tossing Franklin into hats of beggers pulling out rabbits on 6th and Nicollet. Above and beyond our forefathers we will see that it's a fit.

Playing blues pats ear drums of travelers passing fifty-one stories en route to Target. Above and beyond our forefathers we will pull out a seat for thee to sit.

Dropping Washington into Strats of panhandlers strumming 'Ode to Joy on 8th and Marquette. Above and beyond our forefathers we will guide thee to freedom from the pit."

Art Official, A.K.A. Anthony R.S.

Beyond the Streets of Minneapolis is about my relationship with an very successful entreprenuer by the name of Jay Cowan. He taught me a lot about what makes a person successful and I associated that with those on the streets of Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA.

En Passe

Dedication to Chris Idene

"It's been a while since I've been able to smile and this frown has trumped the way I see the Crown along with my ability to capture a halo.

It's been a while since I've been able to style and this clown has dumped on me a putdown with a shy ability to endure a deathblow.

It's been a while since I've bee able to fool Nile with bliss and a pawn that jumps En Passe for the Crown along with shy fatality to ensure the depth of the shallow."

--Art Official, A.K.A. Anthony R.S.

En Passe is dedicated to a long time Chess rival of mine and it is all about the game of Chess.

Has any other INTJ experienced this? Has any other MBTI experienced this? Enquiring minds would like to know.





Art Official added to this post, 195 minutes and 33 seconds later...

White Raven critiqued Beyond the Streets of Minneapolis for me in an email. I really appreciate the feedback, so I am posting her critique.

"The first adjective that came to mind for it was masculine, concrete..it's a little bit like the nitty-gritty of the asphalt street in the city."
--White Raven

[Jack]

What if, as the observant,
I manifest the light,
With a quickening curiosity
Through the smoke.

What if, as the absorbent,
I challenge the tone,
With a numbing lull
Behind the dark.

[Art Official]

Jack!

This goes out to you. The poem you posted Yesterday at 08:24 PM definately made me stop and think.

An arduous deed
Working with the committee
Inside thee head.

A pompous read
Captivating the verdict
Once thee said.

A joyous feed
Pondering the seed
Brought upon thee bread.

[Jack]

Jack!

This goes out to you. The poem you posted Yesterday at 08:24 PM definately made me stop and think.

An arduous deed
Working with the committee
Inside thee head.

A pompous read
Captivating the verdict
Once thee said.

A joyous feed
Pondering the seed
Brought upon thee bread.


Think, not only joyously,
But rationed, purposefully.
To savor the relational, internally,
Con amore, the second reality.

[Art Official]

Think, not only joyously,
But rationed, purposefully.
To savor the relational, internally,
Con amore, the second reality.


For we will stop to think,
Joyously into eternity; hopefully.
To favor the sensational happily.
Some more enlightenment by the second
Phenominal and paradoxical reality.

[Canegrande]

To My Wife


Have I told you lately that that I love you
That you are dearer than all else to me
If I didn't I certainly meant to
Tho' if you come closer I'm sure you'll see
Beyond the etchings of time 'pon my face
And through this frail and aging frame of mine
To an infinitely serener place
Love growing more precious with age, like wine
And if I've done aught to hurt you my dear
'Twas not love lacking but that I was blind
Darling I would not have you shed one tear
And retrospecting,I'm sure you will find
In ev'ry step we together have trod
The time-tried treasures of a kindly God

A little sappy but heartfelt.

[Santana28]

i don't write "poetry" exactly... but i am prone to random bursts of writing which follows the often chaotic and unintelligible melody of thoughts in my head... something closer to song lyrics than poetry... i am a very compulsive writer now, whereas i used to be a compulsive drawer when i was younger.

actually, i despise poetry. i find it to be the most worthless and destructive of all the "art" forms. but i wont get into that here. so yes - i write words which could be considered poetry... but are not intentionally so.

[Art Official]

To My Wife


Have I told you lately that that I love you
That you are dearer than all else to me
If I didn't I certainly meant to
Tho' if you come closer I'm sure you'll see
Beyond the etchings of time 'pon my face
And through this frail and aging frame of mine
To an infinitely serener place
Love growing more precious with age, like wine
And if I've done aught to hurt you my dear
'Twas not love lacking but that I was blind
Darling I would not have you shed one tear
And retrospecting,I'm sure you will find
In ev'ry step we together have trod
The time-tried treasures of a kindly God

A little sappy but heartfelt.

That is very nice! :mellow:





Art Official added to this post, 1 minutes and 43 seconds later...

For we will stop to think,
Joyously into eternity; hopefully.
To favor the sensational happily.
Some more enlightenment by the second
Phenomenal and paradoxical reality.

Ah! I misspelled phenomenal. Perfectionism does not work for me.





Art Official added to this post, 1 minutes and 17 seconds later...

i don't write "poetry" exactly... but i am prone to random bursts of writing which follows the often chaotic and unintelligible melody of thoughts in my head... something closer to song lyrics than poetry...

