Teen Poetry and Discussions

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  • Fiona Schwartzinoff (12/19/2013 12:12:00 AM) Post reply

    My poem to all the girls who pretend to be something they're just not. It's called " They Wear The Mask" . Hope you like it and visit my other poems!

    They frolic about like fawn,
    They flit about like fairy,
    They rule the room,
    They burn the air –

    But where are they?

    They mask their faces,
    They paint their eyes,
    They flaunt their bodies
    Their laughter holds cries.

    But what are they?

    They want to sing like Hannah Montana,
    They want to look like Barbie dolls,
    They want to be Vampire novel heroines,
    Even though reality beckons and tolls.

    But who are they?

    I don’t know
    And they don’t know;
    It’s all such a terrible mess.
    They stain their innocence like dirt the snow
    And don’t even know, they don’t even know
    How they’ve given a silly masquerade fest.

    They hide their faces behind a show
    Of flaunting musicals and false glee
    To portray to the world someone else,
    Shouting, “This is me! This is me! This is me! ”

  • Sarah M. (12/10/2013 5:04:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    Hi! I was wondering if someone could critique this poem. I have to hand it in for English class next week, but I want to make it better.


    Pale skin drawn in rigid lines
    Stretching itself thinly across the white ribbons
    That flow beneath the paper veins,
    As the sharp edges of the bones threaten to break skin,
    Like needles against worn fabric.

    With hollow brown eyes and red chapped lips,
    She examines her full-length profile,
    Frowning at her fractured perception in the face of the mirror;
    She cannot see the stretched skin,
    Nor the bones bound for jailbreak;
    Blind to the elongated piano keys
    Playing themselves across her chest,
    Or the fishhooks piercing up from her pelvis
    That are matched only by the slender shelves of bone
    Protruding from the base of her neck.

    Her vision is obstructed
    By a diseased mind consuming her time;
    Pinching at what is not there
    And aiming to lose what has already been lost.

    Her spirit wanes, but her will is strong;
    She’s been dead for a while, but she is far from done.

    Replies for this message:
    • Melissa Robinson (1/5/2014 3:49:00 AM) Post reply

      This is great.! I loved it you did a good job.

    • Fiona Schwartzinoff (12/19/2013 12:10:00 AM) Post reply

      I like how you don't tell us that she is dead until the end. The imagery you use is very provocative, like " elongated piano keys" . Morbid yet likable. :) Do you read Emily Dickenson?

  • K.ayodeji Abeeb (12/8/2013 3:47:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    pls tell me what you think of this poem. It is untitled and is dedicated to a tree.

    She was a friend
    In many more ways than a man could be

    Just last night,
    She held me high up in her arms
    And together we watched the sailing stars

    And this morning,
    Teasingly, she waved at me in the wind
    And I embraced her with the greed of a lover

    But when I returned
    In the hot hours of the day today,
    Only earth remained where she once stood
    She had to go I was told
    To make room for a parking space.

    Replies for this message:
    • Kyla Cronn (12/12/2013 12:01:00 AM) Post reply

      I enjoyed this poem. The end was the strongest line for me, when you say " She had to go I was told / To make room for a parking space." I believe you are reflecting humans innate connect ... more

  • Caroline Botvin (12/6/2013 4:21:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Hey everyone. I have to hand in a sonnet for school (this is not truly sonnet form nor does it have to be) . this is my first experience with writing poems, but I would like critique and feedback. sorry if its a little gruesome or depressing. Thanks!

    Not a Murderer

    I look down at my clean, inexperienced left wrist.
    Its only been kissed by the blade twice, and an inked needle once.
    A black infinity encircles a reminder of the night that razed everything.
    I went to college, hoping to leave my problems behind me,
    But they were stowed away in my bags.
    They crept out, and I unzipped my skin
    Revealing the blue rivers that ebbed beneath.
    The school found out. This was strike two.
    They said I violated the code of conduct.
    Called me manipulative, called me disruptive, called my parents.
    By the stroke of a small axe, my seven-year-old secret unveiled.
    “A threat to yourself or others”
    I was bipolar for God’s sake! Not a murderer.

