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  • Baylie Persson (3/13/2013 2:55:00 AM) Post reply

    The Average Questions.

    Not good.
    No one sees my pain.

    I hide under a wall.

    A wall of happiness,

    Or so it looks like.

    I’m dying inside.

    I feel my soul,
    Giving way,
    No one cares.

    I had a person to lean on.

    He left,
    Turn different.
    He’s not Jayden anymore.

    He’s Nedyaj.

    Nedyaj doesn’t like me.
    He dislikes me.
    He’s hurtful.
    They all are.

    WHY! ?
    Why should I care?

    Let it roll off my back, huh?

    I won’t let it roll!

    For all eternity.

    I want to watch their faces at my funeral.
    See how sad they are.

    Will they even be sad?
    Will they still know happiness to carry on?

    I doubt they’ll care.

  • Hao Cheng (3/8/2013 4:51:00 AM) Post reply

    Web Site on the Mind
    by Victor

    What blows you onto my mind,
    On a windy and foggy night,
    Along the riverside, across my heart.
    Your innocent smiles weave like water towards me,
    Mists lift, lamps cheer,
    What is melting my soul bit by bit
    - is a whole new website.
    Slow down, time!
    Just let me click that website.

    March 03,2006

    Remark: Thanks to David for helping revising the poem so that you could appreciate it as it is now.

  • Nithin Purple (3/7/2013 6:06:00 AM) Post reply

    On Desire

    No rules ne'er rest your pinions, but sure hope,
    To wake in wondrous thought's in many and many
    And formed illness, cause minds madden swipe.
    Your cottage full of dreams, of freshness wing,
    Which power brake your noble flow, and how?
    Ha! bow I sweet, my sweet for ever you sing
    Let me spread your secret cipher, with emotes,
    Most colored yours, still man needs you, do you?
    So he, though he mortal sleep in your shades
    Our somber ideas here, too far wish we glide
    From this world -sour with hopeful Ecstasy
    But soul that rise, here dear, still in me fade
    Misfortune leads despair, and fear desires,
    O' beauty! utterly falls, nothing lasts

    Nithin Purple.

  • Tanishq Sharma (3/7/2013 3:53:00 AM) Post reply

    The Three Stages Of My Life.

    Bruised and lonely as i sit, I ponder upon what has made me this.
    Bending down to see how far does this go,
    the shades of memories making me low.

    The three stages of my life, i see.
    Kid, Child and teenage namely.
    Each emphasizing to its own,
    Pointing out, every mistake, equally grown.

    Giggles of a new born, do i hear,
    Grumbles of a youth, do i hear,
    Crises of my teen, do i hear.

    I hear the agony of a broken crayon,
    I see the distress of un-satisfied wish for a chocolate,
    I feel the miseries of a broken heart.

    I hear the bliss of making noises,
    I see the pleasure of being the favorite child,
    I feel the joy of getting someone's attention.

    I hear the passing bells of a pram,
    I see perplexity to decide the favorite cartoon,
    I feel the dilemma of two different perspectives.

    Walking beyond the lane of my memories,
    i halt at a place called present,
    I stand up from the place of despair,
    Grasp all those sheds of tears and Smiles..

    And Begin walking towards my future....

    Tanishq Sharma

  • Paul Mwenelupembe (3/2/2013 6:31:00 AM) Post reply

    On the time line the sky clears
    Merry, merry it does in the land
    Memories of the spider web cries
    Falling snows in paved isles rain
    Isles of water way in merry, merry

    Broom are tit birds in reds
    They sing merry, merry messeges
    Restless whisles stand in seed beds
    Falling like water drops are messengers
    Footprints re-echoe and jump in merry, merry

    Will the garden accept one tree
    That merry, merry will hold the sounds
    In the planted sheet orchard are the clips
    In the merry, merry lips builds are found
    The stars of carefreeness in the garden

    Will the birds allow to go through the cliff
    That the seated nature will overcome the greed
    And hear the golded bells of lips
    And fall into eternal peace within brims
    Under the sweet berry of natured spurs

  • Paul Mwenelupembe (3/2/2013 6:25:00 AM) Post reply

    There was humour and drammar at the airpot
    All were driven inside poetry
    All had this globe to turn on and on
    All had to dream for a dreamer
    What if all dreamers were sent outside?
    This airport, it swallowed them all
    The love of poetry is intense inside
    On each new sheet of paper to write on

  • Sae Kodok (2/28/2013 9:16:00 AM) Post reply

    the world is a stage
    volatile story
    faces no role
    and pretend there is a role
    why do you pretend
    why do you pretend

  • Ponniah Ganeshan (2/28/2013 3:52:00 AM) Post reply

    What theme, the poetry contest focus on?

  • Darius Burns (2/26/2013 10:08:00 PM) Post reply

    I don't see a contest. Thought I'd rather leave you this.

    " Shed."

    Eyes force open…alert…aware.
    Legs, restless with the clutches of dawn.
    Sky still sobs frozen droplets to glass…
    Resting still on a woodland lawn.

    November rain was falling; pale brown remnants were calling…
    Shrieking sorrow long dead and dried.
    It started with a will, and a wisp…
    Bearing crisp from his sorrowful name.
    Companions of mahogany and cedar nooses,
    But never once menacing from any range.
    Where everything is always the same…
    Weeping for a solemn change.

    Bloodshot windows of forlorn reveries…
    Lingered temptation from beyond closed eyes…
    Something amiss, something off balance,
    Something tempting beyond exposed eyes.

    I remember the knife, as it so glimmered,
    Resting motionless between cracks of the counter.
    Dull, rusted, sending a sorrowful echo…
    In some pile of glistening, deadly powder.

    I remember that blade, as it rode with the tablet…
    Two fateful opposites of the same mirror.
    Shedding the skin for a simple tool,
    For complex margins of silence's error…

    Soul of his laid down to serenity…
    Where it will never fade to waver.
    A bleeding soul lay to flesh…
    Leaving dark stains upon the paper.

  • Miley Stephans (2/26/2013 6:28:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply


    Shouts of fear
    and commanding tones
    fill their ears,
    nearing the dawn.
    A lake of red shredded everywhere
    so many dead
    you will find there.

    Once a calm field
    now at it's end.
    Now a battlefield when will it end?
    Families across the sea,
    hoping to see their dear
    Will they ever see,
    their lost ones I fear?

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