Do you care to share?

[Rohsiph]

i don't write "poetry" exactly... but i am prone to random bursts of writing which follows the often chaotic and unintelligible melody of thoughts in my head... something closer to song lyrics than poetry... i am a very compulsive writer now, whereas i used to be a compulsive drawer when i was younger.

actually, i despise poetry. i find it to be the most worthless and destructive of all the "art" forms. but i wont get into that here. so yes - i write words which could be considered poetry... but are not intentionally so.

Well, if the poetry you're being exposed to amounts just to that which comes from "random bursts," it's not surprising you find most examples to be worthless.

Worthwhile poetry, just like any form of worthwhile writing, emerges from heavily invested revising and deep thought. Only once every word in the poem has been carefully considered and chosen to fit the purpose of the piece should it ever be considered "done."

Needless to say, most "poets" one is bound to run into today (especially online) never get around to considering the process. Those that are worthwhile almost always tend to go unnoticed for far too long.

[Art Official]

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[quin]

yes i sometimes feel the urge to jot things down in poetic form, but not very frequently, only when i feel really anxious or depressed.

The journey may seem hopeless
But with hope you can not ignore
That in due time you’ll find your answers
And with more time you’ll find some more

[hullolife]

Quin, I love it! I'm going to go pull some random stanzas out from my "Random Writing" folder...

brb





hullolife added to this post, 6 minutes and 23 seconds later...

Sorry if this is just weird... >.<

It spins all day in fury; hits walls,
like balls,
hit back handed.
Make it stop; the storm of thoughts,
like “i miss you,
I can't stand it."
Motionless, but full of emotion.
It's landed.
The thoughts and mess,
and anticipated stress,
it's abandoned.

You're here.

[quin]

Quin, I love it! I'm going to go pull some random stanzas out from my "Random Writing" folder...

brb





hullolife added to this post, 6 minutes and 23 seconds later...

Sorry if this is just weird... >.<

It spins all day in fury; hits walls,
like balls,
hit back handed.
Make it stop; the storm of thoughts,
like “i miss you,
I can't stand it."
Motionless, but full of emotion.
It's landed.
The thoughts and mess,
and anticipated stress,
it's abandoned.

You're here.

no need to apologize, it is like a stylistic approach to freeverse but cool nevertheless

this i kinda dark, inspired by donnie darko

All these feelings inside
I know shall soon die
No matter how much I care
Death will always be there
There is no one to blame
But myself filled with shame
And as long as I’ve known
We will all die alone

one more for j4k

Why do you feel you can waive our rights
Our right to be
Our right to see
Our right to breathe
Our right to fight
Smoke and mirrors aside
I can see right through to you
But there is nothing inside
You’ve told us we can choose
There’s been no greater lie
Because we always will lose
There is no point to try

[Doppelbock]

The only poetry I write is song parodies. But they can be very emotional, especially the poop-themed ones. Take my "Shit Can" parody of America's "Tin Man," for example. Brings a tear to my eye every time I think about it.

[amusination]

I can write awesome, downright epic poetry, if I access this terrible "shadow" ESFP side of me, which is very, very unpleasant. So I don't do it anymore.

Other than that, if I write a poem, it's bound to be a limerick. :)

[Doppelbock]

I can write awesome, downright epic poetry, if I access this terrible "shadow" ESFP side of me, which is very, very unpleasant. So I don't do it anymore.

Other than that, if I write a poem, it's bound to be a limerick. :)

Someone should start a limerick thread. That would rock.

[Santana28]

Well, if the poetry you're being exposed to amounts just to that which comes from "random bursts," it's not surprising you find most examples to be worthless.

Worthwhile poetry, just like any form of worthwhile writing, emerges from heavily invested revising and deep thought. Only once every word in the poem has been carefully considered and chosen to fit the purpose of the piece should it ever be considered "done."

Needless to say, most "poets" one is bound to run into today (especially online) never get around to considering the process. Those that are worthwhile almost always tend to go unnoticed for far too long.

actually, no - quite the opposite actually. as i said before, i'll save it for another thread... however purposeful poetry for the sake of poetry typically repulses me. its like modern art. to me, in order for art to be truly meaningful it has to be spontaneous. pre-planned visual art takes time, and can incorporate personality. poetry is to landscape photography what picasso is to art.

i find most spontaneous ramblings much more insightful than any poem i have ever read.

[gripper]

I certainly never understood people who write their feelings and emotions down in a journal and especially in the form of poetry. Although I think traditional, short, poetry is a complete waste of time and energy I envy people who can actually appreciate this form of expression.

[interstellar]

Well, if the poetry you're being exposed to amounts just to that which comes from "random bursts," it's not surprising you find most examples to be worthless.

Worthwhile poetry, just like any form of worthwhile writing, emerges from heavily invested revising and deep thought. Only once every word in the poem has been carefully considered and chosen to fit the purpose of the piece should it ever be considered "done."

