Treasure Island

Writing Poetry


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  • Chom Chom (2/1/2008 9:56:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Ok so now lemme give my uncles and aunts and brothers and sisters a little hint how to improve your poems.......

    *First of all don't make the line too long make it short and easy to understand.
    *Try to rhyme as much as possible, but don't rhyme nonsense....
    If you are no good at rhyming you can try it this way..Suppose you wanna rhyme the word 'way' then start to rhyme with the first letters for example

    Aay
    Bay
    Cay
    Day
    Eay

    Do it like this and you're bound to find the word you're looking for...

    Well try this 2 techniques i am sure you poetry will improve a lot....

  • Goldy Locks (1/30/2008 4:13:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    If there was a 'Reading Poetry' forum, would have posted it there. This place is close enough...


    What I Love About Fiction

    Turning each page, how fast
    they pile up in your left hand,
    how your progress is marked
    by a bookmark’s steady march
    through leaves.
    through leaves. And poetry, the opposite:
    how slowly you move from poem
    to poem, how long it takes
    to read one slender volume,
    how each night you turn only one
    or two pages, carefully,
    and then sleep,
    like learning to love a skinny
    and complicated girl.

    —Amy Watkins

  • Francis Ohanyido (1/28/2008 6:51:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    The 5 Basic Ankhs of Poetry
    by F.O.Ohanyido
    Mrs. Onubogu who was probably my favourite Literature in English teacher of
    many years ago at FGC Jos, used to throw many proverbs using imageries around
    the ‘oja’ flute which is a common musical instrument used in Igboland. One
    particular one she always said was that it is 'easy to blow the oja, but it is an
    exceptionally difficult task to make music with it that is good enough for ancestral
    ears.' Over the years Mrs. Onubogu’s sayings have come to sink into my head. I
    believe poetry is an oja flute: the task of producing a few poems as opposed to
    chapters of prosaic works like novels appears simple, but the catch is actually
    producing good poems of distinct pedigree and quality. This has always been the
    challenge of poetry. That is why the poems of Okigbo live in sacred Muse. I suspect
    my old pal and egbon, Victor “Vano” Okigbo his nephew (son of late Pius) , who is
    also an exceptionally gifted poet never really took the path seriously because he
    probably would have been a diehard perfectionist to be able to walk with his
    own shadow separate from Christopher’s.
    A young Nigerian writer by the name Isaac Ogezi, wrote an article some time ago
    that got me thinking about this matter. This was further given motion from inertia
    after reading the beautiful one on rhyme by another writer Emman Shehu
    (Chairman ANA, Abuja) .
    On serious analysis one can then say that because of its shortness or brevity, a
    poem's every word, line, rhyme pattern etc carry more weight, and must be
    chosen with great care. I always remind nyself of 5 basic ankhs to help me choose
    wisely. You may benefit from them too.
     Focus: Narrow it down! Grandiose themes like 'love' and 'injustice' need to be
    pruned down to manageable sizes because of pathos, excitement, and basic
    emotional pull. What sort of love, what kind of injustice?
     Content: Write around your Theme. Is your poem about love? Then try not
    to make the word 'love' an overemphasized currency inside the poem! (What
    a bland word it has become, after all...) Instead, describe the precise
    feeling, build a metaphor, write around the idea of love to get through to the
    core of what you're trying to evoke.
     Expression: Stick to ideas and not emotional expression. Poetry is more than
    a venting of feelings (that's what a diary is for!) . Put some intellectual
    distance between yourself and the subject matter of your poetry.
     Rhymes: Ditch it if it messes your flow. Maya Angelou was never a stickler for
    it- look at where it got her. Don't rhyme for the sake of rhyming. New poets
    tend to think they can get away with less-than-perfect rhymes, and/or
    rhymes divorced from meter. Not so! Stick to free verse unless you're
    prepared to work very hard at mastering formal poetry. I rhyme because of
    my inherent love for floetry but I am a Poet not a Floet!
     Edit: The realm of the Muse has its ‘visitations’ too. It must undergo many
    revisions in order to shine or before leaving the nursery as Maiwada is wont
    to say. In Kaduna Writers’ League Sumaila, Diego and I have always
    emphasized the strength of edited works. That is why Friday John Abba will
    always remind all that once the work becomes public, the writer dies. So a
    good critique should be taken in good faith. Forgive your editor if he turns
    out to be a literary Ombudsman. Don't be afraid of scrapping whole verses, or
    cutting everything down to a few good lines and rebuilding - this is a
    necessary part of the process of producing great poetry or becoming a
    Wordsbody in the tent of Molara Wood


    http: //ana-kwl.cjb.net/

    http: //blogs.cjb.net/anakwl

  • Csdb Kind (1/20/2008 11:23:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    how could truth be truth if someone on a higher level of truth has his truth, ,
    is truth not compleate?

    Replies for this message:
    • Goldy Locks (1/21/2008 12:13:00 PM) Post reply Stage

      we all hold our own policy of truth... no one's is ever complete; but we adapt & we make do.

