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  • Rachael Aislynn Musgrove (4/22/2013 2:24:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    THINKING

    If to think is to kill a thought
    and to sigh is to revive it.
    Then why even try it?
    I'd deny thinking, if it ment I'd spare a thought.
    Perhaps this is all too much for you, my dear.
    far too much to take in, I fear.

    Replies for this message:
    • Donnaj York (4/30/2013 9:11:00 PM) Post reply

      I believe that I must contradict To think a thought is to conceive it Conceiving of it, is its conception Conception facilitates its life But in effect initiates its strife…… …..Its rivals may ... more

  • Aleshia Dahl (4/21/2013 12:52:00 AM) Post reply

    THOUGHTLESS
    Nothing comes to mind when you think.
    There's nothing there on the brink.
    It seems to have went all down the sink.
    When ask a question you can only stare and blink.
    You are thoughtless with nothing to think.

  • Hayden Sedillo (4/11/2013 6:45:00 PM) Post reply

    UNKNOWN.

    Fastly falling
    Far and deep
    straying people
    in their sleep

    Our words easily forgotten
    Unlike clothes that a warrior had fought in
    soaring
    falling
    digging
    drowning

    Seeping into
    The dark abysse
    we call
    Life
    Slowly falling like sand through the hour glass

    We may feel like nothing
    like a drop in the ocean
    like dust in the wind

    We are
    Unkown

  • Evans Ampofo (4/10/2013 6:56:00 AM) Post reply

    All I want is you love. i love you so much it hurt. when i think about you i cant breath, because you are my air breath. i feel lose with you. if i have go to hell and back just to be with you just for one day i will because i know God understands how much i love you.i love so much i will die for you. you are my oxygen if i cant breath, so how can breath with you. you my eyes if cant see. i will tell the world how much i love you. people will know how i care you, i am incomplete with you beside. i love you girl.

  • Chris Cap (4/3/2013 7:12:00 PM) Post reply

    Ok, so this is an outline for a poem. I'll be replacing lines with more filled out sentences and nicer words. I was wondering if anyone would immediately like to offer advice on sentence changes, or poetic direction specifically?The poem's story is about a boy who is told bad news by a dr. and he has to go through all this terrible treatment just to buy some time.

    The air is mild and dry
    The rooms neatly organized
    clean and familiar
    A boring, common decor
    He'd probably call it
    death's summerhouse
    If his mind wasn't already at war
    With his hands clenched tightly
    The man in white sat him down
    and spoke words that
    almost brought him to the ground
    To which he barely reacted
    " You do Understand?" the man
    in white asked
    " Yes, terminal." He responded
    without hesitation
    The proding and pain starts
    As the final leaf caresses the dirt
    the time has come to extend
    his time on earth
    A bright light blinds him
    No time to sink it all in
    Countless hours of illness
    sickness and pain
    He is left with the same thought
    repeating in his head
    Do I die because I was born, or was I born to die?

  • Meronhailom Hailom (3/31/2013 2:22:00 AM) Post reply

    Hello everyone.....I happen to post 44 poems and they sound good in my head but your ideas n thoughts are important to know how worthy they are, afterall I am nothing without you.Be my guest and share what you feel.

  • Hao Cheng (3/11/2013 2:31:00 AM) Post reply

    The Finder

    Be in quest of a place from the surroundings,
    to seek the arcana of the Nature.
    with whole heart seeped into.
    as if shuttling between the numerous peals without time
    till pure white lights lighting my mind,
    flowing and coagulating then again
    into a icy spherocrystal for me to savour.

    ???

    ?????????,
    ????????,
    ??????;
    ????????????,
    ?????????????,
    ????????????????

  • Linda Neill Poet Digter (1/31/2013 3:06:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    I am

    I..
    I am…
    I am Eve
    I am day
    I am woman
    God made me this way

    I..
    I am…
    I am rib
    I am love
    I am Adams’ dove
    Adam’s love made me this way
    Copyright Linda Neill

    Replies for this message:
    • Theresa Haffner (2/14/2013 8:38:00 PM) Post reply

      Ummmmm....... This is an attractive poem but it's not free form. It has both rhyme and meter. Free form means no rhyme or meter. My favorite example of free verse is " Space. The fi ... more

  • Linda Neill Poet Digter (1/31/2013 3:05:00 PM) Post reply

    Lament¹ of loom²
    I am not saying a word
    name me silent
    I feel violent
    tears are my sword.
    I smile as I try to
    bury the pain
    hard emptiness
    my gain.
    I will refrain
    from sadness
    so I reach high to
    be in blossom and bloom
    to bury the lament of loom.

    Chorus:
    Don’t try to understand my longing
    a lament of loom
    it is a mocking bird’s song
    but I will continue going
    knowing it will become a joyful song
    ¹Lament- mourn; cry for; ²Loom - appear

  • Nic Hillen (1/19/2013 4:25:00 PM) Post reply

    GOVERMENT SLAVE

    Torn and empty but struggle on
    Captive in a world that I don't belong
    Years of frustration, thoughts turned ill
    When I fell victim to the gates of steel
    Exhausted hope, diverse cries
    Being observed by disrupted eyes
    Tears are flowing forming streams
    The toughest men broke down in screams
    Walls stained with terror and sorrow
    Invaded by fear that's hard to swallow
    Violence brews, you can taste the tension
    Blood will spill without a mention
    I solely lay and reminisce
    On little things I never thought I'll miss
    Like running round in a open space
    To feel the breeze against my face
    To see the moon and starry skies
    The dawning sun as it begins to rise
    I bless the day I walked out that gate
    For some this place will be there fate
    My tormented mind has been engraved
    With scars from being a government slave
    nic hillen

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