Critiques and Revision


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  • Rookie - 15 Points ian Timmons (10/27/2014 4:15:00 AM) Post reply

    As the trees tremble with breeze
    As the man falls to a knee
    In the light of the sun and a heart in his hand
    His love will be heard throughout the land

    A life he prays will be coming soon
    A life of one created from two
    In sickness and in health to all that remains
    He will love her forever and he'd do it again

  • Rookie - 15 Points ian Timmons (10/27/2014 4:02:00 AM) Post reply

    A plums endeavor toward the ground
    A fall which I can not catch
    Does it hurt they ask as I lie here
    This basic task again

    A simple one that I partake
    I've done so many before
    The things I regret in the past
    When I stand they'll be no more

  • Gold Star - 10,383 Points John Westlake (10/26/2014 5:22:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Goad Mofterning
    this is not the news
    these are the foot curves

    The statue of happy misery
    has been brought to life
    at the Swiss port of Bern tomorrow
    the melon decapitated itself
    using an ice cream doughnut
    the resulting tidiness has scrambled
    two Antarctic army jets into jelly custard

    A mahogany lime shoe made of cheese
    has written a letter to a ruler in three weeks time
    claiming to have had an inner body experience
    the set square has declined to comment on the eggs

    A free range table has been laid by a cow in old jumper
    complete with shell of penguins
    the cutlery have yet to be hatched from their trees
    but there is no safety to the colonel private

    This was not the news
    now on to the lemon crickets with the granite juice
    a Goad Moafterningight from some of us

    Replies for this message:
  • Rookie - 14 Points Hibah Shabkhez (10/26/2014 12:03:00 AM) Post reply

    THE GIFT OF A FRIEND
    Dear Lord, Dear Lord,
    Dear Lord, Dear Lord,
    Give me a gift,
    Give me the gift,
    The gift of a friend

    Dear Lord, as Thou knowest full well
    My soul is full of tears I cannot ease
    Dear Lord, Thou that knowest the wail of Hell
    Grant it awhile Thy blessed peace!

    Dear Lord, put Thou an end to this miserable tale!
    Have I a ‘self’, a being I may yet mar or make?
    Spurred by the frost of a steel-spun heart I rail
    Light Thou a tenderer path I still may take!

    Dear Lord, tend thine aid in ’scaping this cage!
    Break my fetters, cast away of indifference the bar
    By giving me just the sorrow and the rage
    Of a blighted land ravaged by war!

    Dear Lord, I ask not of Thee the loan
    Of delirious transports, passion, joy!
    I ask naught but a friend of my own
    A living heart to learn mine glazed heart by!

    Dear Lord, Dear Lord,
    Give me this gift,
    This gift of tenderness, of amity;
    An it please Thee, send it to me
    And I shall evermore be dumb – upon my fealty!

    Reveal, prithee, a glimmer of the dove
    To this mine heart of steel;
    Cast this iron into the fire of love
    Bring back childhood’s warmth and zeal!

    I tell Thee all that time has sown
    I plead my cruel, barren lot,
    A starveling life which has never known
    Natural warmth even of the basest sort

    Even if it is just to lose it
    Even if it is but the bond of ship and scend
    Even if I cannot keep so beautiful a rosette
    Just once give me a real friend!

    Dear Lord, I hope as I could erstwhile never
    At the waning grey dusk of my piteous life
    I dream again of finding happiness, of fervour
    Is it naught but folly, worthy of Death’s knife?

    For this one last rhyme Thy shield send
    Grant me the will to act in another wise
    Dear Lord, even to deserts thou dost lend
    The rain that makes them blossom ere sunrise.
    ***

  • Rookie - 75 Points Lungelo The Clairvoyant (10/25/2014 11:58:00 AM) Post reply

    Hi, could you guys please read my latest piece which I titled, Vent Of A Laden Heart. Thank you.

  • Rookie - 41 Points Poga Humayun Dundiwala (10/21/2014 10:53:00 PM) Post reply

    sweetswords /diwali.

    At dipawali.
    Light the lamp for blind God.
    With blind faith.

    #dawkins #dipawali

  • Gold Star - 10,383 Points John Westlake (10/20/2014 4:52:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    Until the book of my life is filled
    I must keep writing it
    almost like a diary
    of what has happened in my existence so far

    Words lines and paragraphs are added
    more of them each day
    the future is left blank
    as the book knows not what will come to be

    Sometimes I like to turn the pages back
    to remember what happened before
    but whole chapters I will not read again
    some things are better off left be

    At the end of my life the book will be completed
    it will never be a best seller in the shops
    but it was never meant to be
    all that would matter
    is that it would belong to me

    Replies for this message:
    • Anand Brown (10/21/2014 5:15:00 AM) Post reply

      The concept of the poem is without fault, the execution lacks creativity and does not show the creative zeal you would expect a post-modern poet to have. I'll say it is a work in progress, but you are ... more

    • Points Of View (10/20/2014 9:21:00 PM) Post reply

      Yes! That would belong to you John..There's more empty page to fill it up...Your still young...Still a long way to run(walk) .

  • Rookie - 41 Points Poga Humayun Dundiwala (10/18/2014 7:42:00 PM) Post reply

    sweetswords/memory
    .....................................

    Those who are far away.
    Yet remains in intimate thoughts.
    They are never apart.

  • Rookie - 41 Points Poga Humayun Dundiwala (10/18/2014 7:41:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    sweetswords/memory
    .....................................

    Those who are far away.
    Yet remains in intimate thoughts.
    They are never apart.

    Replies for this message:
  • Rookie - 15 Points ian Timmons (10/18/2014 12:57:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    trembling heart.
    cry no more.
    I've come to cure you.

    the love you seek cannot be yours.
    but don't cry, don't cry.
    by cure a knife to end your suffering.
    tonight i'll grant you freedom.

    Replies for this message:
    • Anand Brown (10/21/2014 5:18:00 AM) Post reply

      I love the concept of your poem, its witty and evocative, however, it lacks execution. I love the fact that you sought to condense it into short lines as oppose to dragging out the action. Give more m ... more

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