    Replies for this message:
  • Nathania Rose (12/5/2013 7:23:00 PM) Post reply

    My first post: " Perfect"

    Picture perfect people of an uncommon variety
    Providing icing on the cake for your average ad-man
    Slip in a thin slice of subliminal messaging
    And skip the sympathy
    Perfection is just a few clicks away
    For your average ad-man

    She finds it elsewhere
    At the ends of her fingers
    She conjures up perfection
    Flushing out the rest
    Disregard the devastation
    She will be the best

    He finds it in the emptiness
    Desolation and drought
    Where hunger pangs rein
    Over what little remains
    Ignore the ache
    He will be beautiful

    But don't forget what it takes
    For your average ad-man
    Just a few clicks
    A touch of manipulation
    To set millions on the road to an unattainable destination

  • Sara Dickson (11/23/2013 8:31:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Hey everybody! I just joined a day ago, and would really like some comments and reviews on my poetry. Maybe share ideas for improvements. Thanks, and here is a poem to get you started:

    The Wolf

    The wolf, the twisted, wretched creature of shadows,
    Sat in the center of the underworld,
    Waiting for the next dying soul to come within his reach,
    Controls the balance of life and death so cruel,
    Biting the frayed string as one life hangs by a simple thread,
    His heart as blackened and shriveled as a prune decaying,
    The pale gray trees around him are still,
    Gnarled sorry things but,
    They are like the skeletons of the lost,
    Their pointed branches reach out to him,
    Begging to see the forgiving light of day again,
    Yearning for a sign of happiness,
    Even if only in the form of a single shard of light,
    But the wolf's blank eyes look away in disgust,
    For he knows that they can no longer grasp life,
    While their blood still flowed they were blind,
    Did not see how wrong they were in their ways,
    And though now they have open eyes, it is already too late,
    Their reward is worse than death itself,
    For each night as the moon shines upon the trees dead,
    Stained souls, blackened souls, are released from their spindly prisons,
    As they are freed, tortured screams and sobs echo through the night,
    Trapped in their worst nightmares and memories,
    Dying repeatedly their terrible deaths,
    Yet all this time the wolf has watched them suffer as he suffered himself,
    But now the price, the time he owed as a guardian has been paid,
    So he slinks silently away in the dark.

    Replies for this message:
    • Herbert Guitang (11/28/2013 9:18:00 PM) Post reply

      Beautiful poem Sara. Try to read some of my poems and comment if you learn on my poems

  • Mary Amrutha (11/16/2013 4:31:00 AM) Post reply

    http://www.poemhunter.com/mary-amrutha/ kindly read and support...

  • Katniss Everdeen (11/16/2013 3:57:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply


    Staring at the dark skies
    Waiting for the sun to rise
    When will this night end?
    When will the dark descend?
    Hope is beginning to fade
    The shattered bits of dreams, away they wade
    All those precious moments have passed
    Proving that happiness never lasts
    The Sun had set too soon
    Leaving behind the dark sky, without a moon
    Now the silent tears roll down my cheek
    Though they are silent, they are louder than a shriek
    I’m dying inside but you cannot see
    All the pain is running through me
    All I can do is to curse my fate
    But I know, for the sun, I’ll have to wait
    And I hope to find it some day
    And if I ever do, my fears, it will allay.

    Replies for this message:
    • Fiona Schwartzinoff (12/21/2013 2:58:00 PM) Post reply

      Quite a talent, Katniss! My favorite part is: Now the silent tears roll down my cheek Though they are silent, they are louder than a shriek I’m dying inside but you cannot see All the pain is ... more

  • Meera Mathur (10/24/2013 1:39:00 AM) Post reply

    Hey guys! I'm Meera new member. I'd like have some reviews for my poem 'Belong'. I hope you guys will read it and like it. Here it is:
    Holdin your arm
    keeps me warm
    Being around you give me no harm

    No matter how far we are from each other
    We can't be apart
    because we belong together forever

    Our love for each other
    will always remain alive
    We can't be togther says the fate of our lives

    But still holding you love
    keeps me above
    From the rain of tear
    there's so much pain for me to bear

    I'm drowing into the deep darkness of pain
    Please come for my love to claim
    because we belong togther forever.

  • Kathleen Neff (10/14/2013 10:25:00 AM) Post reply

    Hey everyone it's me again with a new poem. I hope you like this one. It's what i kinda came up with to be the opposite of my first one like to fight against it.

    Title: Why not me?

    Oh some may call it a curse
    A life like mine
    But others
    A blessing
    It certainly a lonely life
    But a fulfilling one at best
    It's my cross to bare
    And I bare it gladly
    Someone has to take a stand against evil
    Why should it not be me?
    Why should I stand by while
    others ignore it?
    Ignoring the killing
    evil leaves behind in it's path
    while they walk the streets.
    Someone must stop it
    Why should it not be me?
    Me who lives alone,
    me who fights back.
    Me who will stand against evil.
    Why should it not be me?

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