Needless to say, most "poets" one is bound to run into today (especially online) never get around to considering the process. Those that are worthwhile almost always tend to go unnoticed for far too long.


no you're getting into that old idea of for something to be good it has to be thought about and worked on for a long time. the first idea is the best (most of the time). we've all made good things off the cuff. every word having purpose is a pretty old idea. efficiency is one thing, but intent in every word, no.

what do you mean considering the process.



I certainly never understood people who write their feelings and emotions down in a journal and especially in the form of poetry. Although I think traditional, short, poetry is a complete waste of time and energy I envy people who can actually appreciate this form of expression.

You don't appreciate poetry? I think there's something out there for everyone. Waste of time and energy? Hm. Envy for people who appreciate might be code for you don't understand. A lot of people don't understand poetry, it's stigmatized in school as being hard and teachers stay away from it, students have no experience with it, so its shunned. All I suggest is sample around. I'm not sure what you mean by traditional poetry...romantic period? Explain.

[idem]

I certainly never understood people who write their feelings and emotions down in a journal and especially in the form of poetry. Although I think traditional, short, poetry is a complete waste of time and energy I envy people who can actually appreciate this form of expression.
One of the reasons I write poetry or write my feelings down is because I have trouble saying them out loud. I often find that it's easier to express emotions on paper than to say to someone else.

I write poetry reasonably often. It almost always rhymes and usually has a rigid rhyming scheme. The reason for this is that when I read a poem with misplaced stress or a word that doesn't quite rhyme, I focus only on that and not on the content. Therefore, I spend much of my time making sure the rhythm is exactly right.

[Rohsiph]

actually, no - quite the opposite actually. as i said before, i'll save it for another thread... however purposeful poetry for the sake of poetry typically repulses me. its like modern art. to me, in order for art to be truly meaningful it has to be spontaneous. pre-planned visual art takes time, and can incorporate personality. poetry is to landscape photography what picasso is to art.

i find most spontaneous ramblings much more insightful than any poem i have ever read.

Well, then I've completely missed why you find poetry to be "the most destructive art." I'm interested in hearing if you want to share.

no you're getting into that old idea of for something to be good it has to be thought about and worked on for a long time. the first idea is the best (most of the time). we've all made good things off the cuff. every word having purpose is a pretty old idea. efficiency is one thing, but intent in every word, no.

what do you mean considering the process.

For a long time, I was entirely skeptical of there being any sort of effective "process" whatsoever to do with any art. Then, I studied under the wings of some published writers, and now I seem to be at a point where I'm way at the other end of the spectrum. Perhaps my position will normalize closer to the center as I continue to explore.

Right now, I strongly disagree with "the first idea is the best (most of the time)." I'll grant that without a keen eye, any kind of simple revision probably won't make things better--but the most amazing lesson my instructors revealed to me happened when I started with a piece I thought was pretty good at first, but then I gutted it and tried something new with it and it became something much, much better.

I don't think my opinion stems, necessarily, from any traditional analysis. Certainly, there is much work that's bad, even if it's worked on for a long time. However, I think it's true of every piece of art that it could always be better than it is. If an artist gets really close to perfection right out the gate, that's wonderful--but I don't believe human work ever gets to be perfect.

My perception, particularly in discouraging the idea that "the first idea is the best," comes from the endless number of Internet 'artists' (think DeviantArt, for a start) who believe too easily that their work is "good enough." It'll depend on one's definition of art--and, then, of good art--but I find it hard to trust artists who are easily satisfied with their own work. Most of the time (virtually all the time), long before I'm able to confirm anything about the particular artist's methods, the work of these types tends to leave so much wanting, as opposed to the rarer (in my estimation) artist who works almost to the point of self-torture to always be improving his/her craft.

[interstellar]

i mostly mean the first idea is the best with writing. of course i believe in revision, but what you hit on first usually works the best for myself. visual art is a different beast. i also paint. it can take a long time to get that right.

[Wordsmith]

poetry is...a contradiction for me. I can't write in a proper meter. I can't hear the difference between an iamb and a trochee. I couldn't tell you if my life depended on it. That said I write poetry as it's one of the few places I can deal with emotions. I use rhyme scheme and syllable count but the meter is beyond me.

I've shared only one or two poems and been told that it was good, and I like that I can be more metaphorical and nonlinear (closer to my thought structure). I wrote a fair bit which I subsequently lost when I had to wipe my hard drive. It's cathartic for me, one place where emotions that are being confounding can be put and dealt with properly.

[interstellar]

i find saying it aloud helps at first. you have to really stress what youre saying, you know its
/ ^ ^ /
SAY ing not say ING. anyway takes practice. tool writes their music in trochaic, so listen to that and then read some shakespeare aloud and see if you hear the difference.

[Cesare Borgia]

I do a lot of writing, some from others perspectives, some from mine and some from other influences, as i go back through some of my writings i am noticing certain things that i feel are influenced by being an INTJ, things i never gave much thought to, what do you think?

