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  • Rookie - 342 Points Jeremy Horsford (1/3/2015 1:49:00 PM) Post reply
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    Hi there,

    It feels slightly strange introducing myself in this manner.

    Well, my name is Jeremy and I dipped my toe into poetry 15 years ago and the affair ended shortly afterwards. However, poetry has once more appeared on the radar (June 2014) and I plan to go in for the kill. So with all of the war talk to one side; I have been a member since October 2014 and would love for you to engage with me and enjoy my work.

    Let's share ideas.

    Please see below for a taster of my work.


    The Forest

    We wandered into the cold dark forest. This seems a regular occurance. With every step the past is relived. You believe we are in a state of flux and the future is ours to shape. I believe it is a transient sense of false belief. We hold onto illogical hope. Trust was never in question. The unknown is broken. Our dactylograms are fading. We venture deeper into the forest. For a moment you lost me and my doppelganger found you. We are near the end. The end is here. You emerge from the forest and the world lost me to passion

  • Rookie - 730 Points Muhammad Farhan Ahmed (1/1/2015 6:09:00 AM) Post reply

    Do read and comment on my poem.
    http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/missing-you-in-the-gentle-rain/

    The lovely rain as steady as a first, amorous kiss
    Is sombre without your fragrant presence
    For our fervent love is as deep as an abyss
    I crave to cuddle you in this icy-cold rain

    The river of my life is unnourished and dry
    Though it's drizzling amply to slake my soul
    As droughty as the black crow flying in the sky
    In seek of water to quench his profound thirst

    The songs of those maidens in the gentle shower
    Are as dulcet as your bell-like, honeyed voice
    Your three words of love are as sweet as a flower
    My heart yens to hear them again and again

    The rainy day is mirthless, dreary and blue
    Like the dull, colorless season of autumn
    The candle of my bliss is waiting for you
    To be lit up again, for it has grown dim

  • Rookie - 270 Points Kari Susanne Holmedal (12/30/2014 1:09:00 PM) Post reply

    Hi everyone I'm new.

    My name is Kari Susanne Holmedal and I've been an on and off poet for the last six years.

    A lot of my poetry deals with mental illness and it might not be everyones cup of team. But I would be grateful if anyone read them.

    Loving Regards
    Kari Susanne Holmedal

  • Rookie - 730 Points Muhammad Farhan Ahmed (12/28/2014 8:00:00 AM) Post reply

    Read my poem and comment on it on
    http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/roses-red-coral-blue/

    Roses Red, Coral, Blue


    Luscious, pretty, redolent is the rose
    For oft it is kissed by a butterfly
    Whether it be in a poem or a prose
    Beautiful ideas does the writer imply

    Says the crimson one, 'I love you'
    Conveys the coral desire deep
    Rare but elegant too is the blue
    I keep all three where I sleep

    Sweet and fragrant is now my room
    Embellished by roses red, coral, blue
    Whenever in my garden they bloom
    I smile and say, 'God, thank you! '

  • Rookie - 730 Points Muhammad Farhan Ahmed (12/28/2014 7:57:00 AM) Post reply

    Rate this poem and comment on it on http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/snow-white-and-the-seven-dwarfs-3/


    Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs


    On a day icy-cold, snowy and serene
    Glancing through the window ebony-framed
    Stitched a silk scarf a genial queen
    Prickled when she her slim flat finger
    Three blood drops fell upon her sewing

    Gave she birth to a girl 'Snow White'
    With velvety skin as fair as snow,
    Luscious lips blood-red and light,
    Lustrous hair as black as ebony,
    Scarlet fruity cheeks soft like silk.

    The girl's beauty was like none other
    Grew she as pretty as a picture
    But before long died her mother
    And the king married once again

    The new queen was ravishingly divine
    A vain, o'er-dressed narcissist...
    Asked she daily a mirror on the wall
    'Who is the fairest of us all?'
    Pride polluted her heart like venom,
    Felt she grand and lordly high,
    When-e'er heard she her fa'ourite reply
    'O Queen, you are the fairest of all! '

    But Snow White whitened as she aged,
    Brighten'd her face, redden'd her cheeks
    One day her stepmother got enraged
    For the mirror gave a brand new reply
    'O Queen, you're fair, fine, and chic,
    But you need not feel so proud or high
    For Snow White's beauty is sole and unique
    And she is now the fairest of all! '

    'Kill Snow White, bring her heart to me, '
    Ordered she one of the huntsmen
    'For I shall slice and savor it in glee'
    Brought instead the hunter a boar's heart
    For he let his prisoner flee,
    With a sympathetic face, said he
    'You are too young, fair, and fresh
    To go the way of all flesh
    Before that brutal lady finds you out,
    Run to the woods and ne'er return! '

