Freeform Workshop

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  • Rookie - 359 Points Zoila T. Flores (8/28/2014 6:35:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply
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    Freedom is something precious
    that I wouldn't change for anything.

    Replies for this message:
    • Rookie - 359 Points Kay Staley (10/28/2014 9:42:00 AM) Post reply

      Consequently, Humans pretend to seek for freedom But none of us can comprehend it.

  • Bronze Star - 2,323 Points Melikhaya Zagagana (8/27/2014 2:48:00 AM) Post reply

    Well if freedom means having the priviledge to do what you want then, we still a bit little far, rules are everywhere you can't really be free can you?

  • Gold Star - 29,101 Points Gajanan Mishra (8/25/2014 5:16:00 AM) Post reply

    Be opened like the flowers, be heavy like the clouds, be free like the airs, and move towards the sky.
    There in the sky discover the sun, the moon and innumerable stars and make yourself enlightened.

  • Gold Star - 16,087 Points Mohammad Skati (8/21/2014 11:13:00 AM) Post reply

    There are a lot of pretty poets who write free verse in a great way. It's how much one is gifted and how much one is experienced. Thanks.

  • Bronze Star - 2,912 Points Abekah Emmanuel (8/17/2014 7:53:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    To me, writing in free form removes the limitation that rhymes places on the poet use of words. It allows the poet to freely employ
    words that will suit the message.

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  • Veteran Poet - 1,086 Points Richard Beevor (7/15/2014 3:55:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Cry Within The Soul

    Torment cries,
    hearts despair,
    alone to stand
    on the silent street.
    Willow tears,
    cried within,
    people talk aloud
    for a lonely day to die.

    Come another wasteful year,
    see another falling tear,
    seldom are we joined as one,
    people hard and cold,
    shun man and child alike,
    dead to all,
    remember that once
    you had the chance to love,
    to talk, to laugh,
    a friendship lost
    in a moment of silence,
    broken romance
    in heated rage,
    so life is hard
    what of personal folly,
    forgive those who hurt you,
    go into the street,
    stand and stare at buildings
    to the sky,
    roam away from city sights,
    find the country lane,
    on gentle hills
    to ponder life's treasures
    the fruitful land,
    lea or meadow,
    mountain or dale,
    call it what you will,
    the home for animals grazing.

    A land to enjoy,
    the freedom of walking,
    you are part of it,
    it needs your love,
    do not neglect your heart
    in summers harvest,
    to reap joy
    just by loving earth
    in happiness found,
    you're free
    a part of the whole
    a part of nature.

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  • Rookie Marilyn Hayne (7/13/2014 4:19:00 AM) Post reply | Read 4 replies

    Cacaphony between the inside and outside
    Mad hurricane, dizzying tornado
    Comparing, contrasting, is this normal?
    My audience is the mirror to this statement.
    Too late?up to date.
    Show and tell
    every sight taste smell
    Informed, deformed,
    recurring haze
    Concrete gaze,
    I walk with my head low
    they won't know
    as much
    about how fucked up I feel
    all the time

    Take a bow,
    i'm doiing this for the free gift card
    I am not a poet,
    nor a prose writer
    I am a snippet stomper
    I made quips so sharp
    theyll whip ur shit.
    Cut me slack, it's 4 AM

    This confetti of thought, exploded on you.
    take it home with you.

    And forget about it.

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  • Rookie - 147 Points Terrance Tracy (7/4/2014 8:22:00 AM) Post reply

    Terrance Tracy (7/4/2014 2: 43: 00 AM) Post reply | Delete this message
    Foolish Journey
    O the anguish that hurts the soul are words spoken when one’s emotions are high, vicious accusations relentlessly expressed gave birth to a foolish journey to find some rest.

    The seasonal high humidity and heat accompany the disabled voyager on a foolish journey to what end he did not know nor care.

    With each step pain is felt in his temporal body and eternal soul, health or peril he did not care on this foolish journey to nowhere.

    One more step and then another, one more step and then another the voyager rehearsed in his mind giving no thought as to what he left behind.

    Traveling on a busy highway struggling with each step the voyager stumbled by a familiar church perhaps he should stop here, but his soul was wounded and he would not abide in there.

    One quarter of a mile up the highway he spied a bridge with grave needs for a voyager to rest, there he will sit and pray to his God to ask for forgiveness for undertaking such a foolish journey.

    Reaching the bridge he accepts the invitation of the rail and begins to contemplate the fruition of his fate, dear Lord what have I done I left behind the love of my life in this test of strife.

    The traffic was heavy and so was his soul, as the voyager sat on the bridge rail several cars stopped and offered help but all the voyager could muster was to say that he was homeless and nowhere to go; for he wanted to be alone with his Lord and ask for his sins to be atoned; he just wanted people to leave him alone.

    Hampered with physical limitations he could not take a step forward or back so he just sat there and began praying and hearing his Lord speaking to his heart that which you have done was not very smart.

    I do not condemn you so look for no stones for your sins have been atoned return to your love, the wife of your youth, for I will give you strength to endure the hardships and defeat the roaring lion that roars your ears and has caused you to be covered in tears.
    Terrance Tracy

  • Gold Star - 16,058 Points Mandolyn ... (7/1/2014 8:49:00 PM) Post reply

    freeform?you asked for it...

    -get me started on a pastel purple butterfly-

    to ear plugs i say, " well done, good and faithful servant"
    the birds have been faced today.
    if we knew exactly what they spoke of, we might listen.
    if they knew how much we loved sleep,
    they might zip their wee beaks and learn to sign.

    ^ that means what is coming up next has nothing to do with birds,
    but we can still sleep walk in the middle of the day
    sneaking into areas of other peoples lives and
    leave notes
    either 'oh' or 'meh'
    or 'you look healthy,
    just kidding, get me a diet coke?'

    metabolism slows down after age 36. it's a factoid.
    whatever that means- i like it.
    i don't like the first part though.

    the killers are killing me- the music they knead into my brain.
    it's like i'm on my roller blades again, crashing into poles
    because i'm worried someone is reading my diary at home.

    shades of purple impress me, but not pastel.
    pastel is like tupperware
    and those parties should never be thrown or attended.

    helicopters are like giant butterflies without feelings.
    do butterflies have feelings?
    i bet they feel like messing stuff up, due to the cocoon phase.
    we shouldn't allow them to land on our shoulders
    without being jarred and questioned.

    i've never trusted a butterfly out of nowhere.

    this poem went off its meds.
    my dialect has diabetes.
    a verbal
    fungus formulates
    in format;

    this biz needs a nap.

  • Freshman - 644 Points Jefferson Carter (5/14/2014 12:41:00 PM) Post reply

    If any PHer is interested in hearing me read a few poems and chatting about poetry, there's a video of an interview with me on youtube.

    Google youtube, then search Jefferson Carter poet. I look a little nuts and a lot older than I feel, but the conversation is pretty cool. Let me know what you think

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