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Freeform Workshop

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  • Glenn J(ones) (7/16/2010 11:36:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    I don't necessarily consider myself a poet. MY future carrer options are heading towards journalist, author, radio-host, advertisement designer. I wrote this out of complete Random and I don't understand what compelled me to write it. I haven't written a poem since a 6th grade English project, and while I managed quite a few compliments, that was a while (but not too much of, as I'm only 17) ago. So this probably just sucks, but I'd love opinions and possible critique. Here you go:

    Desolate Pelican Land
    Ship wreckage unbattered
    My compass points east
    No rest.

    I am sunkissed and shaken
    The palm trees are'a swayin'
    It's snowing in Africa
    No sense.

    Magic Sailing Ship, abduct me
    Probe me and mutilate
    Borrow a kidney
    No return.

    Do you feel the gentle breeze attacking?
    Asphyxiation by coconut
    I am askin' for a lynchin'
    No anchor.

    Doppleganger is'a swimmin'
    Hear the monkey's screech?
    I lounge on anthills
    No free birds.

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    • b l (4/13/2011 9:42:00 PM) Post reply

      Hey as far as experience I'm right there with you(ripe old age of 17) .But I got a kick out of it, Has a great imagery about it.As well as a Alice-in-wonderland-I-have-no-clue-whats-going-on-vibe. Le ... more

  • Cymberli Renai (6/4/2010 4:22:00 PM) Post reply

    what do you think?

    I have reached the end.
    The pain iIfeel will never stop.
    There is no end to these tears.
    never stopping.
    The end of us.
    Pain takes hold.
    The love ends,
    tears fall....

    my friend Alexis wrote this and wants criticism.

  • Juan Guzman (5/18/2010 7:14:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    These are my three faverite poem that i have written please comment on witch is better, and if you like them, please view my others.

    Someone Incomplete by: Juan Guzman
    The ones blessed by God, the ones cursed by the Devil.
    They are the ones who can see the dagger inside of me.
    They are the ones who do not help me, they fear me.
    They are the ones who do not look at me, but they see me.
    I wait.
    The ones of normal nature, the one in the middle.
    They are the ones do not see the dagger that pains me.
    They are the ones who do not help me, they do not know me.
    They are the ones who do not hear me cry, they do not see me.
    I wait.
    The with half a halo, the one that visits hell.
    The one who can see the dagger in me, the one that can see one in my hand as well.
    The one who will help me, the one who knows & doesn’t fear.
    The one who can hear me cry, the one sees me & cry’s as well.
    I wait.
    I wait for my half an angel, I wait for my half a demon.
    I wait for my half a human, I wait for my half a soul.
    I wait for someone incomplete I wait for someone like me.
    I wait.

    The empty by: Juan Guzman
    The wind is my death, yes I’m going to die in the sky.
    The ocean is my soul, yes I’m going to drift in the waves.
    The land is my body, yes I’m going to crumble in the mountains.
    The wind is my star, yes I’m shine in space.
    The ocean is my fire, yes I’m going to burn in water.
    The land is my breath, yes I’m going to breath in dirt.
    The empty is what I’m going to forever miss.

    Some day by: Juan Guzman
    Someday I will see you.
    Someday I will free you.
    I will shatter your cage of ice & snow.
    I will use my beating key make it melt & glow.
    Someday day you will see me.
    Someday you will love me.
    You will in my world of blue sky’s & flowing rivers.
    You will have a smile that put angels to shame.
    Someday we will see each other.
    Someday we will dance in the moonlight.
    We will shine brighter than any star in the sky.
    We will be husband & wife.
    Someday, someday, oh how I wait for that day.

    Replies for this message:
    • Khalilah Mackey (5/22/2010 3:52:00 PM) Post reply

      Hello, The last poem I think it has potentail, as a reader I felt as if the poem was about two beings who knew of each other, but for some reason were not able to be with each other or see each oth ... more

  • Boon Ang (5/18/2010 2:47:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies


    I address you, old grandfather,
    You who drove past me, a day hence.