    Wander'd she in the woods so dreary
    To find some safe shelter to stay
    She wept, sweat, and soon got weary
    Spotted she at last a quaint cottage

    'Seven wee tables, seven wee chairs
    Seven wee candles, seven wee plates
    Seven wee bedrooms upstairs,
    What a queer little house is it! '

    In the vacant, peculiar house
    Walked she keenly to and fro
    Somebody poked her aqua-blue blouse
    Saw Snow White seven dwarfs behind

    'Look at her skin, so fair and white! '
    'Look at her hair, so sleek and dark! '
    'Look at her cheeks, so rosy and bright! '
    'And her lips, they're so red and light!
    'Welcome to our cottage, lovely guest! '

    'Oh, cute seven little men,
    If you don't mind, let me stay here
    For my step-mom has an evil heart
    And she will not spare me, I fear...'

    'Hush, dear, dwell in our house
    From that sadistic woman away'
    Said one of the jovial, mellow men,
    For we'll keep you out of harm's way'

    The queen in her castle danced with gloat
    Patting herself on the back
    Ask'd she her mirror on the wall
    'Am I now the fairest of all?'

    'O Queen, you're fair, fine, chic
    But you are still number two
    For in the forest where seven dwarfs dwell,
    Snow White's still safe, sound and well! '

    With a face as red as blood
    With a will harder than granite
    With a basket of apples ruby-red
    Yet so poisonous, like hemlock
    Headed she towards the grim woods
    On a horse so resplendent and fair
    That felt quite awkward and queer
    To be ridden by an old hag in rags
    She was so fox-cunning and wise
    For it was the evil queen in disguise

    Knocked she the door of the dwarf house
    With a sound that made Snow White rouse
    Opened she the door and smiled
    At the lady, that seemed tender and kind
    'I need not come in, dear child
    But do try these fresh, dainty apples
    For they're ripe, succulent and mild'

    Finding no fault in a fruit so bright
    Finding no fault in a lady so docile
    Took Snow White a big bite
    Shut she then her glinting, pearly eyes
    That did not open ever again

    The murderer with a demonic grin
    Fled from the tragic death scene
    As fast as a witch's broomstick
    Rushed away the malicious queen,

    On the floor so unblemished and pure
    The dwarfs saw Snow White's body as still
    As the left-ov'r toxic apple on the floor
    Tried they so many revival herbs to cure
    The venom poured in her virtuous heart

    The days so deplorable and sad, passed by
    Sobbed the seven dwarfs all day
    Seeing a blurry river in the eyes
    'Come back, come back' they'd just say

    Put they Snow White's body so tight
    In a glass-coffin ample for her to lay
    Her skin was still comely and bright
    Her hair still as black as ebony
    Lips still lusciously red and light
    Scarlet fruity cheeks still silk-soft

    One stunningly scenic and bright, dulcet day
    Came a bonny prince, who on a horse rode by
    And stopped to see the seven dwarfs pray
    'Bring Snow White back to life, O God!
    And punish the queen for her sinful fraud! '

    The prince pulled back his satin-smooth hair
    And gazed at the girl's gorgeous figure
    With his gleaming, profound, silvery eyes
    To a genuine love fell he a prey
    Looking at Snow White in the coffin, said he
    'O My Lord! I need not pray
    For my love, so amorous and deep
    Is plenty for her dead soul to revive
    She will wake up one day, I just know
    Till then, my angelic love will thrive'

    The apple piece in Snow White's throat
    Jumped out miraculously, and she awoke
    Opened she gently her big doll-eyes
    The seven dwarfs jumped in great glee
    'She's alive! She's alive! ' they cried
    While Snow White to the prince eyed
    'I love you too, my handsome prince
    I shall be your beloved bride,
    And savor the rest of my life.'

    And here comes the end of the tale
    Snow White became the prince's wife
    She had no obstacles to face then
    For the queen burst into a pile of dust
    As she was cursed by the seven little men
    The prince and princess lived with endless trust
    And the king did not marry ever again

  • Rookie - 730 Points Muhammad Farhan Ahmed (12/25/2014 2:53:00 AM) Post reply

    Read my poem and comment on it on the following page:
    http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/criticism-14/

    Criticism


    'You live in a world of odd dreams, Mr. Ahmed
    Putting queer imaginations to mere fancy words
    Bejeweled by baffling metaphors and similes
    That one mightn't get the hang of with ease
    Why don't you eschew the pesky rhyme rule,
    As D.H Lawrence and Walt Whitman did?
    Switch to chaste, free-verse poetry instead
    Of having a big, sentimental, slushy head'

