Treasure Island

Rhythm and Rhyme Workshop


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  • Joshua Poetical King Sovea (3/8/2010 7:07:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Mental Insanity, Invisions Of The Lame, The Hardstyle Feeling Is The Thought Invain, The Feeling Of Wonder, The Sound That Goes, The Thought That Death Is Near Yet Slow, You Know That Life Is Like A Speeding Train, Yet They Scream Out Thoughts Tha Make Your Blood Drain, The Posibiltiys Of Thoughts And The Act, But in The End Were Wtill Under Deaths Attck! !

    - Joshua Poetical King Sovea

    Thats just some stuff i do when im at school and i Cant Be Botherd To Listen to The Teacher...

  • Jonathan Leong (2/22/2010 11:44:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    Greetings from the outter dimensions. I am a poet currently seeking advice on what I should expect when publishing books. My goal this decade is to publish my first two books, one on poetry and another concerning a science fiction novel. I am a freshmen in high school and I do realize I have much to learn, so please, anything you can do to help would be great!

  • Cynthia Buhain-baello (2/10/2010 7:14:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    In writing this piece, I focused on the main idea, and used simple words to reflect what one feels and thinks of when hearing a baby laugh. Simplicity, brevity, unity of thought, and emotion were the elements woven in, with a last line as conclusion, so the poem does not 'hang'.


    A BABY'S LAUGHTER


    Each time I hear a baby's laughter
    I feel a tickle in my heart.

    I have to stop and listen better
    Catching each note of musical art.

    Such innocent laugh in joy released,
    A soothing balm for a wearied soul.

    All earthly worries seem to ease,
    A baby's laughter makes me whole.




    -
    (Composed July 18,2008 -Tarlac City Philippines

  • Cynthia Buhain-baello (2/9/2010 12:33:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    The letter 'I' was omitted at the posting of the poem title - it should be 'I Must Have Swallowed the Key'

  • Cynthia Buhain-baello (2/9/2010 12:28:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply Stage

    This was one of my first attempts at poetry and it had earned many reviews in many other sites. I found out most readers like simplicity of words, brevity, and a common idea for the content - here it was a love departed but returning.


    ' MUST HAVE SWALLOWED THE KEY'

    Please do not come back
    And say that you love me.
    I'm the one that you lack
    And your life's been so empty.

    There's nothing to recover
    For this heart's closed to love.
    It's just now you discover
    A treasure you have snubbed.

    Why unearth the mystique
    Of a past that is buried?
    And so hurt someone weak
    With goodbyes that were hurried?

    You longed for my voice
    And the feeling of bliss,
    But you made the wrong choice
    When you left Love like this.

    Gone is the arrow that Cupid shot
    Padlocked this heart, you see.
    Though you pry it open, you cannot-
    For I must have swallowed the key.




    -
    Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello-
    (Written May 2,2009 - Tarlac City, Philippines)

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  • kyle. (2/8/2010 1:05:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    critique and suggestions are welcome and really needed! !

    'I pray sunlight remembers me.'

    A helping of that loneliness
    Has endangered my whole life.
    Its bitter and it quakes me.
    Its siren's song do so entice.

    As does the ink of an octopus
    Left to drift in its departure
    I shiver forgotten too
    Like the devil's discarded garter.

    My hands quiver slightly
    As if to always remind me
    Of the fear I have of fearing
    That dull starlight won't remind me-

    To embrace the drug of sleep
    That only burns to comfort me.
    Only darkness bakes me apple pies.
    I pray sunlight remembers me.

    Kyle S. Hamp

  • kyle. (2/6/2010 2:31:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    'Under'

    Thunder isn't present.
    Lightning doesn't strike.
    The flood after a heart breaks
    Is what this storm is like.

    Twilight claims the daytime.
    God has got the blues
    For once again I'm late again
    In paying my past dues.

    The color of the living
    Has blackened without night.
    Drowning are the daffodils
    Without the sun's sweet light.