Fuck Tomorrow

See, I was born headfirst, premature and gave to the hearse
Took the form of a curse so now I write these verses
If worse comes to worse then my decision is fight or flight
To live a life of spite that some would say serves me right
Tonight I rest my head hoping by morning I'll be dead
It's been said the tears shed vanish upon the death bed
If it's true then tonight I grip my brew and contemplate
A fate of living the blues making moves to escape
Annihilate my existence, everything about me
I offer no resistance, you're better off without me
So sleep soundly content knowing I never reached my peak
Faith never found me and so now this is how I speak
Do for one another, steer clear of fake motherfuckers
Them snake motherfuckers will leave you when you suffer
Under cover of bravado I stay strong and follow
The motto, living my life saying Fuck tomorrow

[HOOK] (samples "Ghetto Prisoners " by Tha Realest)

So much danger in these times, afraid to trust a stranger
From dust too dust so I choose to bust from the chamber
Confused as a banger and thought to have anger issues
They refuse to have my shoes cause they rather accuse
Gather round and meet the man nobody could understand
The matter at hand, 2 ruin him however they can
Consumed I plot and plan on the shit just beyond my reach
Maybe once I'm gone they'll see the things I tried to teach
So quick 2 preach bout how the end don't justify the means
Meanwhile my dreams go up in flames stoked by gasoline
Told all through my teen I could be anything I envision
Yet never once mentioned the better bet was prison
If I could make em listen, maybe I'd have an impact
Though the deck is stacked theres no need to run around strapped
Looking back, I'm hoping they don't walk the path I followed
On the attack, living life saying Fuck Tomorrow

[Isca]

A few of my poems: To view links or images in this forum your post count must be 2 or greater. You currently have 0 posts.

[bubbleninja]

i think poetry is about one expressing themselves, in what ever style they desire.
if someone doesnt enjoy reading or writing poetry it may be because they dont "feel" it.
to understand, turlly understand poetry, one must be able to understnad what the author is trying to show. this is very hard sometimes.
on another hand, some find it difficult to write poetry for many reasons, for example they cant express themselves proply (like myself) or get the right atmosphere accross, or maybe they couldnt find their muse or words.
what ever the reason is i think it varies on an individual, not on their personality type.

[Harmony]

On occasion I will write if I have something on my mind and cannot do anything else until I get it off my mind. I typically don't share my writings... I wonder if part of why I won't share my writings is because a lot of times they are my feelings, and I don't share my feelings... Ah, what the hell... These are old, so it's okay, it's past feelings. =P

This is probably one of my better ones... I was in one hell of a place...

Another piece of my heart shatters
As he walks away like nothing matters
I wish I could be cold like him
Make my heart so cold and dim

Did he ever even want me to begin with
Or was I blind and it was all just a myth
It's hard to forget the way he holds me
It all felt so right, so meant to be

Yet here I am all alone again
Staring at a glass and a bottle of gin
It's hard to resist the urge to take a sip
Would it give me enough of an edge to get a grip

I pick up the bottle and twist off the cap
Shame fills me and I feel like I'm in a trap
I throw the bottle in anger and watch it shatter
Much like my heart, but that doesn't matter

Light hits a glass shard and catches my eye
One swift movement could end this whole lie
I slowly reach for what could be the way out
Probably the fastest and quickest route

The second my hand touches the glass shard
Tears sting my eyes flowing fast and hard
This isn't me, I can't be thinking this way
Wiping my eyes, I know this isn't the day

I couldn't possibly take another life, not even my own
And hurt and shock all of those I've ever known
So I'll take my time and find myself again
And keep from committing the ultimate sin.

[Cairech]

Yes! I survived my teen years, in part, due to off-gassing the horrors of daily life into poetry. Emotions were so extreme, school was frustrating and dreadful, and I was an outsider. The heat of all that experience would build until it would burst out of me in the form of poetry.

It was helpful, and not just to myself. Many of my friends were unable to express those same teenaged feelings for themselves, and were relieved to find that someone else was in the same situation. Oh, the irony, that the most silent among them became their voice.

Later, I lost the knack of writing poetry. I kind of miss it, sometimes. But certainly don't miss the cause of it.

[Rohsiph]

i mostly mean the first idea is the best with writing. of course i believe in revision, but what you hit on first usually works the best for myself. visual art is a different beast. i also paint. it can take a long time to get that right.

Very interesting--when it comes to visual art (or, at least, drawing), my style is to make something of scribbles, rarely requiring more than ten or fifteen minutes for a sketch.

Well . . . then I guess my coloring process, which needless to say is a bit different, takes a lot longer and requires a lot more caution.

I think my point (trying to reach back a month now) was that one should always be wary of considering any piece of art "finished!" right away. It's a rare work (if there really is one) that really says and does everything it can without any revising, composed in one sitting.

[Naturelle]

I have spent my whole life writing poetry. I have assisted spoken word artists with their craft and have been published before, but it's hard to write for the public when people don't want to pay you for what you have written.

