Rhythm and Rhyme Workshop
(4/18/2014 1:39:00 PM)
For: She Who Weakened
i poured a poesy
from a jar in a field
full of two-petaled
daisies that were
boxes filled with
had on a dead
the sun was just
coming up, and
our shoes were
covered with dew
(4/13/2014 8:02:00 PM)
Mam, there's been a HUGE misunderstanding. I sent that poem to 4 different members for their opinion,3 of whom are male. NOT JUST YOU! The poem is abstract, NOT about a person (much less you) . In no way was poem meant to be 'nasty'. You didn't like it. Fine. I understand. My poetry is not for everyone, and I prefer it that way. You've been replying to some others on the forum and I thought maybe you liked them. I guess not. (why were you commenting then, just to make fun of me?not sure if I understand) I don't 'cruise' for anybody or anything by the way. Just pretend it all never happened I guess. I'm fairly confused to honest.
(4/12/2014 9:31:00 PM)
The Bag With Something Soft Inside
Once I had a bag that
had something soft
I felt in that bag.
I felt that soft.
The soft was on the
inside. It was soft.
And it was a bag.
Around the soft
there was a bag.
A bag with soft
inside of it.
Did I mention it
(4/7/2014 6:04:00 AM)
It's funny! But I've been searching through the forums on this site, everywhere I look all I find is people posting their own poems. Is not the purpose of these forums to discuss ways and techniques in writing poems?Is not the purpose to create ideas on how to write?If so, then where are the discussions, where are the techniques and ideas. I have not found any advice, techniques or ideas on writing. Maybe it’s just me.
(3/18/2014 1:25:00 PM)
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I can't believe I wrote a poem in like 2 minutes without even thinking!
(3/17/2014 9:51:00 PM)
I was being super-duper rhythmic today. Moving. Grooving. Being rhythmic to the max. I wish I would have written that sh*t down. 'Lost opportunity' was all I could think about. Darn-it!
(3/10/2014 11:58:00 AM)
I just finished moving over here from the Freeform Workshop. Pens, pencils, paper, coffee pot. The works. I've made the switch to rhythm and meter. No more Free-form stuff. That's baby stuff. Much to some people's chagrin, I've abandoned Free-form. Free-form is for numbskulls anyway. 'Oh, look at my red wheelbarrow, how wet it is' Jesus, what crap! There's no movement. No 'music' in that kind of stuff. I want to flow like water down a stream, gurgling past rocks and boulders. Flowing rhythmically across the grassy knoll is my charge!
Oh, and rhyming! I almost forgot. I want to rhyme everything! 'Come hither, my little zither', and 'bop, bop, allu-bop, a bing, bang, boom'. You know, poems with complicated meter and rhyming. I want to start with limericks. Limericks are so musical. You can dance a little jig while you recite them. You can recite them (while atop a table in a pub) dancing a little jig. (See how I repeated that?Very rhythmic, like Ovid, my ancestor) I want to dance around like Gene Kelly (Irish guy) singing my limericks to other drunk people is basically what I'm saying.
(3/6/2014 7:34:00 AM)
Dear fellows. I was until recently a soldier, of a very elite group. And as a result wanted something more beautidful in my life. I; ve always been a student of ancient Japanese culture, and collector of their objet d; art; (AND NO. I do not own one Katana or 'Samurai-sword) . A girl I was seeing via internet persuaded me to try to write some poetry, so I tried.
The results are posted on this site.
What I wanted was more opinion, Honest critisism. Where it should be improved etc?
All I got was a rant entitled 'CURB YOUR BLOOD LUSt' a member I wont name here, who had obviously misunderstood the entire poem's meaning!
Or have I written it so badly that it reads as a call to arms of some sort?
PLEASE; If you have the time to read my work 'Rememberance Day', I would love to hear your thoughts, and honest opinions on wgere I went wrong. Thank You. Gary Drake.
Suman Kumar Das
(2/23/2014 8:27:00 AM)
My respected bards,
I am happy to back to this wonderful e-plat form after few days. I cordially invite you all to read my new writes 'Bereft Beggar' & 'Sprouting Seed'. Look forward to receiving your guidance for my future works.
Suman Kumar Das
(2/20/2014 7:41:00 PM)
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Petaluma Police Car Tires
Parked at the curb,
The Petaluma Police could not observe,
The car their sarge had parked;
Not very far,
I found me that car,
And quickly thereto embarked;
While I approached the police cruiser,
I viewed the 'soon to be' accuser,
Yet continued on with my plan;
Two tires were popped,
As downward they dropped,
I fled in my sedan;
A laughing desire,
Brought a slash to each tire,
Done in full brightness of the day;
There I lurked,
Around the corner the cops worked,
And with them came my chance to play;
From each tire's quick blow,
Came the thrill hearing the air let flow,
And to the ground them rims did go;
By the knife's quick swing,
Came laughter from the hiss sound of air leaking,
While leaving the surprise of needing a tow;
No, 'Candid Camera' wasn't there,
To capture the officer's expression or glare,
When he viewed the car he left so careless;
Did he first move his car,
To discover that he couldn't drive far?,
Did he hear the hiss or were they flat and airless?
Oh, what a dare,
For me to hear that gush sound of air.
Then escape, without being caught;
But with a short quiz,
The accuser said, 'I know who it is! ',
Well, my sedan, the police then sought;
My laughter was hard,
While I headed for my yard,
Though trouble was coming my way;
All patrol units looked about,
To search me out,
For the trouble that I now must pay,
While homeward I scoot,
Came a Sonoma County sheriff's deputy in pursuit,
Riding his cruiser close to my rear;
Bright red lights flashed on,
The fun was gone,
But still, I had no fear;
The joy it brought,
Was lost when caught,
And the laughter vanished away;
Very few people knew,
About the other police tires I blew,
And now just caught this day;
Stopped outside my home gate,
Came red lights to wait,
The identification of who they caught;
Patrol units swarmed about,
It was me, they had no doubt,
They've captured who they sought;
Police car hysteria,
Was swarming the area,
Oh, it was boiling hot;
Like a beehive ready,
With a sting so steady,
A large police force quickly was brought;
'Put cuffs on them hands..'
As the police sergeant commands,
'...then take 'em in for lockup...'
With two flats on the cruiser,
The joke was a doozer,
As the number of times, years over, buildup;
I was brought before a judge,
But really...I had no grudge,
Gave forty dollars to the bondsman to bail;
As the jail door opened wide,
Quickly, I dashed outside,
Now released from the Sonoma County Jail;
I appeared in court again and again,
But a plea bargain made that end,
And no more jail time had I to pay;
Made unhappy, I was,
But that could be because,
'Pay for two tires and don't do it again', heard I, the court say;
Other police agencies know,
Twenty-eight of their tires went low,
The Cotati police headquarters suffered the worst;
Well, with two tires to buy,
My score remains still very high,
Considering the others I prior had burst;
If it ever happens again.
It won't be me, though I'll still grin,
I've retired, finally, from this crime;
The memory I still bare,
The laughter, its thrill and dare;
And the story turned now into rhyme
Tony Avila Sampson