Freeform Workshop

Post a message
  • Rookie Jessica Bieg (12/14/2006 6:51:00 PM) Post reply
    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.

    Hello, I'm looking for anyone who's a little more cultured in the writing world than me to look at a poem or two of mine, like a mock workshop or whatever. All I have for writing experience is one college class in Creative Writing. If there's anyone interested, please reply to this message.

  • Rookie - 0 Points Roger Bowman (12/12/2006 6:00:00 PM) Post reply

    This Friday as every Friday since last Friday is booze night with crazy poemos and stories so u r all welcome to write something and add it to ur list, if u like.

    All the best and more

  • Rookie - 0 Points Roger Bowman (11/30/2006 4:52:00 PM) Post reply

    Any French or French speakin fellow poemhunters out there could tell me your opinion for Le chasseur de l'esprit.Its my poemo Mindhunter in French though I dont know French, with a little help of a friend of mine I manage to write it.

  • Rookie - 0 Points Roger Bowman (11/27/2006 2:09:00 PM) Post reply

    What do you all think of organising a day for booze? Let say Friday and we write about our favourite drinks and crazy stories relating to booze and call it
    'Friday night is pie-eyed night.'Francesca Johnson gave me the idea and the name.

  • Rookie Rabi Anata (11/24/2006 2:51:00 AM) Post reply


  • Rookie Anthony Marriner (11/2/2006 4:23:00 PM) Post reply

    Cloud cover

    I don’t see myself in this.
    Waiting for the cloud to part,
    for my illumination to begin.
    When I’m warm I grasp it, mania ensues.
    The need for clarification overwhelms me
    I overstep the mark and your recoil begins.
    Reciting Oppenheimer, caught in the brightness,
    all I can do is wait for the clouds to converge.
    You walk away.
    Wanting to feel.
    Wanting to hope.
    Wanting to love.
    Cloud cover.

    Briefest of glimpses. You see me in there.
    Promethean intensity revealing what is alive
    but that which can’t persist.
    A love shaped by contrast, by shade: eclipsed.
    Within my penumbra all is bleak.
    I want to emerge and unfurl-to radiate
    You remain.
    Helping me feel.
    Helping me hope.
    Helping me love.
    Cloud cover.

    Red and Black are my world’s only colours.
    Falsehoods and deceptions.
    Contradictions overshadow
    what emerges inside me.
    I am at home in Diodati.
    Corrosion can be reversed
    but its remnants still contaminate.
    Acceptance of the haze is the beginning of purity.
    You cleanse.
    I feel.
    I hope.
    I love.
    Cloud revealed.

    A Marriner © September 2006

  • Rookie Iquo Umoh (10/31/2006 10:54:00 AM) Post reply

    nice poem well written

  • Rookie daughter of a seafoam (10/30/2006 9:33:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    I'd like to hear your comments, even harsh ones. Thank you. :)

    Nostalgia Unremembered

    The heart pondered
    with suffocating hollowness
    that pinched within.
    Caresses, enveloped in mist,
    deafened with remembrance
    from ear
    to ear.
    Distant murmurs scurried
    around: finding its owner─ ─
    as how storks knew
    the right wombs.
    I─ ─ ─
    caught yours
    with a sigh
    in a blistering night
    when weakened petals
    with dew

    Replies for this message:
    • Rookie Aldo Kraas (2/10/2007 8:51:00 PM) Post reply

      This poem is well written It is almost like a song

    • Rookie Kelly Gemmill (10/30/2006 10:53:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      The beginning of this poem seems ordinary to me- 'heart pondered, ' 'suffocating hollowness' 'eveleoped in mist, ' are all rather trite and abstract. I like the line 'deafened with remembrance'- to ... more

  • Rookie The poet known as kiibaati (10/27/2006 11:36:00 PM) Post reply

    comments are welcome. thanks

    at times am overwhelmed

    at times am overwhelmed
    about nothing
    just sitting there alone
    by the lagoon
    and watching the foaming brine
    bring in debris of all kinds
    or taking a walk
    on the wild side
    and i cross the road
    where the motel was
    and see comfort workers
    still hawking there stuff
    but i turn and walk on by
    at times like that
    i recall your first cut
    the times we necked
    at the lagoon front
    the things we did
    at our heavenspot
    you touched me in places
    i didnt know exist
    and i took you on journeys
    that i cant now revisit
    saw you now all
    married and proper
    a vicar's wife
    fitted for the role
    like the thread fits the needle
    i begin to doubt if
    it all didnt happen
    maybe i hallucinate
    two dozen times
    over three years
    or may be i break your heart
    and you found god
    and he showed you the vicar
    who gave showed you peace
    but am still walking in the shadows
    behinds the trees were
    we used to make love
    and haunt the streets
    were we rendevous
    am still thinking
    why did i leave
    and if i was the earth
    and you were the leaf
    why in the name of newton
    did you not come back to me
    at times overwhelmed
    by the aboundance of nothing
    i compose this corny lines

  • Rookie Ocean Prince (10/24/2006 11:29:00 PM) Post reply

    Hi guys, I am new here and wrrote this from my own.
    Please tell me your opinion.

    This is the Life ‎

    This is the life makes you Sad, ‎
    When doors getting closed, ‎
    and your tears on cheeks shade.‎

    This is the life Makes you Bad‎
    When the things never come as it had.‎
    This is the life Makes you mad
    When the people around you never understand.‎

    The only thing you hear... this is the life... this is the life.‎
    So should I accept? ‎
    ‎ Or to get Sad, get Bad, or mad? ! ‎

    She flies away! (How?) I never understand. ‎
    She flies away (Why?) and never back again ‎
    She flies away stepping on the time we had! ‎

    This is the life, this is the life, and this is the life ‎
    So should I accept? ‎
    ‎ or to get Sad. Bad. or Mad? ‎

    I’ve given her the love I had.. Was that Sad? ‎
    I’ve given her the warmest emotions I have, was that Bad? ‎
    I’ve given her the sand as gold on hand, was that mad? ‎

    ‎ This is the life, this is the life, and this is the life ‎

    This is the life makes you Sad, ‎
    When doors getting closed, ‎
    and your tears on cheeks shade.‎

    The only thing you hear...‎
    ‎ This is the life.. this is the life.‎
    This is the life.. this is the life.‎
    This is the life.. this is the life.‎
    ‎ ‎

[Hata Bildir]