My personal preference of style to read and write is freestyle but I do love well constructed prose.

Really good poetry, really good ANYTHING that requires creative energy is really hard to come by and I believe that it should always be shared and supported.

[Jest18]

I dont see any harm for an INTJ to write a poetry, to read it and enjoy it. We're all free to do what we are intereted in and sharing emotions on a list of paper is surely not the worst way of spending a free time. For me it's a sort of challenge and a way to wake up my creativity. Here we go, one of my early poems,which was made solely for fun to dispell my boredom

I’ve never felt like this before

My heart is beating fast
I start to sense it more amd more
Such deep atmosphere of trust.
So pure and tender is my affection,

Your voice sends chills down my spine
Oh,let me steal all your attention,
Unite all we left far behind.

Alone I’m trying to find the truth,
Release myself from this pain,
The feelings I share,just can’t keep aloof,
How sad,I miss you again and again
Unable to cope with this situation.
Revive me and rescue me,and yield to temptation.

[reb]

apologies, Mr. Poe....not publishing, just borrowing...reflective of surgery and recent insanity.

upon a dark night, cold and dreary,
while i pondered, weak and weary,
there came a rapping at my chamber door.

"who could it be?" i rose, but wondered...
"some waif? a thief, who's only blundered
to the threshhold of my door?"

i turned the knob and pulled...shock seized me!
though long away, her face, it pleased me.
there stood the goth Lenore!

the eyes like pools-pools of sepsis!
the mouth so cruel-she could have kept this
vision from my chamber door!

"can you not speak?" young Lenore uttered
whilst i stood and drooled and sputtered
and then fell upon my clean tile floor.

how long defunct, i know not truly.
in coming 'round, and waking fully
found leg irons, cuffs and wild Lenore!

"my need for you, it has not failed.
while in prison, i often railed,
'Confinement makes me want him more!'"

as the blade she began to sharpen,
my wits, my eyes, they did hearken
for escape from approaching chore.

my pulse, my breath, they both quickened;
while the tile began to slicken with pools of thick'ning gore!
each slice, each cut, thinner than before-
thin as the smile of dark Lenore!

now her task, she sees is finished.
the flow, the pulse, they have diminished...
faint from my throat, 'nevermore.
farewell to thee, mad Lenore...'

[Hinun]

Yes, I goes hand in hand with my mathematical ability, I value poetry as much as I do mathematics, the poetry can be the highest form of language, IMO.

[Chronos]

I do poetry. I find it good for concentrating and expressing my emotions. On special occasions I can even dish out a Shakespearan sonnet or two.

[childofprodigy]

I used to write poetry, but I find poems that "professional" poets such as TS Eliot etc write are highly pretentious and obnoxious. They're not even aesthetically pleasing in a poetic sense.

[floramacivor]

I can't write poetry, but I can write really quick doggerel. It amuses my kids to change song lyrics on the fly.

I really want to understand poetry - I probably have the world's largest collection of poetry books (including Poetry for Dummies) - but I find the whole thing frustrating. I do like Edgar Allen Poe's poem about Bells.

[Synapse]

I try to, but then I usually write a short story, because I was never good at writing poetry (I'm afraid of messing up meter and all that) and I was never into the rhyming thing (my poems would probably be unrhymed if I had any idea of how to do it). I still get my emotions out, I just write different characters that share traits with myself instead.

[BobbitSneazer]

I have written poetry all my life, and it almost seems out of character with INTJ.

It's in character with the IN part of me but out of character with the TJ part I guess.

Does anyone else write poetry?

And in case you were thinking of asking, I am 100%, beyond of shadow of a doubt positive that I am not an F.

[Blues69]

I find it difficult to express how I feel. One could compare poetry to songwriting in which case I completely suck at both. I've pretty much made up 2 guitar parts to a song and still, no lyrics.

[paperclip]

I don't think writing poetry is inherently F - it depends on subject matter and approach.

I've written poetry in one form or another for quite some time. Poetry as with any art has many manifestations, some is rooted in emotionality more than others.

[BobbitSneazer]

Yeah, that's the thing. I don't usualy write poetry based on my feelings because I'm not in touch with them. I mostly rely on my language skills to know what words sound good and flow together, and also based on what I think I should be feeling.

[miyukisama]

I write poetry, but they always seem to have a bit of analogy and symbolism, and some type of justification; they usually transmit a lesson.

I can't write purely sentimental poetry. When I write poetry I seem to write about the feelings and/or thoughts, what caused them, how they were developed, their connections and such.

Personally, I don't know if that makes my poems suck or not. I've only writen poems when I have an intense urge to do so.

I write songs more often, if that counts.

[leeser920]

I wouldn't say that I write poetry per se, but sometimes I will jot down blurbs that have been bouncing around in my head. Sometimes the blurbs are in the form of poetry and other times they're scenes that are part of a story.

