Critiques and Revision


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  • Melek Yuzlu (1/14/2014 4:09:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Please let me have feedback for this poem. Thank you.

    Woman, you are beautiful to me -
    You are my wise and counted friend.
    You are the sunlight of my eyes
    as I watch the smile rise upon your face,
    and the dew of the dawn as
    I feel your moist lips kiss my cheek.

    You are the prosperity of my life
    as I become enriched by your glow.
    And the longing for love beats
    within my soul. I long for your touch.
    I long for your eyes to rest upon me -
    Just one look and I melt as the frozen snow.

    You are my beautiful woman,
    and I reach out to touch your soul.
    Do not leave me, but remain at my side.
    You are my bride, by beautiful one,
    and I am the slave of my own captivity.


    Melek yüzlü

    Replies for this message:
    • Cleveland Gibson (1/16/2014 4:06:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      What I say is my opinion. I feel though the poem is written it is not finished. How you finiish it is in your hands, not mine. If it were me I'd do a line by line revision, then make it flow better, r ... more

  • Femme Feeble (1/11/2014 11:24:00 PM) Post reply

    I am very uncertain about this; any thoughts?



    How to live:
    It all seems so simple and yet;
    It is much more difficult in execution.
    Fear is stronger than ambition.

    Speak your mind and you are speaking the truth!
    And if it pleases you to extend services of kindness;
    To remain for the sake of patience;
    To exercise your freedom to be generous;
    To look upon each fellow human with love and compassion seething through your pores
    Till they cannot bear themselves anymore,
    Then by all means, live morally!
    I cannot,
    Even though I do.
    But I cannot bear the thought that I might not,
    Only because I like to believe I am wholesome.

    Do not focus only on yourself, for everyone does.
    And they are all as unhappy as everyone,
    Who are just as depressed as you,
    Waiting for something to open up in the line;
    For life to treat them well.
    I am waiting for life to stop treating me well.

    When we are focused on ourselves we cannot see anything.
    Like focusing on one leaf in the whole forest,
    In the whole wilderness,
    In the whole world.
    If one individual gave as much attention to another as they did to themselves,
    Love would be less prevalent than it is.

    But what is life,
    If you don't look upon one person with tenderness and desire,
    Grand enough to stop a converging storm?

    However,
    I feel as though I cannot live in such an open fashion
    Until I can look upon myself with satisfaction.
    And yet I look around myself for approbation,
    I feel as though I can never be satisfied
    Through this twisted loop of fear and anxiety.

    For,
    True satisfaction is not gleamed through compliments and supportive actions.
    When I reflect on the content of my character,
    I am not pleased.
    Standards so achievable, yet I am so selfish.
    And I wonder if I manufacture all of my tears in the same factory as those nifty, fancy cars from Japan,
    All lined up in a row and waiting to be dispensed at the appropriate time.
    I am searching for an honest emotion, but I have yet to find one that I can be honest with.

    To be secure in one's own self is to be set free; how I long to be unchained!
    For only when I am no longer myself will I be comfortable with my life.
    To be seen as someone I am not, yet exactly who I am,
    That is what I strive for.

    Yet being so open, will my insecurity show?

  • Terrance Tracy (1/10/2014 11:26:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    It tickles my bones
    and pickles my tones
    to hear dogs bark
    is to hear bogs dark.

    When birds are chirping
    do you hear chirds birping
    as you walk in the shade
    do you salk in the whade.

    When you smell a rose
    it is painful to rell a smose
    when a bee stings you
    does the stee bings you.

    When you smell the mountain air
    you may mell the sountain air
    as you are sliding down to bottom
    you are bown to the dottom.

    The nuances that you read
    are products of anticipation
    in the program of voice recognition
    so don't blame me for what you see.

    Terrance Tracy

    Replies for this message:
    • Cleveland Gibson (1/16/2014 4:13:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      This is a poem that says things but why?The reader needs to engage but somehow that hasn't happened to me. I'd blame the ease of free verse. IMO

    • Joseph Harlacher (1/11/2014 4:39:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      I feel it depends on how much sense is to be made in the inversion. if you want; the reader to juxtapose or reiterate, cause to pause, think not, some kinda funny. it usually results in just the autho ... more

  • Ed Nigma (1/9/2014 9:32:00 PM) Post reply

    Hey there fellow writers.

    Still fairly new to writing poetry, I'm also pretty new to this site as well

    I would be thrilled if anyone that wanted to take the time to read any of my poems

    and critique them for me maybe giving me some pointers if you don't mind?

    I would really appreciate it a lot.


    Thanks for reading, Allan Gerard =)

  • Rubab Atwal (1/8/2014 11:06:00 AM) Post reply

    Land of Reality
    I met a person from the land of reality
    where the tongue of treachery is spoken
    people live in sadness
    and hearts are broken
    everyone here is a hopeless preacher
    they preached upon courage till it argued them liars
    and of truth till it proclaimed them liars
    Greed and hopelessness is all that runs through their blood.

