Critiques and Revision
(10/28/2013 3:12:00 AM)
Clutching bed sheets,
muffling the sounds of
the last train to Century Park -
whispers of my lover float
above my head,
and between my legs
Blood pumps unevenly,
flowing straight to the fingertips;
leaving my hands numb,
lost, dead, flopping
over the sides of my bed
The creases in my belly
(disgusting pig gut)
mock my posture,
and the spots on my face
mock my shapeless body
But you still love me so, only you
and my soul remains warm,
unchanged and untouched,
confused in this ugly corpse
this filthy pile of fat and bones
growing and bulging like a cancer
I keep it safe, just for you -
You lovely, blind fool
when our skin meets again,
palm against palm,
I’ll be beautiful again
(10/27/2013 4:49:00 AM)
Hello I would like to request that if you have a time to spare please read my poems. All my poems currently registered except for camping and night sky was written 2 or 3 years ago. Please enjoy: D
Niki Nicholas Nkuna
(10/22/2013 6:48:00 AM)
Hi! Colleagues, I'm a novice poet, please comment on my poem below, thanks
Day of reckoning *
My last years were simply confirmed
By one thought, one investigation, one story
By then I had resigned myself to come what may
The aura outside was deprecating as usual
My life was condemned outside and inside
That fateful day, the last day was to be concluded by prayer
Preparation for my farewell was confusing
I have never done it before except for somebody
For whom we know what it means and what to do
The day of reckoning meant nothing to me
Because whatever I do wouldn’t change the verdict
The day will end the same as usual
My skin proved heavy and hot
It felt like a blanket on a hot summer day
I had to take it out, wished I was a snake
Thus the day of reckoning came as a relief
Albeit it meant nothing but death
The days following the dark day where strange days
There was no night or day because I saw with yesterday’s eyes and mind
I waited for the day with my brain roving day and night
Waiting for the day of reckoning to get it done
I was tired of waiting to die when dying was already given to me as a name
I just had nothing to think about even if I tried
Except to see the dark end of the tunnel in my mind
The priest who came to pray with me
Believed in his trade when in fact he was driving me to the hilt
27 May 2013, N Nkuna
Edwina Du Casse
(10/21/2013 1:26:00 AM)
To me a poem is a painting in words, feelings, colours, scenes, tells a story, shares an emotion, takes the reader on a journey into the poem.(How do I down load some of my work here?) Will some one please tell me.As I am new here.
(10/19/2013 5:43:00 PM)
THE TORNED BRIDE
Her dream a promised destiny only in vain
Her chapped crimson bleeding lips a scar of the pain
Every failed romances she wore tearing as she dance
Sunken to the ground grasping more than every chance
Her wedding gown now polluted with a darkened heart of failed romance
Yet she reaped her tears with a smile
A smile she wore proudly amidst every conflict
A face you'd pity and yet she cries in glee
She'd be happy more than you'll ever be I agree
Cause she knows " Agony and pain shows your alive"
And she'll be alive more than you lotNeed not you pity she suffered all and yet she stands tall
I envy her and i concur with her... She'll live
A dream blown away along the wind
And where the wind blow she'll find him..
(10/16/2013 3:15:00 AM)
Hi, please read my collection. I have received quite a lot of positive feedback so your comments and ratings would also be greatly appreciated. To start with, I would recommend " The Willow" , " Autumn Leaves" , " Driftwood at Sunset" , " Fletcher" and " The Sweatshop" . Thank you sincerely for supporting a young poet! Jack Growden
(10/15/2013 10:31:00 AM)
Dear fellow poets
Please do me a favor and read my poem " Ecstasy" and comment as you like.thank yoy.
(10/14/2013 12:36:00 AM)
The Loaded Kiss
I lie in bed on this cool summer’s night
I feel the breeze on my skin giving me goose bumps
I have visions of my hands caressing your hips,
As my fingers slowly begin to move up and down your back
Our mouths get closer and closer
With each passing second I dream of kissing your supple lips.