I think of it as douching out my head so I can make space for thinking about other things that may be more important/beneficial, or just for new ideas.

[anumericalevil]

Why would writing poetry be out of line for INTJs? Being an INTJ doesn't mean one is bereft of emotions and the capability to recognise, understand and channel them.


Requiem for a child

When night changes with day,
when earth loses the sun's rays
The darkness claims her mind;
Her being is but, confined.

She tries in vain to disengage,
but her demons are unfortunately much too savage;
A bitter end to a quiet day,
she slowly rots in the muddled fray

They never seem to disappear,
these thoughts and fears she cannot conquer.
The bitter reminder, the melody sings
she drowns her pain on bloodied wings...

------

Her tranquil dream

She closes her eyes, imagines the transcendence
She moves on gilded wings, slowly fading, the despondence
The lilting tune of harps and flutes
Amongst the rain, it calms and soothes

She arrives, half in tranquil waters,
Beyond the shore she sees wonders
A pleasing mix of shades green, brown and white
She ambles on with a renewed might

The smooth sand caresses her feet
The feet that had no rest for weeks
She stops to appreciate the crystalline white particles
So smooth yet rough- it must be a miracle!

She envisions the rain, a favourite thing,
She hears thunder- a marvelous ring!
Gaily laughing, she moves to the green,
The green with leaves to shield her being.

The harps and flutes continue supporting
The rain and thunder that's forthcoming.
She closes her inner eyes, looking for real peace
But her troubles don't seem to want to leave

The injustice of it all refuses to part
The pain is real, see their marks on her heart?
The anger bubbles from a tiny stream
Without control, it will destroy her tranquil dream

A voice says: "Let it go"
Touch the earth, let the emotions flow
From the heart, flowing though the blood,
Out it goes, doesn't matter, let it flood!

She channels her hurt, pain and anger
The little particles that seem to have no order
Into the sand, into the sand
They're released, from her hands

A smile, a fluttering of the heart,
She never wants this feeling to part
Restriction is no longer part of the ambience,
She sniffs the air, remembers its fragrance

The scent of freedom, calm and tranquility
Where in the real world has limited accessibility
A shrug, a sigh, she knows this cannot last
But in her mind she knows she can revisit this past.

[Chayse]

Not me...poetry does nothing for me.

I enjoy writing however...

[blitzer]

Whilst I sometimes enjoy writing in general and I'm an avid reader, I've never really liked poetry all that much. It may not be inherently F terrain but i'd say the way most poetry has been written would be more appealing to Feelers. I can enjoy some great, descriptive language as some of the good aspects of poetry, but i'd rather read a novel (which to me seems to have more of a purpose) than read about how some guy feels when the warm sun engulfs him as he lies in a meadow somewhere.

[WaeV]

You don't have to be F to write poetry. :suspicious:

I only consider two of the poems I've ever written to be "good".

[Amphorian]

I hate writing and writing poetry, but I've done both, and done very well. =p

[BrooklynBoy]

Yes, I write poetry, and, have done so for years. However, my poetry is usually not sentimental, or, what you might call romantic. It is more inclined to be philosophical and symbolic. I have had two of my poems published in an anthology. A friend of mine has published a lot more than me and she is trying to get me to read my poetry at some of the readings that are presented at our libraries around here. I just can't seem to get myself to do that. I didn't mind getting my poems published in an anthology, but, to get up in front of an audience to do a reading is something I just cannot do.

[Wien1938]

I do write poetry from time to time. Depends on my mood. It's often very poor quality though.

[emma4enriquexx]

Yes I write poetry and also enjoy reading it.

[BrooklynBoy]

Because INTJs have Fi as their tertiary function it is not surprising that there are INTJs
that write poetry.

[BobbitSneazer]

Why would writing poetry be out of line for INTJs? Being an INTJ doesn't mean one is bereft of emotions and the capability to recognise, understand and channel them.


Requiem for a child

When night changes with day,
when earth loses the sun's rays
The darkness claims her mind;
Her being is but, confined.

She tries in vain to disengage,
but her demons are unfortunately much too savage;
A bitter end to a quiet day,
she slowly rots in the muddled fray

They never seem to disappear,
these thoughts and fears she cannot conquer.
The bitter reminder, the melody sings
she drowns her pain on bloodied wings...

------

Her tranquil dream

She closes her eyes, imagines the transcendence
She moves on gilded wings, slowly fading, the despondence
The lilting tune of harps and flutes
Amongst the rain, it calms and soothes

She arrives, half in tranquil waters,
Beyond the shore she sees wonders
A pleasing mix of shades green, brown and white
She ambles on with a renewed might

The smooth sand caresses her feet
The feet that had no rest for weeks
She stops to appreciate the crystalline white particles
So smooth yet rough- it must be a miracle!

She envisions the rain, a favourite thing,
She hears thunder- a marvelous ring!
Gaily laughing, she moves to the green,
The green with leaves to shield her being.