    'I neither live in Lawrence's nor Whitman's planet
    For I dwell in my own enchanted, poetic world
    Rhyme-less poems are no delight to me, Mr. Paul
    Poems and paragraphs aren't alike, after all
    Whether a writer rhymes, ruminates, or not
    That depends entirely on the poet's taste
    A poem is a splendent verse, an alluring art
    An inner voice, a majestic vision of the heart'

  • Rookie - 146 Points Hugh Everard (12/24/2014 1:36:00 AM) Post reply

    Hello everybody my name is Hugh Everard
    I am returning after illness slowed me down (Parkinsons)
    I can still contribute but friends and family do my typing
    You will find me on poems and comedy forum

  • Rookie - 0 Points Demi Anderson (12/21/2014 4:17:00 PM) Post reply

    Hello all, my name is Demi and I've been a poet for the past five years. I write from my heart and accept constructive criticism well. In my private life I love my furrchildren and my other artistic as well as literary talents. In the area of poetry, it's dark and macabre. It can be very depressive too. In order to enjoy it, it has to be your cup of tea. The poem I present is " Memories" . It was written back in January of 2013.


    Memories by Demi
    There are these things inside of me… they are every man’s disease.
    Some have it worse than others, some kill, and some please…

    There are many causes of this disease, some are good and some are bad.
    Others know how to control it, while it drives the rest of them mad.

    Mine manifests me; it keeps me up at night.
    Nothing drives the darkness away, not even the morning light.

    Sleep doesn’t cure it, and time makes it worse.
    Talking doesn’t help; it just causes tears to burst.

    This disease drives in hopes and dreams; it drives them out as well.
    The truth lies in god they say but I dismiss the lies they tell.

    This is a burden to the soul, a detriment to the mind.
    This disease never gets better; it only gets worse with time.

    The infected hosts of this world want to see no one pure.
    Only the deceased knows where to find the cure.

    This disease kills the mind, body, and soul.
    My body feels crippled and my soul has aged old.

    Some days I feel like I can rise but I’m soon shown reality.
    I thought I could be happy for once, how stupid and foolish of me.

    When I lay down sometimes, I can feel lesions.
    They come from the humans, not spirits or demons.

    Every day I lay here badgered by torment, every day I lay here and cry.
    But no one hears my sorrow, my pain or my sighs.

    I tried to smile yesterday, I had no reason to but I wanted to see if it would work.
    I tried to turn the corners upward I stopped because it hurt.

    But in this moment, this time, I can just lay on my side.
    Maybe one of these days I’ll get lucky and roll over and die.

    I have been crucified, but I don’t have the luxury to die, I have to sit and suffer.
    In this disease I’ll die for no one’s sins, not even my own mother.

    But as I sit here, a rotting vegetable, you see your enemies every time you close your eyes.
    They are your memories.

  • Rookie - 165 Points Mapung Madura (12/20/2014 10:13:00 AM) Post reply

    Hi all,
    glad to join poemhunter. i learn to write good poems..
    and here my first post, look for the feedback

    Swept The Sound in The Night

    me
    and the Moon
    settles tiptoe
    behind the wall clock
    ticking
    swept the sound
    in The Night

    Rose's Crown
    grooming
    seducing
    nge-Blink
    like Jewellery
    for a Bandit
    a pistol
    pull out from
    the holster
    cock-head
    a pistil
    two bodies
    became Castle

    ' Hello Hello How Low?' 3x

    Dooor! ! !

    baby's cried
    shouted
    me and the Moon nyengir
    settles tiptoe
    wrapped in the tongue-cloth

    think thrice to play your pistol at midnight,
    or your baby beside

    CRY.

  • Rookie - 730 Points Muhammad Farhan Ahmed (12/20/2014 3:37:00 AM) Post reply

    My name is Farhan Ahmed. I'm a keen, sensitive poet, and I use the power of my heart to write poetry. Whatever I write is based on my imagination. I write poetry when my heart and my inner voice forces me to write. Feel free to comment on my poems.
    Let me share one of my poems:

    A Mother's Loneliness

    There, stood alone she, desolated in tears...
    Remained her eyes drizzly over the years.
    Every day and night, doleful was she,
    A blur was all what she could see...
    'My son, my son, why did you die?!
    The river of my life has become dry! '

    Mournful years passed by...
    Until dreamt she of bright candles,
    Held by childern high.
    On the back, saw she one with a dim light,
    It was her son, wistful was he quite.
    'Your tears dowsed it, dimmed it,
    Your rue stabbed my litte heart
    O Mother, why did you fall apart?'

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