Writing Poetry

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  • Rookie - 0 Points Andrej Gylan Grampovcan (8/2/2013 1:50:00 AM) Post reply
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    Our names are
    as a barcode.
    And we are all only
    as items put together in the stores.
    Always on sale.
    And with time,
    the names of the burden for traders.
    It’s hard to sell anything.
    Our names
    for the disposal folded.
    It is already so,
    that the time is not over this,
    what is ahead of time
    it was so.

  • Rookie - 0 Points Andrej Gylan Grampovcan (8/2/2013 1:43:00 AM) Post reply

    Leaves hair.
    Thoughtful face.
    Eyes closed.
    And these deeper tones.
    You are falling into the abyss of dreams
    day to day.
    And silence crazy
    but even they go mad
    Why you’re not crazy,
    I’m still mad that I?
    It could be your tornado
    may rocket
    to fly to the red planet
    and obleživa the two embraced,
    Both hit.
    And I ask
    why is not your tears of happiness,
    falling down like a waterfall in the mountain lake
    by kissing the morning sun,
    that shines on your lips through your smile?
    Yeah, you my girl
    Perhaps women are far more beautiful in the south;
    Humorous, sensual, and more
    Take your time,
    to admit that the ants
    and love out loud.
    Our names are
    as a barcode.
    And we are all only
    as items put together in the stores.
    Always on sale.
    And with time,
    the names of the burden for traders.
    It’s hard to sell anything.
    Our names
    for the disposal folded.
    It is already so,
    that the time is not over this,
    what is ahead of time
    it was so.
    Explain them as dry firewood
    and lay at the door.
    And waiting, and waiting,
    the fire burn.
    Can the words like the morning sun,
    which will float a smile.
    And it’s not even a sin
    Rose in her teeth.
    And it’s not even a sin
    if locked heart
    again, it’s crazy.
    Crazy passion with kisses,
    It’s crazy that you’re still crazy.
    They are friends of silence.
    Beauty without a touch.
    Have a nice wind.
    Throughout the day, through the ether.

    No more so,
    It's all been
    what is to come,
    It's gonna be.
    The signals in space
    The faces of the sea
    It was once,
    a long time ago already...
    And somewhere,
    far away,
    the silent voice
    became cold,
    cold through the 'night.
    And come on,
    all laugh at him go,
    This is not yet a sin.
    And there is no sin,
    if kisses words
    as fires burn
    and awaken memories.
    We once loved
    And were loved,
    We killed a laugh.
    He is a lover for one night
    he is like ambulance for help.
    And blue for you
    when you enter you.

    Your body aircraft carrier
    Waiting for someone to land again.
    Waiting for someone to take again.
    And lands, and this takes.
    Deep within you,
    on a slippery track your body.
    Deep within you,
    as steel bird.
    And you're gonna scream,
    the passions of the drawer.
    When you repaint the tongue and navel nipples
    and you felt his lips on the red river kisses
    and will freak out your compass in your Bermuda Triangle,
    then you breath again, all wet and passionate,
    and he's gonna bite you in your black curls
    and I whispered
    and lie to you sweet words.
    And you're gonna scream.
    And you're gonna cry.
    And again, you'll be happy.
    As luck would really be eternal.

    Al rain,
    Al you are falling you
    Ice still burning.
    In our view
    In our times
    Waves of happiness
    bridges passion.
    And laugh
    when it rains.
    And we are one,
    yellow as the sun.

    Rain kissing morning.
    Everything is quiet.
    There is no birds today.
    Only a tranquil peace.
    You may love again?
    Maybe you will again take time for yourself?
    To make an old flame burn again?
    Agora and again both crazy.
    Once upon a time there were shots to the heart.
    There were fears.
    They were like birds under the clouds.
    They were like a face on their planet.
    And take off the space to the bone.
    Both were hit.
    It was true love.
    She is a real disease.
    And maybe still is?
    Who knows?

  • Rookie Eleanor Bennett (8/1/2013 6:00:00 PM) Post reply

    Would you like to be one of the lucky few that is published to be seen by a global audience as a child or student?

    Poets, writers, artists and photographers are all most welcome.

    One marvellous thing about the Poetry Space site itself is when you view, you will notice that some of the submissions are from children as young as 5. What a wonderful boost to your young creative mind to have someone judge your work worthy to be seen around the globe. It is a must to give young people encouragement.

    We as a website for the Youthspace aren't getting many contributions currently but who knows how this may grow.
    We would love to run contests in the future for young minds and give great publishing opportunities.

    If you are of any age you are welcome to submit, If you are a parent or guardian you can submit on your child's behalf to: eleanor@poetryspace.co.uk

    Photography, writings, poetry, art and anything creative really is welcome.

