Rhythm and Rhyme Workshop
(10/19/2005 4:07:00 PM)
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I would like honest opinions and critiques on this poem. I used to write a lot when I was younger but it's been a while. So please be honest!
What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?
Everybody would like to know,
Is there life after love?
Or will the pain and suffering grow?
Looking for answers from up above?
The very first time is always the worst,
You cry and you beg till you can’t anymore,
You feel like you are in a sea submersed,
Doesn’t he understand it’s him I adore?
Incomprehension of how it could end,
Spiraling downward, slowly descending
Analyze whole relationship until ending
Hatred for him becomes your new best friend.
Then the broken heart starts to recover,
You realize one day you are tired of crying
Tired of hating, and of overanalyzing
Life moves on, often with a new lover.
A scar will remain forever in your heart,
The broken hearted move on with a fresh start.
(10/6/2005 2:43:00 AM)
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please reply regarding this poem-
By D.M. Barber
The hunger within
Can’t break the fast
You broke my heart
You were the last
For time will pass
I will grow old
But the way you loved me
‘Twas so cold
So cold it burns
It leaves a scar
So precious and clean
Carved by a tsar
The hurt within
Will come to my grave
The hurt within
It makes me a slave
A broken heart
The worst pain felt
But the games not over
More cards to be dealtReplies for this message:
(10/19/2005 3:45:00 PM)
I enjoyed this poem, you have good imagery and you rhyme scheme works nicely. The only suggestion I would make would be 'carved by a tsar' this line sounds a touch awkward to me. Besides that I love ... more
Ikazoboh Austine Jeffrey
(10/16/2005 9:24:00 AM)
hello barber that was a very good one and the rhyming was good. The tone sounds like the poet 'you' just got his heart broken.
- Jessica H (10/19/2005 3:45:00 PM) Post reply
Elie Abou Chaaya
(9/9/2005 6:53:00 PM)
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i just need professional opinions for 2 of my poems 'my promise' and 'till we meet again', it's very urgent and important. post your opinions directly to me, or in here. i heard people say that i have a unique style of writing. and i'm asking yours. thank you all in advance.
Till we meet again
It’s hard to say goodbye, and leave everything behind
But, my dear, I am forced to leave far away and hide
Away from you, and weep every moment we spent together
But what can I do, if faith holds us apart from each other?
I struggled so long, till I forgot the reason behind the pain
But all I know, is that every time I see you, my heart beats again
In stormy nights, and shiny days, summer breezes, and winter bites
I struggled till I couldn’t no more; I surrendered and delivered the fight
It’s time to say goodbye, I kiss your hand while I am down on my knees
Knowing that you will never be mine, denying that you belong to me
The fight is over, the war is lost, and through the ashes, you will find me
Alone, broken, screaming your name, as my wounds are killing me
How I always wanted to say to you how much I love you
How I desired one honest look from your eyes, into the depths of my soul
But, you never understand what I want, or you knew and never desired me
You preferred others, made mistakes, and were too blind to see
What you’ve done to my heart, what you’ve done to my soul and my mind
It’s time for me to leave, to tear away what’s left from me, and leave you behind
How life is not fair, how love is ruthless, how feelings get dissolved and fade away
I will go to bed tonight, and cry you one last time, and tomorrow, I will start a new day
I will march the gardens of misery, and try to find a rose, all alone like me
I will give her love, warm, comfort, water, and sun; I will kiss her thorns and bleed
And none of you will remain, but a name written on my heart with fire
You shall always be forever my lost love, my lost need, my lost desire...
(8/4/2005 10:52:00 PM)
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I think the last line is inconsistant with the entire poem. You could say that it brings one back to reality with a bump, but I don't really think thats what you're going for.
(6/13/2005 3:29:00 PM)
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I would like people's opinions on the very last line.
Spring's Fell Bloom
Beyond the valley far below,
There glory of a spring's fell bloom,
Did flourish as wild flowers know
Such music heard from lovers' room.
Past autumn's warmth did hearts disease;
When gentle Halcyone's wings set soar,
To sing of tender happiness on seas,
'Twas only songs from loves before.
Though pale the snows, did reasons warn,
Harsh winter's cloak; past depth of world,
Could but that melody keep warm
The howling wind against love's cold.
Spring swells though season's tears still dry,
Embankments left those rivers fast,
That loose ends should on rapids fly
From love that didn't last.
I could make the last line be 'Away from love that didn't last', to keep
the meter consistant but it loses the alliteration from 'fly-From'.
I also fell that perhaps the sudden short stop is appropriate because that
is the theme of the line itself.