The harps and flutes continue supporting
The rain and thunder that's forthcoming.
She closes her inner eyes, looking for real peace
But her troubles don't seem to want to leave

The injustice of it all refuses to part
The pain is real, see their marks on her heart?
The anger bubbles from a tiny stream
Without control, it will destroy her tranquil dream

A voice says: "Let it go"
Touch the earth, let the emotions flow
From the heart, flowing though the blood,
Out it goes, doesn't matter, let it flood!

She channels her hurt, pain and anger
The little particles that seem to have no order
Into the sand, into the sand
They're released, from her hands

A smile, a fluttering of the heart,
She never wants this feeling to part
Restriction is no longer part of the ambience,
She sniffs the air, remembers its fragrance

The scent of freedom, calm and tranquility
Where in the real world has limited accessibility
A shrug, a sigh, she knows this cannot last
But in her mind she knows she can revisit this past.

I find those to be very good. I like them a lot. That is similar to the kind of poetry I write. Not too touchy feely but a little dark and symbolic.

[BrooklynBoy]

Why would writing poetry be out of line for INTJs? Being an INTJ doesn't mean one is bereft of emotions and the capability to recognise, understand and channel them.


Requiem for a child

When night changes with day,
when earth loses the sun's rays
The darkness claims her mind;
Her being is but, confined.

She tries in vain to disengage,
but her demons are unfortunately much too savage;
A bitter end to a quiet day,
she slowly rots in the muddled fray

They never seem to disappear,
these thoughts and fears she cannot conquer.
The bitter reminder, the melody sings
she drowns her pain on bloodied wings...

------

Her tranquil dream

She closes her eyes, imagines the transcendence
She moves on gilded wings, slowly fading, the despondence
The lilting tune of harps and flutes
Amongst the rain, it calms and soothes

She arrives, half in tranquil waters,
Beyond the shore she sees wonders
A pleasing mix of shades green, brown and white
She ambles on with a renewed might

The smooth sand caresses her feet
The feet that had no rest for weeks
She stops to appreciate the crystalline white particles
So smooth yet rough- it must be a miracle!

She envisions the rain, a favourite thing,
She hears thunder- a marvelous ring!
Gaily laughing, she moves to the green,
The green with leaves to shield her being.

The harps and flutes continue supporting
The rain and thunder that's forthcoming.
She closes her inner eyes, looking for real peace
But her troubles don't seem to want to leave

The injustice of it all refuses to part
The pain is real, see their marks on her heart?
The anger bubbles from a tiny stream
Without control, it will destroy her tranquil dream

A voice says: "Let it go"
Touch the earth, let the emotions flow
From the heart, flowing though the blood,
Out it goes, doesn't matter, let it flood!

She channels her hurt, pain and anger
The little particles that seem to have no order
Into the sand, into the sand
They're released, from her hands

A smile, a fluttering of the heart,
She never wants this feeling to part
Restriction is no longer part of the ambience,
She sniffs the air, remembers its fragrance

The scent of freedom, calm and tranquility
Where in the real world has limited accessibility
A shrug, a sigh, she knows this cannot last
But in her mind she knows she can revisit this past.
Very good! I enjoyed them both. You've given me the incentive to post a few of my
poems.

[NoStoneUnturned]

I've written a couple. They're all about self exploration and passion.

[BobbitSneazer]

I've written a couple. They're all about self exploration and passion.

Yes, most of mine are about internal struggles. But, not exactly about emotions.

[Il Prodigio]

i only like to write little things in my head. once i try to put in on paper, it becomes a struggle to not sound toooooo poetic or try-to-hard.

[Samoan Corleone]

Back in my teens when I would freestyle rap, I'd often spend time in my room writing lyrics over beats, which were mostly about whatever was going on in my life at the moment. I haven't really freestyled since I left high School in '07. I tried it in the mirror one day when I was at home on my own and I'm rusty as hell. There's no need for it now anyway.

[BrooklynBoy]

Here is a sample of my poetry. My style of writing is using symbolism written in free verse.
Hope you enjoy it. If you don't enjoy it, feel free to print it and tear it to shreds, and then,
throw the pieces into the sink and burn them! :)

The title is:
For so many decades I came
To these caves but,
No matter how hard I searched these dark,
Mysterious caverns,
I could never find you.
On this visit to the deep recesses
Of these caves I was desperate.
I tried so hard to find you, child,
But the darkness seemed
To swallow you up forever.
In despair I knelt before my fire,
Clutching my stomach,
As invisible hands seemed
To be tying my intestines into
Tight knots while
The drops of sweat,
Which soaked the ashes beneath me,
Bore testimony to my throbbing pain
Which violently squeezed
A cry of agony from my throat.

When will I find you,
Golden child,
So I can begin my rise
From these ashes?

As I found comfort
In the crackling sound of the wood
Being consumed by the fire,
I heard your footsteps coming
Towards me.
I looked up and saw your face
Which was so wonderfully illuminated
By the fire.
As you began revealing all the secrets
You have kept hidden deep
Within these caves, life
Began streaming back into me, and,
The icy coldness left my hands as if
A stiff summer wind chased away
The arctic air of a frozen tundra.

