Writing Poetry

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  • Rookie - 730 Points Muhammad Farhan Ahmed (12/25/2014 2:52:00 AM) Post reply
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    Read my poem and comment on it on the following page:


    'You live in a world of odd dreams, Mr. Ahmed
    Putting queer imaginations to mere fancy words
    Bejeweled by baffling metaphors and similes
    That one mightn't get the hang of with ease
    Why don't you eschew the pesky rhyme rule,
    As D.H Lawrence and Walt Whitman did?
    Switch to chaste, free-verse poetry instead
    Of having a big, sentimental, slushy head'

    'I neither live in Lawrence's nor Whitman's planet
    For I dwell in my own enchanted, poetic world
    Rhyme-less poems are no delight to me, Mr. Paul
    Poems and paragraphs aren't alike, after all
    Whether a writer rhymes, ruminates, or not
    That depends entirely on the poet's taste
    A poem is a splendent verse, an alluring art
    An inner voice, a majestic vision of the heart'

  • Rookie - 11 Points Nikki Warner (12/23/2014 4:25:00 PM) Post reply


  • Rookie - 730 Points Muhammad Farhan Ahmed (12/23/2014 12:16:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    A Mother's Loneliness

    There, stood alone she, desolated in tears...
    Remained her eyes drizzly over the years.
    Every day and night, doleful was she,
    A blur was all what she could see...
    'My son, my son, why did you die?!
    The river of my life has become dry! '

    Mournful years passed by...
    Until dreamt she of bright candles,
    Held by children high.
    On the back, saw she one with a dim light,
    It was her son, wistful was he quite.
    'Your tears dowsed it, dimmed it,
    Your rue stabbed my little heart
    O Mother, why did you fall apart?'

    Comment on my poem on this page: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-mother-s-loneliness/

    Replies for this message:
    • Rookie - 730 Points Nishi Kumari (1/2/2015 7:14:00 AM) Post reply

      very beautifully written...expresses the emotions of a mother's heart drowned in the ocean of love for her son and sadness of loosing him....

  • Rookie - 112 Points Elizaveta Sudjina (12/23/2014 11:18:00 AM) Post reply

    When I write a poem in Russian - and then translate itinto English - the second version often helps to make the Russian poem better. Irecommend everyone to become BILINGUAL poems!

  • Rookie - 0 Points Latavia Green (12/10/2014 5:06:00 AM) Post reply

    that was a truly beautiful poem

  • Rookie - 149 Points Ritienne Abela (12/7/2014 3:58:00 AM) Post reply

    Children of the Slums

    Imagine waking up on a filthy, uneven floor -
    light coming solely through the flimsy wooden wall.

    Imagine trudging through the mud barefoot -
    mud merged with remnants of God knows who.

    Imagine breathing in thick layers of sooty dust -
    the colors sullen, lifeless and dull.

    Imagine smelling the scent of faeces and decay,
    of diseases and of death every single day.

    Imagine your belly gurgling with hunger and distraught,
    sniffing glue - the only way to delude.

    Imagine walking on rickety bridges -
    a step amiss and drown you will in these murky watery ditches.

    Imagine wearing the same old rags - all tattered and torn,
    being beaten and battered, no rights of which to call your own.

    Imagine having silly daydreams of going to school
    but there's not a penny to spare - not even for a worn-out book.

    But alas, imagine no more for such children exist,
    with ghosts clouding their starry dreams
    And death hanging heavy upon their tiny, little feet.

  • Rookie - 14 Points Sam Medley (12/6/2014 3:44:00 AM) Post reply

    Timothy Winters is a great poem

  • Rookie - 14 Points Sam Medley (12/6/2014 3:42:00 AM) Post reply

    How do I make a poem in this website

  • Rookie - 5 Points Antonio Cabral Filho (12/4/2014 4:39:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply


    Casalzinho na cozinha
    discutindo asperamente
    " que eu te isso, qué?!
    eu te aquilo; vem, vem! "

    Aí um casal de caga-sebo,
    passarinho vagabundo
    que nem se encontra na feira,
    pousou na janela
    e ficou catando piolho
    um no outro
    ao som de pequenos pios,
    quase sussurros,
    arrumando as peninhas
    um do outro,
    numa cena tão cheia de paz
    e com a maior fartura de amor
    tão grande que o casalzinho
    parou a briga selada aos beijos.

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  • Silver Star - 9,695 Points Heather Wilkins (12/4/2014 2:07:00 PM) Post reply

    trash talk has no place in poetry this detracts from a writers work we as writers should hold our poetry to a high standard something to be proud of as it represents us as people.

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