Freeform Workshop

Workshop for poetry written in free forms.
Post a message


  • Veteran Poet - 1,771 Points Kewayne Wadley (2/2/2015 10:56:00 PM) Post reply
    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.

    Where's The Remote

    The night slowly escapes us,
    What's left of the cracker jacks, echo against the box, nothing else but space, and the thick foil of this delectable treat,
    I should be taking a shower,
    Perhaps re-watching an old movie,
    I'm sitting here, rattling crumbs in this lousy box,
    Time transcends, becoming more than what it is,
    How fortunate the pleasure,
    As The thought of you comes as it pleases,
    I laugh at that,
    The envelope of your thought,
    the tv turns,
    A simple click of the remote, five shades of the same color flash across the screen,
    Quick dashes of color, all fluent in motion,
    All from the push of a button,
    If things were that simple,
    Revert back, At The push of a button,
    Is that your voice,
    Or am I half sleep again,

  • Silver Star - 7,657 Points Eric Ericson (1/10/2015 4:34:00 AM) Post reply

    I will preface this by saying that I write free form and I think it is best suited for some poems.

    Robert frost is quoted as saying " free-form poetry is like playing tennis with the net down."

    This statement is true, but it is not.
    let me illustrate.

    One can take any piece of prose and shape it like a poem and it looks like free form.

    Below is a random paragraph from The Rainbow (copyright 1915, BY D. H. LAWRENCE)
    Please remember that it is prose.

    It was enough for the men,
    that the earth heaved
    and opened its furrow to them,
    that the wind blew
    to dry the wet wheat,
    and set the young ears of corn
    wheeling freshly round about;

    it was enough
    that they helped the cow in labour,
    or ferreted the rats from under the barn,
    or broke the back of a rabbit
    with a sharp knock of the hand.
    So much warmth
    and generating and pain and death
    did they know in their blood,
    earth and sky and
    beast and green plants,

    so much exchange and interchange
    they had with these,
    that they lived full and surcharged,
    their senses full fed,
    their faces always turned
    to the heat of the blood,
    staring into the sun,
    dazed with looking
    towards the source of generation,
    unable to turn round.

    This is good prose and well written, but It need not be good. Bad prose works very well. It appears very edgy and creative.

    Free-form poetry must be more than prose. It should have a reason that it is not written as prose. This makes it very difficult.

  • Rookie - 0 Points Rolf Greener (1/4/2015 8:27:00 AM) Post reply

    Here we go. First post, see what you think. I could do with some feedback as my writings are normally kept locked away.

    Oh sweet oblivion
    my fingers burn each time we touch
    violent screams wrapped in soft lace, echo.
    Are we not bewildered?
    As close to sweet tasting benevolence
    as the soul of man to heavens gate?
    Take my hand, dear
    and place it against your face.
    Let me melt into your twilight gaze
    and comatose so quietly that we both may dream.

    Damn this transparent perplexing perspex!
    we share glances and laughter and embrace
    but not hearts?
    Seek and search for what stands in front of you, lost?
    To all but I.
    As close as we get to Folkvangr
    must we traverse fate like nobles at a ball?
    Masked and twirling to societies quartet

    Carpe Nocturne! With flames of rouge
    May I chance upon your lips once more?
    If only to fill the void they left last eve
    when once and thrice impressed upon my own.
    Mere words fail to capture you
    (despite the effort of my betters) .
    A thousand once and a thousand more
    would still frustrate dear Michaelangelo.
    And five autumns with mallet and marble
    eclipsed by the wisper of your name
    Do I not impress?
    Do I not reside within conscious reason
    when I look inside your darkest alcove?
    Moreover, does any other?
    Non has light enough to see.

  • Veteran Poet - 1,935 Points Nishi Kumari (1/2/2015 6:45:00 AM) Post reply

    The rain may not be there but always be ready with your umbrella because when the time is not in your favor, the rain may arrive even on a sunny day.
    Life is a beautiful journey but embedded with thorns of obstacles and and downs....thus, while travelling through the cumbers-ed ways of should always be ready like a solider ready to step down in the battlefield and fight howsoever irksome the situation may always hopeful and optimistic......because where there is hope there is life and where there is life there are ways of survival...

  • Gold Star - 7,475 Points Amitava Sur (12/22/2014 6:45:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    It is a good advice to write poetry in free form to express the feeling exactlyas what I feel. But one thing pricks me here, that if I really do write a poetry without any rhyme or rhythm in it then it will be an article or a message only! ! Will it be called a poetry at all??I have every doubt.

