Treasure Island

Rhythm and Rhyme Workshop


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  • Maxwell Mlenga (12/3/2012 4:30:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    its not all about writting poetry, its about writting poetry that people can understand, after all, its all about informing and hoping to change some hearts

    Replies for this message:
    • Donnaj York (12/16/2012 10:37:00 PM) Post reply Stage

      I agree wholeheartedly. If after reading a poem my mind says, " wHaT???" , then that is, at least not my preferred poetry style, of poetry. Worse yet when I have no idea what I am reading. ... more

  • Yahya Ahmed (11/20/2012 7:15:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Hi everyone :)

    Im new on this site please check out some of my writing.

    Thank You

    Yahya Ahmed

  • Gajanan Mishra (11/18/2012 9:10:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    It is true
    I am totally yours
    I accept you in toto
    O my love
    You are my universe
    And you are my pleasure
    And I am writing poetry
    Only for you

  • Godfrey Morris (11/17/2012 10:42:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Silent Soul



    I am a poet
    silently hidden in life's closet
    with half-measured expressions
    seeking to be made whole
    secret imagination longing
    to be bold
    I am the wind
    that echoes in your head
    I am your reason
    your silent unknown

    copyright(c) 2012

  • Alexis ... (11/10/2012 1:00:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Hello Fellow Poets,

    I invite you to Read and Comment honestly on my new poem " Caught In Distance" . Thank-you

  • Crystal Rosser (11/4/2012 3:09:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Please check out my poems and comment on a couple. I would really love to get some feedback on rhythmic and rhyming patterns. Any advice is helpful. Thanks!

  • Leonid Gonzalez (10/28/2012 12:58:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    The first mother

    Deaths’ scythe is singing, death is a calling
    My light is gone, my star has fallen
    She called my name like we were lovers
    Before I knew it the dream was all over

    I cant blame her for what she has done
    She will call everyone’s name until we are all gone
    She must return what she has borrowed
    Deaths’ scythe will be calling you upon the morrow

    She was the first mother, she set us free
    She is called death but her true name is Eve
    Now she must give back what she took
    Upon her face you must never look

    She is very beautiful, Her beauty is like no other
    Her beauty saddens you, her scythe ends your sorrow
    She was the first woman, she was the first mother

    Please comment. Good or bad. Thank you

  • Rex Copperfield (10/25/2012 8:14:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Hey I'm a extremely desperate poet desperate for feedback and instructions tips hints criticism and most desperate for betterment no matter how good the cause desperate isn't a good look....please help me out! Messages comments or just reading my poems flood my inbox with criticisms comment with many tips hints suggestions and praise (if you find praise worthy things) please help! !

  • Anthony Townsend (10/14/2012 8:19:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Some comments please, does it read ok, make sense. Based around a real event.

    Pyjama Chase

    While most would cherish their whole family
    Your only treasure was motherly
    The visitor pegs were still like new
    May as well of got a refund on the sofa too
    I couldn't just be part of the mahogany
    To be kicked around like furniture, was never me


    A wedding one year party for my bro' I had to go
    So what if I worked all day, I'd still come home tho'
    The days of frustration were plenty
    The excuses you gave were mistrust and jealousy
    I'm sure when they gave out compassion
    You and your mum must of been on a ration


    It was kind of drastic, some would say crazy
    When you chased in pyjamas, like a jealous mad lady
    To the end of the road, and the alley I went
    Peeped out to see your shadow, chasing with dissent
    A running man under the moonlight I became
    Your bedroom demeanour could of earned you some fame

    Though your purpose was scary and intense
    You felt one grab could make me see your sense
    One more turning and I was sure I'd be alright
    Just a few minutes more, for a taxi at midnight
    As i stumbled inside, I said where I want to be
    Alongside my bro, casue we're all family!

    End

  • Mikhail Conrad (10/12/2012 11:03:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Guys... Is my Verse... alive?(haha. I love Emily.)


    A Sonnet for Cesar

    A gentle face, that mark’d my heart profound-
    should hands of mine caress your bony cheek;
    A regal visage I would like have crowned,
    And I’d traverse your frail and wight physique-
    For I’d lick dry your sacred strong demesne.
    Your eyes do pore like rain, it chills quite fine;
    My lips of liquid drench, could not abstain,
    We’d kiss with sweet delight, our souls align!
    The orange warmth and measure glowing skin,
    and sweeter length of your so lovely bones,
    to jaunty widths that is your soul, therein;
    and flesh to flesh, I’d love with love- with moans.
    And oh, if you were mine, you’d be my rose-
    And oh, if we could kiss, I’d stop this prose.

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