    A dilapidated canine
    With fur like scaly skin
    Licks with his pink failing tongue
    God's tears. He drinks them in.

    This puppy is a martyr.
    He believes he will be saved,
    But sadly or maybe gladly
    Under the sun he will be paved.

    Kyle S. Hamp

  • Cynthia Buhain-baello (2/3/2010 5:19:00 PM) Post reply Stage

    This is another of my poems with rhyme and rhythm, and a subtle message of faith. I use simple words and phrases as these easily connect to the readers
    and even to those not so familiar with poetry can relate to them. Comments appreciated, these poems were posted at others sites since 2008-2009 and have had positive reviews.



    'CROSSING MY SEA'

    I am crossing my red sea
    And the waters are high
    They're over and above me
    And they make me cry.

    The burdens are heavy
    Gargantuan tasks
    The challenges many
    More than I can ask.

    The staff that You gave me
    Is this little pen
    For writing is surely
    What You intend.

    I am crossing my red sea
    And my hopes will be bright
    As long as You're with me
    My life is alright.

    My needs You do know
    As I journey across
    I will trust You and so
    I will not suffer loss.

    Hold my hand in this sea
    Many times I will stumble
    Let me reach victory
    For I know You are able!








    'I love You, O Lord, my Strength.'
    Psalm 18: 1
    May 25,2009
    -
    Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
    Philippines
    February 3,2010

  • Cynthia Buhain-baello (2/3/2010 6:02:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    This poem was written based on a true story of tragedy that happened in our city. Comments appreciated.

    'DEATH COMES TO ANY AGE'


    There is one story that makes me shudder
    And so with care I live each day
    It is about a mother and a daughter
    Who went to a mall for her birthday.

    The mother promised the eight year old
    For a cellphone as her requested gift,
    Excited to call her Dad she was told-
    As they crossed a street, she ran so swift.

    The daughter had crossed ahead and saw
    That her mother was left at the other side
    And so like a child she ran back although
    The lights had changed for the street so wide.

    The lights turned to green and it was a 'go'
    As all vehicles started to go running
    Cars and trucks speeding traffic flow
    Not seeing the small child who was crossing.

    The truck driver saw but it was too late
    The brakes just would not have time to hold
    The little girl met her untimely fate
    As the truck ran over that eight-year-old.

    The hysterical mother went into shock
    Seeing her child's brains on the pavement
    In grief she almost had a heart attack
    Screamed in tears her anguished lament.

    The lesson here that Death teaches us all
    One may be eighty or be eight-year-old
    But when He chooses to give us a call
    With Him, there's no young and there's no old.





    -
    February 3,2010
    Philippines

    Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello

  • Cynthia Buhain-baello (2/2/2010 2:58:00 AM) Post reply Stage

    Another poem with rhyme, and a lot of mythical personifications, theme of lost love and supposed 'freedom'. Objective comments appreciated.


    'FREEDOM'S MYTH'

    Will Bacchus wine drown me at last
    In drunken stupor lie?
    Freed from the memories of the past,
    In deepest slumber sigh?

    To soar in dreams Orion's mantle
    Ride Hermes' wings in fantasy
    To heights and stars all mine to handle
    Here lies my bed, this galaxy.

    Will Eros then in mercy take
    His cruel arrow from my heart?
    From Aphrodite's list forsake
    My name, from love do I depart!

    Escape to blissful freedom here
    In bright Aurora sun
    The dawn shall wipe away the tear
    Of night, for new day has began.

    Like Echo just set free, enjoy
    Emptied of Narcissus' face -
    With her these dancesteps will employ
    Freedom from my sorrowed days.

    Will Galatea breathe at last,
    And grant Pygmalion's wish?
    But Love when freed escapes too fast
    The heart remains, with none to cherish.



    Copyright 2009 Cynthia Buhain Baello
    Posted at several poetry sites and SEO monitors submissions to said sites.

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