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  • Godfrey Morris (8/12/2012 10:55:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    Why I Write?



    My child you ask me why

    And so I give a sure reply

    The reason why I write you ask?

    I do so to unveil a mask -

    To state a claim my dear

    And climb above a fence at last

    The reason why I write

    Is to be free -

    As that young lad's kite

    To flee from charmless grips

    And stray from harm's lustful flight


    You ask me why I write today?

    I do so that you go away!

    To a place, within my space

    That way I'll have a worthy say

    I write my dear to tell a tale

    Of places that I once had sailed

    The promises that were never had

    The eluded dreams that made me sad


    The reason why I write a verse

    Is to soothe this soul I thought was cursed

    To trod with care through lonely roads

    And pray my troubles be reversed


    The reason why I write to you

    Is so you ‘ll see my point of view

    That in all things, there is a verse

    A spring that takes away all thirst


    Copyright © 2012


    Godfrey Morris

    Replies for this message:
    • Stevie Taite (8/31/2012 1:09:00 PM) Post reply

      Love thus poem! So clever and held my attention! Great rhythm!

    • Mabel A (8/22/2012 1:20:00 PM) Post reply

      I think that your poem is amazing and i look forward to the honour, being an invited observe on your soul's journey of pen and paper

  • Mark Normand (7/31/2012 11:40:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Evil Mary Alison always on my mind,

    but then.

    Another girl so special brings me to

    a time back when.

    Happiness was a promise, and true

    darkness was not yet mine.

    Before the broken heart, life torn apart,

    as shattered pieces of yesterday were

    lying every where.

    And I sat so cold and alone as heartache

    filled my soul.

    Then I cried.

    My mind played over the way things might

    have been.

    What could I do to make love new again?

    Was there anything?

    Did she feel the same?

    Then all hope was blown away.

    When I heard them say.

    She was his.

    Life grew so dark I lost my will to live.

    And to this day, I find it hard to forgive.

    This thing so cold.

    She stole my heart and left me in darkness

    with no love inside my soul.

    Replies for this message:
    • Stevie Taite (9/2/2012 5:32:00 AM) Post reply

      The road of love is treacherous, even when on auto and relaxed, potholes lurk around the corner for many!

  • Shouvik Roy (7/14/2012 4:34:00 PM) Post reply

    please visit my page and read my poems friends..
    http://www.poemhunter.com/shouvik-rryan-roy/
    open to suggestions and criticisms

  • Dennis Poeta (7/5/2012 12:28:00 AM) Post reply

    My Hero- BY POETA

    I was young, you knew I was,
    So you gave me a sweet,
    I told you.... ’How sweet’!
    Then you promised that the number will rise…..
    From once to thrice,
    Hmmm. how wise….
    My Hero

    I forgot about cavity,
    But you are a dentist; so you promised me dental security,
    Who am I not to be agitated?
    I am inside your den yet I didn’t feel frightened,
    I am proud of my uncle,
    My Hero!

    You make mountains look like anthills,
    Debts look like petty bills,
    In my Hell you prove to be heaven,
    I and you just like 1+1, you equal eleven.
    My Hero!

    Then,
    Like a vampire one day you attacked,
    I am your blood but you still sucked,
    Me… the virgin out of me then you left,
    Me...
    Bleeding downstairs due to your ‘sweetness’…. (Sob!)
    You monster, evil- creature ‘sweet uncle x’
    May the ground you walk on bury you,
    And may your nightmares come true,
    Your true lies were horny and corny,
    And now I die of HIV in this bed lonely
    You did this!
    My Hero?
    NO! YOU ARE NOT! !

  • Matty Reynolds (7/3/2012 12:14:00 PM) Post reply

    Evening

    The light lowers as it passes from east to west,
    Orange glow diffusing from earth to grass to flower.
    Daises turn and stretch and bask in the early evening.
    The morning glories, wide-spread under the light
    And entwined along the clover held picket fence
    Have turned from magenta to amethyst to their
    Last white-veined violet. Even it now grows faint.
    The petals curl inward, the blue tips bend
    Toward the bluer heart and the flowers are lost.

    The moonflower-buds are still white, but shadows dart
    From their tendril-roots, black creeps from lawn to fence,
    To plants, then slowly over me. Another work worn day
    Without you fades with my dirty fingers and sips of beer.
    Each leaf shadow cuts another leaf shadow on the grass,
    I watch as shadow seeks shadow, golden turns to black,
    Then both leaf and leaf-shadow are lost, and I am alone.

  • Lee Mack (6/29/2012 8:29:00 PM) Post reply

    Why when we were young
    Friendlier skys were darker then
    Streaking nightly fallen stars
    LOOK! Look up again.

    READ POEMS OF LEE B MACK

  • Raimi Stranger (6/27/2012 7:51:00 PM) Post reply

    ... freeform in it's truest sense is the essence of poetry because the muse is spirit, , the ultimate freedom to create worlds, but equally in this life is the freedom to Love even with words... without feeling free to Love all, poetry becomes stilted, wears a mask, is close to death because few take off the mask of commonality of men who live empty grey lives looking only for escape and never seeing the door to their self-made cage is open... always has been... :)

  • Matty Reynolds (6/23/2012 2:25:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    I know I am but summer to your heart,
    And not the four seasons of the year.
    And you welcome love from another
    Whose noble moods are not as mine.
    I have no pretentious weight of age,
    Nor easy spring breeze to give you.
    I am all monsoons and thunderstorms,
    Hot wind, hard gusts, cold rain.
    I am not any wise and wintry thing;
    And I have loved you all too long and well
    To carry still the high sweet breast of spring.
    So love me year round as you loved
    Me on the bed where summer
    Rose to meet our naked skin,
    Sticky from sweat and making love.

    But spring is here, in its budding silence,
    I must be gone, steal forth with silent drums,
    That you may rise refreshed with
    The call of the sea gull and
    Scent of the rose, and
    The weight of his arms upon your
    Hips and breasts.

    Will you come back to me, as summer comes?Or softer yet
    As it ends and the death of leaves
    Begins again; to feel the crunch of
    Them upon your back on an
    Indian summer day in a clearing...
    Or will you at that sweetest of times
    Choose to bask your naked flesh
    Upon other shores, other climes?

    Replies for this message:
  • Marilyn George (6/20/2012 12:52:00 PM) Post reply

    Hello all, please take some time to read my 'Nine men fall' and leave a comment on your thoughts - thank you greatly :)

  • Juan Guzman (6/19/2012 8:04:00 PM) Post reply

    Please visit my profile and comment on one of my poems, thank you very much.

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