Rhythm and Rhyme Workshop
(3/31/2010 5:17:00 PM)
Please my horror poem 'The Room'. I changed quite a bit of the piece for a better flow. Any comments and/or ratings would be appreciated, and I will be sure to do the same for you. Thanks!
(3/22/2010 5:13:00 PM)
I feel that too many people use rhyme like a blunt object, flailing madly and in their own process destroying the poem they are trying to make. People should consider muting the rhyme with enjambing of the lines and removing end-stop lines from the areas to be rhymed. Too many AABB rhyme schemes out there. It hurts...
(3/21/2010 3:04:00 AM)
mine rims a bit check them out =)
follow me and every day i will post new stuffs i hope you people can get insperation from this ^^
Joshua Poetical King Sovea
(3/8/2010 7:07:00 AM)
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...
(2/22/2010 11:44:00 PM)
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!
(2/10/2010 7:14:00 PM)
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
(2/9/2010 12:33:00 AM)
The letter 'I' was omitted at the posting of the poem title - it should be 'I Must Have Swallowed the Key'
(2/9/2010 12:28:00 AM)
| Read 1 reply
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)
(2/8/2010 1:05:00 PM)
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
(2/6/2010 2:31:00 PM)
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