    Replies for this message:
    • Gold Star - 7,475 Points Nathan Beery (1/4/2015 12:30:00 AM) Post reply

      Rhyme and rhythm are used to make pace, poetry doesn't need a pace, poetry can be chaotic, instead of a drum beat, freeform creates a storm. Just as beautiful and perhaps more powerful.

  • Rookie - 333 Points Mustapha Muinah (10/17/2014 6:16:00 AM) Post reply | Read 3 replies

    Everyone who knows you will think you are the happiest person on earth
    they think they know you but they are seeing the mask you put on.
    You are breaking inside
    gradually gradually
    people do say that your smile can be seen from miles
    it means you are as apy as flower
    meanwhile you have covered your head with a hood, so that you can lie about your mood.
    You are breaking inside
    gradually, gradually
    you are breaking inside
    you wish to be happy
    you wish to be free
    you want to show the world who you are but you cant
    you are breaking inside gradually gradually.
    You are breaking inside
    your friends and family believed they are there for you
    but they didnt knw that you are hidding in a corner weeping.
    You know that the care and love you get from them is nt enough to heal your wounds
    you are breaking inside
    gradually, gradually
    you are breaking inside
    you try to move on but your wounds disturb you.
    Yo do tell yourself" i cant recover, i want to die"
    so that you can be free
    why do you want to die?
    Dont you know that everybody has one or more wounds.
    Some wounds are healed and has turn to scars while some are fresh and are disturbing us.
    Why must you die

    Replies for this message:
    • Rookie - 333 Points Kevin Patrick (10/18/2014 11:34:00 PM) Post reply

      Every line of this poem is steeped in a deep understanding of human pain and suffering, although it may seem the happiest person it can be a disguise. you wish to be happy you wish to be free ... more

    • Rookie - 333 Points A Man (10/17/2014 6:48:00 AM) Post reply

      I too have alot of Wounds

    To read all of 3 replies click here
  • Bronze Star - 2,116 Points Kevin Patrick (10/3/2014 10:42:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    There’s a face in the mirror
    And I’m not sure who it is
    It comes right at me like a gun fighter’s fist
    Charging fast, and rapid nearly grazing the tip
    Between the span of nerves; Hook line and miss
    And there’s a veil thinly pealed
    Beneath a rock in my skull
    Gazing through the parallax of two empty dots

    I try to call out but there’s no room in the dark,
    Amber light converges in deliriums exhaust
    The Shellac dries
    Under heats condensation
    But the sink is gorged
    In a gelatinous inundation

    While a frail monotone
    Splinters the trembling cracks
    That tears my lips
    Without so much as a match
    My Sutured mouths rings in the tropic of cancer
    As Wings shackled flyby in fire pits trail
    The Porter calls out for my Gordian vest
    I lie to live and keep all my threads colour best
    While growing in the marrow
    Of the puppet at the pulpit
    Is an epiphany of chemical pain
    Coursing the narrow gaps in my dislodged veins
    And I wonder which role that I'm born to play
    When every day feels exactly the same

    Replies for this message:
  • Rookie - 547 Points Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip (10/1/2014 4:10:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    Go not until and unless some one calls you,
    Come not until and unless some one invites you,
    Love not until and unless your are convince,
    Eat not until and unless you clear about what
    Do not until and unless you experience

    Replies for this message:
    • Rookie - 547 Points Eric Ericson (11/22/2014 6:05:00 AM) Post reply

      I hope you are writing this as sarcasm. I would do just the opposite. I will rise each morning and look for the sunrise knowing that might be only clouds

    • Rookie - 547 Points Kay Staley (10/28/2014 9:40:00 AM) Post reply

      Go beyond your call before and for sure Go before your invited, for sure no one cares Love before someone loves you, for sure they will Eat before you are convinced; afterward you will be for sur ... more

  • Rookie - 108 Points Maria Goodison (9/27/2014 7:12:00 AM) Post reply

    Be Strong If You Can.

    Be a strong man when you can, be a man that is strong
    I know you can.
    Stand tall so all can see that you are still wiling to be
    there beats the rocks until they break and crumble turn
    to dust.
    Make the bread so you can eat, heat the water on the stove
    for that bath you indeed need.
    Hold this world on your head so not ne will fall or feel lonely
    Be a man that's strong, be a strong man I know you can and when
    the day is done, sit down and hum a tune because you my
    dear is the strength that is in us all.

  • Rookie - 0 Points Samiul Halim (9/6/2014 2:14:00 AM) Post reply

    i want to training.... poems, , , ,

[Hata Bildir]