However... some people has said the last line felt wrong to them. I
can't but help say 'From love that didn't last' feels better to me.
'Away from love that didn't last' sounds sterile.
thanksReplies for this message:
(7/25/2005 4:47:00 PM)
I think you should write out - 'did not' instead of 'didn't'. Then it reads well. I like the poem. It is the first time I have visited the workshop. Best wishes, Philippa Lane
(7/12/2005 1:35:00 PM)
Just a suggestion, how about: Embankments left those rivers fast, Far from a love that did not last. Just my opinion, good luck!
(7/11/2005 7:41:00 PM)
I think that 'From love that didnt last' is perfect. Its more interesting.
- Philippa Lane (7/25/2005 4:47:00 PM) Post reply
(5/31/2005 9:46:00 PM)
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Love Poem (one of a million)
Love is a rope
Impossible to climb
A needle in hay
Impossible to find
Apart from the loss
Apart from the gain
Love is not proud
It does not want fame
There’s no feeling like it
There is none the same
Love has a hold
On all its possessors
By its caressers
By its professors
Love is a rose
Hidden by thorns
Along with the joy
Brings things forlorn
Each day of sun
Comes one more storm
Conniving and sneaky
Love is for sure
Trial and error
The only cure
(5/31/2005 12:15:00 PM)
This is nicely done. Rework the next to last stanza. Read it carefully. It doesn't completely make sense (at least to me.) Your girlfriend won't mind if you capitalize the word 'I.' Your sense of rhythm and rhyme is excellent. Keep writing...and good luck with the girl! :)
Roland Jamito Jr.
(5/29/2005 10:08:00 PM)
Hi everyone. Please, some critic would be appreciated.
Just an attempt to use iambs on my poem
(to court a girl who likes poetry) =)
I had with me a riddle though
That no one knows the answer so
For all they have is just a guess
To throw at me, oh what a mess
But since you want to hear it then
My riddle now i'll say it when
You'll throw a kiss on me and say
'I'll love you now and everyday'.
So well I see your bashful smile
And read your thoughts in just a while
You've said those words just in your mind
So here's the riddle; here's the bind:
In ups and downs, it jumps and shouts
It looks and feels, for all the bouts
It knows a song for you to sing
It likes you more in everything
Sometimes it cries when you're away
Sometimes it smiles when you would stay
And always grieves when you were gone
For it desires for you and none
It likes itself to feel this more
It felt this way like this before
It has no wings though it can fly
It could then fall when you pass by
So here you are at me you stare
I just don’t know to guess you dare
But if a clue you wish to know
to give i cant if that is so
Just look at me and read my lips
The chanting on my fingertips
Or feel the beat within my heart
If you would wish to answer start
(5/5/2005 11:41:00 PM)
ANY SUGGESTIONS OR CORRECTIONS TO MY POEM BELOW? CAN YA ALL GUESS WHAT I'M FEELING RIGHT NOW? ......
(4/24/2005 5:24:00 PM)
Any constructive criticism is very welcome regarding this poem:
Tenant of the Eaves
Then one day, after the pall of the freeze
in the spring of the year, full blown with fragrant ease,
there came a sparrow to my narrow eaves
to weave a home out of some remnant leaves.
The music of its silky throat was shrill
and in the morning flew aloft to fill
the waking and the drudge routine with joy,
transcending the routine ennui employs.
That music was an antidote to time.
Clocks froze in the face of the sublime
and warbling presence near the door
as if unto a muse they would implore.
Abolishment of memory's distinction
between now, and what has passed and what will be
seemed the purpose of this soft concatenation
and the point of this wild tenant's melody.
Then I was taken all at once away
upon the lilting litany of song
that ushered itself in before the day
like the cardinal before the king in long
and flowing robe of richest cloth
trimmed in sparkling jewels and soft ermine.
The king I mean; the cardinal is loathe
to flaunt material and earthly fine
for life is given him only to pass
beyond the gawdy trappings of his task
and endure a poverty of happiness
reinforced by daily, flogging penance.
I am no saint, nor man of spoken vows,
yet I prefer my pleasures simple now
and live as though I wait for something, too.
Something, recalled in birdsong, I once knew,
something dethroning time's proud majesty,
fashioned out of innocence and light,
which sings encomiums to nature's rite,
and eulogies to all worldly loss of sight
and disparages our heedlessness of sound-
a rustling among the leaves or a rumbling of the ground-
that speaks as if a father showing truth
to a soul maliciously misguided by its youth
Thanks in advance!