    I gazed upon your crown of white,
    Your grizzled countenance, grim determination

    In the grip of your jaw, the tighter grip of your hands
    Upon the steering wheel, as you ploughed the road

    In that green gray Corolla, unwashed paintwork peeling,
    Number plate announcing its vintage, a fifteen year old

    Carrying a sixty year old-I'm guessing here, you could be older-
    Still full of fire both it seems, your attempts to pass me

    On the inside thwarted by circumstances beyond your control-
    And the minivan 'hogging' that lane.

    I was amazed, to say the least, to see such life in an old man.
    I guess you wouldn't be sitting in the park too often,

    Smelling roses is not your game, and certainly not
    The gentle sipping of Earl Gray by the Koi pond.

    Strolling will bore you, I can tell, seeing how you
    Swerved from left to right, and back again

    Looking for that spot, that gap which you
    deemed existed between my car and the curb,

    And that glare you gave me, when eventually you past,
    As I edged into the inner lane for you,

    Your eyes were full of youthful fire, and
    That signal you flashed me, the one no one

    Will misunderstand, anywhere in the world.
    I think it's called 'the middle finger'.

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  • Andrew Nawroski Saintly Slumber (5/12/2010 6:11:00 PM) Post reply

    Freeform is
    Freeform isn't
    Freeform should
    Freeform shouldn't
    Freeform formulated
    Freeform formulation's
    Freeform constructivism
    Freeform de-constructivism.

  • Judy Meibach (5/1/2010 5:30:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Most of my poems are what I have been told are freeform - I would love comments on them to make sure that they are indeed free form or if not - what they might constitute - I am also taking classes in acrostics, sonnets, and haikus to better my understanding of the poetry process.

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    • Casey Donnell (5/13/2010 11:15:00 PM) Post reply

      The vast majority of poems fall into the class of 'freeform' or free verse. Unless you are following one of the two sonnet styles or have a structured rhyme scheme with Iam it is prolly 'freeform' or ... more

  • Elena Sandu (4/19/2010 8:12:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    I click on manage my poems times and times again the page does not want to open all my tries are in vain..what can be done? ..please someone? ! this is not the first time..

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    • Ian Bowen (7/11/2010 10:12:00 AM) Post reply

      Elena, sign in and make sure you hit the 'keep me signed in button'...then it is just a case of refreshing until the magic happens. Ian

    • Lynn Glover (5/20/2010 9:08:00 PM) Post reply

      Elena: I have the same problem and have contacted the staff at PH and they say it isn't their fault. I have cleaned out the cookies in my computer and for a while it helped, but now I have the probl ... more

  • Ashley Mcconnell (4/17/2010 3:35:00 PM) Post reply

    New to the forums: Here is My First, Thanks For the Input. =n)

    A man came into my life that made me question all things i know. He treated me as if i were a precious gem on his tiara.Covered in his passion and existence I felt more empowered than ever before. I sat smitten by his side for three days. Wondering when my fairytale would end. For he was my prince charming and his elegance took my breath away. I knew my prince would soon become a pumpkin, yet i let myself fall. He a seeker of wisdom and new world, and I non-cultured and significantly naive, fell into a bliss that will never be forgotten. And for that i am truly happy. I am lost in the emotions he left behind in my soul. Will he return or will this forever be my mid summer fairytale?

  • Cheryl Wan (4/7/2010 8:36:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    My 2nd attempt. Comments welcomed. Thanks


    At one corner, someone is nodding while another lectures on,

    Another corner, another whispers,

    Right ahead, stifled giggles

    To the left, a basketful of tissues

    Belonging to someone who has just sneezed

    Mouse clickings, tappings of keyboard,

    Screens projecting light on every desk,

    Empty soda cans,

    Crumpled McDonalds' burger wrappers

    Admist these daily animations,

    A heart lies isolated in the blue room,

    Keeps believing

    Tries to keep warm,

    Tries to stay beating,

    Tries to keep something afloat

    Craves for meaning among the meaningless

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    • Casey Donnell (5/13/2010 11:18:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      I am an English Major in University, I am a Sophomore. I think that you should use less punctuation; while it is good to have stops at some point poetry is not an essay. You will not get penalized for ... more

  • Jeff Pua (4/7/2010 5:07:00 AM) Post reply

    most of my works are in free verse..

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