  • Terrance Tracy (12/31/2013 5:34:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    YOU ARE – WHAT YOU THINK YOU ARE

    In the dull gray mist our minds exist, as we
    Deteriorate in this human shell, thoughts of
    What is to blame there is no fame other
    Than one's own mind its better off left
    Behind.

    Actors in a world of our own
    We exist only to see our work misunderstood
    Poets we are not nor authors we shall be
    When we choose to roam in the world of rejection.

    Freeform or classic, modern or abstract all are
    Caught in a trap, rumpled and tossed to the floor
    Swept out the door perhaps we should have kept
    Intact that smeared easel or bits of literature left behind
    Thrown away not good enough our best works swept
    Out with the rest of the stuff.

    We are what we think we are no man can possess:
    Inspiration, imagination, organization and powers
    That be, are wrapped up in a pale frame but held
    Onto with determination.

    Terrance Tracy

    Replies for this message:
    • Cleveland Gibson (1/3/2014 6:40:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      Hi Terence You've written a poem on a kind of well trodden theme. But the slant you've place on that theme remains not new and somewhat confused by the use of overused idea or words. In verse thre ... more

  • Wyclif Odira (12/31/2013 4:45:00 AM) Post reply

    hi has anyone read any of my poems?i need honest critic, and assistance on how to publish my poetry book

  • Wyclif Odira (12/30/2013 11:52:00 PM) Post reply

    WHISPERS OF THE WIND-

    Whispers in the wind
    Bold as they come
    Till the wind ease to blow!
    Sing them in over vigor
    Rage as if in rigors
    Shout if thy soul peace finds
    And thy ears allow the waves-
    For only then will thy
    Rage be made known,
    Thy mind be heard,
    And thy heart discerned!
    Thus let me whisper in the wind
    And sing a song if you may
    Or a lull anyway
    And breathe a sigh!
    My heart give their murmurs
    Even as your mouth
    Whistle the tune thereof
    In a whisper in the winds!
    Open thy mouth in aloud cry
    Cry if you can or just try
    Because that duel within
    That entrapment of sin
    That work of the evil
    And numerous a peril
    Shall be let out…
    Rage like a crazy goat
    Charge like a blind rhino
    Let out of thy chest
    Let it out brother…
    Talk to yourself
    Talk with the one
    Who sits calmly inside
    Or to your shadow beside
    Tell him if you may
    Tell him in a song
    Sing alone, or singing along-
    And whisper to the wind
    For only then, only then
    Will this moments be done…
    When you have talked
    When you have cried
    When you have hummed
    When you have raged
    When you have charged
    Then you discern
    And maybe learn
    The whispers in the wind!
    Whisper to the wind
    Somehow it will carry away
    Thy reason and plight
    To the seas and be buried
    In the swash and backwash
    As they heap the sand upon sand
    And smooth the surface
    With the scattered seashells-
    The scars will nowhere be found
    On the seabed around
    When you whisper in the wind!
    So loosen thy spirit
    Loosen thy tight garments
    Avail thyself to the plains
    In a windy breezy evening
    Gaze from whence they blow
    And whisper in the winds….
    The winds in the sun
    The winds to sooth my sore soul
    Take my pains away
    As the seaward they blow
    And or stage a show
    On their leeward slopes
    Or just hang on the hope
    That the clouds soon bring
    And the rains to wash
    The fervent heat life cause
    To the green lash
    Of the lilies that soon grow
    To cover all the swamps
    Of life’s tragic moment
    So unfortunate yet will always be
    As long as your eyes
    Remain bold enough to see
    Or thy mouth gives sickly sighs
    In the whispers of the wind…

  • Wyclif Odira (12/30/2013 7:59:00 AM) Post reply

    Wake up mama

    Mother thou art like an old man’s face,
    That would soon depart without a trace-
    To cover the wise sayings of ‘shame! ’
    But on thee I’ll cast not any blame
    Woe unto the ‘civilized! ’

    Like an island sitting silently soaked in water so cold
    Thy pale sickly nudity stands in the gruesome fold..
    Now he’s gone thy mantle of hides, around his shoulders
    And thy diamond bracelets in his cruel arms
    Calling him-self, the ‘civilized! ’
    -from whispers of the wind-

  • Wyclif Odira (12/30/2013 7:54:00 AM) Post reply

    O’ER AND O’ER AGAIN
    Your love is like the cool breeze
    That blows on my face and my hairs raise,
    I can’t see its strong hands
    But I feel it to my heart tends
    Like a flirt of a shirt to a skirt

    Whenever I want to go away
    It changes my steps never to stray,
    And my heart tames in the game
    Of one and only theme
    To love you o’er and o’er again

    To many days I’ve troubled you
    But am going to remain here in my blues
    As I figure out what God intends
    As we finally roll in a wend
    And hold each other o’er and o’er, again

    Am lost in dreary fears
    But tis this love that soaks my eyes in tears
    Of changing my stand on this
    Yet am so close to kiss
    Your sweet lips o’er and o’er, amen

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