The anticipation makes me want you even more than ever
Our lips…our lips finally brush up against each other
I feel your warm breath and it makes me shiver.
The passion between us makes the starry sky fall
While you moan with rapturous intent as I tease you more and more.
Fireworks explode in grandeur out the window
While we make love on this cool summer’s night
My hands gently make their way up and down your silky legs
With each thought of getting closer to heaven
Our souls become one, as I sensually kiss you up and down your fragile skin…
The sensual tension between us rises when your body touches mine
Nothing else exists, nothing else matters
While I envision being inside of you
I want you. I feel you. I need you.
I want you with every breath, in every way from now to the end of days.
I want to breathe you; I want to be in you; I want to be with you.
I turn you around and run my fingers through your hair
Our eyes…our eyes meet again…and my legs begin to tremble.
I wrap my arms around you tighter as you wrap your legs around mine
I playfully caress your cheeks, which feel so perfect on my skin
My lips soon make their way towards your neck while my tongue begins to tease you
You scream in ecstasy and ask for more while you smile and pull me towards your lips,
You give me a sweet, passionate kiss that could give life to the heavens above as we watch the sunrise come up
With you in my arms,
There’s nothing more that I want.
(10/4/2013 9:14:00 PM)
I don't think there is very many people here who are in a position to critique anyone's poems. I've looked at many poems here and they are not very good at all. i've looked at past winners in poem contests here and wondered how did they win.
(10/4/2013 7:19:00 PM)
Any chance of a critique?
It's all in the name
Pointless and aimlessly,
The poet takes flight.
Unaware at the moment,
Of what he will write.
The precursor begins the flow,
" He knows that he wants to write" ,
Yet doesn't quite know,
What avenue of creation to take.
As the creek will rise,
Creative juices aplenty,
His art takes form
As ink meets with paper,
With a little help from a friend,
The words woven intricate,
Lay out a form unknown.
Interlocked and likened literature Of a duly noted nonsensical.
Deep and steeped
In stark contrast
From the norm of poetry,
My flowetry takes form.
" How B?
Words so intricate in flow?"
" A mad man's internal" ,
Thirty years in the making,
A mad man's nonsensical
In a busy mind of mine.
Thought odd and weird,
A style unique;
A story of epic proportions unfolds
As a knightly troubadour led astray,
Cuts a lyrical hand,
Opens his mind,
And in doing so,
Opens a vein of creativity
That spews forth...
Little upper thought,
The proverbial flood gates
Of my mind open,
And with a thought,
Brain sends message
Through billions of electrical signals.
Message sent down wire,
Through arm into a hand,
Weak and weary
From hours of holding this pen.
At this pen
The electric signal stops.
The ink dances a waltz
Across a once blank paper,
Not so blank.
An ink released
To paint upon this canvas,
A picture unseen.
A picture is worth a thousand words?
Are worth a million images.
Through a sequence of words
Rendered upon parchment,
Intricate in detail so...
That images grow
And appear upon the mass's,
" The lovers entwined, legs interlocked. A love so deep; a love so inspiring and moving unknown. Two souls merge as one... heartbeat... breath in unison, and from between one's lips, under breath, and heartfelt, the verbal archer takes aim, and release... " I" ... slowly and quietly... " love" ... fluidly into the ear canal... " you" ... to vibrate ever so soothingly, reverberating upon the ear drum. A lover's passion so great. Doing a dance of passion... forever locked in a soul mate's embrace..."
As my flowetry free form
Becomes the image in your mind
And you see the two
Entwined in prose,
You heed the gravity of my words
The words aflow,
To impress upon your mind
" Million picture, flicker show" ,
And you realize,
" A mad man's nonsensical" ?
Truly not nonsense.
A lovely picture is painted,
For fear of over doing
With verbal vomit,