    I have ideas of including a slide show on the page with music/original songwriting/spoken word from young people so I would be thrilled to have it all sent across.

    No deadlines, no fees and open to all.

  • Rookie - 259 Points Jack Growden (8/1/2013 5:33:00 AM) Post reply

    PLEASE READ MY COLLECTION! ! ! I am a young, aspiring poet. Please feel free to rate them and comment your thoughts. Thanks, Jack Growden

  • Rookie Vivek Bhaskar (7/31/2013 4:07:00 AM) Post reply

    i would like to consecrate a poem to the forum written by me, critics are solemnly welcomed! ! !


    Feelings are so obvious though it’s unvoiced,
    and are affrighted by a deep whisht.
    She comes in blue and makes me astonished
    with her Hellenes beauty, leaving a sigh,
    and stole my heart under various pretexts.
    My love, my love, who aint be no cared of
    winning your tending reckons is a fool.
    I am not; it’s a deep pain inside somewhere,
    the pain of an ill-destined ardent lover.
    And her thoughtless words would drought me ever.

    Makes her so impressive, I draw a bead on.
    What is right and what not is not in my castle?
    Everything I do, I do everything for her.
    A kiss on her nape turns me immortal,
    live with her for long lasted years.
    Let me, if you feel I am the one for you,
    in this or the next, or else I give-up the ghost.
    Though, feelings are so obvious, unvoiced
    and made of silence in dark, so rendered.
    Oh! ! ! Please love me my Helen with your soul
    And I want to die in your arms, so heavenly.

  • Rookie - 259 Points Jack Growden (7/30/2013 4:41:00 AM) Post reply

    PLEASE READ MY COLLECTION! I am a young, aspiring poet so rate and comment as you see fit. http://www.poemhunter.com/jack-growden-2

  • Rookie A Michaelle Yarbrough (7/27/2013 5:35:00 PM) Post reply

    I have been on the site a couple of days now. I hope that you read my poems and enjoy them. Thank you

  • Rookie Santosh Chhetry (7/27/2013 11:22:00 AM) Post reply

    Poetry is all about a dealing one's feelings and emotions. It cann't be effectiive until one reconciles. All other aspects like grammar, symbolism, imagery etc. are secondary until and unless these are wooven by a unseen dream.

  • Rookie - 259 Points Jack Growden (7/27/2013 5:15:00 AM) Post reply

    Please read my collection. Rate and comment as you wish! ! Kindest of regards :) http://www.poemhunter.com/jack-growden-2

  • Freshman - 1,001 Points Gulsher John (7/18/2013 3:31:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Breaking Grammar Rules in " Poetry Writing"
    (by Melissa Donovan)

    Accomplished writers respect the rules of grammar the way an Acrobat respects the tightrope — grammar might be intimidating and complicated, but we need it in order to perform.
    Grammar rules lend structure and clarity to our writing and gives us common ground rules that we can use to communicate clearly and effectively, just like the tightrope gives the acrobat a foundation upon which to walk.
    Many poets demonstrate grammatical expertise, neatly parking periods and commas in their designated spaces and paying homage to proper capitalization.

    Writing Poetry Without Grammar Rules

    Poets don’t always follow the rules, which is why poetry is attractive to writers who are especially creative, rebellious, and enjoy coloring outside the lines.
    Grammar rules, particularly spelling and punctuation, are nothing more than a creative tool for many poets who choose to dismiss these rules altogether or use the them to decorate and add aesthetic elements to a poem.
    Many poets have skirted grammar with great success. Many more have failed.

    Poetry Writing – Where Rules and Creativity Cooperate or Collide

    As the poetry canon grows beyond measure, poets increasingly reach for creative devices to make their work stand out.
    Toying with grammar rules is one such device, but it is not something that can be approached carelessly. If you choose to forgo the rules because you don’t know them rather than as a creative technique, your lack of knowledge will show and the poem will present as amateurish. Of course, that’s true for all types of writing: learn the rules, and only after you have learned them, go ahead and break them.
    I salute anyone who breaks the rules in the interest of art and great poetry writing just as much as I admire poets who craft meter and verse within the confines of grammar. So for this language-loving poet, either way is the right way. Walk the tight rope or jump from it and see if you can fly.

    Replies for this message:
    • Freshman - 1,001 Points Deepak Sawhney (7/29/2013 1:33:00 PM) Post reply

      Really appreciate the basic rules as you have enunciated. I have been on this forum for the past few days and have read the works of a few authors. Sadly, some of them disappoint on this score. Where ... more

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