The golden light from you, child,
Which nourishes and illuminates my soul,
Impels me to stand up on my toes, and,
Stretch my arms heavenward, as if
I was going to pull the stars down
From the sky, and
Begin my ascent.
I will soar threw the clouds and
Touch the majestic peaks and then,
Take a long, explosive leap
Out beyond the galaxies
To find infinity!

[Geminii]

I'm more of a lyricist than a poet. I've written around a hundred songs and parodies of variable quality.

[Phoenix rising]

I love to make off the cuff rhymes, and adapt lyrics on the fly, but occasionally I'll toss a few words around. I made this sat in a bar in Cologne waiting for my flight home, it's not about me, nor does it express my feelings, I was just feeling a tad melancholic and the words went together well.


A Paradigm Shift.
A boy, a man, a child, a dad.
A challenge here the parent must face,
Keep the respect of his son, while he falls from grace.
The world is changed, the illusion is lifted,
But he's still your dad, and with his love you're gifted.

I've met an amazing INFJ lady, and feeling whimsical upon my awakening I decided to send her this poem that popped into my head - ahead of our arranged Skype time.

Tick-tock-tick-tock,
please hurry up, hands on my clock.
Over three hours 'til you're online,
I wonder what I shall do with my time.
Tick-tick-tick-tock,
please hurry up, hands on my clock.

I had the idea that she'll like it if I have it published as a Valentine's gift, so I did :) I titled it waiting for Jessie, and the site demanded a description, so I ended up making the below poem to describe it.

Time is relative: hours may pass in the blink of an eye, when holding hands under a summer sky,
yet ten minutes may seem like a year, when you're counting the seconds until you're with the one you hold dear.

---------- Post added 02-11-2010 at 03:21 AM ----------

I love to make off the cuff rhymes, and adapt lyrics on the fly, but occasionally I'll toss a few words around. I made this sat in a bar in Cologne waiting for my flight home, it's not about me, nor does it express my feelings, I was just feeling a tad melancholic and the words went together well.


A Paradigm Shift.
A boy, a man, a child, a dad.
A challenge here the parent must face,
Keep the respect of his son, while he falls from grace.
The world is changed, the illusion is lifted,
But he's still you're dad, and with his love you're gifted.

I've met an amazing INFJ lady, and feeling whimsical upon my awakening I decided to send her this poem that popped into my head - ahead of our arranged Skype time.

Tick-tock-tick-tock,
please hurry up, hands on my clock.
Over three hours 'til you're online,
I wonder what I shall do with my time.
Tick-tick-tick-tock,
please hurry up, hands on my clock.

I had the idea that she'll like it if I have it published as a Valentine's gift, so I did :) I titled it waiting for Jessie, and the site demanded a description, so I ended up making the below poem to describe it.

Time is relative: hours may pass in the blink of an eye, when holding hands under a summer sky,
yet ten minutes may seem like a year, when you're counting the seconds until you're with the one you hold dear.

I put the 2nd two on a poetry site about 10 minutes before I posted them here, and I've had two people favourite me, and one comment of 'Short but brilliant :) I really liked it'.
Think I'll put other ones on there too :)

[schizophrenia]

I write quite a bit. I've gotten a lot of compliments on it, too.
I wouldn't call it poetry, though. More likely a compilation of sentences that seem to sound good after each other.
Though, oddly, I find that I can't identify with my own writing, if that makes sense... for example if I write something about love, it's just because I find that the words sound good together, not that I'm actually in love.
Also, it's noted that I tend to write from a man's perspective, even though I'm a woman.
It's odd, but if I didn't write it, no one else would, I suppose.

[sed0007]

Several poems in my blog......




Most recent is a birthday poem to my wife......





Ode to Eternity...


Fret not that one more year has passed;
Ignore the hair that grays...
Count not the months and years elapsed;
Long not for “younger” days.

For Time is but the pawn of Space;
A soulless metronome;
And ‘Matter’, can affect its’ pace,
And change the path it roams.

Rest easy...heed the surety
That true Love knows no “time”
But lends eternal purity
To our Spirits’ bond sublime.

“Eternal”, then, our wedded bliss,
Immeasurable our Joy.
A warm embrace; a smile....a kiss...
Can Times’ constraints destroy.

A look through Space via your brown eyes
Transports my soul on wings
And to your Grace my Spirit flies
And to its’ music sings.

This Love, unbound by mortal coils
Swiss precision cannot ‘time’;
All temporal concepts this love foils;
No matter how defined.

Not eons; seconds; pace;.... or beat;
Not each ensuing morn ;
Could change the hour that saw us meet.........
The hour we both were born.



Happy Birthday to my Love with the faraway eyes......





Ode to Eternity...

[Audra]

I written and published both poetry and genre fiction (much to the disgust of my literary acquaintances).