  • Goldy Locks (1/16/2008 11:27:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    from Journal

    26jan01, flying west

    yesterday a year ago was the last time my sister spoke to her children

    five-days-before-they-died

    isn't it homeopathic, the ocean now?
    dilutions of her first daughter diluted
    into not-penance-but-ocean-now

    the could-have-beens!
    the sparkling house


    28jan01, my sister's house, Seattle

    so what are we to make of the whole disappearing?

    but there are still the girls' books and notes and keychains lit with dust,
    and dust is just skin so I wonder—
    are they here in the dust

    in the paper this morning—

    a partial list of what-was-found
    bandana-slash-camera-slash-jeans

    in two days they're burying all unidentified remains
    into a common grave

    my mother is trying to paint again

    the bird outside the window doesn't take off but gets caught in the branches
    and the sky's all tangled, too, reluctant to get bright

    even claire's hair is getting light


    Catherine Barnett | Into Perfect Spheres Such Holes Are Pierced
    May 2004 Alice James Books



    'These heart-breaking poems of an all too human life stay as absolute as the determined craft which made them. There is finally neither irony nor simple despair in what they record. Rather, it is the far deeper response of witness, of recognizing what must be acknowledged and of having the courage and the care to say so.'
    —Robert Creeley

    “If death could be undone by love—that deathless human wish—if death could be undone by formidable mindfulness and immaculate craft, these poems would revive the dead. The miracle they do work is nearly of that scale: they forge, and forge on our behalf, a model of the soul.”
    —Linda Gregerson

  • Kafun Lady (1/15/2008 6:46:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    first is to be myself, the poetry is in the nature, all we see and all we touch. i phink to write poetry is to observe all phings.

  • Vikram Aarella - The Poem Shooter (1/14/2008 12:27:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    how r u people today

  • Kestrel Quiambao (1/13/2008 10:40:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Am I too much hurt
    Am I too much pain
    Is this the naked reality
    Is this the right track, operating in the right conscience

    Break the spoils
    Race of illusions
    Too much loving
    Too much hurting

    Tears falling like the snow
    Slowly damaging my inner ego
    Did I lose
    Will I win

    Some day, fright night
    Dark path, lonely white
    Cars flying, trains playing around
    Those are the machines playing in my mind

    Revolution, evolution, realization
    Baby, oh baby, these fears I'm swallowing
    An elemental race
    Causing my emotions to beg for a second chance

    Fear corrupting a child in the playground
    The devil is creaming inside thee
    Treasure chest, completely found
    A box with plagues within a killing spree

    Cold rough, warm tough
    This pain is elemental
    This pain is paradoxical
    Laugh to the senseless bluff

    A beat buried in my mind
    A scar painted in my timeless clock
    How do I educate myself
    From this patience of ignorance

    Pale face within a warm embrace
    Touch the heart, escape with the strife
    Am empty brain left in vain
    In the world, filled with shame

    Oh baby please, guide my arrow
    That pierces every heart with incomplete perfection
    And hurts so bad you'll never cry
    Until it is...

  • Afshaan Suleiman (1/12/2008 6:09:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    hi all. i've always loved poetry and today i have written my first poem. please read and give me some feedback which will help me improve further. thank you.

    You

    The clock is ticking
    The seconds pass
    I see out the window
    Its drizzling
    Tiny raindrops in puddles
    Birds spread their wings to touch the grey violet clouds
    Sometimes I see a flock of birds, it's beautiful
    I wrap myself
    Its cold but my heart is melting
    As I sip hot tea
    I start to wonder about you

    I wonder who you are
    And where you are
    What are you doing in this moment?
    While I'm writing a poem about you
    I wonder how we will meet
    Through a friend, family, at a wedding?
    I don't have the answers, just the questions
    But I know that when you come into my life,
    The angels will sing that you're the one
    I've been waiting for
    My soul will want to mate
    With your soul
    God will whisper that you're the answer
    To my prayers.

    After all that I have been through,
    All the poor choices I have made,
    All the betrayal and heart breaks that have come my way
    I have healed my wounds and fought my demons
    Knowing that you would come along
    If I didn't go through the hard times
    I probably would never have known you
    My bitter trials was truly a blessing in disguise
    For without it I would have never known
    You're truly a gift from Above.

    Replies for this message:
    • Giotti Giulienne (1/29/2008 3:53:00 PM) Post reply Stage

      hi! ! i just saw now your poem and let me say one thing, only one thing to you: true: your poem show how truly love can be found even though first in dreams..and just after in reality but love is ... more

  • Daniel Wallace (1/10/2008 10:12:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Waddup. I am open if anyone needs help to write poetry. I write poems and music for life. I am not very good in holy poems. I specialize in dark, death, and pretty much gothic / emo poetry. So if any of u want some help, just email me at Gangsta_Wannabe13@msn.com

    Good luck everyone. Write away

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